I don’t know how wise it is to send first-years out into the World of the Living when they haven’t even completed six months of Shinigami training.
But I’m not the one setting the rules here, so all I can do is obey.
Still, we students of Class #1 already know far more Kidō than our less prestigious peers.
Some of us, myself included, have even learnt Shunpo.
And, to be honest, that gives us a significant advantage over the students who will be heading out in the next couple of days.
Yet, I can’t ignore that prickle of Instinct.
It’s that same premonitory itch in the back of your head that clearly tells you something is going to go wrong.
It’s a very interesting ability, by the way.
Some might simply call it a “gut feeling”, but there’s more to it than that.
It has helped me avoid danger time and again, and at times even defeat opponents who were objectively stronger than me.
Back when I was still just a weak, starving little soul without a Zanpakuto, it was the only thing I could truly rely on.
I remember reading debates within scientific circles in my past life: “Do humans actually possess instincts in the true sense of the word?” Some argued no.
Others insisted that the term itself was inadequate for accurately and fully describing what humans actually possess.
Who knows?
It’s not for me to say.
Its technical name is likely just a convenient metaphor, something like that “combat instinct” fiction writers love to talk about.
It doesn’t really matter.
Whatever it is, it exists.
Sometimes, when your brain is frantically searching for a way out or when it can no longer process the situation, all you can do is loosen that iron grip you keep on every single action.
That’s when your subconscious steps in.
At first, you won’t even realize what happened.
It just… kicked in.
Later, you’ll get used to it.
You’ll come to understand that overthinking during a fight is dangerous.
A real opponent isn’t some video game boss with a limited set of moves you can memorize.
No.
They can be chaotic, unpredictable, irrational, and vicious.
And you aren’t a robot capable of calculating, predicting, and acting all at the same time.
Of course, somewhere up there at the pinnacle, there are masters beyond compare.
Those who can blend intuition with calculation, instinct with cold logic, seamlessly and without the slightest hesitation.
But I haven’t reached that level yet.
I’m not ready to wield such skills with total freedom.
Not yet.
My point is this.
Instinct is an indispensable part of any warrior.
The ability to sense a threat.
To react to it without a second thought.
To adapt.
To survive.
And, perhaps most importantly, to find pleasure in the fight itself.
To stop fearing violence as something alien to the individual or to humanity as a whole.
Cain, the elder brother.
The first human born naturally, not fashioned by the hands of God, became the first murderer.
He wasn’t deceived by evil forces.
“It” had always been within him.
Perhaps that very thing was what made him truly human?
I don’t know, I’m no theologian.
And here I go again, sinking into a pointless internal monologue.
In the best tradition of Japanese media, complete with the obligatory reference to Christianity.
What are we waiting for, anyway?
Why aren’t they opening the Senkaimon?
Are we waiting for the Kototsu to pass by, or whatever it is they’re taking so long to sort out?
We had already been sorted into groups of three and assigned to senior students—sixth-years.
From Class One, as it happened.
Shunsui, Jushiro, and I were paired with a simple, unassuming-looking guy named Harumitsu.
Appearances can be deceiving, though.
He carried himself with a confident, combative air, and judging by the altered shape of his Asauchi, it had already begun the journey toward becoming a true Zanpakuto.
He might even be conversing with it.
Who knows.
I glanced at Kyoraku’s waist.
His sword had changed after that dream, too.
Our sensei had pointed it out during a Jinzen session, much to everyone’s surprise.
It’s true, that sort of thing rarely happens so soon after receiving an Asauchi.
Of course, the real transformation would come later, with the manifestation of Shikai.
And since he was a special case, Kyoraku’s swords, and their spirits, would multiply…
by budding.
Tormented by boredom, I watched a sluggish black insect with a purple fringe on its wings, a Hell Butterfly, perched comfortably on the back of my hand.
It didn’t take flight, didn’t move, and showed no signs of intending to carry out its function.
Absolute indifference.
For a while, I tried to pull up the information entry, but nothing worked.
I couldn’t view its stats or description as an item, either.
It was a living creature, and it didn’t even belong to me.
Jigokucho.
Hell Butterfly.
So, how exactly are they connected to Hell, Szayel Granz?
You damn schemer.
“Are you trying to burn a hole in it with your stare?” Kyoraku chuckled lazily.
His own butterfly was perched on his shoulder, its wings fluttering occasionally as if in time with his breathing.
“Strange creatures, aren’t they?”
“They certainly are…” I admitted, without looking away.
