Time passed swiftly.
Before anyone realized it, the afternoon had arrived. Vast stretches of clouds drifted lazily across the skies above the Soul Society, like soft white islands floating in an endless blue sea.
Standing in Dojo No. 4, Shunpo instructor Miyamoto Bunzō withdrew his gaze from the clouds overhead and turned toward the gathered students with a stern expression.
"Shunpo," he said, his voice firm, "is the technique that allows a Shinigami to move their body in an instant."
He scanned the group of students spread across the dojo floor.
"Executing Shunpo requires precise control over both your body and your spiritual energy."
"In simple terms… a Shinigami compresses a certain amount of spiritual energy beneath their feet and releases it all at once to achieve instantaneous movement."
A student immediately raised a hand.
"Sensei! Can Shunpo be used multiple times in a short period?"
"Of course it can," Miyamoto replied.
"But—"
His tone suddenly turned serious.
"To perform multiple Shunpo in rapid succession, you must compress even more spiritual energy than usual and release it in carefully timed stages."
"Ooh…"
Several students became visibly excited.
If Shunpo could truly be used repeatedly, then in the future—whether facing Hollows or being surrounded by enemies—they could simply escape danger in an instant.
But Miyamoto quickly shattered their enthusiasm.
"The theory of Shunpo may sound simple," he said loudly, "but putting it into practice is extremely difficult!"
The dojo fell silent.
"Compressing the correct amount of spiritual energy under your feet is only the first step," Miyamoto continued.
"You must know exactly how much energy is required for each Shunpo."
"Too much—your spiritual energy may spiral out of control."
"Too little—and you won't move at all."
He raised two fingers.
"And during the second step—when you release the energy—you must also adjust your body to control the direction of movement."
"For beginners like you, both of these steps are major challenges."
The students gradually calmed down.
Moments ago, many of them had been imagining themselves endlessly teleporting around the battlefield.
But now they realized the truth.
To perform Shunpo successfully required extremely fine control over both spiritual energy and body movement.
And spiritual energy itself was notoriously unstable.
Mastering it depended heavily on natural talent.
Moreover, no Shinigami could afford to waste their spiritual energy recklessly.
Especially in battle.
Every drop of spiritual power could determine whether they lived… or died.
The fantasy of limitless Shunpo quickly faded from their minds.
After all—
No one possessed infinite spiritual energy.
Miyamoto clapped his hands.
"For the next hour and a half, everyone will practice Shunpo according to the training method I've demonstrated."
"After that, we'll move on to basic Hakuda training."
"Begin!"
At his command, roughly 160 students from Classes 2 and 8 spread out across the dojo in small clusters.
Some focused on gathering and compressing spiritual energy beneath their feet.
Others experimented with releasing that energy.
Some practiced adjusting their bodies to control direction.
And a few students simply sat quietly in corners reading books—
One of those was Fūjin Taichi.
An hour and a half later, Miyamoto called several students with the best Shunpo performance to demonstrate their techniques before finally dismissing the class.
But the students barely had time to rest.
After a short break, they immediately began their next lesson with Hakuda instructor Yagyū Jūbei.
"Hakuda," Yagyū began, "is the art of unarmed combat."
"Although we Shinigami primarily rely on our Zanpakutō in battle—"
"—Hakuda remains extremely important."
He paused for emphasis.
"Because sometimes… there will be situations where your Zanpakutō cannot be used."
"In those moments, Hakuda may be the only thing standing between you and death."
"Yes, sir…"
The students responded half-heartedly.
Still, they obediently followed Yagyū's instructions and began practicing the basic movements.
Kick.
Strike.
Elbow.
Punch.
Another hour and a half passed like this.
Finally, Yagyū clapped his hands.
"Now—pair up and practice!"
With that, the students quickly formed groups of two.
Soon the dojo was filled with the sound of fists striking, feet sliding, and bodies colliding as the first-year Shinigami sparred with one another.
Fūjin Taichi's partner happened to be Randenji Ichiryū.
Although they shared the same dormitory, they belonged to different classes. In fact, aside from sleeping under the same roof, they rarely interacted.
Just as Taichi stepped forward—
Ichiryū walked up to him with a grin.
Several classmates from Class Eight followed behind him, both boys and girls, all watching eagerly like spectators at a fight.
"Hey, Fūjin," Ichiryū said loudly.
"I heard your Shunpo is pretty impressive."
He cracked his knuckles.
"So how about this—"
"When we fight, don't use it."
Taichi blinked.
"…What?"
"Ōki—the guy you lost to—told me your Shunpo is pretty amazing," Randenji Ichiryū said with a cheerful grin.
"So… when we spar in Hakuda, how about you don't use it?"
Taichi frowned.
"Shunpo is part of combat. Why shouldn't I use it?"
He already understood what Ichiryū was trying to do.
Just like Ōki before him, the guy wanted to use Taichi as a stepping stone to show off.
Taichi rejected the request without hesitation.
