Born in Seireitei

The training ground at the Okikiba estate is usually reserved for the guards of the household. But lately, in the mornings, it has been occupied by a single person. Instead of the shouts of dozens of warriors, the air resonates with the solitary hum of a wooden sword slicing through the air.

Here, it's just me, wielding a bokken, a rather hefty wooden training sword. For something as basic as mastering the fundamentals, I don't need an instructor. I know what to do from the Shinigami Academy manuals.

The basic lessons for future Shinigami are so refined and detailed that books alone suffice to teach you exactly what to do.

To be honest, I didn't expect the training to be so… ordinary. There's nothing supernatural about it, apart from the theory.

It's strange, but souls with abundant Reiryoku (spiritual energy) are physiologically more similar to living humans than weaker souls. We're almost like real humans—internal organs, muscles, vulnerable points, even needs like eating and sleeping make the residents of the Soul Society quite distinct.

For instance, you can increase your strength through basic physical training when starting out. And for the lazier ones—well, they enjoy food, alcohol, or... other earthly pleasures, just like humans in the Living World.

I even know of a guy—only from rumors and future knowledge so far—Captain Kyoraku, who adores these simple pleasures, despite centuries of life and immense Shinigami power.

So, you want to get stronger, maybe even become a Shinigami? Well, start your training like a regular human and stop overthinking it.

Everyone starts with something simple, and so did I. Even the great Captains began their journeys by swinging wooden swords and performing basic exercises. You just have to endure it—especially the laziness.

Swing the sword, lift it above your head, feel your hands and back muscles tighten, strike! Repeat over and over, strengthening your body with monotonous movements. Nothing complicated.

Each strike is accompanied by the soft clinking of the amber bracelet on my right wrist. Even during training, I can feel a warmth emanating from it, helping me endure a little longer and recover slightly faster.

This bracelet, a gift from my grandfather, has been with me since childhood. Now, I realize it's more than just amber infused with Reiryoku. Yes, its power is minimal—no Shinigami would take it seriously. But its energy is inexhaustible.

And I've discovered why. In the main plate, within the depth of the amber, there's what looks like a hairline crack. But it's not a hair—I've figured that much out.

It's a tiny fragment of a blade. A shard of my grandfather's Zanpakuto. Essentially, he gave me a piece of his soul, so it could nourish and strengthen mine from a young age.

This gesture says more than any words about what my grandfather hopes I'll become. He wants me to grow into a strong Shinigami. His hope is so profound that he even sacrificed his ability to grow stronger.

A Shinigami weakens when their Zanpakuto is damaged. At the very least, they cannot grow stronger until the blade is repaired.

My father told me this when he saw the bracelet. The weight of my grandfather's hopes is heavier than a mountain. I wasn't supposed to know this—it's too great a burden for a child—but my father is so severe that even men with nerves of steel seem soft in comparison. Honestly, he's terrifying.

He reminds me most of a certain character named Tywin Lannister—authoritative, stern, and ruthless, willing to do anything for the family and its legacy. My father is exactly the same, except he's alive and real, making him ten times more terrifying.

Thankfully, I don't see my father often and likely won't for several more years. It's shameful to say this about one's father, but I truly love him more the farther away he is.

When my arms started to go numb and my wrists ached to the point of tears, I set the bokken down. Walking to the corner of the training ground, I placed the sword on a rack holding similar wooden weapons. A couple of towels lying on a nearby bench helped me wipe off the sweat.

A jug of cool water quenched my thirst, banishing the desert in my mouth—pure bliss!

I allowed myself a few minutes of rest, sitting down and letting my gaze wander across the training ground. There was nothing fancy about it—just a plain area covered in white sand, weapon racks along the walls, and the walls themselves, traditionally white, enclosing the space to prevent anything from flying out and ruining the view.

I hadn't seen it in action yet, but I knew the walls were reinforced with Kido barriers. If something serious happened, the barriers would activate and protect the gardens beyond the training ground.

The canopies of trees were clearly visible, their branches growing so lushly that some had already climbed over the walls, casting additional shadows across the sand. Seeing them makes you want to lie down there instead of training.

"Whew," I exhaled, slapping my cheeks to perk myself up. "Alright, let's keep going."

Before starting the usual running exercise, I removed the sweat-soaked top of my training kimono. Now dressed only in light pants and footwear I mentally nicknamed "ninja slippers," I felt more comfortable.

