Genji School

The next morning, Shuichi was awakened by a knock at the door.

He climbed out of bed and opened it.

A young man stood outside, dressed in black warrior's robes with a sword at his waist. His features were refined, and there was a gentle, scholarly air about his brows.

With his white hair swept back and white pupils, he looked like a teacher from some martial family's private academy.

"Shuichi?" the man asked.

"Yes."

"I am Chōjirō Sasakibe, Vice-Captain of the First Division."

He gave a slight bow. "The Captain-Commander asked me to take you to Genji School."

Genji School?

Shuichi had heard that name before. It was extremely well-known in Rukongai; anyone who had spent time in a large town would know it.

It was the school founded by Captain-Commander Yamamoto, a place dedicated to training Soul Reaper candidates. Everything was taught there, from Reiatsu control to the fundamentals of Zanjutsu, from Kidō theory to the principles of being a Soul Reaper.

"Right now?"

"Right now." Chōjirō's tone was gentle but left no room for argument.

"The Captain-Commander said your foundation is nonexistent. You need to start from the beginning, and Genji School is the best place to do that."

Genji School was located in East Rukongai District 1, near the Seireitei.

The streets were broad and level, lined with neatly planted trees. The houses had orderly white walls and black-tiled roofs. Soul Reapers occasionally passed by them; some hurried along while others chatted in groups of two or three. Whenever they saw Chōjirō, they stopped to bow.

"Vice-Captain Chōjirō."

"Good morning, Lord Chōjirō."

Chōjirō returned each greeting, neither arrogant nor overly humble.

Following behind him, Shuichi felt like a clumsy, uncomfortable chick being led along by an old bird.

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

A plaque hung above it, bearing three words.

Genji School.

The calligraphy was vigorous and powerful, every stroke seeming as though it had been carved with a blade.

Beyond the gate was a spacious courtyard paved with bluish stone slabs. Covered corridors ran along both sides, with rows of classrooms behind them.

More than a dozen people were already in the courtyard. Some practiced sword swings, some meditated cross-legged, and some sparred in pairs. Upon seeing Chōjirō enter, they all stopped and bowed.

"Vice-Captain Chōjirō!"

"Continue your practice." Chōjirō waved a hand and led Shuichi through the courtyard toward a large classroom directly opposite the gate.

Several people were already seated inside. When they entered, every gaze fell upon Shuichi at once.

Shuichi felt the weight of those stares—curious, appraising, dismissive. He lowered his head and followed Chōjirō to the front row.

"Sit." Chōjirō pointed to an empty seat.

Shuichi sat down and placed his Zanpakutō beside him.

Yes, a Zanpakutō. Once an Asauchi acknowledged its owner and resonated with the wielder's Reiatsu, it became a Zanpakutō.

Chōjirō stepped before the group and turned to face everyone.

"Starting today, we have a new student joining us." He looked at Shuichi.

"Introduce yourself."

Shuichi stood up, feeling everyone's eyes converge on him again. His throat was a little dry.

"My name is Shuichi."

His voice came out quieter than he had expected. "Starting today, I'll be studying here. Please take care of me."

After saying that, he bowed and sat back down. A few whispers rose in the classroom, but Chōjirō gave a light cough, and it immediately fell silent.

"Shuichi has not received any training before this."

Chōjirō's tone remained calm. "Do not look down on him because his foundation is weak, and do not disturb him with unnecessary curiosity. Can you do that?"

"Yes!" everyone answered in unison.

"Then let us begin today's lesson." Chōjirō picked up a wooden sword and walked to the open space in the center of the classroom.

"Today, we will cover—Zan-Sō-Haku-Ki."

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

Zanjutsu, Shunpo, Hakuda, and Kidō.

None of the four could be lacking.

Chōjirō explained slowly and meticulously, pausing to clarify every term. The other students had all studied at least a little before, but Shuichi's mind was entirely blank.

"'Zan' refers to Zanjutsu—the art of using a blade. It is not wild slashing, but precise, purposeful strikes. Every cut has its meaning."

