In the blink of an eye, afternoon arrived.
A gentle breeze drifted by—not hot, not cold—and the slightly westward-slanting sunlight fell perfectly upon Dojo No. 34 of the Shin'ō Academy.
More than eighty students from Class 1 were arranged into eight rows, ten-plus students per row, kneeling neatly on the dojo floor.
Each of them stared solemnly at the wooden targets positioned roughly two hundred paces straight ahead.
"First group, step forward!"
Kidō instructor Saitō Jūshirō called out in a low voice from the side of the dojo.
"Yes, sir!"
The first row of students stood, took two steps forward, then raised their right hands toward the targets, quietly reciting the Kidō incantation.
"Wait!"
Saitō Jūshirō suddenly stopped them. His gaze snapped to the fifth student in the first row—a boy with short black hair—and he barked angrily:
"Fūjin Taichi, what are you doing?!"
"What?"
"Tell me—why are you raising your left hand?!"
"I'm practicing Kidō!"
"Idiot! I told you on the very first lesson—Kidō is a high-level spell technique!
It requires a Shinigami to precisely regulate their spiritual power and activate it through incantation!
For safety reasons, all Shinigami must use their dominant hand when casting Kidō!
Only that way can you avoid imbalance in spiritual power that could lead to misfires—or even death!"
"Mm… and then?" Taichi asked.
"And then?! It's been half a year—how is it that you still can't cast Kidō with your right hand?!"
"Because… I'm left-handed."
"Nonsense! I saw you practicing swordsmanship with your right hand in Dojo No. 9 just a few days ago!
And speaking of which—why do you only repeat a single sword-drawing motion every day?!"
"Saitō-sensei," Taichi replied calmly, glancing at the calluses on his right palm,
"I once heard Miyamoto-sensei describe the long-lost sword style Niten Ichi-ryū.
So I wanted to see if I could pull it off."
"Moron!"
Saitō Jūshirō didn't hold back in the slightest.
"You don't even have a Zanpakutō yet, you absolute idiot!
And you dare dream of mastering the Miyamoto family's secret technique—Niten Ichi-ryū?!"
He pointed sharply at the wooden targets two hundred paces away and shouted:
"Fine! Then let's see what kind of astonishing results your utterly mediocre training can produce!
Everyone—take your positions!"
"Yes, sir!"
The students stepped forward together, straightened their backs, raised their right palms evenly, aimed at the distant targets, and began chanting in low voices:
"Ye lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! Inferno and pandemonium, the sea barrier surges, march on to the south!
Hadō No. 31: Shakkahō!"
"Boom!"
"Boom!"
"Boom!"
More than a dozen red fireballs shot forward—some fast, some slow; some large, some small.
Though all were aimed at the targets two hundred paces away, the results varied wildly:
One target was blown completely to pieces.
Some were mostly destroyed.
Some were half destroyed.
Some were barely scorched.
And of course—some missed entirely.
For example… Fūjin Taichi.
"Ohhh~ what truly astonishing results,"
Saitō Jūshirō said dryly, shaking his head and pointing at Taichi.
"You—stay behind after class and clean the dojo."
"Oh…"
Taichi rubbed his left palm and ignored the instructor's look of frustration.
Honestly, it doesn't feel bad at all, he thought.
At least this gives me a legitimate excuse to stay behind and train in the dojo.
"Hahaha!"
"Hahaha!"
"BWHAHAHAHA—!"
The entire dojo erupted in piercing laughter.
Almost everyone pointed at the completely intact wooden target in front of Taichi and laughed hysterically.
Abarai Renji laughed the hardest—he collapsed flat onto the ground.
"Something's… wrong…"
In the third row, Kira Izuru's eyes sharpened as he stared intensely at the only target that had been completely blown apart.
That's not right…
If I didn't see it wrong just now…
Fūjin Taichi's Kidō was aimed at Hinamori Momo's target!
And I didn't hear him chant at all—
But that's impossible!!
He's just a first-year student—how could he cast Kidō without incantation?!
I must've seen wrong. I must've heard wrong.
Yes… that's it. I'm just too nervous.
Even though Kidō is my specialty…
With her here, I can't relax—so I'm just being paranoid.
After hesitating for a long while, Kira secretly glanced at Hinamori Momo in the first row, then forcibly calmed himself and put an end to the mental struggle.
"Second group!"
Saitō Jūshirō called out, suppressing the laughter.
"Hmph—watch this!"
Abarai Renji strode forward confidently.
Left foot forward, right foot two steps back.
He bent slightly at the waist, right palm extended, his entire body coiled with momentum.
