A short break, and then the next class.
We had a session on Zanjutsu, the art of swordsmanship, ahead of us.
The training ground for this subject was located in another wing of the Academy.
Unlike the Hakuda hall with its soft mats, or the Hoho training area with its perfectly smooth surface, the setting here was more traditional.
The wooden floor was scarred with countless nicks and marks left by years of training.
Racks lined the walls, holding bokkens, wooden practice swords, alongside other weapons used to master various techniques.
Off to the side stood dummies for strike practice.
Some were mounted on movable platforms designed to force the attacker to alter their strike trajectory and adjust their stance on the fly.
The instructor was waiting for us in the center of the hall.
A tall, solidly built middle-aged man with fair hair and a stern expression.
He was lazily tapping his bokken against his palm, as if sizing each of us up.
A rare sight.
Blondes were not often encountered in the Soul Society.
Off the top of one’s head, only Izuru Kira came to mind…
Perhaps Matsumoto, too?
That was debatable.
Her hair color largely depended on the art style.
Personally, I was firmly convinced she was a redhead, just not as vibrant a one as Orihime.
“My name is Takao Yamaoka,” he said, his voice ringing with steely confidence.
“I am your Zanjutsu instructor.”
Some of the students straightened up, especially those who had already heard about him.
Despite his easygoing nature, Yamaoka-sensei was known for being exceptionally demanding and rigorous in his training.
It was said that he could crush any novice swordsman with a single blow.
Now it was clear why he had taken a defensive stance during the exam, he was simply letting me demonstrate my skills.
“You are first-years.
Your swordsmanship is pathetic, clumsy, and riddled with flaws,” he continued, unconcerned about whether his words might sting.
“Many of you think that simply swinging a katana is all it takes to become a Shinigami.
But sword technique is not just about swinging.
It is about control, balance, rhythm, and precision.”
Is it just me, or am I hearing a variation of that last line of his for the third or fourth time now?
Do the faculty members actually write the welcome speech for the new recruits together?
The chalk-and-pointer-wielding laborers of the Shinigami Academy are certainly cutting corners.
Yamaoka-sensei sharply raised his bokken and, with seemingly no effort, delivered a powerful blow to the nearest dummy.
The wooden blade slammed into the target with a dull thud, and the massive structure shuddered from that single movement.
“One well-executed strike is more powerful than a hundred clumsy ones.
Today, you will take the first step toward making your strikes lethal.”
He turned and gestured toward the weapon racks.
“Take the bokken.”
I walked silently to the rack and chose a training sword.
It was slightly heavier than my own katana, but I quickly grew accustomed to the weight.
Once everyone was armed, the instructor made us line up.
“The first thing you need to understand is your stance.
If you don’t know how to stand correctly, your sword is useless.”
He took a position in front of us, demonstrating the basic *kenjutsu* stance.
“Left foot slightly back, right foot forward.
Knees slightly bent.
Sword at chest level.
Your center of gravity must be stable, yet not static.”
We mimicked his movements, though many of us, myself included, looked rather clumsy.
It just couldn’t be helped.
I had learned through actual combat and by absorbing the experience of others.
Besides, as I’ve mentioned before, my opponents hadn’t exactly excelled in Hakuda or Zanjutsu.
“Now, the strikes.
There are four basic ones: vertical, horizontal, diagonal, and thrusting.
All attacks in Zanjutsu are built around these movements.”
As he demonstrated each move, he struck with a precision we had yet to master.
His bokken moved fluidly yet powerfully, slicing through the air with a distinct whistling sound.
Every movement seemed perfectly calibrated and executed without wasted effort, yet with absolute focus.
When Yamaoka finished the demonstration, it was our turn to repeat the actions.
At first glance, it looked simple.
Raise the sword, strike, and return to the starting position.
But as it turned out, perfect execution demanded far greater concentration.
Not everyone managed to maintain their balance.
Some put too much force into their strikes and wobbled, while others struck too weakly, resulting in hesitant, indecisive movements.
Yamaoka-sensei began making his rounds, closely observing the students’ technique and correcting their stances, grips, and angles of attack.
