What do veterans who have exhausted every bit of content in a game usually do?
That's right. They drag in a total noob who knows absolutely nothing and aggressively 'tutor' them until they've groomed them into a magnificent gamer.
In slang, it's called 'Smurfing/Noob-teaching.'
But there is one thing that must be done before you can mentor a newbie.
You have to have reached the very end of that field yourself. No matter what field it may be.
If it's mathematics, there's Fermat's Last Theorem; if it's literature, the Nobel Prize; if it's physics, the Nobel Prize in Physics, and so on.
If I were just a bit smarter, I might have considered that side, but unfortunately, my brain is utterly useless in that department, so I wouldn't even dream of touching it.
And if I had the kind of brain capable of solving such problems, I wouldn't be living like this.
An extraordinary mind, an endless lifespan, and a body nearing absolute perfection.
If I had all three, why would I live like this? I would've single-handedly advanced civilization like an alien, taken a lap around the universe, and achieved a Science Victory.
An average man like me, even if I beat my head against the books for hundreds of thousands of years, can't even show his face in front of a real genius.
The immediate example is that bastard Tsunayashiro Jomon. In the far future, there's Sosuke Aizen or Kisuke Urahara.
Even outside the world of Bleach, there's Alfred Nobel, Isaac Newton, Albert Einstein, Richard Feynman—the list goes on and on.
Compared to them, what about me? With the sheer amount of time I've lived, I might be able to show off some knowledge in front of a genius, but that would only last for a moment.
A true genius would build their own monument of achievement atop the knowledge I've accumulated.
There's a reason people say to stand on the shoulders of giants to see a wider world.
...But! Life is not a game. It's not restricted to a single piece of content. Math? Science? Literature? They are just some of the many options.
As long as you're alive and have time, you can do anything.
Among those things, there are tasks that can be done with the body.
That's right. Swordsmanship. Martial arts.
Of course, you still need a proper foundation.
Strictly speaking, you can't just pick up a rock from the street, smash someone's head in, and say, 'This is the highly practical Art of the Rock.'
It's the same with blades.
If you bring a kitchen knife, stab someone in the gut, and call it 'The Art of Celebrating the Dome Concert,' or saw a stomach open and call it 'The Art of There is No One Inside,' what kind of bullshit is that?
Therefore, one must master the basics.
Starting from breathing, to footwork, the way to clench a fist and how to throw it. One must create a method to minimize energy consumption and maximize power.
The same goes for swordsmanship.
Since anyone can simply swing a blade, one must be taught how to draw the optimal Sword-Path that can be used in actual combat.
Schools and swordsmanship.
To be called a true veteran, shouldn't one master all of this?
"On that note, I'm retiring."
"...Pardon?"
Jomon, who was organizing documents—which were basically incredibly long scrolls—listing the records of sinners with a face soaked in fatigue, looked at me with an expression that screamed, 'What kind of bullshit is this now?' as soon as he heard my words.
"Don't pretend you didn't hear me. I'm retiring."
Jomon blinked slowly a few times, took off his glasses, and massaged the bridge of his nose.
After waiting a moment, Jomon let out a deep sigh and replied in a dying voice.
"Yes... Please do so."
"What, you're not even that surprised?"
"Well... what is there left to be surprised about at this point? You speak as if you've been working hard all this time, but who would be surprised if someone who hasn't stepped a foot out of the Nether King Palace for over ten thousand years says they're retiring?"
Replying with a cynical smirk, Jomon put his glasses back on and continued.
"Actually, I've always thought it was about time for you to retire. To be honest, I thought it was impressive that you held the position for this long."
"Hey, isn't your evaluation of me a bit harsh?"
"You're a man who thinks he's the only one who matters in heaven and earth, someone who won't even spare a glance at something unless it's what you want to do. To be frank, if I had to pick the greatest hedonist in this world, I don't think anyone could beat you, Master."
"Hey, how many days have you been working overtime?"
"I've been working overtime for a month straight. They say you can sleep when you're dead, but somehow, I ended up working even harder after I died. There's so much to take care of that I feel like my eyeballs are going to fall out from checking everything one by one. I don't know why the number of sinners has increased so much lately... Sigh..."
