“They’re coming for our souls,” Shunsui chuckled cheerfully.
“Bite your tongue, damn it,” I said, shrugging uneasily.
” And don’t ever joke like that again.”
A gust of wind carried the stench of a massive Hollow’s charred carcass and earth churned up by an explosion.
And with it, a few shadows.
Three black silhouettes, one in a white haori, landed silently some distance away from us.
Without pathos and unnecessary words.
They moved like men for whom arriving last on the battlefield had become a professional habit.
The Second Division.
Intelligence and assassins.
And he is at the head.
The Captain.
His mere presence felt like the tip of a cold blade pressed against one’s throat.
A single careless breath, and blood would spill.
An orange scarf fluttered behind him, a vivid streak against the drab landscape.
Chika Shihouin stood directly before us, his gaze sweeping across the battlefield.
His features betrayed not a hint of emotion.
But suddenly, the tension snapped, like a taut string being released.
Captain Shihōin stepped closer, clapping his hands together as he walked.
His eyes lingered on the dead body of the Menos, which showed no signs of dissipating just yet.
His gaze slid over the completely severed leg and the conspicuously missing head.
“Well, well,” he finally spoke, his voice steady yet carrying a faint, almost mocking undertone.
“I didn’t expect to see a scene like this during a training exercise.
Not bad work.”
Harumitsu quickly stepped forward, limping slightly, and bowed.
“C-Captain Shihouin…
permission to report!
We held off the Hollows until the barrier was set up…
Then a Menos Grande appeared and…” He stammered.
His voice trembled nervously, growing quieter with every word.
“It was destroyed by our forces.
The other two were likely…
destroyed by senior officers?”
He added hesitantly as the captain cast a silent glance his way.
Chika stepped closer and, with a hint of mockery, patted the nervous Senpai on the shoulder.
Then, he turned his full attention to us.
“Unlucky for you to be the only group outside the barrier.
Though, it seems you didn’t need the protection anyway,” Chika remarked with a faint, amused smile.
“Four students, three of them first-years, taking down a Gillian on their own.
And without even releasing your Zanpakuto.
If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.”
He snapped his fingers, as if recalling something.
“By the way, impressive mastery of Hadō, young man,” he said, singling me out.
Something I immediately took as a bad omen.
“Not everyone can conjure ten birds capable of so much as scratching a Menos.”
“Thank you, Captain Shihōin,” I said, gathering my strength as I stood and bowed.
His gaze settled on Harumitsu, who nearly trembled.
“But I wonder, why exactly were you two delayed?” the captain asked.
It was a question that demanded an answer right then and there.
“We…
well…” Haru stammered.
“We covered quite a distance before finding our first soul for Konsō,” I interjected, sparing my Senpai further embarrassment.
“It was all due to…
um…
Harumitsu-senpai’s ill-fated choice of route.
Even so, we still had plenty of time left.
So, we simply went looking for the next Plus, straying even further away.
By the time things kicked off, we were a long way from camp and ended up having to fight off an entire horde of Hollows.”
“Besides, Jushiro doesn’t know Shunpo, so we had to help him move around.
We’d almost reached the camp when a Menos broke through…
followed by two more.
There was no point in running, as you can imagine.
So, we decided to fight,” said Kyoraku, spreading his hands as he joined the conversation.
The captain’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, a little longer than I would have liked.
I didn’t even flinch.
I was too tired to react.
Besides, I didn’t really have anything to hide.
I hadn’t revealed a Fullbring or a real Zanpakuto.
Everything was within normal limits.
“So that’s how it was,” he said, tapping a finger against his dark cheek in a theatrical manner.
“Well, as I said, it’s not as if you needed protection.
Better yet, tell me if you noticed anything suspicious.”
He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward slightly.
Too close.
Too intently.
“Um…” I managed to say, trying to sound as sincere as possible.
“As we walked through the rice fields, I was constantly scanning the area for any sources of spiritual power.
I didn’t spot anyone suspicious.
Certainly no one stronger than an ordinary human.
But at one point, a multitude of points in my perception simultaneously released a colossal amount of spiritual energy into the air.
