The Academy's north wing where Class A trained, was nothing like the low-end, drafty buildings we had in C and B. The floors were polished. The walls had reinforced kido barriers. The sparring grounds were spacious, complete with reiatsu-monitoring seals.
And right now, I was the new face in this place.
---
"He got promoted mid-semester?"
"He skipped Class B entirely? That's unheard of."
"Must be a noble's illegitimate son or something."
"I heard he beat a teacher in a duel. No way that's true."
---
Their voices weren't subtle.
Dozens of upper-tier first-years, some second-years too, all side-eyeing me. Judging. Whispering.
It didn't help that I ranked last on the Class A board.
Rank 30: Joro, Katsu.
The bottom. Just how I liked it.
But still, they wanted to know how I got here. No one said it out loud, but I could feel it in their eyes:
"Prove you belong."
---
Zanjutsu class started promptly. The instructor was different from Class C and B: Sasaki Ichimaru, a retired 5th seat known for his strict technique drills and quick discipline.
He didn't acknowledge me with more than a glance.
"Pair off. Standard engagement."
I drew my asauchi — well, my sealed Zanpakutō, and found myself facing a tall, fast-looking second-year named Renka. Top ten in the current class rankings.
She didn't seem impressed.
"You're the guy who jumped from C to A? Let's see what you've got."
---
She came in fast. Her blade moved with the confidence of someone used to dominating her fights — clean form, powerful strikes.
But… not faster than I could track.
Not anymore.
I parried cleanly. Deflected with minimal movement. I didn't strike back. Not yet.
I let her press the attack. Felt the rhythm. Watched her footwork. Measured the weight of her blade.
Then, I saw it — the faint lag in her backstep after each flurry.
My body moved instinctively.
One sidestep. Pivot. I ghosted past her guard and placed my blade against her neck.
---
"Match, over!" Ichimaru barked.
The courtyard went silent.
Renka looked stunned. "What… was that?"
I just shrugged, sheathed my weapon, and bowed.
---
After class, no one said anything to me. But the stares changed.
The instructors were watching too.
I spotted Ichimaru speaking to another staff member across the field. He didn't say my name — but he gestured in my direction and nodded.
That's the thing about being a shadow.
You're not supposed to stand out.
But sometimes, when you move the wrong way, people notice the outline.