The Emergency in the Soul Society
Deep within the First Division headquarters, the great bells tolled—slow and heavy. The air rippled with spiritual pressure as the captains of the Gotei 13 assembled.
Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni sat at the head of the chamber, his staff resting beside him like an unlit torch. His face was calm, but the tension in the room was suffocating.
Lieutenant Chōjirō Sasakibe stepped forward. "All captains are present, Head Captain."
Yamamoto opened his eyes—two embers glowing beneath his brows.
"Then we begin. Soul Society is facing an anomaly… a tear between worlds."
Gasps rippled among the captains. Sui-Feng's brow furrowed. "A tear?"
"Yes," Sasakibe replied. "Souls from other dimensions are colliding with ours. We've confirmed multiple foreign spirits materializing in our realm. Their energy signatures… are unlike anything we've seen."
Yamamoto stood slowly. "Even the Royal Guard cannot contain this chaos. If we fail to act, Soul Society itself may crumble."
Kyoraku Shunsui adjusted his hat lazily but his tone was grave. "So you're saying the boundaries of life and death are breaking."
"Precisely," Yamamoto said. "We will combine our Reiatsu to seal the fractures before more souls pour in."
The captains exchanged nods and rose from their seats. When their combined Reiatsu erupted, the ground itself screamed. Tremors split the sky as ancient kido circles appeared over the Seireitei. The pressure was overwhelming—enough to crush any unseated shinigami to the floor.
For days, the Captains worked in unison, weaving barriers and spiritual seals. Finally, the great fractures began to close.
But something remained.
Souls that had already arrived—strangers from beyond—could not be sent back.
---
The Boy Who Fell Between Worlds
Somewhere beyond the outer gardens of the Seireitei, in a vast field filled with unconscious souls, one figure stirred.
Tanjiro Kamado opened his eyes to a blinding white sky.
"Where… am I?"
The air was still, yet heavy with spiritual energy. Around him lay hundreds of motionless people, their bodies glowing faintly.
He tried to remember—the sun, Muzan, Nezuko's voice—but the memories felt distant, like a dream slipping through his fingers.
Then he heard a voice. "Oi! You alive, kid?"
A tall man with red hair approached, his black robes flowing behind him. His grin carried the kind of warmth Tanjiro hadn't felt in ages.
"I'm Renji Abarai," the man said, offering his hand. "You look lost."
Tanjiro nodded weakly. "I… I don't know where I am."
"Well, you're in the Soul Society. If you're breathing—well, not breathing, but you know what I mean—you're one of us now."
Renji scratched the back of his head. "Come on, the old man's waiting."
Still dazed, Tanjiro followed him. They passed through a massive gate adorned with strange sigils. As it opened, Tanjiro's eyes widened.
In front of him stood thirteen figures, each radiating more power than he'd ever felt in his life. Their spiritual pressure pressed down on him like a mountain. His heart raced. This feeling… it's like standing before the Hashira—but stronger.
At the center was an elderly man whose very presence felt like fire incarnate—Yamamoto Genryūsai.
Renji whispered, "Try not to speak unless spoken to."
Tanjiro swallowed hard.
Another figure stepped forward, wearing a straw hat tilted to the side, a faint smile on his lips. "Well, this is interesting. A lost soul, huh? And a polite one too."
He tipped his hat. "Shunsui Kyōraku, Captain of the First Division."
Renji smacked the back of Tanjiro's head lightly. "Hey, kid. Bow to the Captain."
"Ah! R-Right!" Tanjiro stammered and bowed clumsily. "I'm Kamado Tanjiro! It's… nice to meet you, sir!"
Shunsui chuckled. "What a peculiar name." Then he turned toward Yamamoto. "Yamajii, this one doesn't look dangerous. Too soft. Too human. Let's just erase him and save ourselves the trouble."
Tanjiro blinked. "E-erase me? What do you mean?"
Yamamoto's deep voice rolled across the hall like thunder. "This is the Soul Society—the world between life and death. We are the guardians who maintain that balance. But you, boy, are not of this universe. Your existence threatens that balance."
Tanjiro's eyes widened. "No… Please! You don't understand! I need to go back! My sister, Nezuko—she's still fighting! Muzan—he'll destroy everything!"
Renji glared. "Watch your tongue! You're speaking to the Head Captain!"
Yamamoto raised his staff. "Enough. You have no place here, boy. It is unfortunate, but you must be—"
"Wait," Shunsui interrupted. His tone was calm, but his eyes were sharp. "Let me take responsibility for him."
Nanao Ise, standing nearby, frowned. "Captain, are you serious? He's too weak. You can sense it, can't you?"
"Ah, Nanao-chan," Shunsui said, smiling faintly. "Weak souls can still carry strong wills. This boy's crying for someone he lost… reminds me of someone I once knew."
Nanao sighed. "If you insist, he'll have to take a test."
Tanjiro straightened his back. "I'll do it. Whatever it takes to prove myself—just let me stay!"
Shunsui tilted his hat lower. "Good answer. So, kid, what can you do?"
"I can use Breathing Styles," Tanjiro said.
The captains exchanged curious looks. None of them recognized the term.
"Breathing… styles?" Shunsui repeated. "Never heard of it."
Tanjiro nodded eagerly. "It's a way to channel energy through breathing patterns. It makes your body faster, stronger—and your sword techniques sharper."
Shunsui gestured to one of his subordinates. "Hand him a sword. A plain one."
The Soul Reaper handed Tanjiro a simple blade with no markings. "This one has no spirit. Let's see what you can do with it."
Tanjiro gripped the sword, feeling its weight. His fingers tightened around the hilt as he took a deep breath. His heartbeat slowed, his muscles loosened.
Inhale… focus… feel the flow.
He stepped forward, feet sliding gracefully across the ground. The Captains watched silently as he raised the sword.
"Water Breathing… Seventh Form: Drop Ripple Thrust—Curve!"
In an instant, Tanjiro vanished from their sight, reappearing several meters away. The sword carved a clean arc through the air, slicing through a tree behind him. A thin ripple of water shimmered in the wake of his blade before fading into mist.
The field fell silent. Even the wind stopped.
To Tanjiro, it was just another technique—but to the Captains, it was something else. His movement carried no Reiatsu, yet it resonated with life itself.
"That flow…" Yamamoto muttered. "It's not spiritual pressure. It's something purer."
Shunsui smiled. "Told you so, Yamajii. The kid's got talent."
Tanjiro lowered the sword, panting. "How… did I do?"
Shunsui chuckled. "Not bad, kid. Not bad at all. You've got heart—and maybe something this world hasn't seen in centuries."
Renji crossed his arms, smirking. "Guess the brat's got moves."
Yamamoto stared at Tanjiro for a long moment before finally speaking. "Very well. For now, he will remain under Captain Kyōraku's supervision."
Tanjiro's eyes widened. "R-Really?"
Shunsui tipped his hat with a grin. "Welcome to the Soul Society, Kamado Tanjiro. From today, you'll learn what it means to wield the power of a soul."
Tanjiro looked down at his trembling hands. The memories of Nezuko and Giyu still burned within his heart. He clenched his fists, whispering softly to himself.
"I'll find a way back. I promise… I'll save everyone."
Shunsui turned, his coat swaying in the wind. "Heh. That fire in your eyes… don't lose it, kid. In this world, even a kind soul can become a weapon."
---
Thus began the tale of Kamado Tanjiro—the boy who crossed between life and death, carrying both kindness and rage in his heart. In the land of Soul Reapers, he would awaken a power born not of vengeance, but of unyielding resolve.