Genji School

Early the next morning, a knock at the door woke Shuichi.

He got up and opened it.

A young man stood outside in a black martial robe, a sword at his waist. He had refined features and the gentle, scholarly air of a teacher at some warrior clan's private school. His white hair was swept straight back, and his eyes were white.

"Shuichi?" the man asked.

"Yes."

"I'm Chojiro Sasakibe, lieutenant of the First Division."

He bowed slightly. "The Captain-Commander asked me to take you to Genji School."

Genji School?

Shuichi had heard of it. Anyone who had spent time in one of Rukongai's larger towns knew the name.

Captain-Commander Yamamoto had founded it to train prospective Soul Reapers. They taught everything there, from Reiatsu control and the basics of Zanjutsu to Kidō theory and what it meant to be a Soul Reaper.

"Right now?"

"Right now," Chōjirō Sasakibe said gently, leaving no room for argument.

"The Captain-Commander said you have no foundation at all. You need to start from scratch, and Genji School is the best place to do it."

Genji School stood in East Rukongai District 1, close to Seireitei.

The streets were broad and level, lined with evenly spaced trees. The houses had neat white walls and black-tiled roofs. Soul Reapers passed them now and then, some hurrying, others chatting in small groups. All stopped to salute Chōjirō Sasakibe when they saw him.

"Lieutenant Sasakibe."

"Good morning, Lord Chōjirō."

Chōjirō Sasakibe returned each greeting, neither servile nor aloof.

Following behind him, Shuichi felt like an awkward fledgling trailing an old bird.

"We're here." Chōjirō Sasakibe stopped before a wooden gate.

A plaque hung above it, bearing three characters:

Genji School

The strokes were bold and forceful, each one seemingly carved with a blade.

Beyond the gate lay a spacious courtyard paved with bluestone. Covered walkways ran along both sides, with rows of classrooms behind them.

A dozen or so people were already there. Some practiced sword swings, some sat cross-legged in meditation, and others sparred in pairs. They stopped to salute when Chōjirō Sasakibe entered.

"Lieutenant Sasakibe!"

"Keep practicing." Chōjirō Sasakibe waved them on and led Shuichi across the courtyard to a large classroom opposite the gate.

Several people were seated inside. As the two entered, every gaze fell on Shuichi.

He felt the weight of those looks—curious, assessing, dismissive. He lowered his head and followed Chōjirō Sasakibe to the front row.

"Sit." Chōjirō Sasakibe pointed to an empty seat.

Shuichi sat and laid his Zanpakutō beside him.

Yes, a Zanpakutō. Once an Asauchi accepted its wielder and resonated with his Reiatsu, it became a Zanpakutō.

Chōjirō Sasakibe moved to the front of the room and turned to face everyone.

"A new student joins us today." He looked at Shuichi.

"Introduce yourself."

Shuichi stood. Everyone was looking at him again, and his throat felt dry.

"My name is Shuichi."

His voice came out quieter than he had expected. "I'll be studying here from today on. I hope we'll get along."

He bowed and sat down. Whispers rose around the room, but one soft cough from Chōjirō Sasakibe silenced them.

"Shuichi has never had any training," Chōjirō Sasakibe said calmly. "Do not look down on him for his lack of a foundation, and do not trouble him with idle curiosity. Understood?"

"Yes!" they answered in unison.

"Then let's begin today's lesson." Chōjirō Sasakibe picked up a wooden sword and stepped into the open space at the center of the classroom.

"Today's subject is Zan-Sō-Haku-Ki."

Zan-Sō-Haku-Ki formed the foundation of Soul Reaper combat.

Zanjutsu, Shunpo, Hakuda, and Kidō.

All four were essential.

Chōjirō Sasakibe taught slowly and in detail, stopping to explain every term. The other students had at least begun learning, but Shuichi knew nothing.

"'Zan' means Zanjutsu: sword technique. It isn't wild hacking. Each strike must be precise and deliberate. Every cut has a purpose."

He raised the wooden sword and brought it down in a simple, slow stroke.

"This is the most basic Straight Cut. The blade descends from above the head along the centerline. The key is..."