He raised the wooden sword and performed a simple downward slash, moving very slowly.

"This is only the most basic Straight Cut. The blade falls from above the head and cleaves down along the centerline. The key points are..."

He turned around and broke down the movement: how to position the feet, how to turn the waist, how to grip the sword, what angle the blade should descend from. Every detail was explained clearly.

Shuichi listened with rapt attention. He wanted to remember every word Chōjirō said—this was the first time anyone had taught him anything.

After finishing with Zanjutsu, Chōjirō put down the wooden sword and walked to the center of the courtyard.

"'Sō' refers to Shunpo, the Soul Reaper's footwork. It is not running, but using Reiatsu to propel the body and move to another location in an instant."

The moment he finished speaking, he vanished.

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

"Did you see that clearly?" Chōjirō's voice came from the distance.

No one answered, because no one had seen it clearly.

Chōjirō walked back and stopped before Shuichi again.

"The foundation of Shunpo is to gather Reiatsu beneath your feet, then release it explosively. The principle is the same as using Reiatsu to strengthen a slash. Remember that concept first. I will teach the specific exercises later."

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

"'Haku' refers to Hakuda, hand-to-hand combat."

Chōjirō clenched his fist and threw a straight punch. "A Soul Reaper is not merely someone who fights with a sword. When the blade is not in hand, or when it is unsuitable to use one, Hakuda becomes the final line of defense."

He paused and looked at Shuichi.

"The basics of Hakuda are much like Shunpo. Use Reiatsu to strengthen the body. Fists, feet, knees, elbows—every part of the body can become a weapon. The stronger the Reiatsu, the greater the destructive power."

Shuichi instinctively looked at his hands. These hands had rummaged through garbage, dug through dirt, stolen food, and fought stray dogs, but they had never been "strengthened with Reiatsu."

"'Ki' refers to Kidō, the technique by which Soul Reapers transform Reiatsu into spellcraft."

Chōjirō extended a hand, palm upward. "Hado #1: Sho."

A faint ball of light gathered in his palm. Then he thrust it forward, and the ball flew out, striking a wooden post in the courtyard with a dull boom. The post snapped in two.

"This is only the most basic Kidō."

Chōjirō withdrew his hand. "Kidō is divided into Hado and Bakudo. Hado consists of offensive Kidō spells, while Bakudo consists of Kidō spells with various supporting functions. The power of Kidō depends on the caster's Reiatsu and their control over the spellcraft."

He looked at Shuichi.

"What you need to learn most right now are two things—Reiatsu control and the fundamentals of Zanjutsu. The rest can come gradually."

Shuichi nodded.

After the morning lesson ended, the other students gradually left for lunch.

Shuichi remained where he was. He had not brought lunch, nor did he know where to eat.

Chōjirō walked over and handed him a rice ball.

"Eat."

Shuichi accepted it and took a bite. It contained pickled plum, sweet and sour, while each grain of rice was distinct.

"Thank you."

Chōjirō sat down beside him and looked at the wooden post that had been struck by Kidō in the courtyard.

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

Shuichi chewed his rice ball and gave a muffled acknowledgment.

"But strong Reiatsu is not necessarily a good thing."

Chōjirō's voice was soft. "Power you cannot control will hurt you, and it will hurt others as well. You lost control once before, didn't you?"

Shuichi nodded.

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

"So what you need to learn most is not how to swing a sword, but how to control yourself."

Chōjirō turned to look at him, his gaze gentle but serious. "Reiatsu control is the foundation of Zan-Sō-Haku-Ki. Without control, Zanjutsu is nothing but brute force, Shunpo is nothing but crashing about blindly, Hakuda only injures yourself, and you cannot cast Kidō at all."

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

"Can I... learn it?"

Chōjirō fell silent for a while.

"If Genryusai Yamamoto says you can, then you can." He stood and brushed the folds of his robes.

"This afternoon, I will teach you the basics of Reiatsu control. Finish your meal first."

