"When I close my eyes, the whole world goes dark."
"Sōsuke, tell me…"
Kisaragi Akira leaned his head back, letting out a long, hollow sigh from deep in his throat.
"Is it possible… that maybe I am the light of this world?"
Aoyama Sōsuke—head bent over a cookbook he was studying seriously—paused.
"…"
Ever since he had told Kisaragi a few days ago that he'd already mastered his Shikai, this guy had been in a perpetual state of deranged enlightenment, muttering nonsense nonstop.
Now, Sōsuke was starting to regret sharing that information.
Not because he doubted Kisaragi's trustworthiness—far from it.But because, on some level, this guy was simply too irritating.
He didn't even ask what Sōsuke's Shikai ability was.
Kisaragi had declared that life held no hope. He'd believed that with relentless grinding plus a bit of cheating from his "System," he would surpass Sōsuke and stand alone at the peak.
Yet look at what happened.
They'd only been enrolled for half a year.While everyone else was still struggling to pour their soul essence into their Asauchi and build mental resonance, Sōsuke had casually revealed a fully awakened Shikai like it was nothing.
Kisaragi looked at himself.
Great. Even his sword meditation was giving him a headache.
Truly aggravating.
Kisaragi let out a dramatic wail, grabbing his Zanpakutō with both hands and staring at it seriously, as if he could force some hidden truth to appear.
Unfortunately, when he tried the sword-meditation method taught at the Spirit Arts Academy again, he still couldn't form spiritual communication, let alone learn its true name.
"Sōsuke, regarding Shikai—do you really not have any secret tips?"
Kisaragi tilted his head toward Sōsuke, who sat at the desk studying intently.
"No."
Sōsuke replied casually, "It's actually simple. Just do it exactly as the instructors say: first sword meditation, then communication, then you'll naturally learn the true name. Once your spiritual pressure meets the threshold, you can initiate Shikai."
"Why? Do you want to see?"
At the end, Sōsuke slightly turned, his brown eyes showing their usual calm as they met Kisaragi's.
Kisaragi sucked in a breath, then forced an awkward smile.
"…I'll pass."
"A Shikai is every Shinigami's personal secret. It's not just me—later, if anyone asks about yours, you should find some excuse to deflect."
"Don't be like certain idiots who reveal their abilities to enemies just because they're asked."
Sōsuke nodded and said no more.
"I can't slack anymore."
Kisaragi suddenly jumped down from his bed and strode out of the dorm.
Through the window, Sōsuke watched the figure storming out like someone who'd just tossed away all responsibilities. His gaze sank into thought.
Has no one told him how ridiculously strong he already is?
Judging from his spiritual pressure output and soul performance during the kidō-carving test, if he encountered that same Black Kisha Menos Grande again, Kisaragi wouldn't even need Sōsuke's assistance. He could take it head-on.
If he performed well, he might even kill it—albeit at some cost.
And right now…
Kisaragi was still just a first-year.
Sōsuke shook his head, refocused, and continued reading the cookbook.It covered an astonishing range of topics—special techniques, bodily dissection for ingredients, and some details even more thorough than the Academy's healing-arts textbooks.
For Sōsuke, this knowledge was extremely useful at the moment.
Finding a quiet spot, Kisaragi expertly set up his offering table and incense. He completed his daily ritual first, asking about the current situation in the Rebellious Bone District, and even called Ise Shizune.
The girl said that although the shrine's incense offering wasn't what it used to be, things were still manageable. She reminded him to study properly and take care of his health.
After a bit of chatting, the call ended.Kisaragi placed his Zanpakutō on the offering table again, using ritual-communion as a substitute for sword meditation.
Incense lit.Bell chimed.Gohei swayed lightly.
A moment later, his consciousness drifted into that familiar inner realm.
Since he had the previous experience with the Thunder Beast, he was ready to go big this time.
If reason and emotion didn't work—well then, maybe brute force would.
Three minutes later.
Kisaragi returned to his body, frozen in place, questioning the meaning of existence.
Same Zanpakutō.Why was the difference so huge?
In the shrine of his Zanpakutō's inner world, he'd come in fists blazing—but he couldn't even find the Zanpakutō itself.
All that passion, nowhere to throw it.
"Forget it."
Kisaragi sighed. "If this path doesn't work, I'm done trying."
"A Zanpakutō only slows down my punches anyway."
First Division barracks, training hall.
Two figures sat facing each other, wide-eyed in silence.
"You want to learn my Hakuda?"
After a long pause, Yamamoto looked confused."Why would you want that?"
"A student of your level should be focusing on sword communication."
Kisaragi: "…"
He wanted to, but his Zanpakutō simply refused to give him the chance.
Forget learning the true name—he hadn't even seen its face.
After explaining his situation briefly, he waited for Yamamoto's response.
Yamamoto frowned—not because Kisaragi's behavior contradicted anything, but because of the Zanpakutō issue.
Everyone knew:
A Zanpakutō's form, state, and abilities were shaped entirely from the Shinigami's soul.
Through repeated refinement, the Asauchi was inscribed with one's soul essence, eventually becoming their Zanpakutō.
There were only three kinds of people who couldn't release their Zanpakutō:
Those whose strength hadn't met the requirement, failing to gain recognition.
Those whose souls were influenced by another force.
Those who lacked self-understanding—unable to grasp the power hidden within their soul.
Based on Kisaragi's explanation, he likely fell into the third category.
He had no idea about his own nature.
Yamamoto nodded slowly and said:
"Since this is your request, I shall grant it."
"But you must not abandon sword meditation. Communicating with your Zanpakutō is a slow, steady process. Only through accumulation can you learn its true nature and wield its power."
Kisaragi readily agreed.
"Good."
Yamamoto nodded in satisfaction. He had always given his utmost guidance to diligent students.
"In that case, we begin."
And in the next instant—much to Kisaragi's shock—Yamamoto removed his captain's haori, hung it neatly on a rack, and loosened his shihakushō down to the waist.
"Head Captain, what are you doing?"
Yamamoto glanced back."Preparing to spar. How else can I gauge your level to teach appropriately?"
Kisaragi: "???"