After an unknown stretch of time—how long, he couldn't tell—Amamiya Miyako slowly opened his eyes.
His gaze lifted toward the horizon, where a distant, towering white wall shimmered under a pale sky.
「…Seireitei.」 The fortified heart of Soul Society, where the Gotei 13 resides. The place that stood between law and chaos. Miyako's breath caught for a moment. "So this is Soul Society... huh." His emotions were complicated—he might be stuck here for eternity.
Around him, other confused souls stood, looking lost, murmuring among themselves. New spirits like himself, just passed into the afterlife. At the very front stood a figure clad in jet-black shihakushō, a zanpakutō sheathed at his waist— A Shinigami.
Miyako straightened up subconsciously. He knew the type—those who guided souls and fought Hollows. In Rukongai, they were divine protectors, distant and untouchable.
The Shinigami began giving basic instructions: where they were, what had happened, how the districts were divided, and what kind of life awaited them.
…
After receiving guidance, Miyako understood the basics. Soul Society's outer districts were called Rukongai, divided into 80 sections per side—North, South, East, and West. Luckily, he hadn't been assigned to one of the rougher, outer districts.
In this realm, reiryoku flowed thickly in the air. Ordinary souls could survive just by drinking water and absorbing spiritual particles. But Miyako noticed something peculiar— He still felt hunger.
That was rare.
『...So I do have spiritual power.』 That hunger wasn't a curse—it was a blessing. It meant he had reiryoku, a necessary trait to become a Shinigami.
With that realization, Miyako made up his mind. 「I have to get into the Shin'ō Academy... as soon as possible.」 The Spiritual Arts Academy. The training ground for future Shinigami.
He remembered: Aizen Sōsuke had already begun experimenting with the Hōgyoku around this time. Though he shouldn't yet be harvesting souls directly from Rukongai, Miyako had no intention of sitting idle.
…
Days passed.
Miyako slowly adjusted to this new existence. He drank water, breathed in the reishi-rich air, and trained his body in secret—simple movements, stretches, and basic kata remembered from his human life. The hunger remained. That only confirmed his goal.
『Seven years until Ichigo Kurosaki meets Kuchiki Rukia. That's when everything begins.』 He had no time to waste.
After asking around and gathering directions, Miyako set off toward the Shin'ōreijutsuin's entrance. The registration period had just opened. West Rukongai, past Hakutōmon, then a hundred meters south, just beyond the gate where Jidanbō the giant once stood.
When he arrived, the sight made him sweat.
「Ugh... a long line.」 It seemed half of Rukongai was here. So many souls had the same idea—to become a Shinigami, to climb out of powerlessness. For many, it was the only dream they had left.
The examiner, a gruff-looking Shinigami with sharp eyes, sat behind a desk next to a glowing kesshō-dama—a spiritual crystal orb that measured reiryoku.
"Next! No spiritual pressure—fail!"
"Hmm... level 20. You pass."
"Too weak. Get out of line."
The process was harsh. Many walked away disappointed, some in tears.
Finally, Miyako stepped forward. He took a deep breath. 「Let's go.」 His hand slowly reached for the orb. As his fingers brushed the surface— Shuuuunnnnn... The orb shone brightly. Then brighter. It glowed like a small sun.
Gasps echoed.
"H-Hey... is it just me or is that really bright?"
"Woah, I've never seen anything like this…"
"This reiryoku… it's sixth-grade? No… nearly fifth-grade?! This is almost Fukutaichō-level…" the Shinigami murmured in disbelief, his eyes widening.
Miyako himself stood in stunned silence. Fifth-grade reiryoku—that was a level most candidates dreamed of reaching after years of training. According to what he remembered from Shunsui Kyōraku's records, fifth-grade reiatsu was already high enough to qualify someone as a Vice-Captain. For a new soul to exhibit that kind of potential…
He lowered his gaze. "Yabai..." he whispered.
Such talent could be both a blessing and a curse in Soul Society. Especially now—this was the time when Aizen Sōsuke still operated from within the Gotei 13, a master manipulator hiding behind kind eyes and glasses.
"Even if I'm not strong yet… If I stand out too much, I might get dragged into something I can't handle," he thought quietly, his fists tightening at his sides.
Still, it wasn't hopeless. Shinigami lived for centuries, sometimes longer. From Aizen's perspective, a newly registered rookie with high reiryoku wasn't worth concern—at least not yet.
"…Sumimasen, Shinigami-sama," Miyako asked politely, bowing slightly. "Did I… pass?"
The Shinigami snapped out of his daze, flustered. "A-Ah! Yes, of course! Right this way!"
Miyako gave a small bow and followed as he was guided past the rest of the line. Behind him, murmurs followed, but he pretended not to hear them.
Once inside the Shin'ō Academy—the True Spiritual Arts Academy—a receptionist met him and escorted him to the entrance examination hall. The place buzzed with anxious candidates and instructors in official robes.
A long series of bizarre assessments followed—kidō control, zanjutsu form, hakuda drills, and theoretical lectures. Miyako did his best to blend in. By the end, he was told she had passed.
"Eh… that's it?" he muttered under her breath, a bit puzzled.
He couldn't help but think of Hisagi Shūhei. How did he fail this test twice? It wasn't that hard. Was it?
Once his results were confirmed, an instructor handed his a set of Academy robes—simple white with blue lining, the official uniform of all new Shin'ō Academy students. He was also assigned a dormitory on the western side of the campus.
That evening, Miyako stood by his new window, gazing at the towering silhouette of Seireitei in the distance.
"So this will be my world for the next six years…" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Even if he could qualify to graduate early, Miyako had already made his decision. He would stay the full term—six years. No skipping ahead, no drawing attention. Not now.
After all, only three people in known history had skipped grades: Shiba Kaien, Ichimaru Gin, and Hitsugaya Tōshirō.
True geniuses. But each had suffered terribly.
Kaien-dono… killed by a Hollow fused with the soul of his beloved wife—Metastacia, one of Aizen's twisted experiments.
Ichimaru Gin… a traitor who wore a fox's smile and betrayed Aizen at the last moment… only to fall before he could strike the final blow.
Hitsugaya-taichō… constantly tormented by Aizen's manipulations through Momo Hinamori, his childhood friend.
"…I won't make the same mistakes," Miyako whispered, pulling the robe tighter around him. "I'll grow strong—but quietly. Step by step."
Power without caution meant becoming a pawn in someone else's game.