The next morning arrived.
Everything looked perfectly normal.
At least, from Aizen Sōsuke's perspective, Kisaragi Akira didn't seem any different at all—still the same carefree troublemaker as always. He even stole a moment to sneak a bite of Aizen's grilled fish.
Today's class was Kidō.
Akira's greatest weakness.
During lessons, however, he was surprisingly serious, carefully absorbing every important point the instructor emphasized—he almost looked ready to take notes, if only he had a notebook.
Being normal in a not-normal way… that was exactly what Kisaragi Akira's normal looked like.
Aizen watched him for a long time but couldn't detect even a sliver of worry. Akira clearly wasn't thinking about what happened last night.
"The flow of spiritual pressure for Hadō #4 and Hadō #11 follows different patterns, which results in their distinct forms upon release. In essence, however, their power is nearly identical."
"Of course, this assumes both are cast at the same spiritual-pressure level…"
Anyone qualified to teach Class One's Kidō course was unquestionably among the upper ranks of the Shinigami.
Akira recognized today's instructor—a stern-featured, heavily muscled man who looked far more like a berserker than a mage.
This was Okutani Tetsusai, the future Head of the Kidō Corps.
It was also worth noting that among all their instructors, Tetsusai was the only one who could actually overpower Akira in a straight fight.
"Professor Tetsusai," one of the students raised a hand, "from the numbering, it seems like Kidō only contains around three hundred spells. If an enemy were to learn counters for all of them… wouldn't we be utterly helpless?"
The question made Tetsusai pause for a moment. Then he burst into hearty laughter.
"Haha! A question nearly every class asks each year."
"But once you study Kidō in depth, you'll soon realize that mastering every single spell is already a fantasy."
"Of course, Soul Society has a long history—and talent is never in short supply."
"There was once a genius who did master all existing Kidō. And after that, he began creating new spells based on the existing system."
"Since the numbering system was already full, his creations were never added to the standard curriculum."
"If any of you are interested, you can visit the archives during your free time to study them."
"But in your daily lives, focus on your actual coursework."
Tetsusai's expression hardened slightly, his enormous chest muscles twitching like two jumping mice.
"Otherwise, I will show no mercy on your exams!"
To be honest…
His posture alone was more intimidating than any Kidō spell.
Indeed—mages should invest all their points into HP and Stamina, then pick up skills like Skull-Breaker, Parry, Crit, Charge, Execution, Armor Break…
And then put a single point into Illumination for spellcasting.
After one full Kidō class, Kisaragi Akira wholeheartedly believed in that conclusion.
"What do you think, Sōsuke?" Akira nudged him.
Aizen sighed helplessly. "As long as you're having fun."
He had long since built an immunity to Akira's bizarre, stray-thought questions.
If you took him seriously, and actually tried to debate with him…
He would drag your IQ down to his level within three sentences—and then beat you with experience.
Therefore, the best strategy was silence.
That night.
The moon hung high; the wind was sharp and cold.
A lone figure lurked beside a wall, glancing left and right. After ensuring no Shinigami patrols were nearby, he leapt over the Spiritual Arts Academy's tall outer wall in one swift motion.
Just as he was feeling proud of not getting caught, the door beside him slid open with a soft click, and a familiar figure walked out.
"The door wasn't locked," Aizen said flatly.
Akira froze, eyes widening. "I thought you weren't coming?"
"When did I ever say that?"
"Wait—hold on?!"
Akira blinked.
Come to think of it… Aizen had never actually said he wouldn't follow him.
"Your combat ability is too low," Aizen said calmly. "If Shijō Sōya decides to attack, you won't even have a chance to run."
"But with me here, things will be different."
Akira's eyes lit up. "Does that mean… you can beat him?!"
Aizen stared at him with the precise expression one reserves for a complete idiot.
"I can make sure the two of us die with at least some dignity."
Akira: "..."
Before he could retort, a mosaic-like shimmer of white light rippled in the empty air ahead of them. As countless reishi converged, a figure slowly materialized.
Shijō Sōya's expressionless face appeared once again before the two of them.
He raised an eyebrow when he saw both Akira and Aizen had come as agreed. After a brief silence, the corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.
"In that case, follow me."
"Where to?" Aizen asked.
"The Shin'ō Execution Grounds."
Akira and Aizen exchanged a glance.
Confusion flickered in both their eyes.
But with Sōya already walking ahead, they had no choice but to follow, their footsteps growing heavier with each step.
A massive pit lay in an empty wasteland, its interior lined with stone slabs stained with dark, dried blood.
There were no guards. Even the iron gate sealing the area was rusted and decayed, as if no one had set foot here in years.
Akira didn't even catch Sōya's movement—one moment the gate blocked their path, and the next it was twisted like a breadstick and tossed aside like trash.
The closer they walked to the pit, the stronger the stench of blood became.
It was as if they were approaching a hell filled with corpses.
Chaotic traces of death clung to Akira's chest like invisible hands squeezing his heart. Even someone like him—who had grown up accustomed to the horrors of the Rebellion District—struggled under the suffocating weight of the atmosphere.
They reached the edge of the enormous pit.
The once-blue stone floor had long been dyed a dark red-black by thick layers of blood. The metallic odor assaulted their senses, as if telling the tale of every tragedy that had occurred here.
"A hundred years ago, the Shijō family suffered a calamity."
Sōya began speaking quietly, as though recounting an unrelated story.
"The other noble families coveted their wealth and framed most of the Shijō clan members, leading to their deaths."
"The remaining members were thrown into the Shin'ō Execution Grounds—this very pit. Their task was to fight execution-grade Hollows."
"Those who survived were exiled into the Dangai without the guidance of Hell Butterflies."
"And the nobles who orchestrated everything sat in the stands, watching the suffering below as entertainment."
"My sister and I were the last two to be thrown in."
For the first time, a trace of emotion entered Sōya's voice—barely perceptible, but undeniably real.
"To protect me, my sister forcibly cast the forbidden Hadō #73—Twin Lotus Blue Fire Crash."
"And that… was the end of her life."
Sōya turned toward Kisaragi Akira, who had been quietly listening.
His voice softened.
"If possible…"
"I want to see my sister again."