The Shinigami teacher at the front of the classroom spoke at length about Soul Society's history, spittle flying as he lectured.
From the glory of the Royal Family to the rise of the Five Noble Families, then the founding of the Gotei 13—he even talked about the war between the Shinigami and the Quincies hundreds of years ago.
Even today, Quincies still wandered the Human World.
Below the lectern, a rather strange scene was unfolding.
More than ninety-nine percent of the students sat in neat rows at the front, listening attentively to the lesson.
Several rows at the back were empty, with two somewhat slight figures sitting at separate desks.
One listened closely, no different from the other students.
The other had buried his head in the crook of his arm, seemingly in a state of hibernation.
The teacher noticed this, too. He hesitated, as if wanting to say something, but in the end could only unleash his pent-up frustration on the class, raising his voice several notches.
But to Kisaragi Akira, the commotion sounded like a lullaby.
When the teacher's forceful voice reached his ears, he...
Slept even more soundly.
Aizen glanced sidelong at the troublemaking friend beside him, a trace of helplessness in his eyes.
Perhaps this was a perfect example of how interest was the best teacher.
Ever since Kisaragi Akira had sent Kaede Junya flying with a single strike in Kendo class, his quality of life had improved by leaps and bounds.
Countless elite students had witnessed his true strength and developed a heartfelt respect for him.
Wherever you went, the strong were always respected.
The Spiritual Arts Academy was no exception.
The news spread like wildfire, soon reaching every corner of the Spiritual Arts Academy.
Teachers, students, and even the headmaster all knew that Class 1-1 had a genuine prodigy.
In just a few months since entering the Academy, he had already reached the point where he could beat up a teacher. His Reiatsu even surpassed that of an ordinary Shinigami officer.
A prodigy in every sense of the word: Kisaragi Akira.
But the guy refused to follow convention. He paid attention in Zanpakuto, Hand-to-hand, Hoho, and Kido classes, as well as practical training.
But the moment a cultural studies class began, he would start snoring, showing none of the pride or attitude one would expect from a genius.
He spent all day grinning like an idiot, and every so often came up with some completely unexpected idea.
Things like raiding the Shin'o Cafeteria at night, altering disciplinary notices, or performing exorcisms and blessings on female classmates.
The problem was, he could have gotten away with it if he did these things alone. But whenever he planned to do something bad, he always dragged Aizen along.
As Kisaragi Akira put it, good brothers shared their blessings, and when trouble came, you took the fall.
Aizen had no idea where he'd picked up such twisted ideas, but he always followed them to the letter.
"That's all for today."
At the lectern, the history teacher wore a stern expression.
Below, Kisaragi Akira looked bleary-eyed and dazed.
"Is class over?"
"Our final exams are a month away. As Shinigami, practical training is the most important subject, but you can't neglect cultural studies either."
"Any student who fails this exam will receive a serious demerit and be placed on probation!"
At the mention of punishment, Kisaragi Akira jolted awake, then turned a pitiful gaze toward Aizen.
"Sosuke, we're good brothers, right?"
Aizen said nothing.
"You can't bear to watch me fail, can you? So, during the exam..."
At some point, Kisaragi Akira had moved to the seat beside Aizen and slung an arm familiarly over his shoulder, as he plotted a harebrained scheme like he always did.
"Next class is Tozen. You should focus on how you're going to manage even the most basic Tozen first."
Aizen rose from his seat and said calmly, "If I remember right, you still hadn't managed the first step of Tozen as of last night."
"Failing cultural studies isn't the end of the world. But if you can't get your own Zanpakuto, then even if you graduate, you won't be able to join the Gotei 13."
"Perhaps the only place you can go is the Kido Corps..."
Kisaragi Akira stared blankly. His good brother's sudden betrayal left his heart aching.
But at this point, he could only grit his teeth and face it.
He wasn't sure why, but he seemed to be fundamentally incompatible with his own Zanpakuto.
From choosing his Asauchi to understanding Tozen, he had struggled with every step.
Even the worst students could faintly sense their Zanpakuto's power, yet he couldn't manage even the most basic Tozen.
Let alone bring out his Zanpakuto's power.
Weren't Zanpakuto forged from the souls of Shinigami? Then why was he inherently incompatible with his own soul?
Was he just a stubborn fool?
With a mixture of apprehension and doubt, Kisaragi Akira went with Aizen to the Sword Meditation Dojo.
The spacious room was filled with a meditative stillness.
A faint fragrance lingered in the air, drawing them into a hazy, almost intoxicating state that made them feel as if they were floating.
This was the Sword Meditation Dojo's special Reishi incense. It helped students who had just received their Zanpakuto enter a state of Tozen more quickly, allowing them to communicate with their Zanpakuto.
Of course, the Reishi incense had little effect on people with strong wills.
People like Kisaragi Akira and Aizen.
The two sat cross-legged on their cushions, assuming the posture for meditation, and began their Tozen.
Like the other students nearby, Aizen soon entered a state of Tozen.
Only Kisaragi Akira kept fidgeting, as if he had lice crawling all over him.
He couldn't understand it. He'd followed the teacher's instructions, and even had Aizen teach him the relevant techniques, yet he still couldn't manage even the most basic Tozen.
Kisaragi Akira stared blankly at the blade resting across his knees.
A Zanpakuto's form, abilities, and state were all shaped by the Shinigami's soul.
A Shinigami gained power by learning the name of the Zanpakuto bestowed upon him and communicating with it heart to heart.
More precisely, the blade in front of him couldn't yet be called a Zanpakuto. It was an Asauchi.
A Shinigami had to live and sleep alongside his Asauchi, tempering it over time and engraving the essence of his soul into it to forge a Zanpakuto of his own.
But Kisaragi Akira wanted to say: he understood all that.
The question was, how did he engrave the essence of his soul into his Zanpakuto?
It was like having the Shin'o Cafeteria and the women's dormitory right behind a door. He only had to open it and walk through to enjoy endless happiness.
But how did he open the door?
The usual methods of Tozen were completely ineffective for Kisaragi Akira.
He folded his arms and stared at his Asauchi, brows furrowed, countless ideas flashing through his mind.
"Damn it, even Mimihagi is easier to communicate with than you..."
Kisaragi Akira muttered angrily. But just then, a flash of inspiration shot through his eyes like lightning.
"Wait!"
"What would happen if I used the method for communicating with gods to communicate with my Zanpakuto?!"
At the thought,
Kisaragi Akira's gaze burned as he looked at the blade across his knees!
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