The student uniform of the Spiritual Arts Academy was a stylized variation of a traditional kimono, and when set against the backdrop of the old wooden school building, it lent the campus the air of an ancient private school. Yet some students were always destined to stand out.
Prime examples: Sigong Zun, Ichigo Kurosaki, and their new acquaintance, Yahachihara Kumaru.
Yahachihara claimed to be a fan of the culture of the living world, and no one would dare question it. Her look was pure modern trendsetter, from the expertly applied eyeshadow and lipstick to her long, golden hair tied in a jaunty side ponytail. Her skin was tanned to a soft, chocolate hue, making her look for all the world like a trendy high school girl straight out of Shibuya.
It was so striking that Ichigo couldn't help but ask, "Did you just arrive from the World of the Living, too?"
"Nope! Born and raised in the Seireitei," she chirped, waving her hands like a lucky cat and sharing her personal details without a shred of self-consciousness. "My family owns a clothing store, and it's super popular because we get a lot of inspiration from contemporary fashion. I got curious, started looking into it, and got totally hooked!"
"I see…" Ichigo's mouth twitched. He forced himself not to comment on her makeup; to his more traditional sensibilities, it was like coffee with far too much sugar—overly sweet and a little hard to swallow.
"Clothing from the modern world?" Sigong mused aloud. "The Seireitei is far more up-to-date than Rukongai. That's not good."
Rindo, who was sitting at a nearby desk, wrote a line of characters in the air: [What's wrong?]
"Nothing," Sigong said, already lost in thought. "Just considering my future."
"What are you on about now?" Ichigo asked out of habit.
"Think about it. Even in the Soul Society, people must work part-time jobs during their breaks, right?"
Ichigo's eyes lit up with understanding. "I see what you're getting at. You want to make some money, bring over a few business ideas from the modern world. If you could create a successful product, you'd be set for life."
"Exactly," Sigong confirmed. "But Yahachihara's story is a reminder that the Soul Society only appears to be behind the times. In reality, some of our ideas probably already exist, while others simply lack a market. The bottom line is, making money here won't be as easy as I thought." A flicker of genuine regret crossed his face. His grand plan to establish the Shinomiya Group and show the old noble houses what a new-age capitalist could do was foiled before it even began.
"Now that you mention it," Ichigo said, scratching his hair, "our living allowance from the Academy only covers the bare necessities. There's no way we could afford to buy a set of modern clothes from Yahachihara's family store."
"If you guys come by, I'll give you the biggest discount!" Yahachihara promised, smiling as she made a peace sign in front of one eye and gave a cute wink.
"We'll talk about that later," Sigong said, noticing their instructor approaching.
That conversation, however, was the start of a friendship. Yahachihara was insatiably curious about the World of the Living and chatted with them every chance she got. Before long, the other students began to see them as a single, untouchable clique: the two prodigies, the silent Kidō genius, and the fashionable noble girl who ranked fourth in their class. They were the most talked-about group in the Academy, envied and admired from a distance, their combined spiritual power forming an invisible barrier that kept others away.
A week flew by. For Sigong Zun, who was completely absorbed in his studies, the passage of time was barely noticeable.
One day at noon, in the swordsmanship dojo, the sharp crack of wood echoed like a thunderclap.
Clack!
If it had been a real blade, Ichigo would have been cleaved from shoulder to hip. He was grateful for the wooden bokken. It meant he still had a chance to win.
"I won't fall for the same trick twice!" he roared.
He blocked the powerful downward strike, his footwork steady as he searched for an opening to counterattack. His reaction time and fighting spirit were impressive, earning a nod of approval from the kendo master observing the spar.
But Sigong Zun wasn't fighting him like a normal opponent. He met Ichigo's flurry of blows with unshakable stability, a reef weathering a storm. Once he had the rhythm of the attack, he advanced behind a block, using his bokken like a riot shield, leveraging his superior physique to force Ichigo back. Then, with a sudden retreat to create space, he brought his own sword down in a perfect, textbook strike. It looked less like a display of skill and more like an act of pure, overwhelming force.
