"You... are here to learn one of the Shinigami's combat techniques: Kidō!"
Wearing a loose black kimono, Saitō Jūshirō strode through the dojo like a giant bat spreading its wings. As he walked, his sharp gaze swept coldly across the rows of students seated before him.
"..."
Under that gaze, every student present felt as if the air around them had suddenly been drained away. Their bodies grew weak, their breathing labored—as if they were truly suffocating.
"Kidō," he continued, "is an advanced spell art that every Shinigami must master. It is divided into three categories: Hadō, Bakudō, and Kaido."
His voice dropped suddenly, becoming so soft it was nearly a whisper.
Yet every word landed clearly in the ears of all two hundred students present.
"I do not expect you to reach the extraordinary level of the former Kidō Corps Commander, Tessai Tsukabishi."
"But at the very least… you should possess the courage to keep fighting with Kidō even after your Zanpakutō has been broken."
He paused.
Then his gaze abruptly snapped toward one particular student.
"But courage," he barked sharply, "is not meant to be used to break academy rules!"
His voice thundered through the hall.
"Fūjin Taichi!"
"Y-Yes… Instructor Saitō!"
Under the watchful eyes of more than two hundred Shinigami students, Fūjin Taichi stood up nervously.
He had no idea why the instructor had suddenly singled him out.
"When surrounded by enemies," Saitō asked coldly, "what would you do?"
Taichi thought quickly.
Recalling the lecture from moments earlier, he gave what he believed was the perfect answer.
"I would fight to the very end! Even if my Zanpakutō were broken, I would continue fighting using Kidō!"
"Wrong."
Smack!
The disciplinary ruler in Saitō's hand came down sharply on Taichi's shoulder.
Pain shot through his body.
"When surrounded by enemies," Saitō said sternly, "I recommend using Hohō to escape the danger."
"Yes, sir…"
Taichi forced himself to stand still despite the sting in his shoulder.
Inside his mind, however, he was furiously complaining.
Old fossil!
We're in a Kidō class, and you're supposed to be teaching Kidō! Why are you suddenly talking about Hohō?!
"That is from Chapter 4, Section 20 of The Instant I Mastered Hohō. Didn't you say you had already finished it?" Saitō asked expressionlessly.
"What?! Instructor Saitō, how did you—"
Taichi froze.
Only now did he realize.
This whole thing was punishment for last night's library incident.
"After class," Saitō added calmly, "you will clean the entire dojo."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned away and addressed the class again.
"Today's lesson will begin with the fundamentals."
"Everyone, open 'Kidō Explained: Beginner Edition', Chapter One—Hadō."
"Yes, sir…"
"Hadō," Saitō lectured, "is the branch of Kidō focused on direct offensive destruction."
"There are thirty basic Hadō spells. Each one has its own unique incantation."
"When memorizing them, you must be extremely careful. No missing words, no extra words, and no mistakes."
"Yes, sir!"
"Begin reciting," Saitō ordered. "If you have questions, ask immediately."
"We will begin practical training in two hours."
With that, he returned to the seat at the front of the dojo.
Placing the ruler across his lap, he leisurely flipped through the textbook and sipped tea—while observing the students' movements from the corner of his eye.
"Hey, Fūjin." A familiar voice whispered nearby.
"Didn't expect you to become famous so quickly. Classes just started and you've already caught Instructor Saitō's attention."
"Moving around during class," Taichi replied without even looking up, "minus ten points for Class 3."
He already knew that smug voice belonged to Kibune Makoto.
"Tch." Kibune crossed his arms proudly. "I've already memorized every Kidō below number thirty. Unlike you, I'm not wandering around getting smacked by the teacher all day."
"Heh."
Taichi rolled his eyes.
Then he deliberately asked,
"If you're so amazing, why didn't the academy put you in the Special Advancement Class?"
Kibune stiffened.
"That's because—"
"Even if you didn't make that class," Taichi continued casually, "shouldn't you at least be in Class Two, the one right below it?"
Kibune's face grew darker with every word.
Taichi pressed on mercilessly.
"I heard Hoko, Renji Abarai, and even that girl I met in the library—Saitō Mizuki—are all in that class."
