"Hello there, little one. What are you doing here?"
The bespectacled girl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and crouched down, speaking to the boy in a gentle tone.
But the child merely lifted his head timidly, cast her a brief glance, and lowered it again—burying his face between his knees.
The girl glanced back at her teammates in embarrassment. Receiving a few quick gestures from them, she forced an awkward smile and said softly,
"Well then… big sister has to go now. See you later."
With that, she followed instructions and returned to the group to discuss their next move.
---
"What do we do? That kid doesn't look easy to talk to, and we're running out of time."
"Hmm…" The noble student wearing the silver star chain clamp rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "How did the seniors handle these situations? They always managed to get through to Pluses somehow. Even with more experience, they couldn't have done it that easily, could they?"
"Could they have used Kidō?"
"But we have to get permission every time we cast Kidō—so probably not," one of the boys objected.
The noble's eyes, however, lit up at that suggestion.
"No—think about it! They definitely used Kidō! Notice the pattern? The spells they're allowed to use all have one thing in common—they influence or confuse the target's mind. Not every spell works that way, but some Bakudō techniques can subtly manipulate emotions. Maybe that's the trick—they use one to increase rapport!"
His excitement grew as he spoke, convinced he had uncovered the secret.
Unfortunately, Tenshin Issho quickly doused his enthusiasm.
"Then tell me—does anyone here actually know a Kidō like that?"
"…"
"…"
After a long silence, the obvious answer was no one did.
If any of them knew such a spell, they would've said so already.
Everyone exchanged awkward looks, and then—inevitably—their gazes shifted toward Ichirō's group.
Or more precisely… toward Shihōin Yoruichi.
As the next head of the Shihōin Clan, her Kidō prowess was legendary among the nobles.
Something like this would be child's play for her.
"Um… Lady Yoruichi, would you happen to know *Bakudō #16: Seal of the Bewitching God? We could really use your help."
*(P.S - Non canon bakudo.)
"Bakudō #16?" Yoruichi asked curiously as she handed an iron fragment to Ichirō. She and Urahara both turned toward the students.
"Ichirō, you handle it."
"???" Ichirō blinked in confusion.
"Wait—why me? They're asking you, Yoruichi!"
"I can't cast it without the incantation," she muttered. "You do it."
"???" Ichirō's confusion deepened.
"You're telling me you can't skip the incantation for a level sixteen Bakudō?"
Yoruichi twitched slightly, clenching her teeth.
"Skipping incantations isn't easy, you know! Not everyone's a prodigy like you! Usually, a Shinigami can only cast without incantation if the spell is far below their own level or one they've mastered extensively. It's not something we can do for every Kidō!"
"…," Ichirō sighed. He truly couldn't understand their struggle.
Was Kidō really that hard?
Still, he knew better than to argue.
Raising his right hand toward the bespectacled girl in the distance, he pressed his index and middle fingers together, thumb extended, and the remaining fingers curled inward. His palm faced outward as he spoke calmly:
"Bakudō #16: Seal of the Bewitching God."
A soft shimmer rippled through the air.
Then he lowered his hand, brushed the dust from his pouch, and resumed collecting stones and metal scraps.
"It'll last an hour," he said casually. "Even without the chant, it's more than enough for that kid."
The trio continued scavenging as though nothing had happened.
Meanwhile, the rest of the class stood frozen.
Bakudō #16… without incantation…?
What kind of monster was this guy!?
He'd only been studying for a year!
At that moment, they finally understood why Ichirō always hung around Yoruichi and Urahara.
This wasn't "social climbing"—this was genius recognizing genius.
The noble with the star chain clamp clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and swallowed his frustration.
"All right," he said. "Let's try again. Think about how to guide the conversation."
"Yeah!" the others replied.
---
While the girl's group began their "second attempt," Ichirō's pouch—now dark gray from grime—was filled to the brim.
He, Urahara, and Yoruichi signaled their teacher and then moved away from the main group, stopping some distance off.
They crouched together in a circle as Ichirō began unloading the contents of his bag—carefully arranging stones, metal fragments, and wood pieces on the ground.
"Iron… stone… wood… what are you making?" Urahara asked, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
After a year of knowing Ichirō, he already understood the core of his alchemy: the Law of Equivalent Exchange.
Whatever was created had to be formed from these raw materials—nothing came from nothing.
So he was eager to see what Ichirō would craft this time.
"You'll see," Ichirō said with a grin. "I promise it'll blow your mind."
He pulled out a glove engraved with a transmutation circle and slipped it onto his right hand.
Transmutation circles were one of the essential conditions for performing alchemy.
Only a handful of alchemists, who had paid immense personal prices, could perform circle-free transmutation.
For everyone else, the circle was mandatory.
To make combat or field work easier, most alchemists carried their personal circles etched onto portable items.
Experienced ones usually had two or three at all times—some even had as many as seven or eight.
The surface didn't matter: clothes, pocket watches, even body parts could be used as a medium.
Ichirō once fought a lunatic who had engraved his circle on his tongue.
He barely survived that mission—had to abandon the capture and kill the target instead.
He lived, but the mission failed.
His own habit was to inscribe his circles onto gloves, and sometimes add micro-circles to his collar or sleeves as backups.
But in this world—the Soul Society—he hadn't yet begun adapting them.
His human-world arrays didn't function properly here; everything in the Soul Society was composed of reishi, not ordinary matter.
Until he decoded that difference, his Kidō would still surpass his alchemy in power.
Now, though, he was just experimenting.
He extended his gloved hand over the assembled materials, closing his eyes and channeling every ounce of focus into the circle.
Zzzzt—!
A surge of electricity crackled across the lines, and light flared from the transmutation circle as the materials beneath began to shift and fuse.
Metal shaping—Transmute!
Wood carving—Transmute!
Gunpowder refining—Transmute!
Final assembly—Transmute!
When the light faded, a long-barreled revolver gleamed in the dirt beneath his palm.
Ichirō opened his eyes, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
For the first time in this world, he had successfully demonstrated his old-world craft—
Firearm Alchemy.
The revolver's polished frame caught the sunlight.
"Good work," he murmured to himself.
And in the depths of his memory, a voice echoed, half proud, half mocking—
"Damn it all! Eat this, you bastard!"
—by Silus Nicholas, the Gun Alchemist.