Shuuhei Yamada [Approved 3-3]

With a horrible crash of wood, steel, and bone, the two armies met amid the snowy plain. Soon, they were dying the pure white snow red with the each others’ blood. Shuuhei felt almost as if someone else was directing his actions as his sword rose and fell, each time bringing another life, another story similar to his own, to an end. Warm blood splashed across his armor and blades, and poured over his hands and arms. Death and destruction was all around, and he was part of the cause. A sharp sting in his left shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts. Looking down, he saw the unmistakable shape of an arrow buried deep in his flesh. Quickly, he reached over and broke off the end of the projectile, knowing better than to try and tear it out. His attention was next directed to a loud yell just below him. An enemy peasant soldier was charging him with a spear, probably in an attempt to kill his horse. Reflexively, Shuuhei flung his wakizashi, striking the unfortunate young man in the neck. He quickly reached down and pulled the short sword free, spraying his adversary’s blood on the already reddened snow.

Seconds later, a series of deep booms rang out, followed by a strange, high-pitched whirring. ”They’re shooting at me!” Shuuhei realized. Spurring his horse on, he advanced more quickly now, knowing that as with a bow, it was more difficult to shoot a moving target with one of the new gunpowder weapons. Another volley of musket fire split the pre-dawn air, causing Shuuhei to instinctively turn toward the noise. And then he was in the air, flying backwards. ”What..?” A glance down revealed that his horse had reared up and flung him away as a result of its reaction to being speared by two enemy peasant soldiers, an instant before the ground rushed up to strike him. His armored body sank into the deep snow, forcing him to violently struggle to his feet. Suddenly, a searing pain tore into his ribs on the right side of his body. A warm, wet sensation quickly began spreading from the epicenter of the pain. The blade of a katana flashed down at him, and he barely brought his own weapon up in time to parry the stroke.

Now with enough time to assess the situation, Shuuhei looked up. His attacker was a samurai on horseback. He had been heading in the opposite direction, but now he was coming around for a second pass. This time, Shuuhei dodged the stroke altogether, diving under the blade and towards the enemy samurai, plunging his katana into the man’s exposed leg. With a yell of pain, the samurai pulled back, but it was clear he would be coming back for yet another strike. Shuuhei braced himself, tightly gripping his swords. It was time to make his move.

A white-hot fist punched through Shuuhei’s body, entering from behind and exiting his stomach. The agony was like nothing he had ever experienced. Hot blood gushed forth from the small wound on his back and the massive one on his stomach, steaming as it hit the winter air and splattered into the snow. Fragments of armor mixed with various pieces of organs from within Shuuhei’s body lay before him. The enemy samurai was still coming, sword at the ready. ”I can’t feel my legs…” he realized in horror. Glistening in the rising sun, the katana blade struck his throat and… knocked him backwards?

All of a sudden, Shuuhei was on his feet again. Almost immediately, he became acutely aware of a burning pain in the center of his chest. He clutched at it to find… ”A chain? What could possibly be happening?” His wounds seemed to have disappeared as well. This was extremely weird. Why had he not died. What was this chain? Why did it hurt so much? Shuuhei followed the length of the chain to find that it led to an armor-clad body lying facedown in the snow. ”Is that me?” he wondered. Seeing the pattern of the armor, he realized it was. The circular hole in his back, accompanied by the massive exit wound on his stomach, made it abundantly clear what had happened. Shuuhei had been shot in the back with a musket at close range, then immediately beheaded by the samurai on horseback. ”So I am dead then,” he realized, noticing his own severed head staring at him from a few feet away as if to confirm his suspicion. This was certainly not what he expected from the afterlife, though…

For the next few hours, all he could do was watch as the enemy sacked the city he had lived out his entire life in. Flames devoured the wooden gates and reduced homes to ashes. The screams of the city’s residents could be heard unbearably loud, even a mile away. Shuuhei watched as more and more of the dead were separated from their bodies and began wandering about, bound by chains similar to his, invisible to the living.