“But doesn’t it bother anyone that we don’t really know anything about them?
Just that they can guide us out of the Dangai and relay messages.”
I raised my hand toward my shoulder, hoping the butterfly would migrate there and free my hand.
To no avail, of course.
“Why do they fly out of the Senkaimon?
Or out of the portals souls use to reach us after a Konso?
How do they appear there in the first place?” I frowned.
“And how do they even find their way out of the Dangai?
They don’t actually do anything.
They just fly alongside you.
It’s not even clear if they’re alive.
Or are they some kind of invention, like those reiatsu-sensitive leaves?
And if they are alive, then where are the Hell Caterpillars?”
Only Jushiro knew exactly what it was about that last phrase that triggered such a wild, for him.
fit of laughter.
His lungs, however, certainly didn’t appreciate it.
I had to place my palm against his back and use a simplest Kaido spell.
I didn’t know any complex ones yet.
“Thanks,” he nodded to me, chuckling into his hand with an air of true aristocracy.
“Hell Caterpillars…”
Right, let’s just move on.
There are simply too many questions in this world that the Academy’s textbooks don’t answer.
We barely scratched the surface during the lecture on Hell Butterflies.
I tried getting some information out of Goro-sensei too, but it was no use.
I’ll have to find the answers myself.
But what if the answer simply doesn’t exist yet?
After all, this world…
it’s nothing more than a fiction of a mangaka.
Is it not?
“I think they’re alive,” Jushiro finally said, his coughing fit subsiding a little.
His butterfly had settled comfortably atop his head.
“It’s as if each one has its own personality.
Who would go to the trouble of programming a personality into a tool, and why?”
“Who knows?” I shrugged.
“Maybe there was no other way?
Like with Zanpakuto.
Why would something conceived as a weapon need its own spirit and personality?”
“You want to know too much, Kaoru-kun,” Kyoraku drawled, shaking his head.
“Mark my words, one day, that’s going to play a nasty trick on you.”
“Thanks for the unsolicited warning about my untimely demise, Kyoraku-san,” I said, bowing theatrically.
“Anything to add on the actual subject?”
As I said this, I suddenly realized what he was driving at.
For the overly curious, the Nest of Maggots awaited.
Or Sokyoku Hill.
Or, if luck wasn’t on your side, a knife in the back and a one-way ticket to the Dangai, minus the butterfly and the return route.
As the saying goes, there’s always a third option.
“I don’t know anything about them either.
Except that every foot soldier Shinigami in a squad eventually gets assigned to keep an eye on them,” Kyoraku said, shrugging lazily.
“And for every lost butterfly, you get a reprimand and a pay deduction.
But we weren’t allowed to continue the conversation.
Goro-sensei demanded our attention and, with a sense of duty, once again recited the rules of conduct for the Dangai and the World of the Living.
As if we hadn’t heard them three times already, or maybe even more.
Don’t get caught by the Kototsu, don’t stray into the Koryu Flow, don’t touch anything, don’t wander off-course, and don’t fall behind.
In short, behave like obedient students.
All these warnings made it sound as though death wasn’t the worst possible outcome.
And it’s true, they don’t tell us this, but you could be terribly unlucky and get flung into another time period.
If your body couldn’t withstand the backlash of the time stream, you’d simply be erased from reality.
It is also quite possible to become one of the “Blank” from the Valley of Screams, under specific circumstances, of course.
I suspect the Soul King’s Nail saved me from that fate, assuming I really was cast here from the future.
Two members of the Kidō Corps finally activated the massive stone gates of the only official, “permanent” Senkaimon.
Their uniforms differed slightly from the standard issue.
Specifically, they wore thick, snow-white hoods that concealed their entire heads, leaving only their eyes visible.
The section of fabric draping over the front, resembling a bridal veil or a scarf, bore a symbol that looked like the letter “X.” I couldn’t recall what it signified, even though it had been mentioned in a lecture somewhere.
It wasn’t the Corps’ emblem, though, theirs was different.
Honestly, I certainly wouldn’t have ventured into the Koryu Flow wearing a cloak like that, it wasn’t safe.
Uryu Ishida could vouch for that.
But as it turned out, they weren’t following us.
When we stepped through the glowing Senkaimon gate, Hell Butterflies took their places beside us.
Everything went exactly by the book.
We followed Sensei, maintaining our formation.
To be honest, I was clinging to any silly thought I could find just to distract myself from the feeling that my hands were about to start shaking.
