After changing into their new uniforms, Lu Yu and Hitsugaya Tōshirō were immediately inspected—and inevitably rearranged—by Hinamori Momo, who treated the moment as if she were bestowing a ceremonial welcome. The silver-haired boy, clearly dissatisfied with the ritual, muttered complaints under his breath, finding Hinamori's embrace of "Shinigami warmth" more stifling than sincere. To him, the uniform felt restrictive and dull, lacking the comfort and familiarity of his short jacket, which he much preferred. Still, the dynamic between the three was warm, more like close siblings than mere classmates.
Lu Yu, giving Hinamori a once-over, noted with silent approval that the uniform suited her well. It lent her an air of composed elegance while retaining utility. The design of the Shino Academy uniform—officially that of the Shin'ōreijutsuin or Spiritual Arts Academy—struck a deliberate balance between form and function. Inspired by traditional Japanese kimono and the Shinigami's standard shihakushō, the uniform featured subtle differences: a symbolic crest of the academy sewn over the left chest, indicating their current rank as cadets. Full-fledged Shinigami would later wear a white haori over their shihakushō, with the squad number emblazoned across the back. While dignified, those captain's haori were notoriously expensive and impractical for daily combat, and some captains opted to forgo them for mobility or budgetary reasons.
The Academy's uniforms weren't nearly as luxurious. They were standard-issue, divided into male and female styles, both tied at the waist by a black belt. Female cadets wore a white top with outward sleeves featuring two embroidered red moiré motifs and paired it with a red hakama skirt, while male students had a mirrored version with a blue-and-white top and black trousers. Practical and sturdy, the materials were clearly chosen with movement and training in mind. Testing the fit, Lu Yu bounced on his heels and executed a few quick steps, nodding with satisfaction at the loose, breathable design that allowed freedom of motion without sacrificing structure.
Eventually, the trio separated at the threshold of the boys' dormitories. Lu Yu couldn't help but marvel at how seriously the Academy regarded them. Rather than assigning them to crowded group quarters, they had been placed in a faculty-style apartment just behind the standard dorms, a privilege typically reserved for instructors. Inside, the accommodations were far beyond ordinary student housing, complete with basic furnishings, personal storage, and all the necessities of daily life. Lu Yu stepped inside, eyes gleaming as he scanned the spacious interior—more than enough room for four adults, let alone two boys. Two large pine-frame beds stood side by side in the shared bedroom, easily big enough to fit four or five Hitsugaya-sized kids.
"Pick one," Lu Yu said without moving, already flopped down on the inner bed with no intention of getting up. Hitsugaya's face darkened. You tell me to choose after claiming the better bed? Damn you, Lu Yu.
Admiring his reflection in the polished wall mirror, Lu Yu smirked at the sight. With the Academy's uniform draped across his figure, he looked even sharper than usual. Beyond the mysterious punch-card system he relied on, his second greatest asset, in his own opinion, was his face. Not that he was being vain; in the Shinigami world, appearance wasn't superficial—it was force, presence, influence. If he were in the One Piece world where islands battled for dominance, he was confident that even as a middle-aged wanderer, he could survive on his looks alone—hugging the Empress or Yamato's thighs like a professional simp. In the Hidden Villages of Naruto, where masks concealed shinobi identities, he'd don one himself, avoid emotional entanglements, and rise as a legend, outclassing even the drama kings vying for an Oscar-level tragic backstory. There, looks didn't matter; as long as you had Sharingan and enough trauma, Mangekyō was just around the corner.
But here in the world of the Shinigami, the equation was different. Appearance equated to gravitas, and if your face lacked presence, you couldn't even qualify as proper cannon fodder. Just look at Aizen—once a simple, fluttery-eyed bookworm—who went full maniacal butterfly and still got pounded into the pavement. Image mattered here.
