Shin'ō Academy.
Today was the first day of school. After completing the enrollment procedures and attending the afternoon entrance ceremony, there was still a stretch of time before lights-out—something akin to evening self-study.
Under normal circumstances, there would have been a short introductory lecture.
But today was special, so it had been replaced with a small in-class speech session.
Class 1–5.
As a newly admitted student, Arima Shizuya sat stiffly in his seat, tension written all over his face.
This marked the twenty-fifth year since he had transmigrated into this world—and the first real step he had taken to stop scraping by in the Rukongai's Kusajishi District.
It was only natural to be nervous on the first day of school.
But the reason his nerves were wound so tight—so tight his very core clenched—was the man standing at the podium.
Short hair, slightly curled, like a lotus unfurling after rain—soft, yet shaped with gentle arcs.
Brown eyes concealed behind rectangular glasses, immaculate and faintly curved, holding a trace of mild apology.
At a glance, he seemed gentle. His build was even somewhat slender.
And yet that face… and that voice from moments ago… were far too recognizable.
"Good evening, everyone. I will be serving as your instructor in charge of mental health and academic guidance."
"My name is Sōsuke Aizen."
"From today onward, we will be spending six years together. As your instructor, it is my honor. I look forward to working with all of you."
The voice was warm.
But to Arima Shizuya, it was like armor-piercing rounds blasting straight through his skull.
Shin'ō Academy was an institution dedicated to cultivating future members of the Kidō Corps, the Onmitsukidō, and the Gotei Thirteen.
The curriculum spanned six years. Only exceptional students could graduate early.
Shizuya had come here for one simple reason—to secure a stable future. Once you got in, as long as you weren't completely hopeless, you'd be assigned somewhere.
Guaranteed placement.
He had been perfectly content with that. Better than living as a drifter in Rukongai. He wasn't dreaming of being unrivaled under heaven.
That wasn't something ordinary people could hope for.
But who would have thought?
On the very first day—
He would run straight into the final boss.
Memories long buried began launching their assault.
The mastermind who threaded through the entirety of Bleach.
One of Kurosaki Ichigo's "three fathers."
The destroyer of glasses.
The king of smooth talk.
The only man who could make prison garb look like haute couture.
And he was right here.
How was he supposed to play this game now?
What, was he supposed to just kill himself and restart?
Shizuya's soul felt like it was halfway out of his body.
Then Aizen's voice drew him back.
"As you can see, I am currently serving in the Fifth Division of the Gotei Thirteen. Among the thirteen divisions, ours is a special unit affiliated with rescue operations."
"Beneath the division's emblem lies the silhouette of an asebi flower… Does anyone know its meaning?"
Two seconds of silence.
Apparently, no one here fancied themselves a poet.
Aizen showed no surprise.
"Is it the tension of your first day? Heh… I hope you'll all adjust quickly. Time is limited, and Shin'ō Academy's curriculum is rather demanding."
He adjusted his glasses.
"The flower language of the asebi is sacrifice, danger, purity, and sweet affection. That is also my blessing to you."
"Learning is, admittedly, painful."
"But I hope that as you grasp the true essence of Shin'ō Academy—and become individuals of worth—you will not forget your mission and responsibility."
The more Shizuya listened, the stranger his expression became.
Something felt off.
Aizen was a master of deception—that much was certain. But the seriousness in his tone now carried an almost imperceptible sincerity.
As if he genuinely believed what he was saying.
Even without the ability to read hearts, Shizuya felt it.
Was he always like this?
Or was this part of some elaborate, long-term performance?
A girl in the front row raised her hand nervously.
"Yes?" Aizen prompted.
"Um… Aizen-sensei, I've heard of you! You're an outstanding graduate of the Academy, right? What seat do you currently hold in the Fifth Division?"
The seated officer system stood above regular Shinigami—just beneath Captain and Lieutenant.
Seat number meant both strength and status.
Aizen smiled modestly, eyes curving gently.
"I am unremarkable. At present, I hold the Fourth Seat."
The humility in his tone did little to contain the chatter.
"Eh?! That young—and already Fourth Seat?"
"Aizen-sensei must've achieved that easily!"
