Born in Seireitei

I'm lying on a sofa, staring in wonder at the barrier of orange walls surrounding me. It's not like I've never seen barriers before… but this one is particularly strange.

It has an entirely neutral energy, devoid of any intent. Or maybe that's just how I perceive it. The barrier does have a very specific effect—it's healing me.

Grandfather and our guest are calmly chatting nearby, seated on cushions at a low table piled with snacks and a large, round teapot at its center. Leisurely sipping tea, the two Shinigami converse, occasionally glancing at me and observing how the scratches on my skin are gradually mending.

I recall seeing similar barriers used by the Fourth Division in the anime, but I didn't expect them to be this effective.

Not only am I unable to sense anything beyond the orange walls, but my wounds are also healing steadily—albeit slowly—thanks to the neutral reishi in the environment. Spiritual particles are invisible, but I can feel them gathering on the surface of my skin where the injuries are, seeping inward and accelerating regeneration. Incidentally, this makes the wounds itch like crazy.

As it turns out, this is a rather advanced technique with different modifications and ranks.

What's being used on me now is the weakest version, relying entirely on Lieutenant Sasakibe's skill. However, they've already explained to me that there are stronger levels, and the most advanced barrier can sustain life in what's practically a corpse. That type involves special artifacts in the form of cubes, which—much to Sasakibe's feigned regret—he doesn't have and likely never will.

I remember such a barrier too... Without it, Ichigo probably wouldn't have survived his fight with Zaraki Kenpachi. It's amusing to suddenly grasp the meaning behind things that were just background details in the anime.

There, such elements seem like minor trivialities you barely notice, but here, they're significant matters. This isn't the first time I've run into such realizations, and I find them pleasantly surprising.

Who said the Way of Return doesn't have special techniques or numbered Kido spells? They're just tucked away in other branches, especially in barriers. The rest is left to the healer's skill and referred to as the Way of Return. After all, it's no coincidence this is expressed as a distinct branch of Demon Magic. I was foolish not to understand this earlier.

How many more times will I remind myself not to rely on fragmented knowledge from the anime? Probably another two hundred times, at least. And even then, I'd be flattering myself.

The barrier flickered and vanished. I sat up, now completely healed. Slipping on the upper part of a new light-colored kimono, I flexed my wrist, which had been aching earlier. Where there had been a black bruise, there was now clear skin. Not a trace of the battle remained!

"Thank you very much," I said, smiling gratefully at the lieutenant.

He silently lifted his teacup in acknowledgment, the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

"Join us, Sujin," Grandfather all but ordered.

Following his instruction, I settled onto a cushion and poured myself a cup of tea. There were no servants in sight, and glancing toward the entrance, I noticed a shimmer in the air. Another barrier…

Grandfather never ceases to amaze me with the contrast between his behavior and his appearance. His face is as stern as stone, his eyes like steel as he listens to the lieutenant talk about some new recruit in the squad… yet he discreetly slides a dish of the most expensive sweets on the table toward me.

I swear, if not for all this strict etiquette, he'd be the coolest grandfather in the world! Though he doesn't show it, I know deep down he's a kind, modest man with a great sense of humor. On the outside, however, he's the epitome of an old-timer with nerves of steel, ready to wrestle a Menos Grande barehanded.

But who has seen him like this, apart from his family and a few old friends? It's sad... but it's his choice to act and live in a way that suits him. Still, as his grandson, I wish he could be just a little more openhearted and cheerful—at least within these walls.

I kept silent, knowing my place and when it was appropriate to speak and when it wasn't. Nothing of great importance was being discussed in my presence, but listening to casual conversations about Shinigami work was interesting in itself. After a couple of cups of tea, the discussion shifted to the main topic.

"So, what do you think of him?" Grandfather cast an unreadable look in my direction. "Is he worth anything?"

Sasakibe set his cup down on the table, gave a sharp nod, and spoke in the calm, formal tone I was beginning to get used to:

"His reserves for a beginner are average. That's fine, and there are no pathologies. What surprised me, however, is the purity of his reiatsu. It's on par with the offspring of the Great Noble Houses."

