"You want to work here… as a caregiver?"
Kitayama Tsubaki adjusted her glasses, staring at the tall, bright-eyed university student standing before her. Suspicion and disbelief mingled in her expression.
It was understandable.
The orphanage paid modestly. The work was exhausting. Most applicants were retirees seeking quiet supplemental income not young men enrolled in national universities.
Yet the man before her Ito Makoto stood calmly, hands folded politely.
The reason for her softened posture was simple: a subtle spiritual suggestion had been layered into her memory. Not full manipulation merely a gentle nudge that framed Ito as a responsible student seeking experience during vacation.
"You're trying to gain practical experience, right?" she asked, smiling knowingly.
Ito widened his eyes slightly in feigned surprise.
"Yes, ma'am. If you would allow me."
A few minutes later, she led him into a brightly lit activity room filled with laughter and scattered toys.
"Children," she announced warmly, "this is Brother Ito. He'll be helping take care of you from now on."
A chorus of greetings erupted.
"Hello, Brother Ito!"
"Brother Ito!"
All except one.
In the far corner, a small boy sat apart, knees pulled to his chest.
Slowly, Kūgo Ginjō lifted his head.
Recognition flashed across his face.
Ito smiled at him a reassuring, familiar smile.
That night
Okamoto Burger
Under the fluorescent glow of a modest fast-food restaurant, Ito and Ginjō sat across from one another with oversized beef burgers in hand.
For Ito, this was still a novel experience.
Human World food was undeniably superior to Soul Society rations.
Juice burst across his tongue. Texture. Heat. Salt.
So vivid.
"Makoto-Nii," Ginjō asked between bites, "why can people see you now?"
Ito swallowed and wiped his mouth.
"This is called a Gigai. It's an artificial body. When a Shinigami wears one, ordinary humans can see them. It also lets us eat and interact normally."
Ginjō blinked in awe.
Soon the meal ended. Ito left payment slightly more than necessary and they stepped outside.
By the time the cashier chased after them to return the excess money, they had already vanished into the night.
The Unfinished Building
They arrived at an abandoned construction site on the outskirts of town.
Wind whistled through exposed beams.
Ito stepped out of his Gigai.
With a soft thud, the artificial body collapsed backward, vacant.
His Shinigami form emerged black robes flowing lightly in the stale air.
Ginjō's eyes widened.
Ito raised his hand.
"Hadō #31 Shakkahō."
A crimson sphere of condensed spiritual energy ignited in his palm, illuminating the corridor in warm red light.
The boy stared, mesmerized.
"Want to learn?" Ito asked.
Ginjō nodded fiercely.
"Then we begin properly."
Ito rested his Zanpakutō horizontally.
"To use Kidō… you must first become a Shinigami."
With calm precision mirroring the method once used by Rukia Kuchiki Ito pressed the hilt of his Zanpakutō against Ginjō's chest.
Reiryoku flowed.
Not violently.
Not overwhelmingly.
Just enough.
Ginjō gasped as his soul was gently drawn outward from his body. His spiritual form emerged clothed in white which slowly darkened into black Shihakushō from the chest downward.
The transformation stabilized.
Ito observed carefully.
He had transferred only a minuscule fraction of his Reiatsu less than one percent of his total reserves. For Raizen Kō's spiritual foundation, such expenditure was negligible.
For a human child, however, it was monumental.
Ginjō staggered, staring at his hands.
"Am I… like you now?"
"You are a Shinigami temporarily empowered," Ito corrected calmly. "Not a ghost."
He retrieved an Asauchi from within his robe a blank Zanpakutō spirit obtained during earlier operations.
Ginjō lacked the formal process of choosing an Asauchi within Seireitei, but necessity overrode ceremony.
"For the next month," Ito continued, placing the blade in the boy's trembling hands, "I will teach you Kidō basics and Zanjutsu fundamentals."
He knelt slightly to meet the boy's gaze.
"I cannot remain by your side forever. If a Hollow comes again… hesitation will kill you."
Seven-year-old Ginjō did not cry.
He straightened.
"I understand."
A steadiness beyond his years flickered in his eyes.
Ito allowed himself a faint smile.
"Good. Then defend yourself."
Without drawing his own blade, Ito lunged forward, hand extended like a claw.
Ginjō panicked.
He forgot the sword entirely.
Ito lifted him effortlessly by the collar like a stray kitten.
"Why didn't you draw your blade?"
Ginjō looked embarrassed.
Ito set him down.
"In battle, pride and doubt are luxuries. Draw."
This time, Ginjō gripped the oversized Asauchi with both hands. The blade was nearly as tall as he was.
His stance was clumsy.
Unstable.
But his eyes were focused.
Ito stepped forward again deliberately slow.
"Force me back."
Ginjō swung.
Awkward.
Telegraphed.
But genuine.
Steel met empty air.
Ito pivoted lightly, tapping the boy's shoulder.
"Too wide. Control your center."
Again.
And again.
The unfinished building echoed with the rhythm of steel and breath.
Under the dim red glow of fading Shakkahō light, the first foundations of a future Substitute Shinigami were laid.
Not by destiny.
But by intervention.
Far above, unseen by either of them, the spiritual currents of Karakura Town shifted subtly.
And somewhere far away
Raizen Kō felt it.
A new piece placed upon the board.
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