A month... no wonder he's tired.
That explains why he's been so sharp today.
"Shiryu, Rasatsu, and Myoren all found successors and retired. Why don't you retire soon, too?"
Out of the four who could be called the original members of Hell—Jomon, Shiryu, Myoren, and Rasatsu—three had already retired over a hundred thousand years ago, excluding Jomon.
Those three retired immediately after Hell's 'Season 2' construction was finished, and now only Jomon remains.
"I need a successor before I can retire, don't I?"
"That again. Isn't it time you came up with another excuse? Or just be honest about it."
The moment I said that, Jomon stopped his hands and scratched his head.
The atmosphere felt like he was about to bring up something important, so I kept my mouth shut. After a brief pause, Jomon let out a long sigh.
"Once all the figures of my era have retired... I suppose I can retire then."
The figures of the same era Jomon was talking about probably didn't mean those three.
If he meant those three, Jomon should have retired ages ago.
Me? I'm an outlier.
Who he's likely referring to is the Soul King.
Is it guilt, or a sense of responsibility?
Whichever it is, it's not something I can solve for him.
"Fine, then. It's your business to handle."
"Yes. So, what do you plan to do after you retire?"
"I don't know. I was thinking of opening a dojo."
"A dojo that produces multiple people like you, Master... Are you preparing for the end of the world?"
"Maybe. Who knows?"
If I gather and train people like Unohana later, they could be used to crack Yhwach's skull open.
In that sense, couldn't it be seen as preparing for the end of the world?
As I chuckled at the thought, Jomon suddenly flinched and stared intently at me.
"What? Did I say something weird?"
"Sigh... Please don't say such chilling things, even as a joke. I felt my heart drop."
"You don't even have a heart to drop. Anyway, I'm off. I have to start preparing intensely from now on if I want to get things done. I'll leave Hell in your hands for a while, so take care of it."
"Yes. I will manage it reasonably well until you return."
"Right, keep up the good work."
With those words, I stepped out of the Palace of the Ten Kings where Jomon was working and stretched.
The screams of the sinners echoing from below... it's goodbye to that for a while.
I don't know when I'll hear them again, but at least for a few tens of thousands of years, I won't have to listen to them.
Just thinking about it made me feel refreshed.
I felt no trace of sadness.
Listening to the constant, noisy screeching of sinners only causes stress.
"Shall I get going?"
I need to move past the days of aimlessly swinging branches and fists.
First, I'll discard my old, embarrassing self and start my training from the very beginning.
*
Punching was something anyone could do, and since I had been doing the 10,000 Gratitude Straight Punches with relatively good form, there wasn't much to fix there.
Of course... everything else except for that one straight punch was a total mess.
Because of that, the first and most time-consuming task after starting my new training was correcting the habits ingrained in my body.
From the time I first started flailing with a wooden stick until now—about 990,000 years, nearly a million—correcting the sheer ignorance built up in my body was no easy feat.
I felt the saying that habits ingrained in the body are not easily fixed deep in my bones.
So, for the first hundred years, I suppressed my physical strength to the minimum and spent my time relearning footwork and the proper way to grip a sword from scratch.
For the next hundred years, I learned how to move without disrupting my center of gravity.
And for the following hundred years, I learned how to swing a sword, throw a punch, and kick with the correct posture.
I spent time creating the connecting movements between one posture and the next.
Since I had learned human anatomy by directly seeing and touching the bodies of the sinners who fell into Hell over an immense period, it became a bit easier from there.
Creating the optimal path for swinging a sword into the next stance, finding the optimal path for using fists and feet...
Seeking, mastering, learning.
I discovered the problem within myself, sought the answer within myself, and found the solution within myself.
After spending 8,000 years that way, I finally reached a certain realization.
All Paths Lead to the Source.
Whether it be swordsmanship based on flow, strength, speed, or deception—or even close-quarters combat involving striking and crushing—at their peak, they all eventually take on a similar form.
Because it is the most primal movement, it becomes the greatest movement a human can perform.
Right, this should be enough.
When I finally ended my long seclusion and returned to the Soul Society...
"The Shinigami Academy...?"
The spot for the local dojo had already been taken by someone else.