"Damn it!" Ichigo exclaimed, rubbing his aching wrist. He was frustrated and helpless. "Your technique isn't any better than mine, but I can't land a single solid hit on you!"
"That's the undeniable charm of superior stats," Sigong said, accepting a towel from Yahachihara and wiping the sweat from his brow. "But you are improving quickly. A week ago, I beat you in a single move. Now you can last several minutes. It won't be long before you can…"
"Beat you?" Ichigo asked, a hopeful gleam in his eye.
"…lose with a little more dignity."
A vein pulsed in Ichigo's forehead. "Is that so?" he said through a forced smile. "How about we go another round? You can try that same strategy again and see if it works."
Sigong glanced back at him with an expression of pity. "Don't waste your energy. Even without a strategy, I could win on stamina alone. I was just trying to save time."
"You bastard… Just you wait!" Ichigo seethed, making a silent vow to get his revenge.
"You two are really intense," Yahachihara commented from the sidelines. "Are all the students from your world like this?"
"That depends on the country," Sigong replied, turning his analytical gaze back to Ichigo. "But this one is just overcompensating for his atrocious Kidō. He knows that relying on self-destructing spells dooms his chances of becoming a well-rounded fighter, so he's desperately trying to make up for it in other areas."
His assessment was ruthless but accurate. The first week of classes had made the importance of innate talent painfully clear. Yahachihara was energetic and learned physical skills like Hakuda and Hohō with astonishing speed, but she was willful. She had no interest in Zanjutsu or Kidō, and her grades in those subjects were average, earning her the label of "problem child." Rindo, though deaf and mute, possessed an iron will and a preternatural gift for controlling his spiritual power. He was a natural at Kidō, learning spells as if he were born to cast them. In other areas, he was merely competent, but unlike Yahachihara, he applied himself to every subject with quiet diligence. Ichigo was a monster in Zanjutsu and Hakuda, a natural-born warrior whose raw combat talent overflowed. His instructors praised him as the Gotei 13's next great captain—right up until he nearly vaporized the training grounds with a simple Sekahō during Kidō class. Afterward, they quietly amended their evaluation in their minds: Limited to the 11th Division. And finally, there was Sigong Zun. His performance was worthy of the highest admission score in the Academy's history. He was an orthodox genius, excelling at everything. And with the draconic blood pumping through his veins granting him tenfold growth in physical arts, he held a decisive advantage over Ichigo in both swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat, thoroughly frustrating his rival's attempts to claim the top spot.
"So I'm just a walking Sekahō to you now?" Ichigo pouted. "You're one to talk. You act all high and mighty, but don't think I don't know that you're the one secretly practicing all night."
Yahachihara's eyes widened in disbelief. In her opinion, Ichigo was already a model of diligence. The idea that Sigong was training even harder seemed impossible.
"I only tried it once, and you just happened to catch me," Sigong said dismissively. It had been an experiment with his Compound Potion. He'd discovered that while it could relieve the fatigue of staying up late, it couldn't replenish a full day's worth of spent energy. He'd abandoned the plan immediately.
At that moment, Rindo wrote a line of characters in the air. [There is a calligraphy class this afternoon. Are you going?]
"Calligraphy?" Yahachihara tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I hear the teacher is a super popular captain, but my family's store just got a new shipment of merchandise and I don't wanna miss it. I'll pass!"
"Me too," Ichigo said. "I've already got a sparring session scheduled with my Zanjutsu instructor. But I actually need to see that calligraphy teacher afterward."
Though the Dean had smoothed things over for him, Ichigo's struggles with the classical texts were his Achilles' heel. He often had to ask Sigong for help, something his pride couldn't easily stomach. Fortunately, the Dean had foreseen this and had already arranged for a tutor—the very same captain teaching the calligraphy class.
"Then Rindo and I will go," Sigong decided. An ordinary class he could skip, but a class taught by that man was an opportunity he couldn't afford to miss.
"Alright! See you later," Ichigo said, feeling a surge of motivation. While Sigong was stuck in a cultural lesson, he could make some real progress.
Little did he know that with Sigong's draconic blood granting him tenfold growth in physical arts, there was no hope of catching up through normal training.
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