He turned and broke down the movement: where to place the feet, how to turn the waist, how to grip the sword, and the angle of the descending blade. He explained every detail clearly.

Shuichi listened intently, trying to remember every word. No one had ever taught him anything before.

After covering Zanjutsu, Chōjirō Sasakibe put down the wooden sword and went to the center of the courtyard.

"'Sō' means Shunpo, a Soul Reaper's movement technique. It isn't running. You use Reiatsu to propel your body from one place to another in an instant."

The moment he finished speaking, he vanished.

Shuichi blinked. In the next instant, Chōjirō Sasakibe appeared at the far end of the courtyard, at least twenty paces from where he had stood.

"Did you see that?" Chōjirō Sasakibe called from a distance.

No one answered. No one had.

Chōjirō Sasakibe walked back and stopped in front of Shuichi.

"The foundation of Shunpo is gathering Reiatsu beneath your feet, then releasing it in a burst. It works on the same principle as reinforcing a sword strike with Reiatsu. Remember the idea for now; we'll practice it later."

Shuichi nodded. He did not really understand what it meant to gather Reiatsu beneath his feet, but he remembered the words.

"'Haku' means Hakuda: unarmed combat."

Chōjirō Sasakibe clenched his fist and threw a straight punch. "A Soul Reaper doesn't fight only with a sword. When your blade isn't in your hand, or using it isn't an option, Hakuda is your last line of defense."

He paused and looked at Shuichi.

"The basics of Hakuda are much like Shunpo. You reinforce your body with Reiatsu. Your fists, feet, knees, elbows—any part of your body can become a weapon. The stronger your Reiatsu, the greater the destructive force."

Shuichi glanced down at his hands. They had rummaged through trash, dug in the dirt, fought over food, and battled stray dogs. He had never reinforced them with Reiatsu.

"'Ki' means Kidō: the art of turning Reiatsu into spells."

Chōjirō Sasakibe extended a hand, palm up. "Hado #1: Sho!"

A faint glow gathered in his palm. He thrust his hand forward, sending the light into a wooden post in the courtyard. It struck with a dull thud, and the post snapped.

"That was only the most basic Kidō," Chōjirō Sasakibe said, lowering his hand. "Kidō is divided into Hado and Bakudo. Hado is used for attack, while Bakudo has various support functions. A spell's power depends on the caster's Reiatsu and control."

He looked at Shuichi.

"What you need most right now are two things: Reiatsu control and the basics of Zanjutsu. The rest can come later."

Shuichi nodded.

When the morning lesson ended, the other students left one by one for lunch.

Shuichi stayed in his seat. He had brought no lunch and did not know where to get any.

Chōjirō Sasakibe came over and handed him a rice ball.

"Eat."

Shuichi took a bite. Pickled plum filled the center, tart and sweet, and the grains of rice remained distinct.

"Thank you."

Chōjirō Sasakibe sat beside him, looking at the wooden post his Kidō had struck.

"Lord Genryusai Yamamoto said your Reiatsu is very strong," he said suddenly.

Shuichi mumbled a reply through a mouthful of rice.

"But strong Reiatsu isn't always a good thing," Chōjirō Sasakibe said softly. "Power you can't control can hurt you and others. You lost control once before, didn't you?"

Shuichi nodded.

"That time... I don't remember anything. I remember holding my sword, and then nothing. When I woke up, I was in the First Division Barracks."

"That's why what you need most isn't to learn how to swing a sword. It's to learn how to control yourself."

Chōjirō Sasakibe turned to him, his gaze gentle but serious. "Reiatsu control underlies all of Zan-Sō-Haku-Ki. Without it, Zanjutsu is just brute force, Shunpo is blind rushing, Hakuda hurts you, and Kidō won't come out at all."

Shuichi lowered his head and looked at the rice ball in his hand.

"Can I... learn it?"

Chōjirō Sasakibe was silent for a moment.

"Lord Genryusai Yamamoto says you can, so you can." He stood and smoothed the folds of his robe.

"I'll teach you the basics of Reiatsu control this afternoon. Finish eating first."

That afternoon, Chōjirō Sasakibe led him to a corner of the courtyard. A smooth stone stood there, about half as tall as a person, its surface seemingly polished.

