After witnessing Kurotsuki Renya successfully cast a Hadō without chanting, Instructor Tsuruhisa Tsuneo at first thought it must have been an accident. But then, Renya raised his finger again, and another shockwave erupted forward.
Although this shockwave carried only about one-third of its normal power, it was undeniable—he had not used an incantation at all.
This kid's… a genius.
Tsuneo quickly walked over, his expression brimming with excitement.
"Renya… did you just cast without chanting?"
Startled by Tsuneo's sudden approach, Renya straightened and nodded. "Yes, sensei. Is there something wrong?"
Tsuneo's eyes lit up as he asked eagerly, "How did you manage it?"
Renya paused, thinking back to the moment it happened. At first, he couldn't identify exactly how he had abandoned the chant. But then a question came to him: What is the purpose of chanting in the first place?
He recalled three main functions.
First—ritual. The incantation serves as a formalized trigger, shaping the flow of reiryoku through structured language. It acts like a primer that stabilizes and amplifies the spell.
Second—rhythm. The measured cadence of a chant isn't just for show. Vibration and tempo affect how the energy resonates, subtly increasing its potency.
Third—cognitive framing. Language shapes thought. In another world, there's a hypothesis called the Sapir–Whorf Hypothesis, which suggests that higher reasoning depends on language, and that language affects how people perceive reality.
Breaking this down, Renya sought alternatives.
For the first—ritual—he realized the structure couldn't be removed entirely. A catalyst was needed to draw out spiritual power. If the verbal component was gone, could gestures act as the ritual instead? After all, in Hadō and Bakudō, the hand signs were just as important.
For the second—rhythm—he acknowledged that losing it reduced the power output, but it wasn't essential for activation.
For the third—perception—this was critical. Without the mental state reinforced by chanting, the spell would collapse. So Renya focused on recreating the mindset he had while chanting, channeling that same intent into his reiryoku. Doing so, he managed to fire off Shō (Hadō #1) without a chant, even if it was weaker.
He knew the power had dropped by two-thirds, but the tactical advantage was clear—speed over raw force.
Renya's mind raced with ideas. If gestures could replace verbal ritual, and if objects could serve as ritual conduits, could power be restored—or even amplified? Could an external focus enhance Kido output?
Tsuneo listened carefully as Renya explained his reasoning. When the boy outlined the three functions of chanting, Tsuneo nodded in approval.
"Your thought process is solid. Most shinigami who forgo chants do so after thousands of repetitions, relying on instinctive perception of reiryoku flow. What you've done is bypass part of that through deliberate replication of the casting mindset."
Renya then suggested his two ideas—more complex gestures, and using objects as ritual substitutes.
"Adding more gestures," Tsuneo explained, "would only slow the casting. A longer sequence wastes the very advantage of abandoning the chant. As for using objects as ritual focuses… that's viable. Specially crafted materials could, in theory, amplify Kido potency."
Renya's eyes lit up at the possibilities. If objects could restore or even boost the power of an unchanted spell, it could revolutionize Kido usage in combat.
Many shinigami avoided Kido mid-battle because chantless versions were too weak and chanting in full took too long—except in cases of overwhelming superiority, like when Aizen used a fully-chanted Kurohitsugi (Hadō #90) against Komamura. In such situations, the opponent simply couldn't interrupt.
If an object could restore that lost power without the chant, the impact in combat would be massive.
But Tsuneo's next words cut through Renya's excitement.
"It's not worth researching further."
Renya blinked. "Why?"
"The focusing object would only enhance one specific Kido—and even Kido with similar attributes wouldn't be interchangeable. For example, Shakkahō (Hadō #31) and Sōren Sōkatsui (Hadō #73) both use fire-based reiryoku, but their casting structures differ too much for a single object to optimize both."
Renya frowned but argued, "Even so, strengthening a single spell could still be useful."
Tsuneo chuckled. "This approach already exists, taken to its extreme, as the foundation of an entire fighting style. And history has shown it's less versatile than it appears."
Renya had a suspicion. "You're talking about… the Quincy?"
Tsuneo nodded. "Exactly. They use physical foci—crosses, bows, silver tubes—to shape and amplify reishi. Their weapons, techniques like Seele Schneider or Heilig Pfeil, are all spirit energy constructs fueled by objects. But even they eventually abandoned pure weapon focus, turning to Schrift powers and Vollständig during the Thousand-Year Blood War."
Renya considered the comparison. Quincy spiritual weapons and object-focused Kido were conceptually similar, but Quincy had far greater variety and flexibility. And yet even they shifted away from it.
In truth, high-tier Kido would still be difficult to cast instantly, even with a focus. Low- to mid-tier spells might be fast and consistent, but they could never match the destructive potential of a shikai or bankai—Zanpakutō were an extension of the shinigami's very soul, inherently more adaptable and powerful.
Renya's initial spark of inspiration dimmed. Still, Tsuneo offered a small smile.
"You've already demonstrated remarkable insight for your level. That kind of thinking is why I'm asking—after graduation, would you consider joining the Kidō Corps?"