Immediately after that, the Hollows broke through.”
“Is that all you wanted to tell me?” he asked, looking straight into my eyes.
And yes, there was no shame in admitting that, right now, he was far more intimidating than the former captain of the Fourth Division.
Who now quietly ran the Academy’s infirmary.
Unable to force out a single word, I simply nodded.
“Hmm.
That aligns with your supervisor’s report,” he said, turning away.
“It seems it’s becoming clear who’s behind this.
But it’s best for you not to think about it.
You’re just students, so leave these matters to the grown-ups.”
He released a blue flare into the air.
Soon, Shinigami from the Fourth Division, judging by the armbands they wore, appeared nearby.
There were four of them, one for each of us.
“May we begin the examination?” one of them, a young man with a serious expression, asked Captain Shihouin.
He gestured for them to proceed.
The medics immediately rushed over to Jushiro and began examining him, their hands glowing with a pale green light.
“Lung damage, but not critical,” the group’s leader said curtly, outlining the plan of action for us all.
“We’re taking him back to camp for proper treatment.”
“Get to your work.
We have things to do, too,” he said, turning to us one last time.
“It was interesting to see such promising rookies in person.
You’ve certainly earned a lot of attention today.
You might even get a solid recommendation for a junior officer post after the Academy.
See you around, kids.”
He and the two Shinigami-ninjas accompanying him vanished instantly, moving far beyond the range of my Detection.
I should have realized it sooner, we had only spotted them earlier because they’d allowed us to.
Two medics also vanished via Shunpo, taking our injured comrade with them.
The others quickly patched up Shunsui and Haru, helping them get back on their feet with ease.
I was diagnosed with nothing more than exhaustion, though they noted I was recovering quite rapidly.
Fortunately, one kind-hearted young woman spared a couple of minutes to treat my battered face, which had slammed into the ground after the explosion.
We made our way back to the camp on our own.
A makeshift field hospital had already been set up there.
We learned that none of the students had died, though there were a few serious injuries.
Then again, we aren’t exactly ordinary living beings.
For Shinigami, serious wounds are treated with Kido just like minor ones, it simply takes longer.
Upon seeing our group, Goro-sensei merely let out a heavy sigh, though he still congratulated us on our victory and told us to get checked out again for any hidden trauma or internal injuries.
Which is exactly what we did, if only to keep Jushiro company.
The medics, unaccustomed to the situation, fussed over him as if he were made of porcelain, but that was fine.
They’d get used to it soon enough.
It had to be admitted that defeating a Gillian during one’s very first practical exercise was a unique occurrence.
In the entire history of the Academy, incidents like this could be counted on the fingers of one hand, and certainly nothing quite like this one.
It was no surprise that we drew all sorts of looks.
Some people were envious, while others couldn’t believe we’d survived at all.
Of course, the majority assumed that the sixth-year student had done all the work.
Still, the moment they saw Harumitsu in person, their opinions changed quickly. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
It was amusing, to say the least.
“Hey, Kaoru!
Kyoraku-san!” Hachigen waved at us with his left hand.
His right was heavily bandaged.
“Are all your fingers still there?” I asked, a hint of humor in my voice.
“Doesn’t look too good,” Shunsui agreed.
“Did a Hollow get a bite of you?”
“Nah, just a bad burn.
Had to blow myself up a bit with Kido,” he said dismissively, hissing as he tried to gesture with the injured limb.
“Still, better that than losing the whole arm.
They’ve patched me up already, slathered something on the skin and wrapped it up.”
He rattled all this off in a couple of seconds, nearly running out of breath.
“Easy now, it’s all over.
Still riding the adrenaline rush?
Just breathe, in and out,” I said, placing my hands on his shoulders.
Hachigen nodded and obediently repeated after me.
He seemed to have calmed down.
“You see, the four of you had been tentatively listed as dead, and the barrier had been sealed,” he began sadly.
“But then you showed up and launched a spectacular attack on that first Menos!
That’s even more impressive than Goro-sensei’s skills.
A lot of aristocrats had those protective Kido amulets, but without his help, they wouldn’t have lasted long, even with them.”
“Kido amulets?”