Purity of reiatsu? I frowned slightly, as I'd never heard of such a concept before. Or maybe I had, but hadn't paid attention?

But Grandfather clearly had—he broke into a broad smile. The news pleased him so much that I saw a rare sight: him laughing heartily.

"Haha! As if my blood would be inferior to those snobs!" he said, slapping his knee in delight.

Neither the lieutenant nor I could hold back puzzled looks at the old man. This, coming from someone whose direct descendant—his son—didn't even become a Shinigami.

Grandfather, however, was thick-skinned enough to ignore our reactions. Smoothing his hair, he continued:

"So, the boy has potential?"

"He does," Sasakibe replied with the same strict tone and a nod. "But you must remember that potential is far from everything. Don't put too much pressure on him."

The two Shinigami silently locked eyes, engaging in a nonverbal conversation beyond my comprehension. Still, my instincts told me there was an unpleasant history here.

"Pfft," Grandfather snorted irritably. "As if I haven't seen how other families push their kids to the brink, practically torturing them. Half of them end up crippled or dead, and the other half are arrogant weaklings. Do you think I'd make the same mistake?"

"Not all," the lieutenant countered, fair but firm. "Rigorous training sometimes allows a few to become Shinigami and carry on the family line."

"Yeah, one out of ten," Grandfather retorted disdainfully. "And for that one... Ah, to Hell with them all. Let them do what they want! I don't care—I'll support my family on whatever path they choose. Shinigami or not, what's the difference?"

"Yes, I know," Sasakibe said, his tone softening. "It's why I became friends with you in the first place."

I turned away, sipping the bitter tea from my cup and feeling out of place amidst the meeting of old comrades.

After a few more minutes, I managed to find an opening to ask a question:

"I'd like to understand—what is 'purity of reiatsu'? And what does it have to do with the Great Noble Houses?"

It was clear this was something positive, given how my reiatsu was being compared to the souls of the Great Houses. There are currently five of them—at least until the Shiba family loses their title—and these families are practically untouchable. They are the pinnacle of aristocracy in Soul Society.

These houses are surrounded by countless secrets, the kind best left untouched. I've never meddled in their affairs, nor do I plan to. I'm far too insignificant even by status to consider it.

In the anime and manga, the focus was only on the Shinigami aristocratic families shown in canon. But behind the scenes? Oh, there were far more. What we saw was just a drop in the ocean.

I once tried to figure out how things worked in Seireitei, purely for myself. It resulted in a sort of pyramid of aristocratic hierarchy—not without its exceptions, like my father being on the Central 46 Council, but generally structured as follows:

At the top are the Five Great Noble Houses: Shiba, Kuchiki, Shihōin, Tsunayashiro, and one that is never mentioned... I don't know why, but even my father said never to bring up that topic. Something about it being the Spirit King's business and nothing more.

So, Five Great Houses. When the Shiba lose their status, it'll align with canon—there will be Four.

Below them are the Twelve Noble Clans. Most of them either participate in the Council or rule entire districts in Rukongai. They're also distinguished by having many members in their ranks.

Branches of the main families, invited experts, and sometimes even Shinigami… They feud so viciously that the Chicago mafia of the 1930s would applaud in respect. Their dirty dealings and battles for business are typically conducted beyond the Tenth Districts, where Gotei 13 patrols are less frequent.

Honestly, I'm glad I wasn't born into one of those clans. It's brutal there.

On the third tier are the High Noble Families. That's not an official term, but they stand out from ordinary families due to having Shinigami among their members. By default, the combination of nobility and service in Gotei 13 elevates their status above regular aristocracy.

There aren't many such families—fewer than fifty, by my count. Some are as small as mine, others much larger.

These families strive to have at least one Shinigami in every generation to uphold the family's status. They're not above marrying commoner Shinigami and integrating them into the family.

At the bottom are about a hundred Regular Noble Families. They lack significant influence or power but stand out for their wealth and aristocratic status, owning land or businesses. Most of them don't even live in Seireitei but reside in the first districts of Rukongai.

