The next morning, Arata woke up early.
Rangiku beside him was still sleeping soundly, her long golden hair spread across the pillow like luxurious silk.
He quietly got up and went into the courtyard to practice kendo.
The sound of the wooden sword cutting through the air was especially clear in the quiet morning.
Arata fully immersed himself in every movement, trying to dilute the chaos in his heart with physical exhaustion.
"You've already started training this early?"
After a while, Rangiku's voice came from behind him.
She was wearing a thin robe and leaning against the doorframe, still half-drowsy.
Arata stopped his movement and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Did I wake you?"
Rangiku shook her head and came over to him. "I dreamed you were surrounded by a bunch of women, so I woke up angry," she half-joked.
Arata laughed and pinched her nose. "How can you take dreams so seriously?"
Rangiku pouted and suddenly wrapped her arms around his waist. "I don't care, you're mine anyway."
Arata hugged her back, inhaling the scent of gardenia from her hair.
"Of course, and you're mine."
After a quick wash and breakfast, the two went their separate ways.
Rangiku went to work at the Tenth Division, while Arata continued with his lectures at the Maou Spiritual Academy.
Stepping on fallen cherry blossom petals, he headed toward the First Dojo.
He could still feel the echo of last night's wild "training" with Unohana Retsu; all the muscles in his body were still sore.
But what was strange was that the spiritual pressure in his body had compressed and become more concentrated than before.
It seemed the teacher was right—this kind of training, on the edge of life and death, really was more effective.
While it brought endless pressure, it also carried a powerful push for progress.
"Good morning, Saito-sensei!"
As soon as he turned around the hallway, three instructors with textbooks in hand came toward him and greeted him with a bow.
Ever since he became the head professor of the Kendo Department, Arata's status in both Seireitei and the Shinō Spiritual Academy had visibly risen, so everyone greeted him whenever they met.
"Good morning to all of you." Arata nodded and suddenly paused when his gaze fell on the name tags on their chests. "You're instructors from the Kidō Department, right?"
The eldest male instructor with glasses adjusted the frame on his nose slightly. "Yes, we've come to deliver copies of the newly revised textbooks."
Arata took the book they handed him and pretended to flip through the pages, but at the same time silently activated his spiritual pressure.
Just as he suspected, between the front pages, he sensed subtle traces of spiritual pressure, but the feeling was completely unfamiliar, belonging to someone he had never encountered before.
"I heard there's been serious absenteeism in the Kidō Department lately. Are your colleagues doing all right?" Arata casually closed the book and asked offhandedly.
The three hesitated briefly. The instructor with glasses forced a laugh. "Oh, everything's fine, just seasonal colds…"
"I see." Arata handed him back the textbook and watched them hurry away.
But his right hand unconsciously brushed over Meigetsu at his waist.
Under normal circumstances, there shouldn't be even a trace of spiritual pressure on student textbooks; something was clearly wrong with those books just now.
It was a shame he didn't have enough information yet to draw any concrete conclusions.
When he pushed open the dojo doors, more than thirty students from Class A of the first year were already doing warm-ups, with Toushirou and Kusaka at the front row.
"Saito-sensei is here!" the students shouted in unison.
Arata nodded and motioned for them to quiet down. "Today we'll learn the rhythm of breathing during sword swings."
He approached the sword rack, drew a wooden training bokken, and began demonstrating the movements.
The blade drew a perfect arc in the air.
"Keep your breathing steady, and your joints relaxed." Arata's voice echoed continuously through the dojo. The wooden sword in his hand seemed to turn into a musical instrument, producing a mysterious rhythm.
"The essence of kendo is not raw strength, but precise control of every shred of your own power. The key lies in the union of movement and breathing."
Dozens of students watched every one of his movements intently, especially Toushirou and Kusaka in the front row.
The eyes of the two young men continuously shone with concentration, and the wooden swords in their hands unconsciously mirrored Arata's movements.
"Now follow my rhythm and practice together." Arata deliberately slowed down the movements so every detail could be clearly seen.