I didn’t know why, but the Dangai stirred a deep, almost primal anxiety in me.
And it wasn’t about the Instinct I’d mused on earlier.
No, this was something else.
It was as if I had forgotten something.
Something truly terrible.
My memories had been wiped clean, yet the emotions remained.
And somewhere deep down, I was certain, it was connected to something massive, something like a battering ram with a single, eerie, golden eye-like headlight.
Perhaps I had seen the Kototsu before.
And perhaps, it had looked back at me.
I want to get out of here as soon as possible.
Seriously, if I had to choose between this place and the Garganta, I’d rather spend an eternity falling into the void after slipping off an unstable Reiatsu path.
Everything in the Dangai is just too… alien.
It’s too orderly, yet completely unnatural to the human eye, like the inside of a beast’s belly.
It feels as though space itself resents your presence.
Whoever created this place was definitely a sick pervert.
That’s probably why he was so good at designing beautiful female characters.
`Don’t worry, Master.
You are safe now,` came Golden’s voice.
`Just think about it.
No one would risk losing an entire generation of young heirs in the World Divider.
Everything has surely been calculated down to the last detail.`
I glanced around and noticed that, although most of the students were staring nervously and with disgust at the rushing walls of the Koryu, no one even considered the possibility that a Wresting-Surge might suddenly lunge at us.
Well, that put my mind at ease a little.
I even found myself wishing Tokinada were with us.
One clumsy trip, and that stuffed shirt would have gone face-first into the Koryu flow.
Ah, one can dream.
After what felt like an eternity, we finally emerged from the Dangai and set foot on the soil of the Living World.
Before us lay a scene straight out of a textbook, an ancient Japan.
Around the thirteenth century—say, 1250, if the souls who remembered the Kamakura Shogunate were to be believed…
though a fifty-year margin of error here was like loose change.
Hmm.
It all bore a painful resemblance to Ghost of Tsushima, especially the atmosphere.
The same fields, the same architecture, and, for all I know, even the guiding wind might be the same.
Then again, I’ll never find out.
I have no ancestors here to guide me, nor could I possibly have any.
To be honest, my knowledge of Japanese history begins and ends with a few games set in a pseudo-historical version of Japan.
That’s on me.
I’ve never been one for dull stuff.
But scaling temples in search of rare charms, chasing after foxes, swinging a katana, and hurling all sorts of shinobi gadgets…
yeah, that was fun.
“Students,” Goro-sensei’s voice reached us.
“The field exercise will take place in this region.
First-years, you must perform at least one Konso per team.
Sixth-years, your task is to eliminate Hollows, protect your charges, and prevent souls from transforming.”
He cleared his throat, as if about to announce something of particular importance.
“I’ll repeat this for the juniors: one Konso per group constitutes a passing grade.
If you find more souls, let someone who hasn’t performed the rite yet give it a try.
Don’t fight over them, and don’t try to snatch up more than your share.
This isn’t a tournament.
As for the sixth-years…” — his voice grew sterner here — “…those of you who decide to ‘wait’ for a soul to transform into a Hollow just for the sake of training will be punished.
First, in accordance with Academy regulations, and in the event of serious consequences, under the laws of the Soul Society.”
I involuntarily shuddered.
I didn’t like being in the company of people who needed to have that explicitly stated out loud.
Wasn’t that just common sense?
Apparently, I’d forgotten what era I was in again.
Especially since everything had been fairly civilized up to that point.
“Your practice area is limited to a few villages,” the sensei continued.
“Beyond that, you’ll encounter an established barrier.
You are not to cross it.
If you do, I’ll know.
And there will be consequences.”
He paused briefly, clearly implying that he would tolerate no desertion.
Come on, we aren’t even part of the Gotei yet.
“The training session ends upon a signal Kido.
One signal means we finish up and regroup.
Two means you drop everything immediately and return to me.”
“And three signals?” Seigen snorted from somewhere to the side, wearing his trademark half-mocking expression.
“Three means a massive Hollow breach,” Goro replied, devoid of any irony.
“If that happens, don’t try to play the hero.
It isn’t your duty.
Everyone is to gather around me immediately and stay in a tight formation.
I’ll set up a protective barrier and send a butterfly to report the situation, and we’ll wait for the main force to arrive as reinforcements.”
Teacher Goro smiled and shared an interesting fact with us.
“By the way, not many people know this, but the journey from the Soul Society through the Senkaimon takes the same amount of time regardless of the destination.