Recalling this hierarchy of our world, it's easy to see why being compared to the Great Noble Houses intrigues and excites me. They are, after all, at the pinnacle of power and influence in this world!

While I was piecing together my thoughts, the two seasoned Shinigami exchanged glances, silently deciding that it was Sasakibe Chōjirō who should explain since he was the one to raise the topic.

"Sujin, do you know why the Great Noble Houses command such respect—not only in Gotei 13 but even within the Central 46 Council?"

Under the lieutenant's slightly narrowed gaze, I felt a bead of sweat form on my temple.

"Because they helped the Soul King long ago?"

Sensing that wasn't enough, I quickly added:

"Of course, I enjoy history, but information about the era before Gotei 13 is almost impossible to find. So, all I know about the Great Noble Houses is the usual—they're connected to the Soul King… They helped build Seireitei, and before that, they say they even built the Soul King's Palace. That's about it."

Anyone who's not deaf has heard about the famous Shiba Cannon… Every hundred years or so, when it's fired to send a visitor from the Royal Guard back to the Soul King's Palace, all of Seireitei buzzes about it for a decade. I haven't witnessed it yet, but I've heard the story at least twenty times. Drawing a connection between the Great House and the Soul King doesn't take a genius.

Unfortunately, that's the extent of my knowledge. It was almost embarrassing to admit something so basic.

"Don't stress," the white-haired lieutenant said with an approving smile. "I'm surprised you even know that much."

"It's still shameful not to know, Sujin," my grandfather interjected with a disapproving tone. "The Great Noble Houses helped the Soul King create Soul Society and laid the foundations for the Balance of the Three Worlds. And back then, there were far more than five."

Sasakibe poured himself more of the strong, bitter drink and calmly reassured my grandfather:

"Come on, Genshirō. Those are matters of long-gone days. Children in our times don't need to know such things."

"Maybe you're right," Grandfather reluctantly agreed, nodding toward his empty cup. "Pour me some too."

I quickly steered the conversation back on track before the two old-timers wandered into a debate about how terrible today's generation is.

"So, about the purity of reiatsu—what's special about it? Do the Great Noble Houses have something unique?"

The lieutenant took a sip from his cup, rubbed the tip of his right mustache, and answered:

"It's among the best. Concentration, density, and the flow speed of spiritual power—that's what purity of reiatsu means. It's also a measure of a Shinigami's potential. You see, Sujin, we live long lives—very long. Over that time, one might think it's not hard to develop skills and expand reserves… but that's only partly true."

"The world is unfair," Grandfather muttered, shifting his posture.

"Yes," the lieutenant agreed with calm indifference, as if stating a simple fact. "Determination and hard work alone aren't enough to rise to greatness among Shinigami. Every Shinigami has a limit, and for most, that limit is low. Training? It's enough to get started, but ultimately, how far you can go is determined by talent. How strong is your soul? Can you endure centuries of battles on the brink of death? Can you kill without hesitation? Will you grow stronger or falter, breaking under the weight of your character? Much of this can be discerned through the purity of reiatsu alone."

Grandfather added an intriguing tidbit:

"In the Kido Corps, there are masters who communicate without words, relying solely on reiatsu fluctuations. They can learn so much about a person's thoughts and intentions from a single strand of spiritual power. Estimating potential? That's no challenge—if you know where to look. Chōjirō does."

The lieutenant nodded and smiled at me.

"Yes. So, rejoice, Sujin. You have the talent and potential to become a strong Shinigami. A gift that many Shinigami can only dream of and never obtain. Don't squander it."

This wasn't something to respond to lightly. I tried to nod with a serious expression, which seemed to satisfy him.

"All right, Sujin," Grandfather pointed to the door. "Now let two old friends have a chat. It's rare for both of us to have a free day at the same time."

Arguing or staying wasn't an option. I gave a slight bow and left, closing the door behind me. The barrier immediately reactivated.

That's when it hit me—I still hadn't learned what made the Great Noble Houses truly special. What exactly sets them apart?