"…A genius like you," Taichi continued with a faint smirk, "how did you end up in the remedial class? And Class Three, no less. I really wonder why."
"Fūjin Taichi, you bastard—!"
Kibune Makoto exploded with rage, pointing a finger straight at Taichi's nose.
"One day, I'll make you regret this!"
"Sure, sure."
Taichi shrugged with an utterly insincere expression.
"I'll be looking forward to it, Kibune-kun."
Then he calmly lowered his head again and immersed himself in Beginner Kidō – Hadō Section, as if the conversation had never happened.
...
"Next, we will begin practical Kidō training!"
Standing at the side of the dojo, Saitō Jūshirō called out in a low voice.
"First group, step forward!"
The students from Classes Two, Three, and Four—over two hundred Shinigami in total—had already formed twenty neat rows, each with more than ten people kneeling along the edge of the training hall.
At the instructor's command, the first row stepped forward.
Each student raised a finger and pointed toward the humanoid wooden targets placed more than a hundred meters away.
Then they began chanting in low voices:
"Ye lord! Mask of flesh and bone, vessel of fury, crown yourself with flame, mourn beneath the cold wind! Scorch and pierce, rise against the sea—Hadō #1: Shō!"
Whiiish!
Whiiish!
Whiiish!
As the chant ended, streaks of blue shockwaves shot from their fingertips.
They flew like meteors—fast as lightning.
In the blink of an eye, the spells crossed the hundred-meter distance.
Crack!
Thud!
Smack!
The blue shockwaves struck the wooden targets to varying degrees, leaving impact marks of different sizes. However, quite a few students missed the targets entirely.
"Hmm…"
Saitō Jūshirō's face remained unreadable.
Without commenting, he simply turned toward the next row.
"Second group!"
Again, the chanting echoed through the dojo.
Again, blue shockwaves streaked across the air.
Some students succeeded.
Some failed.
A few couldn't even condense the most basic energy wave.
"Next group!"
Saitō's expression grew darker and darker as the training continued. At the same time, he marked scores on the evaluation sheet in his hand based on each student's performance.
Fūjin Taichi's Hadō wasn't particularly impressive.
But it wasn't terrible either.
Compared to the rest of the class, he ranked somewhere above average.
At the very least, his shockwave had struck the target hard enough to leave a visible crack.
Before long, the Kidō training session ended.
Saitō Jūshirō looked as though all his energy had been drained away.
He waved his hand weakly.
"Those on detention, start cleaning! Everyone else, dismissed!"
Immediately, the students scattered like birds released from a cage.
Soon, the entire dojo was empty.
Except for one person.
Fūjin Taichi silently carried a bucket of water across the floor, dipping a rag into it before starting to scrub the wooden boards along the edge of the hall.
...
Before long, the afternoon arrived.
A gentle breeze drifted across the grounds of the Shinō Academy, while the slightly slanted sunlight filled Dojo No. 1 with warm golden light.
Inside the training hall, students from Classes Two and Five—over a hundred of them—stood in ten large circles.
Each person held a sharp Asauchi in hand.
At the center of those circles stood a man wearing a white training robe with a wooden sword at his waist.
Despite his unremarkable appearance, the students stared at him with solemn expressions.
Because the man before them was none other than their swordsmanship instructor—
Tachibana Ukyō.
Before the lesson began, he spoke.
"Before we start today's class," he said slowly, "there is something you must understand."
His gaze was sharp as a blade of grass.
Standing motionless at the center of the students, he radiated an imposing presence.
"You may be holding Asauchi right now."
"But understand this clearly."
"The blades in your hands are merely training tools temporarily lent to you by the academy."
"Not a single one of them is a true Zanpakutō."
The entire dojo fell silent.
Every student stiffened.
Their eyes burned with anticipation.
Because obtaining a true Zanpakutō was the dream of every Shinigami.
Tachibana Ukyō paused, letting the tension build.
Only after surveying the eager faces around him did he continue.
"A true Zanpakutō…"
"…is the blade you create yourself."
"It is born when, through relentless training day and night, you merge the essence of your own soul with the Asauchi."
"That blade—"
"is the one that will become your true Zanpakutō."