Nori gazed at the blue sky of the Soul Society — a wide, soft, serene blue, almost identical to that of the human world. The clouds drifted slowly, as if time itself moved lazily here. It was familiar… but not the same.
In the human world, that sky had natural limits, a simple physical logic. Here, however, there was an unsettling difference: in the human world's sky, there was no divine entity — the literal god — floating above everyone in an ambiguous state between life and death, sustaining an existence so absurd that it made this seemingly ordinary firmament feel profoundly strange.
A sigh slipped from Nori's lips, light, almost resigned.
It had been a week since he, Nori Seishiro, had transmigrated into the world of Bleach. And to complete the harsh blow of reality, he hadn't arrived as a prodigy, a chosen one, or a blessed protagonist: he was just an ordinary soul in Rukongai. No system. No superhuman abilities. No secret lineage. No legendary item hidden in his pocket. Nothing.
Only him.
Only Nori — and his mediocre spiritual body.
He had tried everything. Extreme focus, meditation, shouting at the sky, pulses of imaginary energy, even ridiculous attempts to "activate something" by reciting cliché lines from light novels. But there was no cheat waiting to awaken. Nothing happened. No blue screen flashed before him. No dormant power stirred. His body remained inert, weak, ordinary.
All he had were his memories.
And, ironically, they were the best weapon he possessed.
Nori remembered everything: every arc, every character, every absurd quirk of the lore, every hidden detail from the Novels, the Anime, the Manga, and even the databooks. He knew the world of Bleach better than most of the people who actually lived in it.
But there was a problem. A massive problem.
He didn't know where in the timeline he was.
What annoyed him the most, in his opinion, was exactly this: Nori might know every event that awaited him, might predict every future threat, every villain, every spiritual war… but he had no idea when any of it would happen. It was like having a perfect map, but one with no dates, no markers, no starting point. A crippled advantage.
'Alright. One thing at a time…' Nori thought, running a hand through his own white hair — an involuntary gesture of exhaustion. The movement was light, yet filled with frustration and anxiety. His only real advantage was his knowledge, and he needed to wring every bit of use from it.
'Considering I'm a soul now, and without the Chain of Fate… then I just need to choose the Shinigami path.'
It was logical. It was the only option that offered real growth.
To Nori, becoming a Shinigami was the "simplest" path — not because it was easy, but because it was the only structured, understandable, well-mapped path. A long, harsh, and extremely technical road, shaped by the Four Shinigami Arts: Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Hohō, and Kidō. Four pillars that demanded total dedication, patience, and a natural talent he wasn't even sure he had.
And, according to Aizen:
"Every technique requires a certain level of power. Mastery is determined by potential."
Potential…
That single word pulsed within Nori like a deep, almost physical discomfort. Having potential was important. It was decisive. It was what determined who rose and who vanished into the dust. It was what separated a captain from a nobody. It was what guaranteed survival in a universe where spiritual monsters and warrior gods walked through the same alleys.
And that thought brought fear.
A bitter, quiet fear that coiled in his chest like a cold serpent.
If he was incapable… if he simply didn't have the necessary potential… then no matter how hard he tried, it wouldn't matter. The world of Bleach was brutally honest about this: only strength kept someone alive.
Spiritual strength.
And the level required?
High.
Frighteningly high.
So high that merely thinking about it made Nori feel the crushing weight of reality on his shoulders.
But even so…
It was the only path he had.
Wait… what about the Zanpakutō?
The question burst into his mind like a sudden snap, cutting through his train of thought. His eyes narrowed, and he straightened his posture as the memory settled heavily within him. The primary weapon of a Shinigami… the core of their identity… the reflection of their soul.
The Zanpakutō.
And, of course, the crucial point: to engrave a true Zanpakutō, for it to awaken a spirit and become more than a mere piece of spiritual metal, an Asauchi was required. The blank blade. An artifact crafted by none other than Ōetsu Nimaiya, the God of the Forge, current member of the Royal Guard.
Nori sighed. It was funny, in a way — the kind of bitter irony destiny loved to deliver — because the one place where someone like him could even access Asauchis, learn Zanjutsu, Kidō, Hohō, Hakuda, and grow in a legitimate way…
Was precisely the place that felt so distant from his current reality.
The Shin'ō Academy.
He looked toward the horizon of the Soul Society, as if the Academy itself were hidden behind the simple houses of Rukongai, just waiting. It was almost a calling. Almost destiny.
"Everything seems to point there anyway," Nori muttered, letting his body relax as he lay down beneath the cool shade of a small tree. The leaves swayed with a gentle breeze, and for the first time since he arrived, he found a faint sense of physical comfort.
But the thought that followed ripped that comfort out by the root:
"But… to get in, you need at least some Reiatsu. And I don't even know if I have enough."
That was the frightening part.
Reiatsu.
The foundation of everything.
Formed from the spiritual energy that defined strength, soul, life. Without it, you were just another lost point in Rukongai. Without it, you couldn't cross the Academy gates. Without it, you couldn't become a Shinigami. Without it, survival itself became a dangerous gamble.
Nori rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a nervous discomfort crawl down his spine. He couldn't rely solely on knowledge to enter the Academy — he needed spiritual presence. And that…
He truly didn't know if he had.