Meanwhile, Hitsugaya lay flat on his bed, his expression devoid of emotion. According to Soul Society's human-equivalent age scale, he was just a young teenager. The sudden change in living conditions, being separated from Hinamori, and now sharing space with this shameless bed-stealing bully—Lu Yu—had pushed even the ever-mature Tōshirō toward the limits of tolerance. Though he'd never say it out loud, he was holding back a mental string of MMPs no child should know.
Finishing up his hair with a satisfying final pat, Lu Yu frowned at the spiky black strands. "This hair's tough to tame... maybe I need a Zanpakutō just to style it." "Zanpakutō?" Hitsugaya perked up immediately, his silver-blue eyes lighting with interest. "Aren't we supposed to receive our sealed versions this afternoon? That's what they call the sealed state, right?" "Oh? You'll see when it happens." Lu Yu gave a sly grin, dodging the question with practiced ambiguity.
Later that day, just as the afternoon sun began to dip behind the towers of Seireitei, a stunning figure arrived at the gates of the Spiritual Arts Academy. Radiating allure and the unmistakable maturity of a seasoned Shinigami, Vice-Captain Matsumoto Rangiku of the 10th Division made her appearance. Her captain, Shiba Isshin, was a notorious slacker who often found excuses to vanish under the guise of missions or medical leave, and over time Matsumoto had grown adept at following his lead, mastering the art of strategic shirking. In Seireitei, the 10th Division functioned much like a mobile patrol unit, charged with enforcing law and order within the inner districts while also relaying urgent orders from the 1st Division. This mobility gave her a convenient excuse to wander and "supervise" while evading actual paperwork—earning her the well-deserved nickname of "street slipper."
By this time in the day, she would usually sneak off to Rukongai or one of Seireitei's food districts to indulge in wine and grilled skewers. But today, she remembered that the Academy was holding a rare special entrance exam. As part of the 10th Division's patrol network, she had received early notice about the event, and it was through her squad's clearance with the gatekeepers at Sidanfang that candidates like Lu Yu and Hitsugaya had even been allowed inside. Knowing the applicants hailed from West District 1—her own old stomping grounds—Matsumoto felt a rare sense of personal investment. She had always kept an eye out for raw genius among Rukongai's youth. If one of them could eventually overshadow a certain insufferable man she knew, she'd call it karmic justice. Not that it was likely—genius that raw was rare.
Striding confidently through the Academy gates, Matsumoto made her way toward the outer courtyard where students gathered to collect their sealed Zanpakutō. It was there that she ran into Lu Yu, who happened to be on his way to receive his own. "Let me handle this," she said offhandedly to the Shinigami escort before approaching the two boys with casual swagger, her eyes scanning them with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "I'm Matsumoto Rangiku, Vice-Captain of the 10th Division. So, you're the prodigies who passed the special entrance exam?" Her smile widened. "I'm from Rukongai too, y'know. Guess that makes us neighbors!"
She let out a bold, unrestrained laugh, the kind only someone who had nothing to hide could produce—and with every breath, her impressive chest seemed to echo the sentiment. That white-haired child, Hitsugaya, she already recognized. She'd sensed his presence once before—a strong burst of Reiatsu unlike any she had felt from someone so young—and it had stuck with her. Hitsugaya had awakened what was known as a Reiatsu trait, an innate, defining quality that manifested in only the most talented Shinigami. While all Shinigami eventually developed one, true prodigies showed signs early on. Zanpakutō merely amplified those traits. For instance, Captain-Commander Yamamoto, the strongest Shinigami in Soul Society's history, possessed a Reiatsu that burned like flame even before wielding his fire-type Zanpakutō, Ryūjin Jakka. That wasn't just power—it was nature itself.
To awaken a trait at such a young age was the hallmark of elite talent, and Hitsugaya had it. As far as Matsumoto was concerned, the boy was already destined for her division. His acceptance had never been in doubt. But then she turned to Lu Yu, raising a brow. This quiet, well-dressed pretty boy also passed? Was it just the sharp jawline and well-styled bangs? Since when did Shinigami talent depend on looks?
Was that all it took now?
Had Seireitei started recruiting based on face?