Diezuka Hiroe

Moonlight veiled the quiet courtyard, bathing it in an even glow. At its center, the monk's staff struck the ground in a steady rhythm: "Thump, thump, thump."

It was a traditional Japanese-style courtyard. Inside, two men faced each other with swords in hand, though neither intended to fight to the death. They held ordinary wooden swords, so it seemed they were merely sparring.

"When you hold a sword, never let yourself look tired. Remember that, Hiroe?"

The speaker was a bald, bare-chested old man with white eyebrows and a silver beard. Two purple ribbons neatly bound his long whiskers.

Anyone who mistook him for an ordinary old man and looked down on him would pay dearly. The scars covering his body spoke of the resentment and regret of the souls who had died beneath his blade.

In truth, nobody would dare look down on him. The Head Captain of the Gotei 13—Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni, the oldest and strongest Soul Reaper still alive—was known throughout the Seireitei. And of course, that included Diezuka Hiroe. In fact, Hiroe knew even more than most.

"Don't lose focus, either!" Seeing Hiroe's vacant expression, Yamamoto stepped in and brought his sword down in a powerful overhead strike. A lump rose on Hiroe's head at a speed visible to the naked eye.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Hiroe, who looked no older than ten, clutched his head with both hands. His youthful face wore a look of discontent. "I know, teacher!"

Though he'd been here for over twenty years, whenever he saw figures from the anime of his previous life appear before him in the flesh, Diezuka Hiroe still occasionally found himself staring blankly.

Who would've thought that staying up all night gaming could kill him? All right, he admitted that this particular all-nighter had gone on a bit too long—an entire week—but dying just like that seemed rather abrupt.

In truth, his death hadn't felt real. It was as if he'd simply closed his eyes, opened them again, and found himself in a different room, with a different body and name to boot.

In his previous life, he'd been Hong Jiang, a miserable software engineer. The moment he opened his eyes, he became a child named Diezuka Hiroe, a newborn abandoned in the Rukongai.

"Hiroe, you're a genius, so I've taken you as my last disciple." A life that was going to be even more miserable had been just around the corner, but those words from Yamamoto had sent Hiroe's status skyrocketing. He'd become one of the most privileged second-generation figures in the Seireitei. That didn't mean he could coast through life, though. On the contrary, his childhood had been harder than anyone else's.

Seeing Hiroe's pitiful expression, Yamamoto's voice softened. He knelt down, gently rubbed the lump on Hiroe's head, and said, "You're a genius. But do you know why I've always told you that, instead of keeping it from you?"

"Haah..." Hiroe sighed and replied helplessly, "You've told me many times, teacher. A genius needs confidence. Without it, a genius is even worse off than an ordinary person."

Yamamoto nodded. He was very pleased with his young disciple; in truth, Hiroe was more like a son to him than a student.

Hiroe was a once-in-a-millennium genius. Yamamoto had known that from the moment he'd found him in the Rukongai fifteen years ago.

His spiritual power far surpassed that of ordinary people and even most geniuses. And at the time, he'd just been an ordinary child from the Rukongai, with no formal training whatsoever.

More importantly, Hiroe seemed to have another soul inside him, giving him twice the learning ability, insight, and spiritual power reserves of someone at the same level.

In other words, Hiroe had twice as much time as anyone else from birth. Saying he got twice the results for half the effort didn't even begin to describe it. Nobody could predict how fast he would grow.

So Yamamoto had immediately decided to bring the child into the Seireitei and take him as his last disciple. He would devote his life to raising Hiroe as his own, and he would live to see the boy become the Soul Society's strongest bulwark, a blade that struck fear into the hearts of all who heard of it.

Over the past fifteen years, Hiroe had lived up to his expectations. Of course, he still had a few bad habits—ones that could prove fatal. If he could get rid of them, Yamamoto would be even more pleased.

"That's right. A genius needs confidence, but not arrogance." Seeing Hiroe looking thoughtful, Yamamoto continued, "Whether facing an enemy or an ally, you must have the confidence to win, as well as a healthy respect for the possibility of defeat."

"Look down on the enemy strategically, but take them seriously tactically! I know that one!"

Hiroe pursed his lips, looking rather dismissive. Sure, Yamamoto was the strongest Soul Reaper, but when it came to talking, he wasn't necessarily any more reasonable than a young man like Hiroe, who'd crossed over from another world.

Yamamoto didn't get angry. He tapped Hiroe on the forehead with his right hand and said with a smile, "You make it sound like you know exactly what you're talking about. But when it comes to putting it into practice, you do the complete opposite."

"Cough! Well, it's just..." Hiroe flushed bright red at the question. He tried his best to hide it, but anyone could see that he'd just contradicted himself.

"I was just thinking about something. Kido—right! I'd just come up with some new ideas for developing a new Kido!"

He'd finally found an excuse, and it was so convincing that even he believed it. "So, teacher, you interrupted my train of thought!"

"An enemy won't care whether you've made some important discovery or not. They won't be trying to distract you for its own sake. They'll be thinking about how to take your head back and claim their reward!"

Seeing that Hiroe was about to speak, Yamamoto raised a hand to stop him and continued, "A dead genius is no genius at all. They don't even deserve to be mourned!"

"Do you know why?"

"Because the dead are no use." Yamamoto's tone barely changed, but the sheer force of his presence still made Hiroe's heart tremble, and his voice wavered along with it.

"That's not true. Dying on the battlefield is always meaningful."

Hiroe shook his head, not to deny what Yamamoto had said, but because he didn't understand why a dead genius wouldn't even deserve to be mourned.

He sat up straight and crossed his legs, then bowed his head deeply. "Please enlighten me, teacher!"

"Because it's foolish, Hiroe." Yamamoto stroked his beard and continued gently, "You should have had a better future ahead of you. You should have been able to protect more lives."

"If you throw your life away foolishly, you aren't just letting yourself down. You're letting down all those who might have lived in the future, but will instead die in battle!"

"If you foolishly abandon the responsibilities on your shoulders and leave them to someone else, if you can't even repay those who protected you, then even if you die in battle, you've committed a grave sin!"

Each sentence was sterner and more shocking than the last. It was as if gentle waves had first washed over him, only to swell into a towering tsunami. Hiroe's world spun, and he was left bewildered.

"So this is how heavy it feels to be adopted by the Head Captain."

"No matter how they may seem, all my disciples are sufficiently cautious. To die carelessly would be their greatest disgrace!"

"And you, Hiroe!" Yamamoto raised the wooden sword in his hand and slammed it down, producing a resounding crash.

Hiroe felt the very earth shake. He looked up and saw that Yamamoto, who had been squinting moments before, had opened his eyes. A fearsome light shone in them, as if it would never fade.

"You must not die, and you will not die. Your future must shine brilliantly!" The veins bulged along Yamamoto's neck as he shouted, "Do you understand, Hiroe?!"

"I understand, teacher!" Hiroe straightened up and shouted back, "I am Diezuka Hiroe. When I break free from my cocoon, I will be an eternal butterfly in the sky."

"My future is destined to shine brilliantly!"