I'm the Man Who Will Become the King of the Grind

"Ah~, kimochi!"

Dame!

What felt good?

What was good?

What felt so good?

Ganju staggered, involuntarily retreating several steps as flames of anger gradually kindled in his terrified eyes.

That baka, Dōsan Hanyū!

A fierce glint flashed in Ganju's still-swollen eyes. He gently placed a hand on the door, ready to go in and teach the brat a lesson.

No, he couldn't call him a brat anymore.

Brother-in-law?

Ganju blinked and wiped the tears from his eyes.

With a crash, the sliding door suddenly flew open, and a triangular iron basin came flying out, landing upside down on Ganju's head with a duang.

"Go wash that!"

Ganju took the iron basin off his head. By the dim light in the corridor, he could see its bottom shining brightly.

Only the faint, lingering sweetness told Ganju that the iron basin hadn't been washed.

"Damn it, onee-san, you actually..." You actually made Dōsan cook for you in the middle of the night! That's too baka!

"Hmm?"

Kūkaku turned her head and delivered a flying kick in one smooth motion. Her foot struck Ganju's already swollen face, adding injury to injury and sending him flying with the basin in his arms.

"Little Dōsan's at the training ground."

As Ganju fled, those were the only words he heard Kūkaku leave him with.

What was he doing at the training ground this late at night?

After washing the food basin, Ganju returned to the training ground. As soon as he arrived at this place of evil, he remembered the blows Dōsan had dealt him during the day.

He reached out and slid the training ground door open just a crack. His body sank unnaturally, and sweat ran down his forehead. The motley Spiritual Pressure drifting throughout the training ground seemed to have found an outlet and began to rage.

Ganju's eyelids twitched, and the roaring Spiritual Pressure startled him into taking a step back.

What are you doing?

Ganju could only think, If someone more talented than me is still working hard, what's the point of me working hard?

After dinner, once he had taken care of the chores, Dōsan Hanyū didn't return to his room. Instead, he came to the training ground again.

During the day, with Kūkaku's guidance, his Kidō and Hakuda had improved rapidly.

His Kidō in particular had improved so much that Dōsan Hanyū could now even cast spells below number thirty without an incantation.

His Shunpo, by contrast, had improved only moderately.

When Dōsan used Shunpo, he couldn't disregard interference from external Spiritual Pressure.

His Shunpo could currently only be used for a race with himself.

He didn't find the monotonous training tiresome. From District 49 of Rukongai to District 1, Dōsan Hanyū had endured countless hardships.

If I don't risk my life now, am I supposed to wait for life to play with me in the future?

Continuing his intensive training, Dōsan raised his foot and felt the Spiritual Pressure coating its sole.

With his right foot trailing behind, Dōsan Hanyū planted it against the space beneath him and surged forward, leaving wave after wave of spiritual energy across the training ground.

The frequent bursts of Spiritual Pressure, coupled with a full day of intense training, had inevitably left Dōsan Hanyū somewhat exhausted, but his eyes remained determined.

The pace of his Shunpo had slowed slightly, but overall, it hadn't become the least bit erratic.

The moment Ganju slid the door open, Dōsan noticed someone had entered. Still, he didn't break the rhythm of his training, practicing his Shunpo with the shuttle runs used by athletes in the World of the Living.

But after another afternoon of arduous practice, his Spiritual Pressure was nearly depleted, and his steps gradually grew unsteady and weak.

"If a Soul Reaper doesn't have extraordinary talent, it's hard to make progress in Zankensoki through hard training alone."

The sudden voice sounded as though it were right beside Dōsan's ear. His white brows drew together, and he stepped back, swiftly putting distance between them.

"Mr. Ganju, haven't you gone to rest yet?"

Once he saw who it was, Dōsan wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and braced both hands on his thighs, breathing in ragged, irregular gasps. His breathless, pale-faced expression looked more like a wry smile.

Ganju folded his arms and looked at Dōsan, his heart softening as he tried to persuade him. "With Shunpo, hard training like this is just wasted effort. The progress is negligible. You'd be better off resting early."

Dōsan Hanyū raised his head and gave a faint smile. "How could it be wasted effort? I believe hard work will pay off."

"Hard work will pay off."

When Dōsan Hanyū said those words solemnly, a gray mist that seemed to belong to another space spread from his body, unnoticed by either of them.

But Ganju scoffed at Dōsan's naïveté. As someone of noble blood, he knew full well how many people were held back by a lack of talent.

In Ganju's view, Dōsan Hanyū had merely reaped the benefits of his talent. It was as if he had been born for Kidō, while his talent for Hakuda was somewhat inferior, and his talent for Shunpo inferior still.

Dōsan Hanyū didn't care that Ganju didn't believe him. Instead, he took up a sprinting stance again, the Spiritual Pressure beneath his feet rippling faintly and stirring up a cloud of dust.

But this time was different.

Whoosh.

Dōsan Hanyū's figure was like ink dropped onto rice paper, congealing and spreading. It vanished in an instant, then appeared somewhere else just as quickly.

"Not a single unnecessary movement. Perfect."

Dōsan Hanyū's figure flickered repeatedly, and amid Ganju's startled cry, he appeared behind him.

Brat, you're making a fool of me, making a fool of me on my own turf!

I just got here, and you're already trying to scare me?

And could it be that hard work really can do it?!

"Ganju, please believe that there are hardworking geniuses in this world."

This time, Ganju believed him, and his fighting spirit rose. It was just training for more than ten hours a day!

Doesn't that mean I can do it too?!

Ganju's breathing grew a little heavier.

And so Ganju and Dōsan began seven days of high-intensity training without sleep or rest.

They trained over and over every day, and Ganju made considerable progress too.

After training, there was also some very subarashii food. Perhaps because of his hard work, his big sister didn't fight him for food as she usually did.

Wait, that's not right?

It seemed that every night after eight, Dōsan left him behind and went out for a while.

Looking at his big sister's increasingly swollen figure, Ganju rubbed his chin and noticed something incredible.

One week later.

Seireitei.

Isshin Shiba hummed a song. He wasn't in a very good mood today, so what was wrong with making some noise?

Rangiku-chan had been released after serving her sentence, and he had to start matching wits with her again.

"Captain Isshin, please wait." A gentle, middle-aged man's voice came from behind him. He turned around to find a refined-looking man wearing square-framed glasses.

This is...

When you stood alongside outstanding people, you couldn't help wanting to become outstanding yourself.

The moment Isshin Shiba saw who it was, he unconsciously shed his lazy manner and straightened his back.

Isshin Shiba was a captain brought in by the Thirteenth Division to reinforce its ranks after Kisuke Urahara's defection. He hadn't been with the division long, and the man before him was one of the few friends he got along with.

"Captain Aizen, what can I do for you?"