You think you can intrigue me and then leave me hanging? Not a chance! Clenching my fists a couple of times to vent my frustration, I exhaled and outwardly maintained my composure as I headed back to my quarters. I'd wait until Grandfather and the lieutenant left the estate. After that...

It seems Grandfather has forgotten how much Father loves to hoard any kind of information. I'm sure one of the estate's hidden libraries holds the answers I need. Normally, I don't go poking around there—no need to learn more about Soul Society's shadowy dealings. But this time, my curiosity has been piqued.

That can wait until tomorrow. Tonight…

"Hey, you there," I waved at a few servants wandering the halls near my quarters. "Bring some good drinks and snacks to the eastern pond in the gardens. I'll be there."

The servants bowed and accepted my casual order. Sure, history and mysteries are all well and good, but I couldn't ignore what had just been said about my talent. If I really have the potential to become someone significant—truly significant—then that's reason to celebrate! I'll throw myself a little feast for me and the koi in the pond.

It'll be dark soon. I'll stargaze for a while; the night sky in Soul Society is incredibly beautiful when it's clear.

Only now did I start to feel the tension and indifference melt away. I had survived a deadly battle and awakened my reiatsu!

If the servants thought it odd to hear my laughter echoing joyfully through the estate's halls, they didn't say anything. I was honestly and wholeheartedly happy.

By the time I reached my favorite spot, night had fully settled in, and only the light of the stars and a crescent moon illuminated the surroundings.

I stepped onto the wooden bridge that spanned the clear waters of the pond and glanced at a sprawling oak tree on the shore. In its branches, I noticed a small nest that hadn't been there before. Inside, a tiny black bird with a red crest was sleeping. Huh, I'd never seen a bird like that before.

But as soon as I stepped onto the bridge, thoughts of birds vanished from my mind. I was a little surprised at how quickly the servants had prepared everything. Three paper lanterns had been placed on the red railing, already lit and casting orange reflections onto the water.

The lanterns were maroon, round, and decorated with elegant golden cranes and soaring red phoenixes. They were heavy enough not to be blown away by the wind, with frames and ribs made of lacquered wood. The lanterns were works of art themselves, their gentle light creating a warm, mystical atmosphere on the bridge.

The light was enough to reveal the pond's bottom, lined with smooth white stones and swaying green water plants. Occasionally, a red koi with golden scales on its back would glide between the greenery. Thick and graceful, these expensive fish owned the pond without any competition.

On the bridge itself, plush cushions had been arranged on carpets, along with a low table set with snacks and plump pitchers of the best sake in the house. The wooden planks of the bridge, warmed by a full day under the summer sun, now released their stored heat and carried the faint scent of quality timber.

There wasn't a soul in sight, only the wind and the rustle of leaves in the oak's canopy. A soft splash came from the pond as one curious koi tail-flicked near the light.

If anyone had asked me at that moment if I enjoyed life in this "medieval" setting, I would have answered without hesitation—yes!

Pouring the first cup into a small crimson bowl, I thought back to the unfortunate madman whose soul I had sent for reincarnation today. My first victory, my enemy's death, and my inaugural Shinigami ritual.

Lifting the cup of sake, I noticed how the bright night stars reflected on its surface. My toast was simple but heartfelt.

"To you—live peacefully in your new life."

Thus began a long night—one of the best and most memorable of my life.

---

A few days later, close to noon, in one of the dusty, hidden archives of the Okikiba estate.

"Ha-ha… Ah-choo! Ugh. I found it. I actually found it!"

It was a massive scroll, the transcript of one of the hearings of the Central 46. At first glance, you'd wonder why it was here of all places. But there it was—a crucial record.

That day, the trial was of a group of aristocrats who had conspired against one of the Noble Houses. These were ordinary nobles, not even ones with awakened powers. The reason for their grudge against the Noble Houses? The "purity of reiatsu" among their peers from that generation.

Well, no one handed me the answers on a silver platter. But after finding that clue, I knew where to focus. Day after day, spending a couple of hours in my father's archives, I pieced fact after fact together and eventually found my answer.