"Ye lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! Inferno and pandemonium, the sea barrier surges, march on to the south!"
Hadō No. 31: Shakkahō!"
"BOOOOM—!"
Renji blew himself up.
His white-and-blue academy uniform was scorched pitch-black, black smoke poured off his body,
and there was even a faint smell of well-done beef lingering in the air.
Amid the crowd's roaring laughter, he was coldly scolded by Saitō Jūshirō and then ordered to stay behind for remedial "reconstruction."
"Next—the third row!"
Saitō Jūshirō shouted at the remaining students with a face as stiff as a mule's.
"Yes, sir!"
Kira Izuru forcibly steadied himself and slowly stepped forward. He fired off a clean, well-executed Hadō, earning special verbal praise from Saitō Jūshirō, who declared him:
"The number one student of the Special Advancement Class!"
"Tch—"
Fūjin Taichi and Abarai Renji snorted almost simultaneously.
They glanced at each other and, for a brief moment, felt a strange sense of mutual understanding—only to immediately turn their heads away and silently mutter "Tch."
Before long, the Kidō drills came to an end, and Saitō Jūshirō announced the results on the spot:
"First place: Hinamori Momo.
Second place: Kasumiōji Hoko.
Third place: Kira Izuru.
Fourth place: Rukia…
Last place: Chōzuka Hiroe.
And failing—with detention for remedial training—two students:
Fūjin Taichi and Abarai Renji!!
That's all. Enjoy your weekend. See you next week!"
"Thank you, sensei!"
The students bowed slightly to Saitō Jūshirō. Once he left Dojo No. 34, the class immediately scattered, and the dojo was soon completely empty.
"Hey! Fūjin! Detention again, huh?"
Tsunayashiro Tokio walked over and mercilessly mocked Taichi.
"Hah. You're a great noble and you're proud of getting second-to-last?"
Taichi shot back indifferently.
"At least that's better than failing and being stuck in detention, you idiot!
And I just slipped up today—otherwise how could I lose to you Soul Society gutter rats?"
Tsunayashiro stiffened his neck and sneered.
"Bastard!"
Taichi held himself back and stayed silent, but Abarai Renji immediately flared up, glaring and shouting at Tokio:
"What the hell are you saying?!"
"Someone whose Kidō blows up in their own face has no right to bark like that."
Tokio let out a scornful laugh and ignored Renji entirely. Turning instead to Kasumiōji Hoko, he said:
"Hoko, the Kuchiki family is holding a grand cherry-blossom viewing banquet tomorrow. Want to come?"
"Ah…"
Hoko glanced at the completely indifferent Taichi, then gently shook her head.
"No. I already promised Momo I'd practice calligraphy together this weekend. Maybe next time."
"Huh? That calligraphy class Captain Aizen set up?" Tsunayashiro Tokio laughed.
"Then you should come to the banquet instead—Captain Aizen will be there tomorrow too!"
"Oh… really? Then… alright."
After hesitating for a moment, Hoko nodded.
"Great. Let's go, then!"
Tokio grabbed Hoko's hand and started walking out. As he passed Taichi, he suddenly stopped and deliberately provoked him:
"Fūjin, I actually wanted to invite you too…
But, well—you know how those events are. Either nobles or people with status.
You Soul Society slum-dwellers—"
"Tokio, what exactly is wrong with us from Rukongai?"
Taichi dropped down and sat on the dojo floor, frowning deeply.
"Just because you're great nobles, does that mean we have to grovel and lick your feet?!
Is you flaunting your worthless sense of superiority in front of me every day also because of that damned noble 'pedigree' of yours?!"
"Well said, Taichi!"
Renji, who had always despised Soul Society's bullshit class system, instantly recognized Taichi as a kindred spirit.
He swaggered over, slung an arm around Taichi's shoulder, and grinned at Tsunayashiro and Hoko:
"In your eyes, we might just be a bunch of pathetic, worthless stray dogs!
But in our eyes, aren't you nothing more than pampered pets raised by your precious noble masters?!"
"You bastard—how dare you insult the great noble families!
You thick-skulled, muscle-brained red-haired monkey—!"
Tokio's face turned cold as he moved to lunge forward, but Kasumiōji Hoko grabbed him tightly.
"Enough! Tokio—let's go!"
"Hmph! Fūjin!"
Tsunayashiro spat disdainfully toward Taichi.
"You're someone who can't even tell who you should associate with. One day, you'll regret this!"
With that, Tsunayashiro dragged Kasumiōji Hoko away from Dojo No. 34.