By the time he reached me, I was already executing strikes with confidence, striving to maintain my balance.
“Hmm, I remember you.
“Not many applicants managed to wound me.
You have decent skills and experience, but a practically total lack of fundamentals.”
“That’s right, Sensei,” I acknowledged.
“That’s exactly what you said back then.”
“Then fix your grip.
You’re squeezing the handle too hard,” he said, giving my fingers a light tap with his bokken.
“Relax your wrist and don’t strangle the handle.
Your blade should be an extension of your arm, not a club.”
I did as told.
It felt unusual, even awkward, but after just a few repetitions, I could feel the difference.
“That’s better,” Yamaoka nodded and moved on.
“The ability to keep a firm grip on your sword will serve you well, but it shouldn’t come at the expense of speed and technique.”
After a series of basic drills, we were paired up to practice parrying and counterattacks.
Shunsui was my partner again.
He looked as though the bokken in his hands were merely another accessory complementing his lazy smile.
“Let’s not overdo it, shall we, Kaoru-kun?” he smirked, lazily raising his bokken.
“I can’t make such promises, Kyoraku-san,” I replied, settling into a combat stance.
The initial exchange of blows was simple.
I delivered a straight strike, and he blocked it.
Then we swapped roles.
We didn’t rush, allowing ourselves to get a feel for the rhythm of the fight.
At first glance, he seemed to be roughly on my level, but that was merely an illusion.
Despite his aversion to study, his family had managed to drill a fair amount of knowledge into him.
He knew how to move, maintain his balance, and control his blade, even when he wasn’t really trying.
Jushiro was holding his own quite well, too.
He was clearly less experienced, yet he picked things up on the fly.
Hachigen, however, was struggling significantly more.
His movements were stiff, just as they were during Hakuda or Hoho.
My attention was also drawn to Rose’s future lieutenant, Chikane.
I had heard that her parents were high-ranking Gotei officers.
It seemed they had trained her well in the basics, but that was the extent of it.
After a while, once we had practiced every stance several times, Yamaoka clapped his hands to get our attention.
“We’re done for now.
That’s enough for your first lesson.
You have a lifetime ahead of you to master the sword, and at least six years at the Academy to learn how to hold it correctly.”
He walked over to the rack, put away his bokken, and looked at us, narrowing his eyes.
“Remember one thing.
The sword is your life.
If you treat it like a toy, you will die.
If you respect it, it will save your life.”
Some of the students nodded, clearly impressed by his words.
“That concludes the lesson.
Put your weapons away, and you are dismissed.”
I returned the bokken to the rack and left the training ground with the others.
It was a good, useful lesson.
Mastering just that one proper stance significantly raised my level of Sword Mastery.
You have successfully attended all the first-year classes at the Shino Academy for the first time!
New profession unlocked: “Shino Academy Student”!
Unlike the Mercenary profession, which boosted contract rewards and helped build a specific type of reputation, this profession simply accelerated my mastery of the Zankensoki disciplines and increased the efficiency of my training ground sessions.
Then again…
calling it “simple” is a massive understatement.
For the next six years, I’ll effectively be on par with the true geniuses.
Now, Yamamoto is practically obligated to invite me to the Genji School alongside the future captains.
It’s a pretty sweet deal, having the magical Nail of the Soul King when you weren’t born a monster with unfathomable talent, like Aizen, Ichigo, or Zaraki.
It can level the playing field, provided I work my tail off.
Honestly, if I didn’t have these Fullbring powers, I’d have died in Rukongai ages ago.
…
At Jinzen, we were once again led out to an open sandy area, where we sat down to meditate with our Asauchi.
This time, there were no inspiring speeches, just a brief explanation of the basics.
Like how to meditate properly and how to tell if your Zanpakutō is trying to communicate with you.
Voices in one’s head and strange dreams were considered the primary indicators.
Of course, there was always the chance it was simply the onset of madness, triggered by the influence of Outer Gods from deep space or the awakening of Great Old Ones from the Earth’s bowels and ocean depths.
But in most cases, it was indeed the Zanpakuto spirit making itself known.
