"So… you're just letting Unohana-sensei cut you? So you can deeply experience the wonders of Kaidō healing?"
Aizen's gaze was odd after Gusion explained. "You're addicted to getting cut?"
"What nonsense! Who would get addicted to having their heart sliced open by a rapid sword strike?!"
Gusion was speechless. To avoid further misunderstandings, he explained to Aizen and asked him to keep it a secret.
After two months, if nothing else, he trusted Aizen to keep his mouth shut.
"But I heard strange voices from the Kaidō classroom after class, like 'Sensei, please do it again.'"
Aizen deadpanned.
Gusion's face froze. "That's just me wanting to improve… Wait, where did you hear that from?!"
Aizen glanced around the classroom. "In the Academy… probably everyone knows? It's one of the seven campus mysteries."
"Huh? There are seven mysteries at the academy?"
Gusion was stunned. This was like those urban legends from junior high or high school—usually about ghosts. But you're Shinigami—why do you even have these?
"Of course. Haven't I told you?"
Aizen solemnly listed: "The bloodstained bamboo swords in the equipment room, the practice swords that disappear at midnight, the dorms where spiritual particles thin at night, the endlessly bleeding white mice, the vanishing rice in the late-night cafeteria, the shifting staircase, and… the strange sounds from the Kaidō classroom after class."
Gusion facepalmed. He had to admit, that gossip and pranks were universal—human or Shinigami alike.
And among these seven mysteries, Aizen, aren't you responsible for some yourself!?
For example, the thinning spiritual particles at night—wasn't that your doing, you overachiever!?
"Gusion-kun, about the missing rice in the cafeteria…"
Before Aizen could finish, Gusion quickly cut him off, "Definitely not me!"
After that little episode, both of them settled down to meditate with their zanpakutō. Though Aizen was just pretending—he had already mastered Shikai.
Gusion had made great progress in the past two months. Not only had his combat specialties improved, but he'd learned many new skills.
For example, he won the advanced Shunpo skill Utsusemi from Yoruichi, learned Kaidō from Unohana, and mastered various Bakudō and practical Hadō from Kidō class.
His Kaidō was already quite advanced. Now Unohana only needed to cut him; he could heal himself—though the speed needed improvement.
For a fatal wound from shoulder to abdomen, he could now heal it in ten minutes. For the medical corps, this was more than enough.
But he wanted to use Kaidō in battle, so he needed to heal light wounds instantly, and serious wounds within a few breaths.
He wasn't considering fatal wounds for now; if an enemy could inflict one, he probably wouldn't survive anyway.
Ideally, he wanted to reach the point of instantly healing major wounds—the combat value would be immense.
But that goal was distant; he probably wouldn't reach it during his time in this world.
Of course, his current training was still worthwhile. He could now use Kaidō in combat for quick treatment of injuries.
As for spiritual pressure, it wasn't that Gusion was slacking—he just didn't want to be someone who relied only on stats.
His master had taught him: while stats might be impressive compared to average people, if you only relied on brute force, you'd suffer when facing true experts.
So, martial skills were most important. He already knew how to train spiritual pressure; he could do that anytime. But missing out on the Academy's free high-level instruction would be a waste.
Most importantly, he suspected his graduation might involve a special exam.
The examiner would have higher spiritual pressure but would probably not use it to bully him. So, improving his overall skills was key.
Over the next while, he'd have Unohana-sensei go easier on him since his Kaidō was already solid. No need for such intense after-class instruction. That way, he'd have more energy to train at night.
Gusion glanced at the asauchi at his knees. He'd tried to resonate with it every day for two months but always failed.
He didn't think it was due to low spiritual might or a lack of resonance talent. It was more like… something was odd deep in his soul.
When he examined his inner self, staring into his soul, he saw endless purple-blackness, like gazing into an abyss.
When he stared deep enough, he felt as if he was falling. He even seemed to hear terrifying roars echoing in his ears.
"Sōsuke, what was it like the first time you heard your zanpakutō's voice?"
After thinking, Gusion decided to ask Aizen.
"My zanpakutō's voice?"
Aizen opened his eyes. He wasn't resonating—just training spiritual pressure. "Your zanpakutō's voice is your soul's voice. I kind of forgot what it said to me the first time."
Gusion didn't buy it—Aizen just didn't want to share something so personal. So he asked differently, "Does your zanpakutō speak human language? Was the voice calm or aggressive, gentle or terrifying?"
Aizen gave him a strange look. "Your zanpakutō is a reflection of your soul. Unless you hate yourself, your zanpakutō shouldn't be hostile to you. As for the language… Gusion-kun, aren't you human?"
"Of course I'm human."
Gusion felt awkward. He knew what Aizen meant. Normally, zanpakutō speaks the owner's language, unless the owner isn't human.
Since the zanpakutō spirit is born from the owner's soul, they share the same language. Even if he spoke other languages, it would still count as human speech. It shouldn't be something he completely couldn't understand.
But the problem was, he thought he'd heard some strange whispers among those terrifying roars.
"So Gusion-kun, do you hate yourself?"
Aizen sounded like a psychologist, analyzing Gusion's problem.
Gusion fell silent, recalling his life before coming to the Endspace.
He'd been an orphan, taken in by his master as a baby. In this life, he'd only cherished two people.
His master.
And his senior.
But they were both dead, right in front of him.