Dawn came with the sound of bells.
Ethan woke instantly, adrenaline surging through his veins. Today was the day. Everything he'd worked for, everything Kenji had taught him, would be tested. He dressed quickly in the simple clothes he'd brought from District 78, strapped Kenji's sword to his hip, and joined the stream of candidates flowing toward the Academy grounds.
There were hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. They filled the wide avenue leading to the examination hall, a sea of hopeful faces from every district of the Rukongai and representatives from noble families alike. Ethan could spot the nobles immediately—their clothes were finer, their bearing more confident, and they traveled in small clusters, already knowing each other from previous social functions.
The Rukongai candidates stood out by their diversity. Some looked hardened by street life, scarred and suspicious. Others were younger, softer, probably from the better districts where starvation and violence weren't daily concerns. All shared the same nervous energy, the same desperate hope that today might change their lives forever.
"Attention!" A voice boomed across the crowd, amplified by Kido. "All candidates will proceed to the main courtyard in orderly fashion. Do not run. Do not push. Anyone who cannot follow simple instructions will be dismissed immediately."
The crowd organized itself with surprising speed. Ethan found himself swept along, emerging into a massive courtyard that could easily hold ten thousand people. At the far end, on a raised platform, stood a dozen figures in black shihakusho. Shinigami. Real, active-duty Shinigami serving as examiners.
The central figure stepped forward—a stern woman with her hair pulled into a severe bun and a scar running down her left cheek. Her spiritual pressure alone made several nearby candidates stumble.
"I am Yamada Seinosuke, Chief Examiner for this cycle's Academy entrance examinations," she announced, her voice carrying effortlessly across the courtyard. "You stand here today because you believe you have what it takes to become Shinigami. Most of you are wrong."
A ripple of nervous laughter died quickly under her glare.
"The exams consist of four stages, testing the four fundamental disciplines of Shinigami combat: Reiatsu measurement, Kido aptitude, physical combat, and Zanjutsu. You must pass at least three of the four stages with acceptable scores. Fail more than one, and you are dismissed."
She paused, letting that sink in. "There are three thousand candidates here today. We have three hundred Academy positions available. Do the mathematics. Most of you will fail."
The courtyard fell silent. The weight of those odds pressed down on everyone present.
"First stage begins now," Yamada continued. "Reiatsu measurement. Form ten lines in front of the measurement stations. When your turn comes, place your hand on the orb and release your spiritual pressure. The device will measure both quantity and quality. Move!"
The crowd surged into motion. Ethan found himself in line behind a tall boy with aristocratic features and a sword that looked worth more than everything Ethan had ever owned. The boy glanced back, assessed Ethan with a single dismissive look, and turned away.
So that's how it's going to be, Ethan thought. Fine.
The line moved quickly. Each candidate placed their hand on a crystalline orb that glowed in response to their reiatsu. A number appeared above it—some in the hundreds, some in the low thousands. Occasionally, someone would register high enough to make the examiners take notice.
The aristocratic boy ahead of Ethan placed his hand on the orb. It blazed bright blue, and the number "3,847" materialized above it. Several examiners nodded approvingly. The boy smirked and moved on, looking pleased with himself.
"Next!"
Ethan stepped forward and placed his palm on the orb. He felt it pulling at his reiatsu, trying to measure the depth of his spiritual pressure. He let it flow naturally, neither holding back nor forcing anything.
The orb erupted with golden light.
The number that appeared made several examiners straighten in attention: "4,923."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. That was significantly higher than most candidates, even the nobles. Ethan felt dozens of eyes lock onto him, assessing, evaluating, some with interest, others with envy.
"Name?" the examiner at his station asked, actually looking at him now instead of just going through the motions.
"Ethan Hunt. District 78."
The examiner's eyebrows rose. "District 78? And you're registering nearly five thousand reiatsu?" He made a note on his clipboard. "Impressive. Move to the next stage."
Ethan walked away feeling a mixture of pride and nervousness. He'd made an impression, but now expectations would be higher. Every stage from here would be scrutinized.