He took a deep breath. Once, twice. Then he sat up, crossing his legs under the tree's shade.
"Doesn't hurt to try," he murmured to himself, more as a reminder than motivation.
He closed his eyes.
The world around him lost its color, its sound, its speed. Everything fell silent.
Nori dove inward… deeper than he had ever tried since arriving there. Searching. Scanning his own being for that distinctive glimmer — a spark of Reiatsu, a sign that he could, that he wasn't doomed to mediocrity.
He focused.
Breathed.
And waited.
And then—
The world vanished.
In an instant, Nori no longer felt the grass beneath his back, the gentle breeze of the Soul Society, or the faint warmth of the light. When he opened his eyes, he stood in a white void, vast, immense, completely silent. The horizon stretched endlessly in every direction, as if space itself had been erased, leaving behind nothing but a pure, absolute stage.
Beneath his feet, however, there was no solid ground. There was a white sea, smooth and serene like liquid glass. With each step, small ripples formed — perfect circles drifting outward slowly, as if the sea itself were alive, yet lethargic.
"What is this place…?" Nori murmured, his voice echoing in a strangely muffled way.
That was when he saw it.
Below him — and within that sea — something moved. Something enormous.
A colossal sphere, black with white contours, rested beneath the surface. It was so massive that it seemed to stretch in proportion to the very ocean itself, reaching limits his eyes couldn't perceive. The sphere pulsed faintly, like a sun frozen in time. A sun made of darkness and light at once.
And despite all that, it emitted nothing.
No heat.No spiritual pressure.No sensation.
It simply existed there — silent, motionless, enigmatic.
'This… doesn't exist in Bleach,' Nori thought, frowning. Confusion clawed at his chest. This vision made no sense within any lore, any databook, any theory.
He slowly crouched down, touching the surface of the sea with the tips of his fingers. Ripples spread out… but this time, the sea reacted differently.
The black energy — surrounded by the white glow like a divine outline — moved.
It shifted like a colossal serpent awakening in the depths of an ocean. The sphere pulsed, as if acknowledging his presence. And then, in a movement almost slow and inevitable…
The energy advanced.
Like a liquid flow of pure darkness traced in light, it rose through the water and went straight to his hand. The moment it touched his skin—
It was absorbed.
No resistance.No pain.No warning.
It entered him as if it had always belonged to his body.
Nori had no time to react.
Something burst inside him — a silent yet devastating impact that ran through his nerves, his soul, his spiritual muscles. The starting point was clear: his wrists. As if ancient seals there had finally broken.
Then, the energy emerged.
The same black energy outlined in white burst from his wrists like an inverted flame. It climbed up his arms, across his back, through his chest, wrapped around his head. And then—
It devoured him.
Like a living mantle of luminous darkness, it engulfed his entire body, swallowing him completely, as if marking him, claiming him, accepting him.
The last thing Nori felt before losing all sense of the world was a sound — the very first sound within that void — a deep, distant resonance, like the heartbeat of a primordial being.
Nori's breath returned to the real world before his eyes even opened.
He inhaled sharply — like someone rising from the depths of a frozen ocean — his body arching off the ground as the shadow of the tree above him seemed to dance in response to his presence.
His eyes opened.
And the very moment they did, something in the air changed.
The wind stopped.
The leaves froze in place for a second — or perhaps it was only Nori's perception altered — but for a real, tangible moment, the atmosphere around him seemed to hold its breath.
A wave of energy escaped his body.
It wasn't normal Reiatsu. It wasn't even remotely similar to the spiritual pressure of a Shinigami or a Hollow.
It was black, deep, like living ink spilling through the air. But outlined by white lines that vibrated like strokes of light, forming patterns that opened and closed like breathing.
The energy flowed from his wrists — exactly where the sphere had touched him — rising up his arms, wrapping around his shoulders, coiling around him as if it were dancing.
The ground reacted.
The earth around him trembled in micro-vibrations, small cracks spread out beneath Nori's body, and the grass bent backward as if instinctively fleeing from that foreign energy.
Nori blinked, disoriented. His body felt both weightless and heavy at the same time. His breathing shaky. His heart pounding far too fast.
"…What…" he murmured, staring at his own hands.
And then the Reiatsu rippled.
And the nearby trees quivered with another wave of that energy.
Nori's eyes widened.
He could feel it.
For the first time since arriving in this world… he could clearly feel his own Reiatsu.
And it wasn't normal.
It was dense, heavy, but not oppressive. It was gentle, yet as deep as an abyss. It was contradictory. Impossible. And even so, his spiritual body accepted it as if it had always been a part of him.
"…this… came from that place?" he whispered, still stunned.
The outlined energy continued to dance around him, rising and falling, as if adjusting itself, recognizing him, testing its new host.
And then—
A sound echoed in his mind.
Low, distant, like the voice of something enormous speaking from the depths of a vast ocean:
"…You finally touched me…"
Nori froze.
The energy vibrated.
And the world around him seemed to lean closer, until everything abruptly returned to normal. Nori looked down at himself and exhaled.
"Eh… Looks like I have Reiatsu, at least."