None of this applied to me, so I looked for a way to amuse myself.
Just sitting there and pretending to try to “hear the sword” was incredibly boring.
An experienced sensei who had spent a lifetime observing sword awakenings would surely notice if I did anything suspicious.
And I didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to myself right now.
An option was the Presence Detection training.
We hadn’t been taught sensory skills at all yet, and by the looks of it, we likely wouldn’t be.
That sort of training would probably be reserved for Squad Two or the Onmitsukidō.
I wasn’t satisfied with that arrangement, so I had been developing the skill on my own.
Soul Society itself was an ideal training ground.
Literally every corner of this world was saturated with spiritual energy, if, of course, you don’t count the special prisons that isolated Reiatsu.
This time, I managed to avoid the mistake I’d made during the Initiation.
Namely, blasting a flashbang straight into my own brain.
Besides, there weren’t hundreds of cadets and captains watching.
It was just a small group of first-years and our Sensei.
Even so, my sensory capabilities left much to be desired.
I could sense sources of Reiatsu and roughly gauge their shapes, but the masters of the art operated on a completely different level.
The gap was massive, and I wanted to close it.
My long-term goal was to learn to perceive spiritual energy with my mind even more clearly than I could see with my physical eyes.
But that was a task for the future.
For now, my objective was to pinpoint the distance to Reiatsu sources.
and their positions relative to one another, with surgical precision.
I wasn’t exactly excelling at it, but I kept at it until the lesson ended.
And now, back to the extra classes…
Oh well, life isn’t always a bed of roses, and things don’t always go perfectly, even with my C-rank Luck stat.
Sure, that letter sat there among the lousy stats.
Pale in comparison to A or B, but it still pulled its weight in my life.
I wonder how the system would rate the luck of this universe’s protagonist?
Probably SSS+, nothing less.
Honestly, I’m envious.
Green with envy.
How could I boost it?
Gambling?
It was an interesting option I’d come across in various stories, though I wasn’t sure how effective it would actually be.
Back in the 80th District of Rukongai, we used to play dice for fun.
Years of practice had made me pretty good at it, but it hadn’t made a shred of difference to my stats.
Maybe the stakes needed to be higher than just a crust of bread…
Then again, my first stipend payment was still weeks away, so with not a penny to my name, there was nothing for me to do outside the Academy.
Neither in Rukongai nor in Seireitei.
All in all, the subsequent classes didn’t stir up much emotion in me.
The instructors kept working us to the bone.
In Kido, we were still stuck on Spell Number One.
And the rest of the time, I’d chat with Jushiro and Hachigen in the cafeteria, escort Ukitake to the infirmary a couple of times, and continue my honorable mission of acting as Kyoraku’s alarm clock.
Sometimes with a touch of sadism.
I avoided conflict, maintaining a polite yet distant demeanor.
It paid off—hardly anyone spoke to me outside my small circle of acquaintances.
My stats were climbing, and I had no particular plans for the weekend.
I intended to test out the training grounds and the effectiveness of my new profession…
until I happened to get into a back-and-forth with Kyoraku.
“Do I have this right, Kaoru-kun?
Are you saying you can outdrink me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he drew his own conclusions.
It was a Saturday.
We were sitting in the mess hall when Shunsui unexpectedly joined us.
I began to wonder about the reason for his suspicious cheerfulness.
Had Yamamoto shown up for an inspection?
Catching him looking so fresh, especially in the morning, was about as rare as encountering a dragon.
Then again, the odds of the latter were actually pretty good, provided you were in London.
We kept trading quips, but it seems I shouldn’t have called his sake “water.” My tongue is my own worst enemy.
“I didn’t mean for it to sound like a challenge, but…
I’m quite confident in my abilities,” I said, shrugging.
“Can you back up your words with action?” he smirked.
I think I see where this is going.
Well, even if I lose, at least I’ll get thoroughly drunk.
“Like I said, Kyoraku-san…
I’m quite confident in my abilities,” I smirked back.
I really hadn’t planned on leaving the Academy in the coming month, but…
you don’t turn down offers like that.