The crowd continued through the measurements. Most registered between 1,000 and 3,000. A few broke 4,000. And then, near the end, someone registered 5,384.
Ethan turned to see who'd beaten his score. The candidate was unassuming at first glance—average height, slender build, gentle features framed by brown hair. He wore simple but well-made clothes that suggested comfortable means without ostentation. His smile was pleasant, friendly even, as he thanked the examiner and moved on.
But something about him made Ethan's instincts prickle. Maybe it was the way he moved—too smooth, too controlled, like someone playing at being harmless. Maybe it was the brief moment their eyes met and Ethan saw something calculating behind that gentle expression.
That one, Ethan's instincts whispered. That one is dangerous.
The second stage—Kido aptitude—took place in a separate area where targets had been set up at varying distances.
"You will attempt to cast three spells," the examiner explained. "Hado #1: Sho, Hado #4: Byakurai, and Bakudo #1: Sai. We're testing raw aptitude, not mastery, so don't panic if you can't execute them perfectly. Many candidates have never cast Kido before."
That made sense. Most people from the Rukongai had no formal training. Nobles might have private tutors, but even they rarely received comprehensive Kido instruction before Academy admission.
Ethan watched several candidates attempt the tests. Most managed Sho adequately—it was the simplest spell, requiring little more than will and a burst of reiatsu. Byakurai proved harder. About half the attempts failed completely, producing weak sparks or nothing at all. Sai was even worse—binding spells required precise control that most untrained candidates simply didn't have.
The brown-haired boy who'd registered 5,384 went before Ethan. He cast all three spells perfectly. His Sho struck dead center. His Byakurai was a clean, focused bolt of pale lightning. His Sai materialized smoothly, and he even held it for five seconds—twice as long as required.
"Excellent," the examiner said, making notes. "Name?"
"Aizen Sosuke," the boy replied with that same pleasant smile. "From District 1."
Of course he was from District 1—the closest district to the Seireitei, where many former Shinigami and noble families maintained estates. He'd probably had access to training resources Ethan couldn't imagine.
"Next!"
Ethan stepped up to the testing area. The targets were set at ten, twenty, and thirty meters. Simple enough.
"Hado #1: Sho!"
The thrust of spiritual pressure hit the closest target with enough force to knock it completely over. The examiner raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"Hado #4: Byakurai!"
Pale lightning crackled from Ethan's finger, crossing twenty meters in an instant and punching a smoking hole through the second target's center. The examiner's other eyebrow joined the first.
"Bakudo #1: Sai!"
Ethan focused on a practice dummy thirty meters away. The binding spell snapped into existence, pinning the dummy's arms behind its back. He held it for a full ten seconds before releasing it, matching Aizen's performance.
"Very good," the examiner said, unable to quite hide his surprise. "Have you had formal training?"
"Four months with a retired Shinigami, sir."
"Only four months?" The examiner studied him more carefully. "Remarkable. Name and district?"
"Ethan Hunt. District 78."
Several nearby examiners turned to look at him. District 78 candidates rarely demonstrated this level of skill. Hell, most districts beyond the fifties rarely produced Academy candidates at all.
"Noted. Proceed to stage three."
As Ethan walked away, he felt someone's gaze on him. He turned to find Aizen Sosuke watching him with undisguised interest. The gentle smile was still in place, but those eyes... those eyes were evaluating, calculating, measuring him like a problem to be solved.
Aizen nodded once, a gesture of acknowledgment between equals. Ethan returned the nod.
So we're the standouts, Ethan thought. The ones to watch. This should be interesting.
Stage three—physical combat—was pure Hakuda.
The testing area was divided into dozens of small rings where candidates faced off against Academy instructors. The rules were simple: land three clean strikes, or last two minutes without being knocked down. Either way counted as passing.
Most candidates failed spectacularly. The instructors were experienced fighters who'd taught hundreds of students. They read intentions before candidates even moved, countered with minimal effort, and dropped challengers with surgical precision. The average bout lasted about thirty seconds.