He did nothing to interrupt them, merely smiling as he observed.
There wasn't a trace of oppressive authority about him.
Yet in their very first meeting, he had already blended effortlessly with the class.
The atmosphere was harmonious.
Shizuya slowly processed the situation.
If he remembered correctly, Aizen didn't begin moving openly until he became a Lieutenant.
He had indeed served as an instructor at Shin'ō Academy for a time—even after becoming Captain, he continued offering periodic "calligraphy" lessons.
If he was currently Fourth Seat…
Then the main storyline was at least a century away.
At this stage, Aizen might still be… relatively normal?
So maybe there was hope.
"Arima-kun? Arima-kun?"
"Ah—! Yes!"
He shot to his feet.
Over twenty pairs of eyes fixed on him.
Aizen smiled gently.
"To foster harmony in the days ahead, communication is essential. Since we're all gathered here, let us get to know one another. There may be opportunities to work together in the future."
He lifted the attendance sheet.
"One minute, please. A brief self-introduction."
Though seated in the back, Arima Shizuya's name was first on the list.
A subtle wave of tension washed over him.
No backing out now.
He clenched his right fist lightly against his chest.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Calm down.
He rose slowly.
Delicate features. Long black hair tied into a high ponytail that flared like a horse's tail—bright and striking.
He pressed his lips together briefly, then spoke.
"Hello. My name is Arima Shizuya. I'm from the Kusajishi District of Rukongai. I like tofu and spinach. I dislike natto. And what I'm best at… is swordsmanship."
…
After the class meeting, it should have been time to rest.
Shin'ō Academy, however, did not enforce a strict curfew.
Some nobles resided here. They had social obligations outside class. A fully closed environment would have been inconvenient.
And the students weren't children.
Everyone had their own goals. Academics were merely the baseline requirement.
After the meeting, Shizuya didn't return to the dormitory.
He headed toward the dōjō.
Anticipation flickered in his eyes.
He had waited for this place for a long time.
Arima Shizuya possessed a unique interface—a "stat allocation system."
By training, he could earn attribute points.
Simple. Straightforward. Even a silverback gorilla could use it.
Back in Kusajishi, he had practiced endlessly with a wooden sword.
Result:
[You swung the wooden sword for a full day. Swordsmanship +1]
His panel now read:
Arima Shizuya
Slash: 20 | Fist: 0 | Step: 0 | Kidō: 0
The four fundamental disciplines of a Shinigami.
As a commoner, swordsmanship had been his only accessible path.
Those twenty points had not come easily.
His palms had long since torn open, forming thick, pale calluses.
But starting today—
Things would change.
He had discovered something.
If someone far stronger than him offered guidance, the stat gains increased dramatically.
He had learned that after nearly getting beaten to death by someone in Kusajishi.
Training with instruction was vastly more efficient.
Sometimes, if you sweet-talked a veteran into "seriously beating you up," the gains were even better.
Come on. Don't hold back. Treat me like a punching bag.
This was his chance to take off.
He changed into his training attire.
As a first-year, he could only practice outside the main floor.
That was fine.
Everyone started somewhere.
He took his stance.
Then—
From behind, that voice.
"Arima-kun. You're quite diligent."
He turned stiffly.
Aizen stood five meters away, hands tucked into his sleeves, smiling.
A secluded corner outside the dōjō.
No one else nearby.
So he really came just for him.
"Apologies. Everyone else has retired, yet you remain practicing. Your seriousness caught my attention… and before I realized it, I followed."
"I am your instructor, but like you, this is my first time teaching. How to guide you, how to speak to young people—these are challenges for me as well."
He paused. His eyes curved deeper.
"And if I recall correctly, you were admitted as a specialty student?"
"Swordsmanship… such a simple yet sharp discipline. In this era, few devote themselves to the fundamentals."
He smiled faintly.
"I find myself curious. May I observe more closely?"
Refusing now felt impossible.
"Th-then please excuse my lack of skill…"
Calm down. He's only watching.
Shizuya inhaled.
Then exhaled.
His body tensed.
Twenty points in swordsmanship might not make him a master—but it was no amateur's level either.
His aura shifted.
