A full night of blissful sleep!
Arima Shizuya's luck wasn't bad—his assigned dorm was fairly secluded.
Since he didn't have to live alongside noble brats, he rarely needed to worry about all that "difference in status" nonsense. He could act more naturally.
On top of that, his two roommates weren't even in the same class, which meant Shizuya could easily avoid moving on the same schedule as them.
He didn't particularly like being alone all the time, but at this stage, studying and training came first.
Because once he graduated, he wouldn't have such a convenient environment for asking questions.
A commoner had to look like a commoner.
Which meant squeezing the Academy for everything it was worth.
Given that it was only the first day, the school hadn't thrown anything truly intense at them yet—good news for Shizuya.
Because aside from swordsmanship, he was basically illiterate in the other three "required subjects."
In this situation, others might be here to coast and collect credentials.
Shizuya was different.
He was here to actually learn.
"Hakuda refers to close-quarters combat techniques. As one of the four foundational disciplines, you should all understand its importance…"
"Shunpo is a technique used to move the body at high speed—so fast the opponent can't see you—allowing you to appear beside them, or farther away, in an instant…"
"Kidō…"
By the end of the day, Shizuya didn't recognize a single teacher who had lectured—but his notebook was packed from cover to cover.
His "gain points from being taught" ability was doing serious work.
[You were introduced to the fundamentals of Hakuda. Hakuda +2]
[You were introduced to the fundamentals of Shunpo…]
Aside from swordsmanship, all his stats were up by two!
Shizuya gazed at the pleasing increases across the three disciplines, a harvest-like joy swelling in his chest.
Not even kidding.
This school was absolutely the right call.
If he hadn't managed to worm his way into Shin'ō Academy, there was no chance he'd have ever touched this kind of knowledge back in Kusajishi.
He finished the day feeling completely fulfilled.
Aizen seemed to be out on business today, and they'd been temporarily assigned a stern-looking middle-aged man instead.
Most of the class immediately started sighing and groaning, leaving the poor guy on the podium completely baffled.
What, was he really that unpleasant?
"Alright, that will be all for today. Starting tomorrow, classes will be arranged in a two-discipline-per-day schedule. There will also be regular examinations, so please…"
The long list of announcements made it clear: the academic burden wouldn't be light.
People were already complaining.
Not everyone could absorb this material easily.
If you couldn't keep up, you wouldn't place well, and you'd end up getting shoved into some insignificant post just to fill space.
Wow. What a bleak future.
Compared to them, Shizuya had no such worries. He didn't have time for melodrama—training was the only right path.
He left the classroom in high spirits and headed toward the dōjō.
Only to find it unexpectedly lively.
It was already ten at night.
What the hell—don't you people sleep?
He asked the old man on duty. The man snorted, digging at his ear as he muttered.
"What else? Some noble lord suddenly felt like swinging a sword. All his bootlicking hangers-on followed him over. Of course it got noisy."
So that was it.
Nobles…
Shizuya let out a faintly amused sigh.
Even without two decades as a drifter, he could feel it—this gap between commoners and nobles.
Rukia in the original story was a perfect example.
She'd been quiet and unremarkable at the Academy, but the moment she received the Kuchiki surname, people started paying attention.
Teachers' expectations. Classmates' envy.
It was everywhere—pressure to some, but to others, an inescapable kind of restraint.
A very Japanese brand of hierarchy.
Still, it had nothing to do with Shizuya.
Besides, those lofty lords would get what was coming to them soon enough.
Like showing off, huh? Aizen would make them fly.
Shizuya returned to his dorm and pretended to sleep for two hours. Once his roommates were fully out, he got up.
He couldn't skip his training plan.
I refuse to believe a noble still feels like practicing at midnight.
He jogged back to the dōjō.
The lights were still on, but it had quieted down completely.
"Sorry to bother you—same as usual. I'd like to borrow a set of dōgi and a wooden sword."
The old man checked his ID and looked him over with a hint of amazement.
"You're only a first-year, right? You were here yesterday too. Do you really have to be this diligent?"
"Heh. Early bird gets the worm."
People tended to be more tolerant of someone who worked hard. The old man chuckled and jerked his chin.
"Room Five is empty right now… You can practice in there. Shouldn't be a problem."