Ethan watched and learned. The instructors all fought differently—some aggressive, some defensive, some tactical. They adapted to each opponent, exploiting weaknesses and testing limits. This wasn't just about physical prowess. It was about combat intelligence, adaptability, and the ability to function under pressure.
When his turn came, Ethan faced a scarred woman with arms like tree trunks and a grin that suggested she enjoyed her work a little too much.
"Ready, kid?" she asked.
"Ready."
"Begin!"
She came at him fast, testing his reflexes with a jab-cross combination. Ethan slipped the jab and deflected the cross, countering with a palm strike to her ribs. She blocked it easily but nodded approval.
"Good reflexes. Let's see your foundations."
What followed was the most intense two minutes of Ethan's life. The instructor probed his defenses with a variety of strikes—high, low, combinations, feints. He blocked, parried, and countered where he could, using everything Kenji had drilled into him. When she threw a roundhouse kick, he trapped her leg and landed a clean strike to her thigh—his first point.
"Nice!" She grinned wider. "Most candidates don't get one hit, let alone score. Show me more!"
They continued. Ethan's second point came from a redirect—he used her own momentum against her, guiding a punch past his head and tagging her shoulder as she overextended. The third was pure speed—he faked low, went high, and tapped her temple with controlled force.
Three points. Exam passed.
The instructor stepped back and laughed, genuine delight in her voice. "Outstanding! You've had real training, haven't you? That wasn't Academy basics. That was practical combat experience."
"Survival training in District 78, ma'am. And four months with a retired 4th Division fighter."
"It shows." She clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. "You'll do well here, kid. Good luck with Zanjutsu."
Ethan moved to the sidelines, breathing hard but satisfied. He'd passed three stages. Even if he somehow failed Zanjutsu—unlikely given how much time Kenji had spent on sword work—he'd still make it into the Academy.
He watched other candidates. Most struggled. A few held their own. And then Aizen Sosuke entered his ring.
The instructor facing him was a lean man with quick hands and quicker feet—a speed-type fighter. He darted in and out, testing Aizen with rapid strikes.
Aizen moved like water.
Every attack flowed past him with minimal motion. When he countered, his strikes were precise and devastating. He scored three points in under forty seconds, each one perfectly executed. The instructor actually laughed and conceded, impressed by the display.
"Excellent technique! Where did you train?"
"Private tutors, sir. And practical application." Aizen's smile never wavered. "Thank you for the match."
As he left the ring, his path crossed Ethan's. They stopped, facing each other for the first time with only a few feet between them.
"You're quite skilled," Aizen said, his tone genuinely complimentary. "District 78, the examiner said? That's remarkable. Most candidates from the outer districts don't demonstrate such refined technique."
"I had a good teacher," Ethan replied. "You're pretty impressive yourself. District 1, right? Those private tutors know their stuff."
"Indeed." Aizen's eyes gleamed with something that might have been amusement. "Though I suspect we've both supplemented formal training with... practical experience."
There was a weight to those words, an implication that Aizen, too, had done more than just practice forms in a safe courtyard. Ethan nodded slowly.
"Experience is the best teacher," he agreed.
"Quite so." Aizen extended his hand. "Aizen Sosuke. I look forward to seeing how you perform in the Zanjutsu examination. You strike me as someone who might actually pose a challenge."
Ethan shook his hand, noting the firm grip and the calluses that suggested real sword work. "Ethan Hunt. Same to you."
They parted ways, but Ethan couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had just occurred. A connection had been made, an acknowledgment exchanged. They were the standouts, the exceptional candidates in a sea of hopefuls. When the Academy rankings were posted, their names would be near the top.
Friend or rival? Ethan wondered, watching Aizen disappear into the crowd. Maybe both.
The final stage—Zanjutsu—took place in the late afternoon.
The testing grounds were enormous, with dozens of rings set up for simultaneous bouts. Each candidate received a wooden bokken and faced an instructor in a simple match. The criteria were similar to Hakuda: either land three clean strikes, or demonstrate sufficient skill to satisfy the examiner within two minutes.