"Tch! If you keep teleporting around with Shunpo, how am I supposed to catch you?" Ichiryū sniffed disdainfully.
"Fine then. If you don't want to fight me, I won't force you."
He folded his arms.
"But at least tell me—who's the strongest in your class?"
Taichi answered immediately with a straight face.
"Saitō Jūshirō."
"He's publicly recognized as the strongest in our class. If you want to make a name for yourself, go challenge him."
"Saitō Jūshirō, huh?!"
Ichiryū's brain clearly worked a little slower than most.
The moment he heard the name, he started pounding his chest like an angry gorilla.
"HEY! That Saitō Jūshirō from Class Two!"
"Class Eight's strongest—Ichiryū—is challenging you!"
"Come out and face your death!"
"Randenji, you—!"
Before he could finish yelling, Hakuda instructor Yagyū Jūbei stormed over.
With a furious expression, he slipped off one of his wooden sandals and smacked it directly onto Ichiryū's bald head.
SMACK!
"You muscle-brained idiot!" Yagyū shouted.
"What nonsense are you shouting?!"
"Instructor Saitō is someone you think you can challenge?!"
"...Instructor?"
Ichiryū froze.
Only then did it finally dawn on him.
He had just challenged a teacher to a duel.
Slowly, he turned his head and glared at Taichi with burning resentment.
"Fūjin… I challenge you!"
Taichi didn't even hesitate.
"I refuse."
"I challenge you again!"
"I refuse again."
Taichi closed his book, stood up calmly, and walked over to him.
"No matter how many times you challenge me, I refuse."
Ichiryū's face twisted with frustration.
"Why?!"
"Because," Taichi replied coolly, "I'm not good at Hakuda."
Then he casually pointed to the side.
"But I can give you another opportunity."
"If you can defeat the second strongest person in our class, I'll accept your challenge."
Ichiryū followed the direction of his finger.
Walking toward them was a boy wearing a gentle smile—
Fujiwara Tatsuma.
"That guy… is the second strongest in your class?"
Tatsuma stopped nearby and smiled lazily.
"I'm not strong at all," he said lightly.
"But beating you would be more than enough."
"Arrogant!"
Ichiryū immediately lowered into a fighting stance.
A feral grin spread across his face as he suddenly launched forward.
His voice roared like thunder, and his entire body exploded with force. He gathered every ounce of strength into his right fist, his speed increasing several times over in a single burst.
His punch shot forward like a lightning bolt.
"I see…" Tatsuma murmured softly.
The playful look on his face vanished instantly.
His aura shifted.
But he didn't move.
Not until Ichiryū's fist was about to smash into his face.
At the last moment—
Tatsuma stepped forward half a pace.
His right hand curved into a claw-like shape, and he flicked his fingers forward in a motion so small it looked like a chicken pecking grain.
Tap.
"—What?!"
Ichiryū suddenly felt most of the strength in his punch vanish.
The strange little motion redirected his force completely.
His body was dragged forward by his own momentum—
And he crashed face-first onto the ground with a heavy thud.
"Randenji, you've lost."
Taichi stepped forward at the perfect moment and looked down at the fallen boy.
"Fujiwara didn't even try, and you're already down."
"You're pretty weak."
"Y-you… bastard! What nonsense are you—"
Overwhelmed by humiliation and rage, Ichiryū tried to shout back—
But before he could finish, his breathing suddenly hitched.
His eyes rolled back.
And he passed out on the spot.
Right then, the class bell rang.
Yagyū Jūbei glanced at the unconscious student and sighed.
"Fujiwara, take the injured student to the infirmary."
"Fūjin, stay behind and clean the dojo."
"Everyone else—class dismissed."
The room erupted in noise as the students immediately scattered.
Meanwhile, the two unfortunate boys who had been singled out stood there in stunned silence.
After exchanging a brief look—
One of them reluctantly dragged Ichiryū toward the infirmary.
The other calmly picked up a bucket and rag, already used to this sort of punishment.
"Doesn't matter," Taichi muttered to himself as he began scrubbing the floor.
"I've still got another punishment tonight anyway… might as well take it slow."
He continued the repetitive routine—
Fill the bucket.
Rinse the floor.
Scrub.
Again and again.
"Scrub… scrub… scrub…"
Amid the rhythmic sounds of cleaning, time seemed to spin forward like a kite caught in the wind.
Before anyone realized it—
three months had passed.
The first-year students of the Shin'ō Academy were about to face a test that would determine their fate.
Those who passed would remain at the academy to continue their training.
Those who failed would be expelled from Seireitei and forced to wait another year before trying again.
According to the Shin'ō Academy Admission Regulations, each student was allowed three attempts to pass the exam.
Anyone who succeeded within those three chances would be considered equally qualified.
But if a student failed all three attempts—
Their memories related to being a Shinigami would be forcibly erased, and they would be expelled from the academy.
And from that day forward…
They would never be allowed to set foot inside Seireitei again.