That afternoon.

Chōjirō took him to a corner of the courtyard, where there was a waist-high stone with a smooth surface, as though something had polished it.

"This stone is for practice."

Chōjirō said, "Place your hand on it and try to send your Reiatsu into it. Do not force it, and do not rush. Just... let it flow out like water."

Shuichi placed his hand on the stone.

The stone was cold, its surface as smooth as a mirror.

He closed his eyes and tried to feel what "Reiatsu" was.

At first, there was nothing.

Only the cold touch of the stone and the faint warmth from his palm.

Then Sasakibe began guiding him from the side.

Then he felt it.

It did not come from the stone, but from within his own body. Something slumbered deep in his chest, at the base of his spine, like a quiet, curled-up flame. It was breathing, rising and falling faintly with his heartbeat.

"Do you feel it?" Chōjirō's voice came from far away, as though separated by a layer of water.

Shuichi did not answer. He tried to "let it flow out," just as Chōjirō had said.

The stone began to glow.

It was not a dazzling, violent light, but a faint, gentle white radiance.

Starting from where his palm touched it, the glow slowly spread across the entire stone.

Then the light suddenly intensified.

It was not because he wanted it to grow stronger. The flame had suddenly opened its eyes and surged outward. The stone gave a soft crack, and a tiny fissure appeared on its surface.

Shuichi jerked his hand back, his heart pounding wildly.

"I'm sorry!"

The words burst from him. "I didn't mean to."

"It's fine."

Chōjirō walked over and examined the crack in the stone. There was no reproach in his expression, only a trace of... surprise?

"You managed this much on your first attempt at controlling Reiatsu?"

he asked.

Shuichi did not understand what "this much" meant. He only knew that he had cracked the stone and would probably have to pay for it.

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

"Mm."

Chōjirō nodded. "I know. Your Reiatsu is greater than you realize, so it will be harder to control. But that is not a bad thing."

He turned to face Shuichi.

"That is enough for today. Remember this feeling. Reiatsu is inside you. It is not a wild beast; it is your power. What you must learn is not to suppress it, but to guide it."

"Guide it..." Shuichi murmured, repeating the words.

"That's right."

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

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

By the time he returned to his hut, it was nearly dark. He pushed open the door, set his Zanpakutō beside the tatami, and sat down.

He had learned far too much today.

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

The principles of Shunpo: gather Reiatsu beneath the feet and release it explosively.

The essentials of Hakuda: strengthen the body with Reiatsu.

The concept of Kidō: transform spiritual power through Reiatsu into spellcraft.

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

He closed his eyes, placed his hands on his knees, and tried to feel that 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 out." He merely felt it, as though feeling his own heartbeat.

He did not know how long passed before he opened his eyes.

Outside the window, it was completely dark. A neighbor's lamp was lit, its warm yellow glow spilling through the paper window into the courtyard.

Shuichi stood up and walked to the door.

He stood on the porch, looking toward the distant Seireitei.

Tomorrow, he still had to go to Genji School.

Tomorrow, he still had to keep practicing.

He closed the door and lay down beneath the covers.

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

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

Not a beast.

My power.

He placed a hand over his chest, feeling his heartbeat, feeling that quiet flame.

Then he fell into a deep sleep.

On Shuichi's third day at Genji School, something happened.

After the morning class ended, Chōjirō did not have him practice Reiatsu control in the courtyard as usual. Instead, he led him through the back door of Genji School and into a corridor Shuichi had never walked before.

The corridor was long. Paper lanterns hung on both walls every three steps, their dim yellow light stretching their shadows long. Following behind Chōjirō, Shuichi could hear his own footsteps echoing through the empty hall.

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

"The Spiritual Might Test."

Without turning around, Chōjirō said, "Every student who enters Genji School takes it upon enrollment and again after graduation."

The Spiritual Might Test.

Shuichi had never heard the term before, but he could roughly guess from the name. It tested the strength of one's Reiatsu.

"Will I... look awful?" he asked quietly.

