The setting sun cast golden rays that edged the Kendo Dojo in light. The evening breeze rustled through the bamboo forest, carrying a refreshing scent that brushed past the old man and the young boy. Everything felt tranquil and beautiful.
"Huff… huff… huff…"
The young boy lay on the ground, drenched in sweat. His soaked clothes clung to his body, and his hair stuck to his forehead. Yet nothing could hide the bright smile on his face.
Asano Kiyoshi lay there on the floor of the dojo, his eyes looking over the few square meters he had cleaned with a cloth, a trace of satisfaction in his expression. Even more encouraging was the scroll of stats appearing in his mind, showing promising signs of his growth:
Host: Asano KiyoshiZanjutsu: 16(After a period of systematic training and spiritual enhancement, your swordsmanship has improved.)
Hakuda: 17(As Ikkaku Madarame's roommate, you're frequently dragged into sparring. Your toughness has grown considerably.)
Kido: 25(Your perfect control of reishi allows you to progress in Kido at lightning speed!)
Shunpo: 20(Your extreme control over reishi allows for more frequent and stable Shunpo use. However, physical limitations prevent full exploitation of this advantage.)
Spiritual Pressure: 3rd-Class – 63%(30% increase from absorbing the captain-commander's wooden tag, 26% from gaining an Asauchi, 5% from Yamamoto's training, 2% from self-training.)
Overall Rating: 78(You can now be considered an outstanding student of the Shin'ō Spiritual Arts Academy.)
A rating of 78. Though still a ways off from powerhouses like Ikkaku or Yumichika who sat above 100, the sheer rate of improvement filled Asano Kiyoshi with immense satisfaction.
Gazing at the swirling black ink of the virtual scroll, even as every muscle and joint ached like they'd been torn apart, he felt nothing but elation. The clear visibility of his progress made every painful day worth it.
Just then, a light brown cookie with a faint sweet aroma suddenly appeared before him—along with the ever-smiling face of the Captain-Commander.
With gentle kindness, Yamamoto spoke:
"You need to eat after training. Otherwise, your body won't hold up."
Kiyoshi, flustered, awkwardly took the cookie. A faint blush rose on his face. He'd seen this scene before in his past life—Yamamoto feeding Yachiru snacks in the Bleach Character Encyclopedia—but being the one on the receiving end was an entirely different experience.
Scratching the back of his head, Kiyoshi muttered sheepishly:
"Um… thank you, Captain-Commander."
Yamamoto chuckled and waved it off, then stroked his beard and said warmly:
"No need to call me 'Captain-Commander.' Just call me Teacher Genryūsai. You did very well today—far beyond what I expected. Your control and adaptability with reishi exceeded my estimation. You've got real talent. Just don't waste it."
As he ate, Yamamoto chatted casually. Perhaps it was a habit of the elderly to enjoy talking with younger people, but he spoke so much that it reminded Kiyoshi of time spent with his own grandparents in his previous life. Since entering the Soul Society, only Granny Hana had given him a similar feeling.
Nibbling on the cookie, Kiyoshi felt a warm, indescribable comfort in his heart. He didn't know what it was—but it felt good, and that was enough.
Their conversation soon shifted to the movements of the Tsunayashiro Clan. According to Yamamoto, they intended to have Tsunayashiro Koshiro graduate ahead of schedule—by the end of the second year. Though the methods they would use were unclear, one thing was certain: Kiyoshi would have to graduate at the same time and take first place from Koshiro.
This meant Kiyoshi wouldn't follow the standard six-year curriculum. He would most likely graduate in just two years—an unprecedented feat in Soul Society's history.
But the brilliance of genius always came at a cost. Kiyoshi would need to accelerate his growth drastically, and whether he won or lost against Koshiro, he would become a target of the Tsunayashiro Clan.
If he won, Yamamoto would protect him with everything he had.
If he lost, and Yamamoto chose not to intervene, Kiyoshi's fate could become unimaginably grim. Even if Yamamoto did protect him, if the Tsunayashiro Clan secured more power, his life would still be far from easy.
In truth, Kiyoshi hadn't done anything yet. But the currents of history had swept him to the center of a storm. Whether he wanted to choose sides or not no longer mattered.
"Yamamoto hands you food, you turn the table.The nobles sing, you cut the mic.You really think you're gonna make it in Seireitei like that?Come to Seireitei Main Street, we'll juice you up!"
A meme from his past life popped into his mind, and Kiyoshi couldn't help but find a bit of dark humor in it all.
Between the two factions, he still chose the side he liked more—Yamamoto's. The Tsunayashiro Clan? They simply gave off a disgusting vibe.
While Kiyoshi was momentarily lost in thought, Yamamoto knocked him on the head with a finger-flick and said:
"When an elder is talking—listen! No daydreaming!"
He had just the right level of force: painful enough to make your eyes water, but not enough to cause injury.
Rubbing the new bump on his head, Kiyoshi sat up straight and respectfully listened to Yamamoto.
Yamamoto spoke at length, pausing now and then to ask Kiyoshi questions. When he answered well, Yamamoto would smile and reward him with another cookie. If his answer wasn't satisfactory, Yamamoto didn't scold him—he'd explain why the answer wasn't ideal and what other factors needed to be considered.
Through this, Kiyoshi came to understand just how large the gap was between himself and someone who had lived for over a thousand years.
In courage, cunning, balance, connections, resources, strength, and resolve—he was utterly outclassed.
And Yamamoto's demeanor completely shattered the trace of arrogance Kiyoshi once held toward canon characters. Having known the plot and watched from a godlike perspective in his previous life, he'd always viewed characters like Yamamoto with a kind of detached confidence.
But now?
Meeting the man face to face forced him to abandon that arrogance completely.
This was a real world.Everyone in it had flesh, blood, and a vivid personality.