Like that thing Isshin gave Ichigo at one point?
“Yeah, we haven’t been taught about them yet, but now I’m really interested in the subject.” His eyes practically lit up.
He glanced around and spoke in a slightly lower voice.
“Honestly, I still can’t believe you took down a real Menos Grande!” Hachi whispered, though loudly enough that only a deaf person could have missed it.
“I can barely believe we’re alive myself,” Shunsui said, theatrically wiping imaginary sweat from his brow.
“Remind me never to end up on the same team as you again, Kaoru.”
“What does that have to do with me?” I threw up my hands.
“I’ve been accused of all sorts of things, but I swear, summoning Hollows has never been one of them.”
“Oh, really?
It just seems to me that your crazy luck at gambling is offset by these kinds of…
situations, ones that are dangerous to my mental and physical health.”
Unlikely.
Otherwise, back in Zaraki, we’d be shaking hands with Hollows on a daily basis.
“Oh, sure.
Whenever something goes wrong, Kaoru’s the one to blame,” I said, rolling my eyes, just as I caught sight of someone out of the corner of my eye.
“Isn’t that our class Prefect lying over there?
With her back bandaged up?”
Even though she was lying face down, I instantly recognized that distinctive white streak running through her hair.
I have to admit, I felt sorry for her.
We weren’t exactly close friends, but I’d grown used to training with her at the grounds.
“Yes, she made it here having lost quite a bit of blood.
Aside from the upperclassman assigned to them, she was the only one in her group who had learnt Shunpo and could actually fight.
Essentially, the two of them had to cover everyone else,” Hachigen shared.
“I know this because I helped stop her bleeding.
Kaido lessons aren’t a waste of time at all, no matter what anyone says.”
He gave a satisfied smirk.
It was clear he took pride in having been useful during a crisis.
“Alright, let her rest,” I nodded.
“Does anyone know when the Senkaimon will be opened?”
“Well…
probably once everyone is back on their feet,” Kyoraku replied uncertainly.
“It’s not exactly an emergency severe enough to halt the Koryu flow just for an evacuation.
Hollow breaches during training happen more often than one would like.
It’s bound to happen at least once during a six-year course of study.
So, for now, we just sit and wait.”
“Damn it,” I said, tilting my head back toward the sky.
“What a drag.
At least the weather’s nice.
We really should have stopped by the river then, instead of trudging through these fields…”
Lightning flashed across the murky sky, followed by a rumble of thunder.
A light rain began to fall.
“See?
You bring nothing but misfortune,” Shunsui laughed.
I let out a heavy sigh.
“Shut up.”
…
The return to the Academy was… quieter than I’d expected.
We passed through the Senkaimon in near silence, then dispersed to our rooms to catch up on sleep.
Those who required additional treatment were immediately sent straight to the infirmary.
The debriefing, which included taking statements from the four of us, was postponed until the following day.
It took place in Room 4, a room with no sign or plaque on the door.
Why Room 4, specifically?
Perhaps because of the association the number “four” has with death in Asia.
Or maybe it was an inside joke, like our “Rubber Product No.
2”.
Three unfamiliar instructors were waiting for us in the room, including one of the Academy’s senior inspectors, the very man who would likely be forwarding the report to the Second Division.
Fortunately, the whole affair felt more like a routine procedural check than an interrogation in a dark room with a mean guy and an uncomfortably bright light shining in one’s eyes.
We were called in one by one.
They asked about our actions, the decisions we’d made, the sequence of events, and even the number of spells cast.
I was the last to go.
“Say that again,” one of the instructors raised an eyebrow.
“You used the enhanced version of Hadō #10: Sempurai, how many times in a row?”
“Around…
twenty-eight?” I clarified, checking the Journal that had helpfully popped up before my eyes.
`28 Hadōs!
You didn’t want to leave them a chance, huh?
Did you feel anger?
Hate?` my Hollow interjected with a random reference.
Cobalt, not now.
They’ve cross-referenced the others’ testimony and now want me to demonstrate it.
How?
On a living subject or an inanimate one?
And how was I supposed to explain that I’d simply been caught up in the heat of battle?
`You don’t.