Ethan's examiner was an older man with silver hair and eyes that had seen countless battles. His stance was perfect, his grip relaxed but ready. This was someone who'd spent decades mastering the sword.
"Begin when ready," the examiner said quietly.
Ethan settled into seigan stance, the position Kenji had drilled into him until it was as natural as breathing. He let his awareness expand, feeling for the examiner's intent, his minute weight shifts, the subtle tells that preceded action.
The first exchange was cautious on both sides—testing, probing. The examiner attacked with a simple downward cut. Ethan blocked and countered with a thrust. The examiner sidestepped and tested Ethan's defense with a horizontal slash. Ethan parried and created distance.
"Good fundamentals," the examiner observed. "Show me your offense."
Ethan obliged. He launched into a combination Kenji had taught him—high slash, low sweep, center thrust. The examiner blocked all three but had to actually focus, his casual demeanor sharpening to attention.
"Better. Again, with intent."
This time, Ethan channeled reiatsu into his strikes, reinforcing the bokken the way he'd learned during real combat. The wooden blade moved faster, hit harder. His first point came from a feint—he suggested a high attack, drew the block, then dropped low and tagged the examiner's hip.
"Excellent!" The examiner's eyes lit up. "You understand deception in swordplay. Rare for an untrained candidate. Show me more!"
The bout intensified. Ethan's second point came from superior footwork—he used Hoho principles to close distance instantly and scored on the examiner's shoulder before the older man could adjust. The third was pure technique—a textbook rising slash that caught the examiner's wrist.
Three points in ninety seconds.
The examiner lowered his bokken and smiled—the first genuine smile Ethan had seen from any instructor all day. "Outstanding. That wasn't beginner's luck or raw talent. That was trained skill. Who taught you?"
"Kenji Fujimoto, former 4th Seat of the 4th Division."
Recognition flashed across the examiner's face. "Fujimoto? He's still alive? I trained with him decades ago. He was one of the finest swordsmen in his generation." He looked at Ethan with new appreciation. "If he took you as a student, you must be something special. He didn't teach just anyone."
"He saved my life," Ethan said simply. "Training me was his way of making sure I could save others."
"A worthy philosophy." The examiner marked something on his clipboard. "You've passed all four stages with exceptional scores, Ethan Hunt. I suspect you'll be ranked very highly when final results are posted. Welcome to the Academy."
Ethan bowed deeply, gratitude and relief flooding through him. He'd done it. Against all odds, despite coming from the worst district in Rukongai with only four months of training, he'd passed every stage of the entrance exams.
He moved to the sidelines and found a spot to watch other candidates. Most demonstrated basic competence at best. A few showed real promise. And then Aizen Sosuke stepped into a ring.
The bout was over in sixty seconds.
Aizen moved with a precision that bordered on the supernatural. Every cut was perfectly angled, every block timed with mathematical perfection. He scored three points so quickly and cleanly that his examiner actually laughed in disbelief.
"Extraordinary! You fight like someone with years of Academy training already. Where did you learn such refined technique?"
"Books, observation, and practice," Aizen replied modestly. "And excellent instructors, of course."
The examiner shook his head in amazement. "Well, you've certainly earned your place. I'd be shocked if you weren't ranked in the top five candidates."
As Aizen left his ring, he sought out Ethan in the crowd. Their eyes met across the distance, and Aizen's smile widened fractionally. A silent communication passed between them: We're the best here. Both of us know it.
Ethan smiled back, accepting the challenge implicit in that look.
The results were posted at sunset.
Three thousand candidates crowded around the massive board where names were listed in order of overall performance. Ethan pushed through the throng until he could see the rankings.
His breath caught.
RANK 2: ETHAN HUNT - DISTRICT 78Overall Score: 94/100Reiatsu: 4,923 | Kido: 96/100 | Hakuda: 93/100 | Zanjutsu: 94/100
Second place. Out of three thousand candidates, he'd placed second.
