For a captain who existed almost entirely in legend, the students of the Shin'ō Academy had heard his name long ago.
Aside from a handful of first-year students newly arrived from Rukongai, nearly everyone knew of the Third Division's captain.
Kyōraku Shimo.
A high-ranking noble of the Kyōraku clan.
Someone who had fought a combat-division captain like Kenpachi Zaraki to a standstill.
Someone who had cut down a Menos Grande without suffering so much as a scratch.
Someone who had slain the former Ninth Division captain, Tōsen Kaname, in a single swing.
Any one of those feats was enough to make ninety-nine percent of Shinigami look up to him in awe.
Naturally, most of the academy students regarded Shimo as an object of admiration.
So when he stepped onto the lecture platform, the classroom fell silent—
but only for a brief moment.
In that instant, everyone held their breath, watching his every movement.
Then Shimo spoke.
"Everyone, due to the death of Instructor Miyano Kaede, a new swordsmanship teacher has not yet been appointed."
"So for the time being, I'll be taking over your swordsmanship classes."
"If anyone has objections, feel free to speak up."
Unlike certain perpetually stone-faced captains, Shimo carried no sense of aloof authority.
Strictly speaking, in that regard, he resembled Aizen somewhat—the Aizen who wore a mask of gentleness.
The moment his words fell, shock and cheers nearly blew the roof off the building.
The students' enthusiasm far exceeded Shimo's expectations.
To restore order, he had no choice but to release a trace of his spiritual pressure.
A sliver—just a sliver—of his immense spiritual pressure spread across the classroom.
Instantly, the room fell dead silent.
Under that terrifying pressure, it felt as though they were being stared down by a bottomless abyss itself.
The fear of death clutched at their hearts.
"…Looks like I'll have to do this my way," Shimo muttered, rubbing his temples with a slight headache.
Fighting? That was easy.
Teaching, on the other hand… was troublesome.
Even though his swordsmanship ranked among the strongest of the captains, deciding where to begin was no simple matter.
After a moment's thought, he eased the pressure slightly.
"Can someone tell me how far your swordsmanship curriculum has progressed?"
The students exchanged glances.
After a moment, one student shakily raised his hand.
Shimo nodded, loosening the pressure around him.
"Pr-practical combat… Instructor Miyano already taught us all the fundamentals."
The student looked frail, his eyes evasive—yet there was unexpected resolve in them.
The fact that he could raise his hand under that pressure spoke volumes about his mental fortitude and potential.
Shimo nodded thoughtfully.
So they were already at the sparring stage.
As Miyano Kaede's former student, Shimo hadn't learned much from him personally, but he was familiar with his teaching methods.
Basics first—grip, swings, form.
Then paired combat.
And Miyano would observe, identify flaws, and adjust instruction accordingly.
That approach suited Shimo perfectly.
Systematic lecturing would only make him feel constrained.
"In that case," Shimo said, "let's divide into sparring pairs."
The students quickly found their partners.
Shimo's gaze drifted to the front row, where a single girl sat alone.
He frowned slightly. A glance around revealed that the others were deliberately avoiding her.
"Let's move to the sword practice hall first."
He didn't dwell on it.
After leaving the classroom and passing through several corridors, they arrived at a wide, open dōjō.
The familiar scene stirred a hint of nostalgia in Shimo's eyes.
Back in his academy days, this practice hall had been where he spent most of his time.
After everyone collected their wooden swords, sparring erupted across the dōjō.
Shimo stood on a raised platform, surveying the battles below.
To him, what looked impressive to others was little more than child's play.
"Too many flaws," he muttered, shaking his head.
He couldn't help worrying about the future recruitment quality of the Gotei 13.
As a captain, perhaps he should do something about it.
"Hm?"
Midway through his inspection, Shimo noticed that the same girl was still standing alone, her expression stubborn.
He approached her.
"Why is everyone avoiding you?"
The girl bit her lower lip and replied softly,
"They can't beat me."
Shimo blinked.
"…All of them?"
A hint of pride surfaced on her face, like a peacock spreading its feathers.
Interest sparked in Shimo's eyes.