"This stone is for practice," Chōjirō Sasakibe said. "Put your hand on it and try to channel Reiatsu into it. Don't force it. Don't rush. Just... let it flow like water."

Shuichi placed his hand on the stone.

It was cool beneath his palm, its surface smooth as a mirror.

He closed his eyes and tried to sense what Reiatsu was.

At first, there was nothing.

Only the chill of the stone and the faint warmth of his own palm.

Then Sasakibe began guiding him.

And then he felt it.

It did not come from the stone. Something slept inside his body, deep in his chest, at the base of his spine. It was like a quiet flame curled in on itself, breathing and rising and falling faintly with his heartbeat.

"Feel it?" Chōjirō Sasakibe's voice sounded distant, as though it came through water.

Shuichi did not answer. He tried to let it flow like water, as Chōjirō Sasakibe had said.

The stone began to glow.

Not with a harsh, violent light, but a faint, gentle white halo.

It spread slowly from the point beneath his palm across the stone.

Then the light suddenly intensified.

He had not meant to make it stronger. The flame had suddenly opened its eyes and surged outward. A soft crack came from the stone, and a thin fissure appeared on its surface.

Shuichi snatched his hand back, his heart hammering.

"I'm sorry!"

"I didn't mean to," he blurted out.

"It's all right."

Chōjirō Sasakibe came over and inspected the crack. There was no blame in his expression. If anything, he looked a little... surprised.

"You managed that on your first attempt at controlling Reiatsu?"

Shuichi did not understand what "that" meant. All he knew was that he had cracked the stone and would probably have to pay for it.

"I... couldn't control it. It just..."

"Mm."

Chōjirō Sasakibe nodded. "I know. Your Reiatsu is greater than you realize, which makes it harder to control. But that isn't a bad thing."

He turned to Shuichi.

"That's enough practice for today. Remember how it felt. The Reiatsu inside you isn't a wild beast; it's your power. You need to learn to guide it, not suppress it."

"Guide it..." Shuichi murmured.

"That's right."

Chōjirō Sasakibe patted his shoulder. "We'll continue tomorrow."

At dusk, Shuichi walked back to West District One alone.

It was nearly dark when he reached his little house. He opened the door, set his Zanpakutō beside his mat, and sat down.

He had learned so much today.

The basics of Zanjutsu: how to grip a sword, how to stand, how to swing.

The principle behind Shunpo: gathering Reiatsu beneath the feet and releasing it in a burst.

The essentials of Hakuda: reinforcing the body with Reiatsu.

The concept of Kidō: using Reiatsu to turn spiritual power into spells.

And Reiatsu control—that quiet flame curled up inside him.

He closed his eyes, rested his hands on his knees, and tried to sense the flame again.

It was still there, quiet and warm, rising and falling faintly with his heartbeat.

This time, he did not try to let it flow like water. He simply felt it, as naturally as he felt his heartbeat.

After a while, he opened his eyes.

Outside, darkness had fallen completely. A light burned in his neighbor's house, its warm yellow glow spilling through the paper window into the yard.

Shuichi stood and walked to the door.

He stood on the porch, looking toward Seireitei in the distance.

He had to go to Genji School again tomorrow.

He had to keep practicing tomorrow.

He shut the door and lay down under his covers.

As he closed his eyes, he suddenly remembered what Chōjirō had said.

"Reiatsu is inside you. It isn't a beast. It's your power."

Not a beast.

My power.

He placed a hand on his chest and felt his heartbeat, felt that quiet flame.

Then he fell into a deep sleep.

Something happened on Shuichi's third day at Genji School.

After the morning lessons, Chōjirō did not send him to the courtyard to practice controlling his Reiatsu as usual. Instead, he led him through the back door of Genji School and down a corridor he had never seen before.

The corridor was long, with a paper lantern hanging on either wall every three paces. The dim yellow light stretched their shadows across the floor. Following Chōjirō, Shuichi could hear his footsteps echoing through the empty hall.

"Where are we going?" he could not help asking.

"The Spiritual Might Test."

Chōjirō did not look back. "Every student at Genji School takes it when they enroll and again after they graduate."