Just drag your ass to the training grounds, Hero!` she chirped encouragingly.
And that’s exactly what happened.
The show titled “Me and My Fucking Life” began…
and, thankfully, ended relatively quickly.
They tested me on the Kido proficiency I’d claimed and were impressed.
They offered me a recommendation for the Kido Corps, which I politely declined.
A thousand years in the same squad with no chance of a transfer?
No thanks.
They just shrugged, verified that I was indeed signed up for the supplementary Kaido course, and let me go.
Great.
So what did they even call me in for?…
Life was gradually returning to its usual rhythm.
That is, until the weekend, when our instructor dragged us, practically by the scruff of the neck, straight to an officer from the First Division at the Academy gates.
He did so silently, offering no explanation.
“Orders from above.”
Seireitei was vast, but as students, we were forbidden to traverse it using Shunpo.
After all, one might accidentally brush shoulders with some noble, and even a claim of “urgent business” wouldn’t save you then.
We realized where we were being taken halfway there: to the main hall of the First Division.
Light filtered through thin layers of cloud.
The hall was nearly empty.
There were only a few figures present, yet each one was impossible to overlook.
Our escort vanished just as silently as he had appeared.
And there he stood before us.
Captain-Commander Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni, calm and motionless as a mountain peak.
His stature, his bearing, even his gaze, everything about him radiated a power whose unwavering nature was truly daunting.
His Reiatsu felt like a white-hot blade pressed against bare skin.
The staff in his hand seemed like a mere accessory…
were it not for the knowledge that a Zanpakuto lay concealed within it.
As the Headmaster, however, he evoked a somewhat different impression.
Beside him stood Captain Unohana Retsu.
A perfect mask.
Calm and cold as a serpent.
She stood slightly behind Yamamoto, yet it was impossible to ignore her piercing, razor-sharp gaze.
Unlike the other captains, she completely suppressed her presence.
I couldn’t even form a rough mental image of the threat she posed, unlike with Chika, Chigiri, or Yamamoto.
But my Instinct skill, now at a higher rank, had something to say about it.
Oh, it was screaming.
At the top of its lungs.
Had I been even slightly weaker, I would have succumbed to a panic attack long ago.
‘You’re going to need ‘panic protection’ and ‘panic healing’ for Unohana too, Hero,’ the Hollow quipped in my mind.
Harumitsu, our sixth-year student, was already standing before the superiors.
Apparently, he arrived earlier.
He kept his back straight, fighting to hide his trembling.
His face remained composed, but the dark circles under his eyes betrayed the fact that he hadn’t slept a wink.
He was terrified.
But of what?
That he would be rated lower than us, the rookies?
It seemed he had been right.
When Yamamoto looked up, the air in the hall seemed to freeze, and even the wind fell still.
It was the young Sasakibe Tadaoki Chōjirō, the First Division’s steadfast lieutenant, who began to speak.
Until that moment, I had barely even noticed him.
In such company, he looked…
well, ordinary.
Even his pale, milky eyes didn’t stand out.
“You have been summoned by order of the Gotei 13,” he stated with military crispness.
We straightened up.
The Captain-Commander’s gaze felt like the sun, an inescapable presence.
“Participants of the practice: Kaoru, Kyōraku Shunsui, Ukitake Jūshirō,” Yamamoto began.
“The measures you took, the initiative you demonstrated, and your application of combat and support techniques have been deemed worthy of the High Command’s attention.”
He fell silent.
We stood at rigid attention and even the perpetually laid-back Shunsui maintained a stony expression.
“Special note is made of your command capabilities, unconventional use of Kido, composure in the face of death, and…” — his gaze swept over us, coming to rest on me — “…the ability to survive where one should have perished.”
‘General, was that a hint?
Or has your habit of dealing with bloodthirsty maniacs taken a toll on your eloquence?’ Cobalt quipped.
Oh, how I wished I could say that out loud.
It seemed the old man noticed the way my lips twitched into a smirk, for he fixed an even more piercing stare upon me.
As if trying to gauge my density down to the very atoms.
I swallowed hard.
Don’t tremble.
Don’t twitch.
