Chapter 55: I Don't Have Spiritual Energy
Narrator POV
Akira frowned as he crossed his arms, processing what he had just heard.
"So your plan is to fire us like a cannonball straight into the Seireitei…"
He went silent for a few seconds, then raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
"Well damn, what a brilliant fucking idea," he said with heavy sarcasm, looking at Kūkaku as if seriously questioning her mental stability.
Uryū stepped forward, indignant.
"I don't care if you're some kind of fireworks witch, this is completely unacceptable and extremely dangerous! The chances of dying are incredibly high! This isn't reaso—"
POM!
A crystal sphere shot through the air and smashed directly into his face, cutting him off. The sphere bounced away and rolled into Ichigo's hands, who caught it without much interest, while Uryū let out a groan as a thin line of blood ran down from his nose.
"And what's this?" Ichigo asked sarcastically, spinning the sphere between his fingers.
"A magic ball that shows us how we're going to die in your cannon?"
Kūkaku, clearly amused by his reaction, crossed her arms.
"It's a spiritual core. Just place your hands on it and focus your spiritual energy. You'll see what it does."
Ichigo looked at her like he didn't believe a single word.
"Can you repeat exactly how that's supposed to work?"
"Huh? What, you don't know how to channel your spiritual energy through your hands? It's like using kidō. It's not rocket science."
To prove her point, Kūkaku raised one hand. Spiritual energy began swirling around her, gathering in her palm with visible intensity. Even the air around her vibrated slightly.
"Like this."
Ichigo, Akira, and the others watched closely… though some of them still silently questioned the sanity behind Kūkaku's plan.
Yoruichi crossed her arms calmly and explained,
"Actually, Kūkaku, Ichigo is a Substitute Shinigami… he doesn't even know what kidō is."
Kūkaku blinked a couple of times before frowning, clearly incredulous.
"Don't bullshit me…" she said with a mix of mockery and disappointment, as if she'd just heard the worst heresy imaginable.
"Tch. Fine. Ganju, show them how it's done."
"R-right away!!" Ganju exclaimed proudly, reaching out to grab the spiritual core.
But Ichigo quickly lifted it out of his reach, smirking defiantly.
"Forget it! I'd rather die than let you teach me anything."
"Hey! Give it here!! Let the expert instruct you properly!" Ganju shouted, trying to snatch it back.
The two started wrestling like kids on a playground—until a shadow loomed over them.
POM! POM!
Two powerful punches landed squarely on their heads, courtesy of Kūkaku, who now glared at them with smoke practically rising from her knuckles. Both collapsed to the floor, twitching slightly, clutching their heads in pain.
"You two, stop making fools of yourselves, or I'll teach you a lesson you won't forget!"
"Y-yes, ma'am…" Ichigo groaned from the floor.
"U-understood…" Ganju muttered.
While they complained, Akira studied the spiritual core with curiosity. Then he pointed at it and spoke calmly:
"So this thing activates with spiritual energy?"
Everyone nodded… until Akira added indifferently:
"One small detail. I don't have spiritual energy."
Silence fell instantly.
Everyone stared at him with a mix of confusion, disbelief, and alarm.
Uryū: "What…?"
Kūkaku: "What do you mean you don't have spiritual energy?! That's impossible!"
Yoruichi: "Even ordinary humans have at least a spark…"
Ichigo: "Wait—then how do you fight Shinigami?"
Akira simply shrugged, completely calm.
"Well, yeah. But it's not spiritual energy that I use," he replied without elaborating, leaving everyone with a mix of shock and suspicion.
Yoruichi narrowed her eyes, her gaze locked onto Akira.
"Then… what exactly are you using?" she asked seriously. From the beginning, she had noticed Akira's power wasn't normal. It was dark, denser than common reiryoku… even more ominous than Hollow spiritual energy.
It was as if his very existence radiated an unsettling pressure.
"I don't know," Akira replied casually, shrugging as if they were talking about the weather. He had no intention of mentioning cursed energy.
"What do you mean you don't know what you use? Then how do you use it?" Ichigo asked, frowning in confusion.
"The same way a baby learns how to walk," Akira answered calmly, his voice steady.
"It doesn't know how it does it… it just does. Same with me. I don't know what I use… but I know how to use it."
His neutral tone left no room for further questions, though it only drew more attention.
Uryū, who had been silent and thoughtful until now, adjusted his glasses and observed Akira more closely.
"Now I understand…" he muttered, mostly to himself.
"That's why your spiritual pressure and reiatsu feel so aggressive. It's not like ours… it must be some kind of variant of reiryoku."
As he spoke, Uryū connected ideas in his mind: non-Shinigami energy, spiritual manifestations like Akira's daggers, shaping power as if it were a weapon…
"Could it be that… you're some kind of Quincy? Like me?"
It made sense to him. Quincy weren't Shinigami, but they used their own form of reiryoku. And Akira, like him, manifested weapons through his energy. That—and his ability to rival or even surpass Shinigami—made it a logical conclusion.
Inside, Akira nearly burst out laughing.
(Don't say dumb shit, Uryū…) he thought, holding it in while keeping a serious expression.