Muscles trembled with breath. His grip fused with the wooden sword, nerves extending outward as if the weapon were part of him.
Aizen's gaze flickered.
For him, this level held no surprise.
But it was not something an ordinary child could achieve casually.
His posture was steady. Centerline firm. Footwork had room for refinement—but his bearing was sharp, youthful.
Serious.
Not playacting.
Interesting.
After a series of practice swings and footwork drills, Shizuya stopped, lightly sweating.
Applause sounded.
"Impressive. During the entrance exam, I heard you handled a seated officer's attacks with composure. I assumed that was exaggeration. It seems I was mistaken."
Aizen inclined his head slightly.
"My apologies for that presumption. Your skill is undeniable. Still, from an instructor's perspective, there is room for improvement…"
Here it comes.
Shizuya braced himself.
But Aizen's guidance was precise. Genuine.
He listened.
Nodded.
With twenty points as a foundation, Shizuya could instinctively understand the corrections.
So much room to improve…
Aizen truly was instructing him.
As expected of someone proficient in all four disciplines.
Then—
[You swung the wooden sword. Under Aizen's guidance, Swordsmanship +5]
Five?!
Previously, he had crawled up one point at a time—sometimes not even daily.
Now, just from instruction—
Five.
The difference was absurd.
Of course.
Even here, the future mastermind's ability was extraordinary.
"Arima-kun, it grows late. Shall we return?"
"Yes, Aizen-sensei."
They walked side by side down the corridor toward the dormitories.
Moonlight faint. Clouds drifting. Spiritual flames flickered along the walls, casting elongated shadows.
Aizen walked ahead.
His back was not broad.
Yet it felt oppressive.
"May I ask something?"
"Of course."
"You seem deeply devoted to swordsmanship. Is there a reason?"
"Ah… I just happened to encounter it, and wanted to understand it more."
In truth, he'd been too poor to access proper Shunpo or Kidō.
Between Slash and Fist, he had chosen the blade.
After all—who wouldn't dream of wielding a cool Zanpakutō in the world of Bleach?
And a wooden sword was easy enough to acquire.
He could train other disciplines too—but progress required resources.
He had chosen a specialty.
Swordsmanship was his key.
"Simply because you like it? That suits you."
Aizen adjusted his glasses.
"I do not dislike those who lie politely. It shows consideration. But I prefer honesty. It is the most natural form of interaction, is it not?"
Shizuya laughed awkwardly.
"I'm not that clever, Aizen-sensei…"
"Humility is also rare."
From this brief exchange, Shizuya understood something.
Perhaps in the future, Aizen would scorn everything.
But for now…
He seemed normal.
Still.
Always reacting wasn't ideal.
Time to push back.
"Aizen-sensei… may I ask something?"
Aizen stopped, turning fully toward him.
"Curiosity is the foundation of growth. Please."
"Why… are you paying so much attention to me?"
If he hadn't been watching like a stalker, he wouldn't have appeared at the dōjō.
Aizen seemed slightly surprised.
After a moment, he smiled—almost sheepish.
"Have I been discovered? It seems I was too obvious. My apologies."
He sighed softly.
"As I said, this is my first time teaching. Guidance is new to me."
"I am, in a sense, also a beginner. I worry about how to interact with young people like you. Fortunately…"
He looked at Shizuya warmly.
"You are a good example. I believe I now understand how I should proceed."
…Wait.
He was learning from him?
Shizuya stared, bewildered.
Aizen simply smiled.
Serious yet humble. A drifter by origin, yet possessed of rare character.
In this otherwise ordinary class, Arima Shizuya stood out.
"You may not realize it, but you are already an excellent student."
That did not mean he could relax.
"Compared to true prodigies, you still have distance to cover… but witnessing a student's growth—that is part of a teacher's duty."
It was a responsibility Aizen did not resent.
"I… see…"
Perhaps, for now, this version of Aizen could be interacted with normally.
Aizen extended his right hand.
"Arima—no, Shizuya-kun. I look forward to working with you."
After only a brief pause, Shizuya grasped it firmly.
"The feeling's mutual. I look forward to it too, Aizen-sensei."
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