Thin, springy soles and dark fabric hugging my feet—almost like proper sneakers. Perfect for training. Definitely better than the Shinigami's white socks and straw sandals.

The sun immediately warmed my skin, already heated from the training, but it was a pleasant sensation. I stretched and began running around the perimeter of the training ground. It was the size of a small stadium—just enough to exhaust me after a few laps, but I stubbornly pushed on.

Running is simple enough that it doesn't prevent me from thinking.

As sad as it is for most people, not everyone can become a Shinigami. Especially not a powerful Shinigami. If it were easy, with such long lifespans, every Soul Reaper would be tossing out Bankai left and right.

Right now, with access to a variety of information, I fully understand those pompous words from Byakuya Kuchiki in the future. The ones about Bankai—this Zanpakuto release form that deserves to be spoken of with a capital letter.

Anyone who achieves Bankai, noble or commoner, elder or youth, carves their name into the history of the Soul Society with their blade.

For thousands of years of recorded history and the existence of zanpakutō, how many Shinigami have achieved Bankai? I know the exact number. To this day, precisely forty-five Shinigami!

By the time Kurosaki Ichigo's story began, this number of great Shinigami likely included no more than sixty individuals. And when I say "included," I mean it quite literally. And Kuchiki meant it literally as well.

At the headquarters of the First Division stands a stone stele with names engraved upon it. Right in front of the entrance, so anyone passing through the gates would see it and remember.

Each name is personally carved into the stone by the blades of those who achieved Bankai. Every one of them is unquestionably recognized as great. Even to me, someone from a completely different culture, this act seems like a tremendous honor and pride.

Do I now understand Kuchiki's disdain, followed by his shock, when a scrawny, orange-haired kid achieved Bankai within weeks before his very eyes and tossed this fact around like pocket change? Oh, I understand all too well! I, too, would have been left speechless. Kurosaki Ichigo is a little monster.

"Haha," I chuckled, recalling those scenes and imagining Kuchiki's face in person.

I've already seen other Kuchiki; they all bear a resemblance, so it's not hard to picture. Only the Main Family serves in the Gotei 13, but there are plenty of branch members as well. It's not difficult to encounter them in Seireitei. Stern faces, porcelain hairpins, and an air of pride so thick you can practically feel it. Witnessing shock on the face of any Kuchiki is an event in itself, hehe.

Phew, caught my breath—inhale, exhale—calm down.

Thoughts about Shinigami, reiatsu, and power occupy my mind for long periods. For instance, could I ever reach the level of a Captain? Even just potentially?

As I keep stumbling upon a phrase in books that not everyone can become a Shinigami, I find confirmations of this in real life. For example, my own father didn't pursue this path.

Trained by my grandfather since childhood, all my father ever achieved was awakening reiatsu, which granted him a long life—and that was it. He understood his ceiling was that of an ordinary soldier in the Gotei 13.

Rather than spending centuries fighting low-level Hollows and sweeping pathways in Seireitei, my father chose a different route. He was smart and full of ambition. And in just a mere two centuries, a humble offspring of a Gotei 13 officer first became one of the commercial pillars of all Seireitei.

He elevated the family, creating a massive organization. Today, the Okikiba family is the sole supplier of all medicines in Seireitei, from the simplest herbs to ready-made and expensive remedies. Moreover, they are the exclusive official supplier of medicinal goods to the Fourth Division of the Gotei 13. To grasp how impressive that is...

You just need to remember that Seireitei is the sole capital of an entire world. The main city, where the wealth of an entire dimension is concentrated. Holding such an essential slice of that wealth means already being an immeasurably wealthy individual.

Everyone falls ill, even souls. After all, we aren't truly dead, even though this is called the afterlife. It's more like existing in another form of life. The demand for medicines, especially among the constantly battling Shinigami, is enormous.

This business is now so well-established that trusted family managers oversee everything. They are so loyal to my father that they would sooner die than harm the family. Even in my younger years, I was told how important these people are and that I mustn't offend them.

I wholeheartedly support that view. At certain celebrations, when all the family's employees gathered at the estate, I was always polite and respectful, giving people their due for their work. Grandfather was pleased.

Anyway, having built a trade empire, my father firmly rooted his power and name into the foundations of Seireitei. Today, no one remembers just how bloody and dishonorable that path was in the beginning...

No one thought such an important sector wouldn't have competitors, right? And where are they all now? They've become names on gravestones. I wasn't kidding when I compared him to Tywin Lannister.