"Then in that case, I'll be your sparring partner."
"Come at me with your strongest sword technique."
She hesitated.
"I'm… really strong. What if I hurt you—"
Shimo froze, then rubbed his chin.
Kids these days were confident.
Back when he was a student, he wouldn't have dared say something like that.
"Don't worry," Shimo said calmly.
"If you manage to hurt me, I'll personally recommend you for the Gotei 13."
"Any division you want—even the First."
That much authority, he had.
And besides, he was confident she wouldn't land a scratch.
Her spiritual pressure was indeed stronger than her peers', but compared to his, the difference was like fireflies to the moon.
As she turned to fetch a wooden sword, Shimo stopped her.
"Use your Zanpakutō."
Her face showed hesitation.
"But I'm worried—"
Shimo waved it off.
"My promise stands."
"Don't overestimate yourself—or underestimate your opponent."
Her resolve hardened.
Her slender hand closed around her blade—
a nameless asauchi.
Even without a released form, its lethality far surpassed any wooden sword.
She raised it to shoulder height, her aura sharp and focused.
The surrounding students stopped their own sparring, drawn by the scene.
"Hey, who do you think will win—Violence Girl or Captain Shimo?"
"Do you even need to ask?"
"She beat Instructor Miyano before… maybe Captain Shimo will get hurt?"
The whispers spread.
Shimo didn't stop them.
This would be a true lesson in real combat.
Zanjutsu — Iaido: Autumn Moon Slash!
She vanished in a flash—Shunpo, still rough, but blisteringly fast.
The blade shot straight for Shimo's throat.
His brow lifted slightly.
Her swordsmanship exceeded his expectations.
Not just talent—she already possessed the embryonic form of a true sword warrior.
A fine talent, he thought.
Worth bringing into the Third Division someday.
Realizing Shimo wasn't dodging, panic flickered across her face—but it was too late to pull back.
Clang.
A clear, crisp sound rang out.
Her eyes widened in shock.
"How…?"
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"He blocked it with one finger?!"
"That's even possible?!"
"Captain Shimo really is a legend…"
They couldn't believe what they were seeing.
No Kidō. No spiritual pressure shield.
Just a single finger—stopping a Zanpakutō.
"It's not impossible," Shimo said calmly.
"Rather than questioning reality, ask why your understanding of it is flawed."
"What exists, exists for a reason."
She retreated, lips pressed tight, doubt flickering in her eyes.
Then—another Shunpo.
Spiritual pressure surged along her blade.
Sword Art: Wandering Soul Flash!
A storm of blade images filled the air, obscured by flashing spiritual pressure.
Among countless strikes, only one was real.
Against others, a single misjudgment would mean death.
But to Shimo—
There had never been more than one blade.
Clang.
Again.
Her face drained of color.
Shimo's index finger pressed firmly against her blade—his skin unmarked.
"The Thousand Soaring Style isn't meant to deceive."
"Turning every blade shadow into reality—that's its true essence."
"Where the blade shines, all is cut."
Sword forms mattered little at his level.
True technique was what truly mattered.
She stared at her blade, realization flashing in her eyes.
"Thank you, Captain Shimo!"
He nodded, satisfied.
…I might actually be good at teaching.
—Wait. Since when did I start thinking like an old man?
He coughed lightly.
"What's your name?"
She smiled brightly, hugging her sword.
"Rukongai commoner—Akago!"
Shimo froze.
Akago?
The name struck him like lightning.
He studied her closely.
Deep violet hair tied in a ponytail.
Pale crimson eyes.
Academy uniform cinched with a red sash.
Different—but unmistakably similar.
"…Captain Shimo?" she asked, puzzled.
"I have a request."
"Go on."
"I know I didn't pass your test… but after graduation, I want to join the Third Division."
"What should I focus on improving?"
Shimo paused, then smiled.
"Stay true to your way."
"Once you complete your Soul Burial internship, I'll be waiting for you in the Third Division."
Her strength already brushed the level of a seated officer.
With time, she'd make it.
Still—
Was this Akago connected to that being…?
Or was it merely coincidence?
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