Technically, Shizuya was only allowed to practice outside at his level.
The old man was clearly bending the rules for him.
A good man.
"Oh—thanks."
Shizuya tucked the wooden sword and spare clothing under his arm and headed in.
He was about to go straight to his assigned space when a figure collapsed in the corner caught his eye.
The person looked miserable.
His body was covered in raw, crimson lash marks. His dōgi was torn. Wounds swollen and angry—
He looked like an injured stray dog, slumped against the wall, limp on the floor.
Like a fish sliding into glue, he breathed greedily and awkwardly, clawing at what little life he had left.
…He wasn't dead yet.
But one foot was already at the threshold.
Shizuya stared for a moment, puzzled, when the old man spoke from behind him.
"Ah—best not to get involved with that guy. The noble lord was practicing earlier. That idiot insisted on pestering him for a spar… with skills like that, he's lucky he didn't get beaten to death. They only held back because they're classmates."
"…I see."
"It happens sometimes. People like that. They think getting into the Academy means they're equal to nobles. They don't know their own weight."
Shizuya watched the boy shakily pull himself up and stagger toward the exit.
His steps were unsteady, his expression stern, but his eyes looked unfocused—like he could pass out at any moment.
Shizuya simply watched him leave, making no move to chase after him.
Everyone made their own choices. If that was what the other boy wanted, the only thing to do was respect it.
Besides, Shizuya hadn't grown into someone capable of helping others yet.
As usual, he changed clothes and entered the room.
Practice swings. Footwork drills.
Since there were targets inside, he ran a few cutting tests as well.
He kept at it for more than two full hours.
[You swung the wooden sword. Swordsmanship +1]
Calculating that he could still steal a little sleep before class, Shizuya thanked the old man and headed back out.
The sky was still dark.
On the way, he spotted that same battered figure.
Collapsed in a corner, curled into a ball.
He must have lost consciousness on the way back and dropped right there.
In the morning someone would find him and send him to the infirmary.
Shizuya didn't need to get involved.
After all, he wasn't the one who did it. Morally or logically, there was no place for him to step in.
And as someone from Rukongai, Shizuya understood the rule of the world: the strong eat, the weak are eaten.
People who didn't obey the rules—rebels who tried to swim against the current—sooner or later "died of natural causes."
Because rules were steel chains.
The more you struggled, the deeper they cut into flesh, until tendons snapped and breathing stopped.
So leave him.
That was how it was supposed to be—
And yet, as he thought that, Shizuya stopped walking.
He turned slightly and looked back at the stray-dog figure.
…
Shizuya tossed the bloodstained towel aside and watched the boy's face twitch, then slowly lift.
"You're awake?"
The boy didn't answer right away. Instinctively, he reached for his waist. Only when he touched something familiar did he loosen his breathing slightly.
"…Who are you?"
His voice was tight—more than that, wary.
"Class 1–5. Arima Shizuya. This is my dorm. You're sleeping in my bed."
"That's not what I asked…"
The injured student had brown skin and jagged purple hair, with protective goggles over his eyes—like he had some kind of visual impairment.
He angled his head, not looking at Shizuya, but pointing an ear toward him instead.
"Why did you help me?"
Shizuya folded his arms, sighed, and answered honestly.
"If I had to say why… it just felt like a waste."
"A waste?"
Shizuya wrung out the towel again, his gaze lowered to the washbasin.
"Value your life. Once you're dead, you have nothing. I don't know what grudge you have with those nobles, but dying like that… would be too much of a waste."
Two lives, and this one had begun in Rukongai of all places.
Yes, spirits could sustain themselves by taking in reishi—
But they still felt hunger.
And if you didn't eat or drink, you still died.
In Rukongai, that happened all the time.
If you didn't steal, you starved.
If you didn't fight, you were discarded.
Shizuya understood better than most how precious life was.
"Even if you really do have a grudge, is it something you can't endure for even a moment? Build up your strength. When you can stand on equal footing, then you can think about getting revenge. It won't be too late."
Shizuya turned, poured a cup of warm water, and pressed it gently against the back of the boy's lowered hand.
"I'm not good at long speeches… and what you do next is up to you."
But no matter what—
At least for now—
"Drink some water. Your body won't hold up otherwise."
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