"Inhale—"
"Raise your sword—"
"Exhale—"
"Lower your sword—"
Following Arata's commands, the sound of swings echoed uniformly through the dojo.
The swooshing of wooden swords cutting through the air rose and fell like a unified symphony.
Watching the scene, Arata couldn't help but recall the past.
If he had had a kendo instructor like this during his time at Maou Academy, maybe he would have been even stronger today.
He silently agreed with himself that old Yamamoto had made the right decision when he initiated the reform of the Shinō Spiritual Academy.
During the Thousand-Year Blood War in the original, Shūhei had to return to sword training, which he had neglected for years, just because his Bankai had been stolen.
For a shinigami, the Zanpakutō is certainly an extremely important combat tool, but that doesn't mean you can rely entirely on it and neglect everything else.
For an ordinary shinigami, one-sided development means lacking the ability to respond in complex combat situations, which is a horribly fatal weakness.
As he had already said, until your "stats" are high enough to match Kurosaki Ichigo, the most important thing is to hone your basic skills.
Arata walked between the rows of students, occasionally correcting their breathing rhythm, and at the same time gaining a clearer sense of the level of the class he was teaching.
At least when it came to kendo, their talent wasn't bad at all.
Perhaps the ability to handle a sword was already engraved somewhere deep in the shinigami's instincts from birth.
When he reached Toushirou, he was surprised to see that the silver-haired boy had already mastered a natural synchronization of breathing and sword swings.
Each of his strikes was smooth like flowing water, without a single stiff point.
Of course, that was by beginner standards.
Compared to Arata, Toushirou's level was still far from sufficient, but for someone on his first day, he had accomplished quite a lot.
"Excellent, Toushirou." Arata nodded approvingly. "You truly are worthy of being the top student of your generation."
A boyish shyness briefly flashed across Toushirou's face, but he quickly composed himself. "That's because Saito-sensei teaches so well."
"I heard from Momo earlier that their kendo instructors never explain in this much detail, they just show a few moves and let the students figure it out themselves."
Arata fell silent for a moment, and the scene of those four kids complaining to him earlier came clearly to mind.
"Yeah, yeah, Fujiwara-sensei is awful at teaching kendo!"
"After a few swings, he tells us to copy him and then goes outside to nap!"
That conversation and Hinamori Momo's expression, like she had swallowed pig's liver, were still vivid in his memory.
Arata himself had once been one of Fujiwara Takuki's victims, so it's no wonder that event was so deeply etched into his mind.
Still, this year Shinō Academy was undergoing reform, so the kendo instructor in Renji's class should be replaced with someone more capable.
Although he hadn't studied the instructor schedule for the Kendo Department in detail, when he had reviewed the list earlier, he had the impression that all the instructors were senior officers from various divisions.
It shouldn't be someone of that level.
At that moment, Kusaka Sōjirō wasn't falling behind either. True, his movements were still a bit stiff, but he was catching the breathing rhythm quite well.
"Kusaka, relax your breathing a little more." Arata gently tapped the black-haired boy on the wrist.
"Don't tense up so much, let your strength flow naturally through your body."
Kusaka nodded, relaxed his shoulders, and adjusted his exertion rhythm.
Indeed, his next sword swings became noticeably smoother, and a pale blue light began to shimmer faintly around the blade.
Arata, of course, noticed it immediately. It seemed the day Kusaka's Zanpakutō would awaken wasn't far off.
"Now we'll move on to paired sparring practice," Arata announced. "Be sure to maintain the breathing rhythm I emphasized earlier."
The students quickly paired up, and Toushirou and Kusaka naturally ended up facing each other.
The two young men stood face to face, their wooden swords lightly touching in the air.
"Begin!"
———
Read 60+ advanced chapters
Every 50-100-150 Power Stones = 1 additional chapter
SPECIAL OFFER:Use code E837 to get 50% OFF your Patreon membership!
Join here: [patreon.com/_BlackRose]
Offer valid for a limited time only!