Don’t blink…
“From this moment on, the three of you are under the personal observation of the Captain-Commander.
You will be offered an apprenticeship under his direct tutelage.
Just as other exceptional students were before you,” Sasakibe said, taking up the word again.
Silence.
My pulse thudded in my head.
Shunsui gave a measured nod, while Jushiro bowed.
I…
did the same.
Alas, not with the same grace, but as best I could.
“As for Harumitsu Sakumoto,” Yamamoto continued, “he demonstrated basic Shinigami skills and utilized a few support Kidō.
Quite expected for a sixth-year student.
He shows sufficient potential for a junior officer rank.”
It was a verdict.
Not a condemnation, yet certainly no praise.
The General simply had no interest in him.
Haru seemed to grasp the situation.
His shoulders slumped briefly, though not dramatically.
It was more likely that he had simply dispelled his own misconceptions.
He bowed, too, as was customary.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Unohana tilt her head ever so slightly, like a bird of prey.
Her gaze was fixed on me, a silent promise that our paths would cross again.
I didn’t like the look of that at all.
If she wants to take me on as a apprentice, I’m all for it.
But if Retsu/Yachiru hopes that I’ll agree to play the role of the sworn rival who finally ends her life?
No thanks, lady, count me out.
“You will choose for yourselves what to do next.
But remember that people like you do not have the luxury of being ordinary.
Those who have once managed to accomplish the impossible will be duty-bound to do so again,” Yamamoto said once more.
He turned his back to us.
“That is all,” Sasakibe announced.
The others and I bowed in farewell once more and hurriedly left the hall.
Only after stepping outside did we allow ourselves to breathe freely.
Yet, no one dared to speak until we had fully crossed the boundary of the First Division.
“Were we just…” Jushiro swayed slightly where he stood and, as always, politely coughed into his fist.
“Were we just offered an apprenticeship under the Captain-Commander?”
“Are you sure about this?” Shunsui rasped, still finding it hard to believe.
“No, seriously.
Old Man Yama is taking first-years on as personal disciples?
Did I take a spill and dream all this up?”
I pinched his back with great relish, eliciting a pained yelp.
“Ow!
I didn’t mean it literally,” he exhaled heavily.
“But I needed that.”
“Don’t you get it yet?
The General saw potential in us.
Do you think a man like that cares whether you’re a first-year?” I muttered, still reeling from the sheer scale of the situation.
“I bet he’s already made the decision for us.
‘No’ isn’t an option.”
We fell silent.
A few Shinigami, intent on their own business, walked past us.
No one paid our trio much attention, and for some reason, that made the situation feel even more unsettling.
“Yeah,” Shunsui chuckled, scratching the back of his head.
“Personally, I’d pictured my future serving somewhere in the Eighth Division.
A cute Captain.
A quiet, peaceful unit.
Missions now and then, but otherwise, wine and philosophical conversations.
And now?
Now, it seems, I’m condemned to a life under the General’s fiery gaze.
A great plan for the weekend, don’t you think?”
“I thought I’d make my way up step by step,” Jushiro said, his voice calm, almost wistful.
“Academy training.
Then an internship.
The officer’s exam.
Maybe, in a hundred years or so, I’d have reached that level.
But…
it seems fate decided to pick up the pace.”
They were both looking at me.
The question in their eyes was obvious.
“Why are you so quiet?” Kyoraku asked.
“You were the star of that slaughter of Hollows, after all.
You impressed everyone, captains and Menos alike.”
“Honestly, I’m in shock,” I admitted simply.
“A nobody from the slums, suddenly becoming the General’s personal apprentice.
Life loves throwing surprises at you.
Moments like this make you truly believe that everything happens for the best.
Even a Gillan attack.”
We stood there for a moment, having poured out our feelings to one another in the middle of the deserted street.
“Man, we haven’t even celebrated our victory over a full-blown Menos Grande yet, and the excuses to drink just keep piling up,” Kyoraku said, changing the subject, and I was grateful for it.
“Always thinking about booze…” I shook my head, feigning disapproval.
“Then again, you do have a point.”
It’s a weekend morning.
We could all use a drink right about now.
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