The Spiritual Might Test.

Shuichi had never heard the term, but the name told him enough. It measured the strength of one's Reiatsu.

"I'm... going to do badly, aren't I?" he said quietly.

Chōjirō stopped and looked back at him.

"Why do you say that?"

"I've only studied for three days. I can't even control my Reiatsu, and that stone..." He remembered the practice stone he had cracked and felt a twinge of guilt.

Chōjirō was silent for a moment, then turned and continued walking.

"How well you control your Reiatsu and how strong it is are two different things."

His voice came from up ahead. "The test measures your upper limit, not your control."

Shuichi did not quite understand, but he nodded anyway.

A heavy wooden door stood at the end of the corridor.

Chōjirō pushed it open.

Beyond it lay a circular room, no wider than two bedrooms.

A pillar stood in the center. It was jet-black, its surface as smooth as a mirror.

A fist-sized white orb was set into its top. It gave off a faint glow, as though an undying flame burned within.

Someone stood on the other side of the room.

Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto.

"Lord Genryusai Yamamoto." Chōjirō bowed deeply.

"I've brought Shuichi."

Yamamoto nodded, his gaze settling on Shuichi.

"Come here."

Shuichi stepped forward and stood before the black pillar. He noticed its surface was not entirely smooth after all. Rings marked it at regular intervals, like an enormous measuring rod.

"Place your hand on the pillar,"

Yamamoto said.

"Then release your Reiatsu. Don't suppress it or control it. Let it flow naturally."

Shuichi swallowed.

"Don't control it?"

"Don't control it."

Yamamoto's voice was calm and firm. "At your current stage, trying to control it would only suppress your true strength. I want to see your upper limit."

Shuichi took a deep breath and pressed his palm against the pillar.

It was cold.

He closed his eyes.

The flame deep in his chest—the one he had spent the past few days trying to sense—rose and fell faintly with his heartbeat. It was clearer than it had been three days ago, like a light wrapped in thin gauze. Though hazy, he could make out its shape.

Release it.

Don't control it. Let it flow naturally.

He stopped trying to think about how to release it. He simply felt the flame, and then...

Something opened.

He did not force it. He did not even mean to do it. It was as natural as breathing. He had simply allowed it out.

The flame stirred.

It rose from deep in his chest like water welling from a spring, flowed down his arm into his palm, then seeped into the pillar.

The pillar lit up.

It was nothing like the practice stone's faint white glow. The entire pillar shone. White light climbed from its base, passing one marked ring after another.

Shuichi felt the flame flowing faster. It was as though he had kept a river dammed up inside him, and now that he had opened the gates, the water rushed out on its own.

The light kept climbing.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

It passed the pillar's midpoint and continued upward.

Seven rings.

Eight rings.

His palm began to grow hot.

It was not a painful heat, but a feeling of fullness, of something brimming over. Something inside him had finally found an outlet and was flowing freely.

Nineteen rings.

The light stopped at the nineteenth ring and flickered faintly.

Then...

"Enough."

Yamamoto's voice settled over him like a gentle hand.

Shuichi opened his eyes and took his hand off the pillar. The light went out at once, and the pillar returned to black.

He drew a breath. His body felt a little weak, as if he had just run a long distance. But he was not tired. Instead, he felt strangely... light, as though a weight he had always carried had been lifted.

Chōjirō stood nearby, wearing an odd expression. It was not surprise or shock, but something Shuichi could not read.

"How much?" Shuichi asked.

Chōjirō did not answer. He looked at Yamamoto.

Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto stood beside the pillar, looking down at the nine marked rings.

His expression had not changed. His stern face still held that calm authority.

"Second-Class Spiritual Might," Yamamoto said.

He sounded as though he were commenting on the pleasant weather.

Shuichi stood beside the pillar, looking from Yamamoto to Chōjirō. He did not know what "Second-Class Spiritual Might" meant, but he could feel the weight of those words.

"Is Second-Class Spiritual Might... impressive?" he asked.

Sasakibe glanced at Yamamoto, then said evenly, "There are twenty classes of Spiritual Might. Twenty is the lowest. One is the highest."

"This is your first test. Without any training, you've reached Second-Class Spiritual Might."