"I don't think so… well, not that I know of," he replied at last, leaving the door open to doubt, as if he himself were discovering the truth.
When Akira reincarnated into this world, he retained all the memories of his previous life: he had been a normal teenager with simple tastes, someone who enjoyed anime, video games, and the quiet comfort of an ordinary life.
However, he remembered absolutely nothing about the Akira of this world.
He didn't know who he had been. He didn't know who his parents were in this life, whether they were alive—or if they ever had been. He had no clues about his origin.
Were his parents ordinary humans?
Former Shinigami who had lost their powers?
Or perhaps hidden Quincy?
It was unlikely… but not impossible.
Still, if that were the case, the System would have shown him already. His player profile listed no Quincy lineage, no Shinigami blood, no mystical inheritance of any kind. Nothing beyond his status as a reincarnated being.
Kūkaku, sitting cross-legged with her arm resting on her knee, watched him in silence. Then, with a small gesture of understanding, she slowly nodded.
"I see…" she murmured thoughtfully, then let out a long sigh as if the issue no longer mattered to her.
"Doesn't matter. It doesn't affect the plan at all."
She spoke with confidence, showing no concern about Akira's lack of reiatsu. After all, she still had the other five, and that was more than enough.
"You can go with someone who maintains the spiritual bullet while the core is forming. You don't need to do it directly," she said in her usual carefree tone, hiding years of experience.
"Alright. Go to the dojo and start practicing with the spiritual core, because if you fail…"
A mischievous, dangerous smile spread across her face as she pointed her thumb outward.
"…if you fail, you're all going to make a big… kaboom!"
She laughed mockingly, clearly enjoying their reactions.
"We're going to explode?!" Orihime asked in alarm, her eyes going wide at the idea of blowing up due to a mistake.
"Well…" Akira said calmly, ignoring the panic,
"When does the operation start?"
He didn't want to waste time. Dawn was approaching, and his impatience to enter Soul Society on his own terms was becoming obvious.
"At dawn," Kūkaku replied. "Why?"
"Then I'll be back at dawn," Akira answered simply, turning around and fixing his gaze on the forest surrounding the estate.
Without another word, he began walking away.
"Akira, wait! Where are you going?" Orihime asked, her voice filled with worry as she took a step toward him.
Akira stopped for a moment and slightly turned his head. He gave her a small smile—calm, but confident.
"Don't worry, Orihime. I'll be fine. I'm just going to train on my own… to refine a few things."
With that, he continued forward with firm steps.
He knew his remaining time was limited. He couldn't enter the Demon Tower right now—the difference in time flow between his dungeons and the real world would cost him too much time if he wasn't careful. So he chose something more direct.
He would train the Heart Explosion Release Fist, the ancient martial art of Bang, later perfected by Garou as a monster. Akira had integrated that technique into his own fighting style, but there were still steps to polish… details that would make all the difference when it came time to fight seriously.
Soul Society was no game. He knew that inside, he could face enemies who wouldn't hesitate—who would kill without warning.
He needed to be ready.
He needed every ounce of power he could gather.
And that night, he would train until dawn.
.
.
.
Akira reached a clearing deep within the forest. The area was surrounded by sturdy trees and massive rock formations that jutted from the ground like stone fangs.
Perfect. Isolated, silent, and durable… ideal for training.
Before him stood a boulder the size of a car. He took a deep breath.
He had to remember the fundamentals of what he was about to practice: the Heart Explosion Release Fist.
A brutal, straightforward martial art. It focused on raw power—unrestrained destructive force. Each strike had to be synchronized with an explosive heartbeat, generating an impact that didn't just damage the opponent directly, but released shockwaves capable of injuring even those trying to deflect the blow.
Even a glancing hit could shatter bones. That was its true danger.
Akira closed his eyes. His fists clenched tightly as his breathing slowed. He focused, directing his attention to the rhythm of his heart.
Thump. Thump.
Steady. Constant.
He visualized each heartbeat, felt it vibrate within his chest. First slow… then he began forcing it mentally, as if pushing his own heart to beat harder, to become an internal war drum.
He needed to synchronize those intensified heartbeats with each strike. This wasn't just physical strength—it was biological control… spiritual… almost mystical.
Suddenly, he opened his eyes with determination. Electric blue light gleamed in his pupils under the moonlight.
Without hesitation, he threw a straight punch at the rock.
BOOM!
The impact was brutal. A shockwave tore through the air with a dry, violent sound. The rock wasn't struck—it was pulverized. Cracks spread from the center outward until it collapsed into fragments that crashed loudly to the ground.
Akira staggered back a step, breathing heavily.
He had done it. At least once.
His heart responded with that explosive beat at the exact moment. A tingling sensation ran through his arms… pure adrenaline.
But then he frowned.
"Only one…" he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice.
He had achieved one perfectly synchronized strike—but he couldn't maintain it. It was like trying to stop the natural flow of his body and force it into a permanent state of war.
Controlling the heart at will wasn't something any ordinary human could do.
But Akira wasn't an ordinary human.
He knew this was only the beginning—and he had no intention of stopping until every punch he threw became a detonation.
Even if it was difficult… even if it was like trying to increase the force of a river's current with sheer will alone.
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End of the chapter.