My father is a very dangerous man. Today, he holds the highest civilian position across all Three Worlds. There is no one above the Central 46 Council except the Soul King.

That's so impressive it's sometimes even frightening to me. Especially when I had to spend an entire year with my father at the same estate.

Yes, when I turned ten, my father returned and took charge of my upbringing and education. For an entire year, he faithfully fulfilled his paternal duties, devoting two hours of his priceless time to my education.

It was... tough, mentally. He revealed not only the secrets an heir to a Noble Family must know. Deeper, darker matters from his position and personal past didn't pass me by either.

I know many grim things at my mere thirteen years of age. Things so dark and dirty that perhaps not all officers or even Captains of the Gotei 13 would ever know them.

Take, for example, the zealous and bloody extermination of the Quincy race in its time… That word isn't spoken while celebrating victory, but it was indeed genocide. The Quincy had a people that could have populated a small European country. They were all wiped out. A black page in the history of Soul Society. One of many.

After all, it wasn't just the Quincy who challenged the Balance of the Worlds and the Soul King's authority. To maintain their hold and proudly stand at the top, the Shinigami have destroyed and continue to destroy many threats to their power. But more often than not, it's out of the necessity to preserve the Balance.

However, it's far from always about Balance, as it was with the Quincy... That's one of the darker duties of being a Shinigami.

And I had to come to terms with this from the moment the idea of becoming a Shinigami first entered my mind. Perhaps I'll never encounter anything so terrible in the future, but I must be prepared for it. My father instilled this understanding in me.

The servant's voice interrupted my focus.

"Sir?" he called from the entrance.

I had to stop. Talking wasn't easy at the moment, so I simply gestured for him to proceed.

"An invitation has arrived for an evening celebration hosted by the Maki family," he reported.

While trying to recall who the Maki family were, I managed to catch my breath and asked:

"Is it personal or formal?"

The distinction was straightforward. A formal invitation followed standard templates, while personal ones bore a more cordial tone. In aristocratic circles, personal invitations implied an expectation of attendance. Declining wasn't well-received.

"The latter, sir."

"Send a polite refusal and include a gift," I instructed.

"The young lady Asano will be there," the servant added, offering a potential reason to reconsider.

"Pity," I admitted honestly. "But I don't have time for celebrations right now."

Without saying anything further, I resumed my run. The servant, understanding my decision, disappeared from sight. My carefree moments with Chiyo were behind me. I was growing up, and it was time to focus on serious matters.

I know how easily one can get distracted. Let it happen once, then again, and suddenly, ambitions are forgotten, and you drift aimlessly through life. Before you know it, you're a lazy, overindulgent nobody. It happened to me once in my past life. It took a tremendous effort to regain form and escape hedonism. Being an ordinary bystander isn't for me—it's just too dull. One needs at least modest ambitions to keep life interesting.

With a new life and a fresh start, repeating past mistakes would be… well, stupid.

I have no innate superpowers, and the gods aren't raining miraculous gifts upon me. What I do have is a good family with resources and the ability to avoid the errors of my youth.

That alone is a significant advantage, and I'd be an utter fool to squander it. Wiping sweat from my brow, I caught my breath and whispered with a grin:

"Besides, aristocratic parties are dreadfully dull. To hell with them. One, two—let's go!"

Cheered up by memories of the tediousness of noble gatherings, I pressed on. Following the Academy's training guidelines, I stopped only after pushing my body to its absolute limit—and then just a bit further.

When darkness clouded my vision for the third time, I allowed myself to collapse and catch my breath. The warm, soft sand welcomed me as though it understood.

"Poor, huff… students," I murmured, sprawled on the ground with my arms flung wide.

At least I was pushing myself. Those students would have instructors with sticks hovering over them, ready to punish any perceived laziness. I'd rather force myself than endure humiliation and coercion from someone else.

When my heart finally stopped pounding as though it wanted to escape my chest, I dragged my exhausted body upright and drank some water. It helped.

I'd recently begun full-fledged training, and my body was still adjusting to the overload. I know that most sensations of pain and fatigue are tricks of the mind. A spiritual body isn't as fragile and even has a few advantages over a living one. Thanks to the spiritual particles in the atmosphere, I'd recover in mere hours. But I'd still feel as if my body was aching and my muscles sore for a whole day.

Everyone goes through it. As one's reiatsu grows, the limits of ordinary human capability shatter, and such misleading sensations disappear. The mind begins to reflect reality more accurately.

