Soul Society, Western Rukongai District 1, Runlin'an.
Shimiya Takashi opened his eyes, stared blankly at the unfamiliar ceiling for a while, then left the bed, changed into a clean, simple yukata, and stepped out of his room.
"You're up early, Brother Kurosaki."
As soon as he stepped out, he saw the orange-haired youth washing up by the well in the courtyard.
"Because I barely slept."
Ichigo draped the towel over his shoulder; a closer look would reveal bloodshot eyes.
"That would be a waste of the Elder's good intentions."
Takashi stretched.
The sunlight streaming from the sky was slightly dazzling.
He didn't know where that sun was hanging, beyond the end of the sky, in outer space, or somewhere else.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, deeply imprinting the exceptionally vast sky of this other world in his heart.
The air he inhaled into his lungs had no industrial pollution whatsoever, full of a rich natural scent. Combined with the large areas of backward Japanese longhouses around them, it felt as if he had returned to the true Edo period.
This is Soul Society, the land of the dead.
Thanks to Rukia.
They were assigned to the safest area.
With the help of the respected elders in the locality, not only were they not ostracized by outsiders, but they also received free temporary accommodation, clean clothes, and food.
They safely spent their first day in Soul Society.
"Let me say this upfront, I'm not complaining about the living conditions here."
Ichigo emphasized.
"Is it because you're worried about failing?"
"Shut up!"
From that reaction, it was clear that the guess was correct.
"Don't worry, you definitely won't fail twice in a row like that guy Hisagi Shuuhei. Besides, isn't he a big shot in the Captain class now? What an inspiring and moving story."
Yesterday, through the elder, they thoroughly understood the basic common sense of Soul Society.
Then, Ichigo, who had witnessed Rukia's power earlier and had a seed planted in his heart, developed a strong interest in the profession of a Shinigami.
Coincidentally, the enrollment for this year at the Spirit Arts Academy hadn't ended yet.
They could still make it if they signed up now.
How to choose was self-evident.
Shinigami had a mixed reputation in Rukongai, but the elder was very open-minded and generous. Knowing that they both intended to apply to the Spirit Arts Academy, he gave them some guidance in this regard.
Among them was a mention of the past failure of a certain Vice-Captain who is now in a high position.
Takashi believed that the elder's original intention was to give them a heads-up and some encouragement.
Even if they failed, they shouldn't give up, and that other Freshmen who passed on the first try weren't necessarily better, and so on.
But it seemed that it hadn't been conveyed to Ichigo.
"If possible, I don't want to wait another year or even longer… It's not that I lack patience, it's just…"
Ichigo's voice grew weaker and weaker, as if he had said something, and yet he seemed to fall silent, not knowing how to express his feelings.
His furrowed brows seemed to have been furrowed all along, never relaxing.
Takashi walked over with a towel, patted his shoulder, pushed him aside, and said while washing up.
"There are all kinds of people in Rukongai. If there was a political review in the exam, it wouldn't be strange to be screened out. But we are different. We've received modern education, have qualifications, a clean background, abide by laws and regulations, impeccable moral character, and never cause trouble. We are simply models of honest people."
"The only thing we need to worry about is that honest people like us are easily bullied."
"Cough… You're right. If I get eliminated this time, I'll try another path. I heard from the elder that some Divisions have special recruitment channels. As long as you have a Zanpakuto and enough strength, it'll be fine. But if I use a sword I picked up outside to outshine a real Shinigami, will I be hated?"
Ichigo quickly regained his fighting spirit.
Takashi was about to speak when a line of ink-wash-like characters suddenly appeared before his eyes.
"As a great Transmigrator, you participated in the murder of the Son of Destiny and the protagonist of the era upon your arrival. The machine soul is greatly pleased…"
"Who? Who did you say murdered Ichigo?"
Takashi remained calm on the surface, but was furious in his heart.
Even if you are a cheat, you can't make such a judgment. Isn't this slandering someone out of thin air?
"Your bold performance has earned the world's respect. You have a welcome gift to claim. Do you accept?"
"…"
Accept.
—You have obtained "Fairy Tale Dragon: Cinderella's Blood." Your physical abilities have greatly increased, and your growth potential is +1000%.
Thump.
A strange heartbeat echoed in his chest.
It seemed no different from before.
But Takashi clearly felt that an additional power had entered his body, intertwining with the spiritual power that already existed, and then merging and growing stronger.
His wrist strength became stronger, his breathing became more powerful, and he felt like picking up a bucket was no different from picking up a grain of sand.
This was not the athletic ability gained by a high-concentration soul mastering its own spiritual power through training.
It was more akin to an innate talent.
Only Hollows with highly compressed souls could compare to it.
As for the +1000% growth potential.
According to Takashi's understanding, it should mean that when cultivating physical abilities, the growth rate would be ten times faster than before, right?
This is also a unique ability of geniuses; they not only possess extraordinary potential but can also quickly realize that potential.
"By the way, have I become a 'dragon' or a 'dragon-afflicted'?"
In this world, there is another organization in Europe that is opposed to Soul Society, and dragons and dragon-afflicted are products of that place.
Although the dragon in Takashi's memory didn't seem very strong.
But in this world, hybrids are always the version answer.
Most Hollows, Shinigami, Quincies, and even Fullbringers aren't much stronger.
The key lies in the different fundamental nature of these groups' powers.
Breaking through the limits of the soul with different types of power.
Escaping the constraints that the world places on life, until one transcends everything and stands above all creation.
—This was the path Aizen chose, and it might also be his path in the future.
"…"
Takashi bent down, scooped up the towel to wash his face, his expression hidden.
After he finished washing his face, the cool well water dripped down his cheeks, and a few strands of hair clung to his wet, elegant face.
His eyes were like mirrors polished to a brilliant shine.
There was only one thing to consider now.
Get into the Spirit Arts Academy and become a Shinigami.
"I wish you good luck with your exams."
"Thank you."
After breakfast, they said goodbye to the elder and a few enthusiastic children.
Takashi and Ichigo officially stepped into Seireitei, arriving at the entrance of the Spirit Arts Academy with the entry passes they had been given when they registered.
Looking at the ancient and charming plaque, which had existed for who knows how many years, both of them felt a surge of emotion.
"Brother Kurosaki."
"Huh?"
"See, I told you so."
"What are you referring to?"
"Being hit by a dump truck is protagonist treatment, and then being sent to another world by a goddess."
"I guess you hit the mark, though that guy doesn't look like a goddess at all."
"Want to hear the rest?"
"What?"
"Gain powerful strength in another world, protect the kingdom as a hero, defeat the demon lord, marry the princess, and then Happy End."
"…That's a game trope, isn't it? I'm not a chuunibyou, and I'm not interested in being a hero, defeating demon lords, or marrying princesses, but I don't mind the other parts."
"Then let's go, it's time to start our school life in another world."
"I didn't expect to still have to go to school after dying. In a sense, I've really come to hell."
Despite saying that, both of them stepped through the academy gate with anticipation.
The confidence revealed between the lines clearly showed that they regarded the admission letter as a sure thing.