Spellcraft

"Ye lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man!"

Even as he graduated from the Academy, Ryuzawa Hogosha bore in mind the notion that he must never stop training, never stop learning. There were always skills to be honed and knowledge to broaden; such is the lot of every Shinigami wishing to better themselves. So it was that he still spent a great deal of his time on the Kido test ranges of the barracks, clad not in the Academy liverie, but the black and white of an enlisted member of the Gotei.

"Golden clouds of truth, leap at sun-scorched ground!"

He stood at the end of one such range, arms raised in front of him. He cradled his right hand in his left, and pointed two fingers at a distant wooden target.

"Hadō six: Nenshorai!"

Pale blue light crackled at his fingertips, then leapt forth with a crack, skittering down the range in a jagged line as if inked across the air by an unsteady hand. The bolt of magical lightning collided with the target in a flash and another deafening crack, and where the target used to stand, only a scorched and splintered base remained.

Ryuzawa lowered his hands, squinted behind his glasses as if for a better look at his handiwork from afar. A satisfied smile crossed his face, and he waved his hand to signal for another target. He was feeling good about today's practice.