Yamamoto walked past Shuichi toward the door.

"Starting tomorrow, you'll learn Reiatsu control from me."

Shuichi froze.

Sasakibe froze too. His expression all but said, Did I hear that right?

"Lord Genryusai Yamamoto." Chōjirō took a step forward.

Yamamoto did not look back as he slowly approached the door.

"His Reiatsu is too great. If he cannot control it, he'll lose control. What happened in North 79th District cannot happen again."

His voice came from his retreating back, as matter-of-fact as ever.

"Genji School's basic lessons aren't enough for him. I'll teach him myself."

With that, he pushed the door open and left.

Only Shuichi and Sasakibe remained in the room.

Shuichi stood rooted to the spot, his mind blank.

Captain-Commander Yamamoto—the leader of the Gotei 13, the strongest Soul Reaper in Soul Society—was going to teach him Reiatsu control himself?

Sasakibe said nothing. He, too, walked past Shuichi and out the door.

"Study hard." Sasakibe's voice was much softer than usual.

"No one taught personally by the Commander-in-Chief has ever been ordinary."

Shuichi looked down at his hands.

He had Second-Class Spiritual Might.

He was someone Captain-Commander Yamamoto had decided to teach personally.

He clenched his fists, then relaxed them.

"I will."

The next morning, Shuichi woke before dawn.

He put on his slightly oversized black robes, fastened his Zanpakutō at his waist, and opened the door.

A thin line of pale light had just appeared on the horizon. The streets were still empty.

The air was cool and smelled of grass and earth.

He took a deep breath and headed for Seireitei.

By the time he reached the First Division Barracks, dawn had broken. Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto was already standing in the courtyard, eyes closed as if in meditation.

Hearing Shuichi's footsteps, he opened his eyes.

"You're here."

"Yes." Shuichi straightened, a little nervous.

"From today on, come here every morning at dawn. I'll teach you your first lesson in Reiatsu control."

"The first step in controlling Reiatsu," Yamamoto said,

"is not releasing it, but sensing it."

He took a long, thin white candle from his sleeve and set it on a stone platform in the middle of the courtyard.

"Feed your Reiatsu into this candle. Don't let it flare up, and don't let it go out. Keep it burning steadily."

Shuichi stared at the candle, bewildered.

"How do I... feed it in?"

"You've spent three days learning to sense Reiatsu at Genji School. Hold your hand above the candle, just as you touched that stone."

Shuichi held his hand about a fist's width above the candle.

He closed his eyes and felt the flame within him.

It was still there, quiet and warm. But it was different from yesterday, during the test. It had grown... quieter, as though it knew what he had to do today and was waiting obediently.

He tried to guide it toward his palm.

Slowly, carefully. Instead of opening the floodgates as he had yesterday, he let it seep out bit by bit.

Beneath his palm, the candlewick glowed for an instant.

Then it went dark.

Shuichi opened his eyes, disheartened.

"I..."

"Again."

There was no emotion in Yamamoto's voice. "Don't rush. Reiatsu is not a flood. It is a stream. A flood destroys everything in its path; a stream nourishes all it touches."

Shuichi took a deep breath and held his hand over the candle again.

This time, he went even slower. He did not let his Reiatsu flow out. He let it drip—one drop, then another, then another.

The wick caught fire.

This time it did not go out. The flame was tiny, no bigger than a bean, and it swayed in the morning breeze. But it held.

"Keep it steady," Yamamoto said.

Shuichi gritted his teeth and struggled to maintain that faint output. His palm began to ache, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. But he dared not withdraw his hand or lose focus. He even kept his breathing slow and light.

The flame burned quietly on the wick.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Then another fifteen.

By the time the sun had fully risen, Shuichi could hold on no longer. His hand jerked, the flame leaped, and then it went out.

He collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath.

Yamamoto stood beside him and looked down.

"Not bad for your first time. You kept it going for quite a while."

Shuichi looked up and saw no smile on Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto's face.

Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto probably didn't smile easily.

Shuichi wasn't sure if that counted as approval.

But at least it wasn't disappointment.

He stood again and held his hand above the candle.

The flame sprang back to life.

It was small.

But steady.