The so-called "talent showcase" was really no different from an aptitude assessment, or more precisely, a competitive exhibition. Much like the entrance exams of performing arts schools in his past life, winning a prize could grant extra credits. And if someone managed to snag an "international-level award," the Academy could even admit them on the spot.
Being a Shinigami was a combat-based profession. All regular exams were directly tied to one's fighting capability. In most cases, your grades were a reflection of your battle strength.
That's why Central Spiritual Arts Academy's graduates were often selected into the Gotei 13 based purely on their academic scores.
But there were exceptions.
Take the Fourth Division, for instance, focused on healing. What they cared about was your medical skill. In fact, even if you had zero combat ability, as long as you could heal, they'd take you in.
Then there was the Kidō Corps. Many large-scale Kidō spells required a lot of steady, detail-oriented personnel to "make up the numbers." Even though the Research and Development Institute hadn't been officially founded yet, scholars and support staff were still a necessity, just scattered and not yet centralized. In short, every year the Academy held a showcase to recruit "secretary-type" talents like that.
But among all of those, one discipline stood out from the rest: combat.
Yes, this particular category was very different. While academic scores might indicate someone's potential strength, they didn't always reflect real combat ability. Some students could easily cast a level 60 Kidō spell in an exam, but in a real battle, might not even manage a single-digit spell under pressure.
And some squads didn't have time to wait for recruits to slowly grow stronger. They needed people who could fight right now.
Like Squad 11. Like the Onmitsukidō.
Just look at the casualty rate among Soifon's siblings. Your strength was the only thing you could rely on when danger struck. Don't expect anyone to save you, because chances are, they're struggling to survive too.
So, for these kinds of combat evaluations, the format wasn't like the others. It was a one-on-one arena battle.
There were no do-overs. No second chances.
You got one shot. Lose, and you're out. Of course, if someone performed exceptionally well, even in defeat, they might still catch the eye of a recruiter.
To Shirō, this felt just like the Chūnin Exams from the Naruto world.
Naturally, this was the category he entered. So did little Soifon, determined to prove that her strength wasn't just numbers on paper.
With that, Shirō and Soifon became the oddities in the arena bracket.
After all, those who already had top grades and met the "draft threshold" wouldn't bother participating in this bloody sideshow, unless they were dead set on joining Squad 11. But Shirō and Soifon were known as some of the strongest fighters in their year. With no equals left to challenge them, their opponents became mere decorations.
On the day of the arena matches, the training field was packed. Hardly any participants, just spectators. Even a few captains had shown up. Supposedly to scout talent. But judging by Kyōraku Shunsui's relaxed posture, Shirō could tell the guy was just here for the show.
To be fair, even if he got caught loafing, he'd have a valid excuse: celebrating Shirō's eventual recruitment into the 13 Court Guard Squads.
"Begin!"
The judge's voice had barely faded when Shirō used a single flash step to appear behind his opponent, delivered a clean karate chop to the back of the neck, and ended the match in seconds. His shallow blade, carried only to bluff people, never even left its sheath.
He struck a calm like pose as he stood over his unconscious opponent, drawing cheers from his little fan club.
"Shirō-senpai, that was amazing!" cheered Kotetsu Isane.
"Nice one, Shirō-boy!" hollered Mashiro from the stands.
Shirō's expression twitched: Seriously, Mashiro? At least show me some respect. I'm your upperclassman.
"Go Shirō-go! Bring it home, baby boy!" yelled Hiyori.
Shirō almost slipped off the platform: "Baby boy"?! The hell, Hiyori?!
Then came another round of wild cheers, this time for Soifon. Yoruichi's booming voice echoed through the arena:
"Finish him! Scissor kick! Sweep the leg! Go stabby-stabby, my little bee!"
Honestly, even if Soifon didn't beat her opponent into the ground, the poor soul might just die of fear from Yoruichi's commentary.
Naturally, Soifon won her first round with ease.
Shirō glanced at the bracket. At their current positions, the only way he and Soifon could face off was in the finals.
"Wow… what a rigged setup," he muttered.
One match, two matches, three, four…
Five, six, seven, eight…
Finally, Shirō and Soifon both stood undefeated, facing each other in the arena finals. Since they'd breezed through the earlier rounds with one-hit victories, they hadn't really broken a sweat. Now, with plenty of rest, both were at full power, HP and MP bars maxed out.
They stood across from one another.
Shirō scratched his head.
"Maybe we've proven our point. Second place is still pretty good, right?"
Soifon's expression darkened immediately.
"You're thinking of forfeiting?!"
If he actually did that, it would be a total insult. All of her victories so far had been clean and one-sided, sure, but Soifon had no intention of ending the tournament without truly fighting someone strong.
"If you dare pull that crap, I swear I'll make you regret it," she said coldly.
At the same time, Yoruichi lazily picked at her nails from the sidelines and said in a singsong voice:
"Whoever loses gets punished~♡"
Shirō and Soifon both flinched.
That troublemaker… now Soifon would be going all out. And Shirō? He couldn't afford to lose either.
If Soifon lost, she'd get some "emotional trauma" punishment.
But if he lost?
It'd be physical trauma.
No way was he going back to Squad Four's medical ward again.
Shing!
For the first time, Shirō drew his blade.
Soifon narrowed her eyes and charged in immediately, seizing the initiative. She knew all too well: Shirō had a second, invisible sword.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
They clashed with furious speed. To onlookers, it seemed like an intense and dangerous duel. But for the two of them, it was just a warm-up.
Finally, during a brief cross, Shirō extended his other hand.
His real Zanpakutō, the invisible one, slashed out.
But Soifon was ready. She leaned back and kicked upward, striking the flat of the unseen blade and deflecting what should have been a finishing blow.
"That move doesn't work on me anymore," she said proudly, flipping backward and landing in a ready stance.
She couldn't help but feel a little relieved. She'd visualized this moment so many times. Pulling it off on her first try? Felt damn good.
Meanwhile, the crowd was in an uproar.
"What just happened?!"
Even the squad captains who had been watching casually narrowed their eyes. The playful atmosphere vanished, everyone was watching seriously now.
Up on the platform, Shirō stopped his assault, tilting his head.
"Weren't you afraid you'd hit the sharp edge of the blade?"
After all, his weapon was invisible. She had no way of knowing whether it was positioned horizontally or vertically. One wrong guess and her foot could've been sliced open.
Soifon raised her foot with a smirk.
"Clever. You've got a weapon hidden in your shoe," Shirō muttered, then raised his blade again.
"Just wanted to make it fair, you saw it now, no complaints later," she said, stepping in once more.
And this time, everyone watching finally understood:
Shirō was wielding two swords.
One was a regular shallow blade.
The other, his true Zanpakutō, was completely invisible.
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