Depending on the circumstances, that can be either a comforting thought or a disheartening one.
Let’s hope you won’t have to find out firsthand today,” he said, offering another faint smile.
“Your time starts now.”
And so, we set off.
Into the past, into the villages, toward the forgotten souls.
The semester flew by as if those months had never existed.
Before we knew it, our first field assignment outside the Academy walls was upon us.
My first encounter with souls meant to be sent peacefully on their way, rather than consumed.
The first few hours after setting out could easily be described as a leisurely stroll.
We moved at a relaxed pace along a narrow road that wound through fields of tall, thick grass.
Three cheerful goofballs led by our “field commander,” Harumitsu.
He carried himself with a solemn, restrained air, as if he weren’t escorting three first-years on a training exercise, but rather making a desperate last stand at the final temple on the outskirts of Tsushima.
I, on the other hand, was enjoying myself.
After the Dangai, where every step was laced with nervous tension and the air felt thick with anxiety, this place was practically paradise.
That is, of course, if you turned a blind eye to the lack of basic amenities.
And the internet.
Not to mention decent medical care, electricity, and…
All right, “paradise” might be a bit of an exaggeration.
But you know, the further you get from the twenty-first century, the more clearly you realize just how badly we’ve ruined our planet.
In this world, the air isn’t yet thick with heavy chemicals and exhaust fumes, the land isn’t poisoned by landfills and radioactive waste sites, and orbit isn’t cluttered with an absurd number of artificial satellites.
Even the Moon is a little closer to us, though you’d never tell just by looking with the naked eye.
Everything around is clean, quiet, and truly alive.
Yet, every now and then, you’re reminded that you aren’t on vacation, but on a shinigami training mission.
“We’re here to work, not to admire the scenery,” Harumitsu remarked, noticing me gazing curiously at the rice terraces.
“Who’s arguing with that?” I nodded, feigning innocence.
“You surely have a plan for tracking down a soul, though, right, Senpai?”
“Um…
a plan?” He turned around, looking as though I’d asked if there was a clever trick to always being reincarnated in the First District.
“We just keep moving forward until we stumble upon someone.”
I responded with a “seriously?” look.
Surely someone who had made it all the way to the final year couldn’t be such a…
simpleton?
“Well, I’ll take your word for it,” I said with a wry smile, spreading my hands and peaceably backing out of the conversation.
“If a soul suddenly pops out of the bushes, I swear I’ll let everyone know loud and clear,” Shunsui chuckled.
“Don’t be so snide, Kyoraku-san,” I said, narrowing my eyes.
“I’m sure there’s an old man somewhere around here who clutched his heart while harvesting rice…
or some drunkard who tripped and fell face-first into the swamp.”
Harumitsu either missed the irony or chose not to get involved in a verbal jab-fest within a group where two out of the three members were aristocrats.
Especially since Jushiro remained silent, seemingly lost in genuine admiration of the local scenery.
“Senpai, could you tell me how much time we have for the mission?” I persisted, simultaneously using Detection to scan the surroundings.
I picked up a couple of living beings, but they clearly weren’t Pluses.
“It would be pretty dismal to end our first outing with a failure.”
“There’s no set time limit,” Harumitsu shrugged.
“But generally, we aim to finish before dawn.”
“Splendid—a romantic night of spirit-catching awaits us!” I exclaimed, clapping my hands together with a flourish.
“It might actually be easier at night,” Jushiro said, gazing thoughtfully down the road.
“After all, souls don’t need to sleep.
They’ll likely be wandering all over the place…
especially along the empty streets.”
“That’s certainly a possibility.
A good point, too,” I nodded.
“Though I do hope we don’t run into anyone too energetic.
Otherwise, this practice session might quickly turn into a survival test.”
“Don’t jinx it,” Shunsui snorted in annoyance.
We crossed a small bridge over a stream, and that was when it hit me.
Clearly, keeping up my scan of the area hadn’t been a waste of time.
“Wait…
Don’t you sense it?
Over there, along the stream…” I pointed into the distance at a withered cherry tree, its bare branches reaching toward the water.
“There is something…
Very faint, but I can feel it,” Shunsui confirmed, narrowing his eyes.
“Good work,” Harumitsu nodded at me.
“As you can see, my method works.
Just keep moving forward, and you’re bound to find someone.”
I wish I could view life with such ease…
We turned off the path and almost immediately stumbled upon a boy of about eight.
He was sitting on a stone beneath the cherry tree, gazing at the stream.