Why have the Noble Houses remained at the top for centuries? Why do the Shinigami of the Gotei 13 hold them in such high regard? And why do most aristocratic families envy them but never take action?

It all comes down to a single, simple answer—one buried in the depths of time, before even the Soul Society itself existed.

That answer is the Soul King.

It no longer matters how or why the founders of the Noble Houses aided the Soul King when the Three Worlds first took shape. What matters is what they carried with them through the centuries, from the foundation of the Soul Society to today. And that is the Soul King's Blessing.

The myth and rumor attributed to children born in Seireitei isn't fiction or folklore for the heirs of the Noble Houses.

Understanding its essence, I could easily grasp the envy and fury of ordinary aristocrats toward the Houses—along with their powerlessness to change anything.

Here's the kicker: every generation of aristocrats has to push themselves to the brink of death just to have a chance of producing even one child with awakened reiatsu.

In the Great Houses? Every single heir is born awakened. Not one child from any family of a Great House has ever been born without the talent and potential to become a Shinigami.

They come into this world already possessing the talent and minimum reiatsu needed to be a Shinigami. Right away. Without effort, without struggle, without risk.

To be honest, even the most privileged brat would be frustrated by that. I don't blame the fools who occasionally feel the urge to put a few proud members of the Great Houses in their place.

But the fact that every one of them is still born with the Soul King's Blessing terrifies the Central 46 to no end. For all their gritting teeth and resentment toward the nobles, no one dares act foolishly out of jealousy—like wiping out one of the Houses or something similar.

Who knows how the Soul King would react? Just one member of the Royal Guard would be enough for the King's displeasure to spill rivers of blood across the roads of Seireitei.

No one will take that risk. But here's the tiny buried pebble... no one will help them either.

That's why no one truly pursued the Princess of the Shihōin Clan in the future. That's why nothing was done to Shiba Isshin for desertion and hiding out in the World of the Living.

But no one vindicated Yoruichi either. No one stood up in her defense. And when an entire Captain of the Shiba Clan disappeared, thousands of Shinigami didn't scour the World of the Living in search of them.

Yes, they're strong. Yes, they're special. But that doesn't make them immortal or untouchable.

The Great Houses that vanished from history—and there were dozens of them in the beginning—forgot these simple truths. And they paid the price. Who remembers them now? Even in the Gotei 13 archives, there's barely a mention that they ever existed.

What happened to them? Devoured by Hollows? Destroyed by internecine conflict? Simply failed to leave descendants? Who cares?

That "purity of reiatsu in the Great Houses" that the lieutenant spoke of so pompously? It's utter nonsense.

He was just encouraging me, throwing some flattery at Grandfather. I have potential not to be stuck as an ordinary rank-and-file Shinigami, and that's all. That's the truth.

I rolled up another scroll and placed it back in its designated cabinet with a pyramid of similar ones. Brushing the dust off my sleeves, I muttered with firm conviction:

"In the end, everything depends on one's personal effort."

I don't need to prove anything to the world or those around me. This is simply what I believe in.

With that belief in my heart, I left the hidden room, concealed behind a wall directly behind the chair in my father's study. Playing detective and librarian was fun, but enough of that. It's time for another grueling training session.

Only discipline and hard work will help me. That's the way this world works—a place where only the strong have the right to speak. Nothing else matters; everything else is just fluff.

After reading so much about trials and executions of the most powerful and wealthy, about failed uprisings, about the blood and death of once-great Soul Society bloodlines, I realized something important:

Nothing will save or help me. Not my family's wealth, not my father's influence, not Grandfather's connections. Only my own effort and the strength I gain from it.

Crying about injustice is useless. I've already been told—this world is unfair. Some people are richer, stronger, or better connected, and the laws often play in one direction. Anything is possible.

But when people talk about injustice, they always forget something crucial. I smiled as I walked toward the training grounds.

Yes, the world is unfair. But it cuts both ways.

And my choice—the choice of a smart person—is this: if life offers such a choice, I'll be the one who's unfairly stronger and better than the rest.