You can't just start throwing Kido everywhere or leaping around in Shunpo. Even learning to control your spiritual energy is an achievement. The first step is overcoming oneself, breaking through the limits of an ordinary soul, producing more reiatsu, and learning to control it.

Breaking this limit is often called "reiatsu awakening."

Searching for something similar in my memories of Kurosaki's history, I found a moment that fit. Ichigo broke his limit during the battle with Menos Grande. Cornered by a Cero blast with no other way out, he surpassed the boundaries of human capability.

And again, during his first fight with Renji. This time, he consciously released spiritual pressure, exponentially increasing his strength. It wasn't a full awakening but breaking through another threshold. To evolve so quickly and fortify his soul was astounding.

But to hell with Ichigo. My potential isn't nearly as monstrous, so I'll stick to the basics for now.

"I hate meditating," I sighed, sitting cross-legged on the sand.

Since beginning my training, I'd tried to devote half an hour daily to meditation. Most aspiring Shinigami awaken their reiatsu this way because they come from the first ten districts of Rukongai.

These districts are patrolled by Shinigami, free of Hollows, and relatively crime-free. Souls there aim to awaken their reiatsu through training and meditation—or at least, those who know about it. Many others show up at the Academy entrance exams on a whim, unprepared.

Every year, there are hundreds like that.

Clearing my mind as best as I could, I detached from the world around me. But like before, thirty minutes passed fruitlessly. I sensed something faint, like a breeze inside my body, but it vanished the moment I lost focus. The sensation was too fleeting.

Sensing external reiatsu is easy—it crushes you with its pressure, whether you're attuned or not. But fully awakening your own reiatsu is far more challenging.

Honestly, I felt sorry for Rukia and Renji as kids living in Rukongai. The anime showed that they had already awakened and could manipulate reiatsu, forming a small spiritual particle ball.

That meant they had endured some terrifying experiences—more than once.

No one is born with reiatsu control, no matter their potential. It requires either grueling, guided training over years or life-threatening situations that force the soul to awaken on the brink of death.

Since no one had trained Rukia and Renji, the conclusion was obvious. They had faced horrors no child should. But pitying them too much was unnecessary.

Because 90% of Shinigami go through similar ordeals to awaken or grow stronger. And it often happens in childhood since children in our world are far more vulnerable to danger than adults.

Most future Shinigami come from Rukongai's middle districts. With no mentors but plenty of chaos and Hollows, they naturally awaken reiatsu in life-threatening situations.

As much as I'd like to train my way to strength, that alone won't suffice. Training is a good foundation, but to become a Shinigami, I must awaken reiatsu. Left to my own devices, that could take years, mostly wasted.

Which is why, the next time Grandfather visited the estate, I met him personally—no servants, just me, bracing myself.

The soft footsteps of the old Shinigami were barely audible as he walked along the white path with calm, measured steps. His Zanpakuto was absent, and his hands rested in the sleeves of his Shinigami robes. Reaching the main house's entrance, he halted.

If Grandfather was surprised to see no one but me in the hallway, he didn't show it. His calm gaze met mine directly, waiting in silence.

Trying to make my voice and expression as serious as possible, I spoke without preamble:

"Grandfather. I want to become a Shinigami."

The old man blinked in surprise, his serene mask cracking. Wrinkles gathered at the corners of his eyes, and his lips spread into a wide smile, revealing white, sturdy teeth. I swear, I'd never seen this stern elder grin so broadly. It was so out of character it was almost unsettling. But I could see he was genuinely happy.

It took him a full five seconds to compose himself, his unsettling grin fading. I cleared my throat and continued:

"I want to awaken my reiatsu first. Will you help me?"

"Yes," he replied, nodding with satisfaction. "Of course, Sujin."

After a brief pause to consider something, he turned and walked away without entering the house.

"Tomorrow," he called softly over his shoulder. "Six in the evening. Be at the underground training grounds. I need to prepare something…"

His words were cut off by a sudden, sharp sound, like something heavy tearing through the air at tremendous speed. Grandfather vanished, and I stood there, mouth agape, witnessing Shunpo—the art of the flash step—for the first time.

I quickly glanced around but saw no trace of him. In a single step, he had crossed the estate. It was breathtakingly fast and utterly unexpected! Words couldn't express how much I wanted to learn that skill.

And I would.

If I survived whatever Grandfather had planned for tomorrow.