"First, relax your body," Sombravida said evenly. "Do not force your reiryoku. Circulate it as you would when stabilizing your core. Gather it in your palm — condense, but do not release."
Kira immediately followed.
Reiryoku flowed down his arm and pooled into his right palm, forming a faint distortion in the air.
"Good. Now loosen your grip," Sombravida continued. "A blade is not restrained by tension. If you grip too tightly, your reiryoku will scatter. Feel the sword as an extension of your bones. Let it move as your wrist moves."
Kira adjusted his hold.
"Now guide the reiryoku forward. Not a push. A flow."
He attempted to channel it into the blade—
The sword vibrated violently.
The reiryoku destabilized and snapped outward. The blade slipped from Kira's grasp and struck the ground.
Kira stiffened.
Sombravida did not react.
"Again."
This technique was a refined, restrained evolution of Sombravida's former Hollow method — concentrating destructive reiryoku along a cutting edge. Unlike a Hollow's violent burst, a Shinigami-compatible flow required precision and suppression.
"Do not try to fill the blade," Sombravida corrected. "Start at the tip. A single thread. Anchor it. Then extend toward the edge."
Kira inhaled slowly.
This time, the reiryoku gathered faintly at the blade's tip. It flickered, unstable but present.
Sombravida stepped forward and placed his hand lightly over Kira's wrist.
"Feel it. Circulate internally first. The blade merely follows."
Gradually, over the course of the night, Kira achieved stable infusion. The edge shimmered faintly — not visible light, but a subtle density shift in reishi around the blade.
He swung once.
The cut through a wooden stake was noticeably deeper.
"You feel it," Sombravida said calmly.
"Yes… it's sharper."
"That is because reiryoku density reinforces the edge. At Academy level, this is foundational weapon control."
Sombravida walked to a large rock nearby.
He raised the blade.
Reiryoku compressed.
One clean downward slash.
The rock split in two — the surface smooth.
Kira's pupils contracted.
Even seated officers of the Gotei 13 required disciplined control to produce such clean reiryoku reinforcement.
Sombravida turned slightly.
"That is only the reinforced state."
He shifted his stance.
This time, he compressed reiryoku beyond surface reinforcement — stabilizing it along the blade's spine.
Then—
Slash.
A pale crescent of compressed reiryoku tore outward, cutting through multiple tree trunks before dissipating.
Silence returned to the forest.
Kira stood speechless.
Even most seated Shinigami could not project external reiryoku like that without Zanpakutō resonance.
And this man had done it without release.
Sombravida exhaled slowly.
His reserves were nearly empty.
"That is the final form," he said evenly. "Projected reiryoku discharge. It consumes immense reserves. You are not to attempt it until your spiritual pressure stabilizes above Academy baseline."
Kira nodded rapidly, overwhelmed.
Captain-level…
The thought formed unbidden in his mind.
"Focus on reinforcement," Sombravida continued. "Ensure every strike is structurally aligned. If your swing wavers, projected discharge will destabilize and recoil."
Sombravida returned the blade.
"For now, practice infusion daily."
Kira swallowed.
"Yes."
Sombravida picked up his belongings.
"You need not come tomorrow if you are busy."
"I have family matters," Kira admitted. "But I can send food."
"No need. I will hunt elsewhere. I have family responsibilities."
Kira hesitated — then removed a string of iron currency rings and offered them forward.
"Please accept this."
Sombravida weighed them in his hand.
It was a considerable amount — easily equivalent to several months of Rukongai subsistence.
"Excessive."
"What you've taught me exceeds this."
Sombravida paused — then accepted.
"I will return in one month. Show me progress."
"I will not disappoint you."
They parted.
Sombravida returned home.
He did not give the money to Momo.
Questions would follow. And questions led to risk.
The katana he explained simply — traded from a passing merchant for game.
Momo accepted this without suspicion.
After washing, Sombravida lay down.
Momo stirred awake.
"Just got back?"
"Yes. Traded some game."
He handed her the katana.
Her eyes brightened instantly.
As an aspiring Shinigami, even a training blade carried meaning.
"Be careful."
Then he produced the folded white cloth.
"Use this for Shiro and Grandma. Undergarments. Bedding lining."
The fabric was dense, woven with reishi-dampening fibers common in Seireitei noble households. When worn close to the body, it buffered fluctuating reiatsu.
It would reduce the effect of Shiro's unconscious spiritual leakage.
If Shiro's pressure spiked beyond that tolerance—
Then it would be time for Academy enrollment.
Momo carried the cloth away happily.
Sombravida lay back down.
Sleep overtook him.
He did not know how long he slept.
But a frantic voice tore through the house.
"Brother Tsukishiro! Brother Tsukishiro!"
Sombravida's eyes snapped open.
His instincts sharpened instantly.
It was Shiro.
"What happened?"
"Momo — she was taken at the market!"
Sombravida was on his feet before the sentence finished.
"Explain while moving."
"That shady merchant — the one from before. He recognized us. He had someone with him — tall, wearing black robes, sword at his waist. A Shinigami. They blocked our way. Momo told me to run."
Sombravida's expression hardened.
A seated officer, most likely. Lower-ranked, but still trained.
Nepotism within minor noble families was not rare in the Gotei 13.
They reached the market.
At the far end of the street stood a burly man in standard Shinigami uniform. Long center-parted hair. Mustache. Spiritual pressure coarse but real — at least seated level.
He restrained Momo by the arms.
Behind him, the merchant clutched Sombravida's katana greedily.
Sombravida stepped forward.
"Stop."
The Shinigami sneered.
"Move aside, blind rat."
Momo saw him.
"Big brother! Leave!"
The merchant shouted.
"It's him! Third Uncle — he's the one who attacked me!"
The Shinigami released Momo and stepped forward.
Spiritual pressure expanded outward, attempting suppression.
"You injured my nephew?"
His reiatsu pressed against Sombravida.
"You dare touch someone from the Jin'an family?"
Sombravida stood still.
Compressed spiritual pressure did not flare outward — it condensed inward.
The oppressive reiatsu washed over him like wind over stone.
Then Sombravida spoke.
Calm.
Cold.
One word.
"Get lost!"
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