A nearly disintegrated chain glimmered faintly on his chest, only three and a half links remained.
“Oh, here’s the person we need.
Does anyone mind if I handle my find myself?” I asked my teammates.
“That’s only fair,” Jushiro agreed.
“I wasn’t planning on taking that opportunity away from you anyway,” Shunsui chuckled.
“The less work I have to do, the better.”
“Excellent,” I nodded, stepping closer and crouching down in front of the child.
“Hello there, little one.
Do you mind if we help you out a little?”
He looked at us with quiet astonishment.
And at that moment, something shifted in his gaze.
“Big brother…
you can see me…
and you’re wearing white,” he breathed, his voice trembling.
“Are you The Death?”
“No, kid, I’m just her janitor.
Or, better yet, a guide,” I said, shaking my head gently.
“But you’re a sharp guy.
You’ll go far in the afterlife.”
“No one sees or hears me…
I pass through walls…
I understand that I am dead,” he whispered.
” Mom and Dad aren’t here either…
No one needs me.”
“That’s why we’re here,” I said, trying to smile as sincerely as possible.
“You’ve stayed in this world longer than you were supposed to.
It could get dangerous from here on out.
But don’t be afraid, this isn’t the end.
It’s the start of a new adventure.
I know sharp guys like you are always up for an interesting adventure.”
“What are you going to do?” he asked anxiously as I reached for my sword.
“A little trick.
Don’t be scared.
Look, I just need the hilt of this fearsome sword…” I pressed it against the young soul’s forehead, leaving the mark of the seal behind.
“Boop.
And that’s it.”
The seal flared up, and a portal opened beneath him.
His body began to dissolve into particles of light.
“I feel…
so light…
Thank you, Big Brother.
And thank you too, Uncle Janitors,” he waved to us one last time and vanished.
A new Hell Butterfly fluttered out from the closing portal, just as the textbook described.
“Alright, ‘janitors’?” Shunsui protested.
“Technically, he’s right.
But ‘uncles’?!
I’m not that old, you know.”
He pointed a finger at himself.
“Does this face, charming and irresistible to the ladies, really look like an ‘uncle’?”
“Well…” I looked away.
“That goatee and perpetual stubble don’t exactly make you look younger.”
“You too, Kaoru?!” Shunsui recoiled from me in mock horror.
“Hey, Kaoru-kohai,” Harumitsu said, addressing me as his junior.
“You handled that well.
The main thing is that you didn’t smack him hard with the hilt.
Some souls have it tough enough as it is…
and if they resist, it hurts them, too.”
“Well, it is my job, Senpai,” I said, spreading my hands.
“And, by the way, that job is already done,” Shunsui said, perking up immediately.
“Let’s go back to Sensei and wait for morning.
Or at least just lie by the river, since we’re already here.”
He had already taken off his sandals and dipped his feet into the water.
“Is that really what you want to do?” Harumitsu asked doubtfully.
“No,” Ukitake replied firmly.
“There may be other restless spirits nearby.
It is our duty to help them.”
With a groan, Shunsui put his shoes back on.
We continued on our way, moving slowly and in silence.
Our first “exorcism” had unexpectedly cast a pall of mild melancholy over us all.
“It is so sad that even children have to die,” Jushiro said, looking away.
“He wasn’t much older than my younger brothers and sisters…”
“That’s life,” I said, shrugging, though I tried not to let my tone betray indifference.
No one argued.
Everyone simply nodded, though the truth brought them no comfort.
I kept scanning the area.
And then I noticed… something odd.
Something very unusual… There were no souls to be sensed nearby.
Yet, the concentration of spiritual particles around us began to rise sharply.
Not just near us, everywhere.
At countless points, as far as my “radar” could reach.
And then, things went haywire.
The sky shuddered, like fabric being pressed from within.
In the distance, seemingly from the very depths of the earth, came a low, metallic howl.
It resembled neither the roar of a beast nor the wind, nor anything found in nature.
It was a Hollow.
The tingling at the back of my head intensified.
Something was approaching.
A single thought flashed through my mind: A Quincy’s Hollow Bait.
Only this thing could cause such a sharp surge in spiritual activity.
But…
if it were just one, the pulse would have originated from a single point.
Instead, I sensed dozens of flares erupting simultaneously.
This is not an accident, but an ambush.
Well, I suppose I should have expected someone to try and wipe out a bunch of noble brats in one fell swoop, and use others to do the dirty work…
After all, they were the future elite of the Shinigami.