And first place?
RANK 1: AIZEN SOSUKE - DISTRICT 1Overall Score: 98/100Reiatsu: 5,384 | Kido: 99/100 | Hakuda: 98/100 | Zanjutsu: 97/100
Near-perfect scores across the board. Aizen hadn't just passed the exams—he'd dominated them.
Ethan wasn't disappointed. If anything, he felt exhilarated. Someone existed who was better than him, someone he could measure himself against, learn from, compete with. That kind of rival would push him to improve faster than any teacher could.
"Impressive showing, Hunt."
Ethan turned to find Aizen standing beside him, that perpetual pleasant smile in place. But his eyes—those calculating eyes—held genuine interest.
"You too, Sosuke," Ethan replied. "Though I have to ask—did you miss questions on purpose? Ninety-eight seems suspiciously like you wanted to leave room at the top without being too obvious about it."
Aizen's smile widened, becoming more genuine. "Perceptive. I simply answered honestly. If I'd scored perfectly, it would attract certain types of attention. Being merely excellent is much more comfortable."
The fact that he admitted to strategic thinking impressed Ethan. Most people would have denied it or played coy.
"Smart," Ethan acknowledged. "Though I'd be lying if I said I wasn't going to try to beat your scores once Academy actually starts."
"I'd be disappointed if you didn't try." Aizen extended his hand again. "I believe we're going to push each other to greater heights, Ethan Hunt. This should be fascinating."
Ethan shook his hand, feeling the strength in that grip. "Looking forward to it, Aizen Sosuke."
They stood together, two prodigies from opposite ends of Soul Society's social spectrum, united by exceptional talent and competitive fire. Around them, other candidates celebrated or mourned their results. But Ethan and Aizen existed in their own sphere, already looking beyond the exams to what came next.
"The cursed course begins in three days," Aizen noted. "The accelerated program for exceptional candidates. One year instead of six. We'll be classmates."
"Both of us, and probably fifty other top performers." Ethan glanced at the rankings again. The top one hundred candidates were being offered the accelerated track. It would be brutal—six years of training compressed into one—but also prestigious. Graduates of the advanced course were virtually guaranteed officer positions.
"Fifty-two, actually," Aizen corrected. "I counted. Though I suspect most will wash out. The program has a seventy percent failure rate."
"Then I guess we'd better not be part of that seventy percent."
"Oh, I won't be." Aizen's confidence wasn't arrogance—just statement of fact. "The question is whether anyone else will keep up with us."
It should have sounded conceited. Instead, it sounded like a challenge, an invitation to prove he was right.
"Guess we'll find out," Ethan said.
They parted ways as the sun set fully, leaving the Academy grounds in twilight. Ethan walked back to his temporary quarters feeling lighter than air. He'd passed. He'd excelled. He'd found a rival who would push him to heights he couldn't reach alone.
In his room, he sat on his futon and pulled out Kenji's letter, reading it one more time by candlelight. The old man's faith in him, his belief that Ethan could succeed, had proven justified. Tomorrow, he would write a letter back to District 78, telling Kenji everything.
But tonight was for quiet reflection and satisfaction. He'd taken the first step on the path to becoming a Shinigami. The journey would be long and difficult, but he was ready.
More than ready. He was hungry for it.
Outside his window, the Seireitei's lights blazed against the darkness, a constellation of human achievement and spiritual power. Somewhere out there, Aizen Sosuke was probably planning his Academy strategy, optimizing his approach to maximize growth.
Good. Let him plan. Ethan thrived in competition. The harder Aizen pushed, the stronger Ethan would become. And maybe—just maybe—they'd both become strong enough to change Soul Society itself.
Tomorrow, Ethan thought as sleep finally claimed him. Tomorrow, I become a Shinigami Academy student. And three hundred years from now, when people tell stories about this generation, they'll remember two names above all others.
Aizen Sosuke and Ethan Hunt.
The light and the shadow.
This is just the beginning.
END OF CHAPTER 5
Next Chapter: Academy Days - First Lessons