At that moment, Lu Yu paid no mind to the curious gaze of the voluptuous woman standing before him. His attention wasn't on Matsumoto Rangiku's dazzling golden hair or the sculpted, elegant contours of her face. His eyes drifted—however briefly—to the exaggerated curves she wore like a badge: impossibly full, absurdly springy, and with a cleavage so deep it seemed to defy physics.
Some women wore their uniforms tight; Rangiku's looked moments from bursting on their own, and mentally, Lu Yu cracked. Who could blame him? No officer should be subject to this kind of trial. Someone turn off those damn headlights—they were dazzling, blinding, and left his head spinning. After just one look, he forcibly redirected his gaze upward, toward the divine figure clad in vice-captain robes, a woman who might as well have stepped from celestial myth. Fortunately, he was disciplined. Mostly.
"Let me see... so you're Lu Yu and Hitsugaya Tōshirō, newly admitted and scheduled to receive your sealed states today," Rangiku said, flipping through their files, her flirtatious tone giving way to a flicker of seriousness as her gaze settled on the documents. Tōshirō's profile was expected—his power and potential had been flagged early—but Lu Yu's file was strange: nearly blank, containing only an evaluation that marked him as passing with no reasoning or detailed assessment to support it.
This was highly irregular.
Sealed states—standard Zanpakutō issued to Shinigami cadets—weren't granted unless the candidate demonstrated a baseline level of Reiatsu and spiritual control. That Lu Yu had received approval without explanation spoke volumes, but also raised red flags. What Rangiku didn't know was that Lu Yu had impressed his proctors so thoroughly that the 12th Division evaluators had chosen to omit details, preserving a kind of plausible deniability; they noted only that he passed, leaving others to speculate. Not that this would stop the other divisions from poking around, but it would certainly complicate the process.
Rangiku found it hard to reconcile. This wasn't some noble-born kid or a Central 46 golden child. Lu Yu was from Rukongai—a nobody. His file should have been completely transparent. Yet here he was.
"Obasan, where's our sealed state?" Tōshirō cut in bluntly, his voice clipped and flat with boredom, clearly unimpressed by ranks or appearances. He lacked both the age and the hormones to care about curvaceous vice-captains and their sultry energy.
Lu Yu sighed, muttering under his breath, "When you're young, you don't know how good Sister Yu is. You end up mistaking lolis for treasure," and added a mental side note: Seek more joy in life. As expected, a twitch formed on Rangiku's forehead. Without missing a beat, she stepped forward, seized Tōshirō's smooth little cheeks in both hands, and began to stretch his face with an eerily sweet smile. "I'm not Obasan, kid," she said through gritted teeth. "Call me Big Sister. Got it?"
Lu Yu gave her a calm nod and cast a casual glance at the unmissable chest display. "Sister it is," he replied evenly.
"Let go of me, you damn fat cow!" Tōshirō snapped, voice sharp and completely lacking in tact. He'd stepped on the landmine labeled Do Not Touch, and now the shark was officially triggered. Rangiku's smile turned icier than a midwinter Hollow. Tōshirō's face was yanked further out of shape, practically stretching into some tragic version of the Sun God Nika. Lu Yu, sensing an impending disciplinary execution, quickly interjected, "He's just a kid. Beat him if you must, but don't let it ruin your day."
"You traitor!" Tōshirō looked at him, stunned and betrayed. Wasn't this the same reliable big brother who'd sworn to Momo he'd protect him? Apparently not.
Lu Yu just smiled and turned back to the sealed state racks, his demeanor relaxed. Sorry, Tōshirō. The adult world doesn't run on ideals. It runs on decisions. And if choosing between you and a goddess-tier beauty were really that simple, life would be utopia. But it's not. It's messy. It's unfair. That's just how it is.
After disciplining the tiny rebel, Rangiku casually adjusted her golden locks and turned her gaze back toward Lu Yu, who was now engrossed in examining the racks of sealed Zanpakutō. Something about him made her pause. She knew her own charm—visually, aurally, socially. It wasn't arrogance; it was just fact. She drew attention without trying. But this guy hadn't even acknowledged her beyond basic manners. No flattery. No banter. No visible interest.
Interesting. Odd, even.
"Hurry up and hand over the sealed states already," Tōshirō complained again, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.
With a resigned sigh, Rangiku raised her palm and summoned her spiritual pressure. The air shimmered faintly as she invoked Kidō to unlock the ward that sealed away the blades. Tōshirō's eyes lit up immediately. He was captivated. This one? Or that one? He hovered, trapped in the most delightful kind of indecision.
Lu Yu, by contrast, reached out without hesitation and grabbed one at random. To him, a sealed state was merely the starting point. True power didn't lie in the blade—it was born from the soul. All sealed states were fundamentally the same. What mattered was what came after.
The form and ability of a Zanpakutō were dictated by the soul of its wielder. Shikai and Bankai weren't random gifts—they were reflections. Some awakened monstrosities like Kyōka Suigetsu, whose illusions confounded even captains. Others summoned Ryūjin Jakka, a force of apocalyptic flame. And then there were the unfortunate ones who ended up with glorified clubs that cracked on impact.
Even though Tōshirō had never trained in Shinigami arts, he could already feel the faint call of his Zanpakutō. His soul was simply that attuned. The moment Lu Yu touched the hilt, something shifted. Deep inside him, a titanic wave of Reiatsu stirred—silent, immense—but he suppressed it instantly, locking it down before it could flare outward.
"Once you've received your sealed state, you'll need to keep it with you at all times," Rangiku said, her voice adopting a rare tone of gravity. "Practice daily. Meditate with it. Learn to listen to it. Over time, your Reiatsu will change, and when the time is right... your Zanpakutō will respond."
Despite the seriousness of her message, Rangiku's impressive figure continued to provide an unavoidable distraction. But this time, Tōshirō offered a sincere bow of gratitude. Rangiku gave him a faint smile, then glanced once more at Lu Yu. He was holding the blade—not with awe, not with anticipation, but with focused curiosity, like he was studying a puzzle he'd already half-solved.
Something about that unnerved her. His spiritual pressure didn't feel especially potent. And he wasn't noble. No connections. No pedigree. And yet, he had passed. Cleanly. She still didn't get it.
Whatever. If he wasn't talking, she wouldn't pry. She had plenty of time to investigate later—purely under the pretext of future team assessments, of course.
After giving them both a final reminder on sealed states and Zanpakutō training, she turned away and left. The only thing she left behind was the faint scent of her perfume.
Moments later, Tōshirō darted off to the training yard, giddy with anticipation and already gripping his new blade like a future captain. Lu Yu, however, slipped quietly into a secluded corner. "Time to activate the punch-in system," he whispered to himself.
He hadn't used yesterday's opportunity. He'd been saving it.
Now that he was at the Spiritual Arts Academy, surrounded by real characters from the plot, the moment felt perfect to roll the dice.
A golden flash lit up the sea of his consciousness.
He exhaled slowly, lips curling into a grin.
"It hit. Jackpot. Dazzling golden light," Lu Yu murmured, his eyes sharp and calm.
Looks like the Emperor of Luck... is me.