Chōjirō stopped and glanced back at him.

"Why would you say that?"

"I've only been learning for three days. I can't even control my Reiatsu properly. That stone..." He remembered the practice stone he had cracked that day and felt a little guilty.

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

"Whether you control it well and whether your Reiatsu itself is powerful are two different things."

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

Shuichi did not really understand, but he nodded anyway.

At the end of the corridor stood a heavy wooden door.

Chōjirō pushed it open.

Beyond it was a circular room, not very large, perhaps only as wide as two bedrooms.

A pillar stood in the center of the room. It was completely black, its surface smooth as a mirror.

At the top of the pillar was a fist-sized white pearl. It gave off a faint glow, as though it contained a flame that would never go out.

A person stood on the other side of the room.

Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto.

"Genryusai Yamamoto." Chōjirō bowed deeply.

"Shuichi has arrived."

Yamamoto nodded, his gaze falling on Shuichi.

"Come here."

Shuichi stepped forward and stood before the black pillar. He noticed that its surface was not completely smooth. Rings of markings circled it like a gigantic measuring scale.

"Put your hand on the pillar."

Yamamoto said,

"Then release your Reiatsu. Do not suppress it. Do not control it. Let it flow out naturally."

Shuichi swallowed.

"Don't control it?"

"Don't control it."

Yamamoto's voice was calm and firm. "At your current stage, 'control' will instead suppress your true level. What I want to see is your limit."

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

The pillar was cold.

He closed his eyes.

The flame inside him—the flame he had been trying to sense these past few days—rested deep in his chest, rising and falling slightly with his heartbeat. It was clearer than it had been three days ago, like a light wrapped in a thin veil. Faint and hazy, yet he could feel its outline.

Release it.

Do not control it. Let it flow out naturally.

He tried not to think about how to release it. He simply sensed that flame, and then—

Something opened.

It was not through force, nor was it deliberate. It was as natural as breathing. He was merely allowing it to come out.

The flame moved.

It rose from the depths of his chest like water surging from a spring, flowed down his arm into his palm, then seeped from his palm into the pillar.

The pillar lit up.

It was not the faint white glow of that practice stone. The entire pillar began shining from the bottom, white light climbing ring by ring along the markings.

Shuichi felt the flame accelerate within him, as if he had kept a river blocked behind a dam all this time, and now that he had opened the floodgate, the water naturally surged forth.

The light continued climbing.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

The light passed the middle of the pillar and continued upward.

Seven rings.

Eight rings.

His palm began to burn.

It was not painful. It was a full, overflowing sensation, as though something inside his body had finally found an outlet and was rushing forth freely.

Nineteen rings.

The light stopped at the nineteenth ring and flickered slightly.

Then...

"Enough."

Yamamoto's voice was like a hand gently pressing him down.

Shuichi opened his eyes and pulled his hand away from the pillar. The light immediately went out, and the pillar returned to its original blackness.

He took a breath, feeling somewhat weak, as if he had just run a long distance. Yet he was not tired. Instead, he felt a strange... lightness, as if he had set down something he had been carrying all along.

Chōjirō stood beside him, his expression strange. It was neither surprise nor shock, but something... Shuichi could not understand.

"How much?" Shuichi asked.

Chōjirō did not answer. He looked at Yamamoto.

Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto stood beside the pillar, looking down at the nineteen rings of markings.

His expression did not change. On that resolute face remained the same calm authority that needed no anger to inspire awe.

"Second-Class Spiritual Might," Yamamoto said.

His voice was calm, as though he were commenting on the pleasant weather.

Standing beside the pillar, Shuichi looked at Yamamoto, then at Chōjirō. He did not understand what Second-Class Spiritual Might meant, but he could feel the weight those words carried.

"Second-Class Spiritual Might... is that impressive?" he asked.

Sasakibe glanced at Yamamoto before speaking flatly. "Spiritual Might is divided into twenty classes. Twentieth Class is the lowest. First Class is the highest."

