Yūhua Town inside the unfinished concrete building.
"Haah… haah…"
Seven-year-old Kūgo Ginjō stood trembling, both hands gripping a Zanpakutō nearly as tall as himself. Sweat streamed down his temples and soaked the collar of his borrowed black Shihakushō. His breathing was ragged, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven bursts.
Across from him, Raizen Kō stood composed, not a single drop of sweat upon his brow.
"Not bad," Raizen said calmly. "In only five days, you can now endure more than thirty breaths."
There was no exaggeration in his voice.
When their training began, Ginjō had been unable even to raise the blade properly. Now, despite his small frame and undeveloped spiritual body, he could withstand sustained pressure from Raizen's restrained attacks.
For a human child whose soul had only recently been separated from his body…
It was extraordinary.
Raizen narrowed his eyes slightly.
As expected of a future Substitute Shinigami… and a Soul King fragment bearer.
Though Ginjō did not yet understand it, his spiritual network was already far denser than that of ordinary humans. The remnants of the Soul King's power within him subtly reinforced his Reishi structure, allowing him to adapt at an abnormal rate.
Had he been born in the Rukongai and enrolled in the Shin'ō Academy, he would undoubtedly have possessed Captain-class potential.
After ten minutes, Ginjō's breathing finally steadied.
Raizen rested his hand on the hilt of his Zanpakutō.
"You've passed the first stage," he said lightly. "Now we begin the second."
The sound of steel sliding free echoed through the hollow building.
Ginjō froze.
The cold gleam of Raizen's blade reflected in the child's widening eyes.
"S-Second…?" he stammered, swallowing nervously. "Makoto-Nii… do we really need that?"
Raizen's gaze sharpened.
"Tell that to a Hollow when it's hunting you."
Without warning
Bang!
Raizen stepped forward and struck with the back of his blade.
Even with the blow deliberately restrained to a fraction of his strength, the impact sent Ginjō flying backward. His small body collided with the concrete wall, dust raining down from the unfinished ceiling.
Blood welled faintly at the corner of his mouth.
Pain flooded his chest.
Only then did Ginjō understand.
This was no game.
"Cough ! It hurts…!"
Tears streamed down his face. He was seven years old. The world had not yet hardened him.
But Raizen did not soften.
Years of slaughter in Hueco Mundo had long ago frozen whatever hesitation once lingered in his heart. Mercy in training would only create weakness in battle.
"Get up," Raizen said coldly. "Draw your sword. Next time, I won't hold back as much."
Before Ginjō could respond, Raizen's blade flashed again.
The edge stopped a hair's breadth from severing the child's ankle.
Instinct screamed.
Ginjō rolled away and scrambled upright, hands shaking as he gripped his Zanpakutō.
"Clang!"
Steel collided.
The force hurled him backward once more.
Yet this time
He had blocked it.
A nearly imperceptible smile curved at Raizen's lips.
If he had used true Vice-Captain-level strength, even the pressure alone would have crushed the boy's spiritual body. Every strike thus far had been carefully calibrated enough to threaten, never enough to kill.
Raizen raised his blade again.
"Watch closely. Your stance is unstable. Your wrists are weak. Anchor your feet. Let the impact travel through your body."
Strike after strike followed.
Each faster.
Each heavier.
Ginjō cried as he fought, tears streaking across his face, yet his grip did not loosen. Though trembling, he adjusted his footing. Though frightened, he observed.
And gradually
The clang of steel began to change.
Less desperation.
More intention.
"Clang!"
This time, Ginjō absorbed the impact without falling.
Through tear-blurred vision, he managed a shaky grin.
"Makoto-Nii… I blocked it!"
Raizen immediately shifted his grip and released a burst of controlled spiritual pressure through the flat of his blade.
The shockwave sent Ginjō sliding backward several meters.
"Good," Raizen said. "That one was worth praising."
Praise and pain came together.
Thus, the training continued until Ginjō's spiritual body was completely exhausted, his Reiatsu flickering like a dying ember.
Only then did Raizen lower his sword.
He guided Ginjō's soul gently back into his physical body using the hilt of his Zanpakutō, performing a controlled re-integration rather than a forceful strike.
Raizen then returned to his Gigai.
The unfinished building fell silent once more.
Later.
After stopping by a small burger shop one of Ginjō's favorite indulgences the two walked beneath the evening lights of Yūhua Town.
Raizen walked slightly ahead.
"Move it," he said lazily. "You have school in the morning."
No answer.
Raizen turned.
Ginjō had stopped before a jewelry shop window.
Inside the display case lay a silver cross pendant, simple yet striking under the soft lights.
Raizen's gaze lingered on it.
He remembered.
In the distant future, that cross would serve as the medium for Ginjō's Fullbring his power to draw out the souls of objects and manifest their essence.
A symbol of faith.
And later
Of resentment.
He studied the longing in the child's eyes and exhaled softly.
"…Why does this feel like raising a son?"
Without waiting for a reply, Raizen stepped into the shop.
After firm bargaining and the sacrifice of nearly the remainder of his Gigai salary, he purchased the pendant.
When he handed it over, Ginjō's eyes shone brighter than any training victory.
"Thank you, Makoto-Nii!"
He immediately placed it around his neck, clutching it as if it were treasure.
Raizen watched him.
For a moment, the hardened killer from Hueco Mundo faded.
He smiled faintly.
He's still just a child.
Then
The smile vanished.
A ripple brushed against his perception.
Faint.
Distorted.
But unmistakable.
Reiatsu.
Not his.
Not Ginjō's.
And not human.
Raizen's eyes sharpened instantly.
"…Something's wrong."
The air had changed.
And somewhere in the darkness
Something hungry was watching.
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