"This is your first test. Without any training, your Spiritual Might has reached Second Class."

Yamamoto passed Shuichi and walked toward the door.

"Starting tomorrow, you will study Reiatsu control under me."

Shuichi froze.

Sasakibe froze as well. His expression seemed to say, Did I hear that right?

"Genryusai Yamamoto." Chōjirō stepped forward.

Yamamoto did not turn back as he slowly walked toward the door.

"His Reiatsu is too great. If he cannot control it, it will go berserk. What happened in North 79th District must not happen a second time."

His voice came from his retreating back, as flat as if he were stating a fact.

"Genji School's basic curriculum is not enough for him. I will teach him myself."

With that, he pushed open the door and left.

Only Shuichi and Sasakibe remained in the room.

Shuichi stood where he was, his mind completely blank.

Captain-Commander Yamamoto, the captain-commander of the Gotei 13, the strongest Soul Reaper in Soul Society, was going to personally teach him Reiatsu control?

Sasakibe said nothing and walked past the protagonist toward the door as well.

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

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

Shuichi looked down at his hands.

He had Second-Class Spiritual Might.

Even Captain-Commander Yamamoto had decided to personally teach him.

He clenched his fist, then relaxed it.

"I'll study hard."

The next morning, Shuichi woke before dawn.

He put on the somewhat oversized black robe, hung his Zanpakutō at his waist, and pushed open the door.

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

The air was cool, carrying the scent of grass and earth.

He took a deep breath and headed toward the Seireitei.

When he reached the entrance of the First Division Barracks, dawn had just broken. Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto was already standing in the courtyard with his eyes closed, as though meditating.

Hearing Shuichi's footsteps, he opened his eyes.

"You're here."

"Yes." Shuichi straightened, somewhat nervous.

"From today onward, come here at dawn every day. I will teach you the first lesson of Reiatsu control."

"The first step of Reiatsu control," Yamamoto said,

"is not release, but perception."

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

"Channel your Reiatsu into this candle. Do not let it flare up, and do not let it go out. Keep it burning."

Shuichi looked at the candle, somewhat at a loss.

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

"You have spent three days learning Reiatsu perception at Genji School. Hold your hand above the candle, just as you did when touching that stone."

Shuichi held his hand above the candle, about a fist's distance away.

He closed his eyes and sensed the flame within his body.

It was still there, quiet and warm. But unlike during yesterday's test, it had become... calmer, as though it knew what it was meant to do today and was obediently waiting.

He tried guiding it toward his palm.

Very slowly and carefully, unlike yesterday when he had opened the floodgate, he let it seep out bit by bit.

The candlewick beneath his palm flickered to life.

Then it went out.

Shuichi opened his eyes, disappointed.

"I..."

"Again."

There was no emotion in Yamamoto's voice. "Do not rush. Reiatsu is not a flood; it is a stream. Floods destroy all things. Streams nourish all things."

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

This time, he went even slower. Rather than letting his Reiatsu flow out, he let it drip out. One drop, then another, then another.

The wick lit up.

This time, it did not go out. The flame was tiny, no bigger than a bean, swaying slightly in the morning breeze, but it did not die.

"Maintain it," Yamamoto said.

Shuichi gritted his teeth and struggled to maintain that weak output. His palm began to ache, and fine beads of sweat formed on his forehead. But he did not dare relax, did not dare lose focus. Even his breathing became light and slow.

The flame burned quietly on the wick.

A quarter of an hour passed.

Then another quarter of an hour passed.

When the sun had fully risen, Shuichi finally could not hold on any longer. His hand suddenly trembled, the flame jumped, and then went out.

He collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air.

Yamamoto stood beside him and looked down at him.

"For your first time, maintaining it that long was not bad."

Shuichi looked up and saw no smile on his face.

Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto probably did not smile easily.

Shuichi was not sure whether that counted as "satisfaction."

But at least, it was not disappointment.

He stood up again and held his hand over the candle.

The flame lit up once more.

It was very small.

But it was steady.