As the noise of battle began to die down, something strange happened. A loud bellow sounded out, and a strange creature walked, if that was the right word for it, across the field. It had twelve legs, dark green skin, and a skull-like mask over its face. Most peculiarly, there was a hole in the center of its chest. Before Shuuhei could even question this strange occurrence, more mask-creatures appeared, each with their own unique shape and size. One serpentine mask-creature half slithered, half floated up to one of the dead and began to eat him. Shuuhei recoiled in shock and did something he never thought he would do: began to run. Another bellow rang out, and Shuuhei noticed that one of the creatures, this one a bipedal entity vaguely resembling a mantis, had noticed him and given chase. Piercing pain shot through his back, and the next thing he knew, he was being lifted off of the ground. The creature had stabbed him with one of its barbed claws and was pulling him toward its mouth. ”This is it,” thought Shuuhei as he stared in horror into the wide, black mouth below.

As quickly as he had been grabbed by the creature, Shuuhei was falling. For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, he slammed down on his chest into the frozen ground. The claw was still embedded in his back, but something had severed it. He watched in bewilderment as the claw and insect-like arm attached to it faded out of existence, leaving behind only a wound as a reminder of the attack. Before Shuuhei now was a man in a black kimono and hakama fastened with a white obi sash and grasping the hilt of a katana in his left hand. In one swift motion, the black-clad man leapt up and dealt the mask-creature a mighty blow down the center of its face. Like the claw and arm, the creature faded away, leaving no trace behind. Then, the man turned toward Shuuhei.

“If you don’t want to run into any more creatures like that, you had better go to Soul Society quickly. You’ll be safe there,” the man said, approaching Shuuhei with his sword still drawn. “What—Soul Society? Thank you for saving me, sir, but… who are you?” Shuuhei asked. Everything he had just seen had of course left him with far more questions than answers. “I’m a Shinigami, and it’s my duty to lead the souls of dead humans to Soul Society,” explained the “Shinigami.” “But wha—” began Shuuhei, but before he could finish, the man who called himself a Shinigami touched the pommel of his sword to Shuuhei’s forehead. A blue light and a sensation of warmth washed over him, and his consciousness faded as the completed Konso sent him on his way to Soul Society.

Some time later, Shuuhei’s eyes fluttered open. The sight that met his eyes was entirely unfamiliar. This was a place he had never before seen or even could have imagined existed. “Where am I?” he asked himself out loud. He jerked bolt upright as the memory of the “Shinigami” floated back into his mind. ”Soul Society…so this is the afterlife then.” he realized. The mask-creature… he reached for his back only to find in shock that the claw-wound it had caused him was completely healed. Shuuhei knew that he had been unconscious for quite some time. As if in response to that realization, he became aware of two more feelings: thirst and hunger. But these were nothing like the desire for food and drink he had felt while alive. The thirst was a burning pain and dryness in his throat that made swallowing almost impossible, and the hunger was simply beyond imagination. It felt as if he truly was on the verge of dying from starvation.

”I need to find food…” he realized as he weakly pulled himself to his feet and got a proper look around for the first time. The sky was almost completely clear, save for some thin, wispy cirrus clouds high up in the atmosphere. The sun shone brightly almost directly overhead, meaning it was just before noon in… wherever this place was. Beneath his bare feet was a dirt road, one of many leading through the “city” he now found himself in. The buildings were all flimsily constructed of wood scraps or whatever else the builders could find to make them, and they appeared to be distributed haphazardly about the town, rather than built in the organized fashion Shuuhei had been accustomed to. ”It looks almost like a peasant village,” he observed. For the first time, Shuuhei got a proper look at himself. His samurai armor was nowhere to be seen. Instead, it was replaced by a kimono and hakama of a rough, tattered dark green cloth, held in place with a damaged, stained obi of the same color. ”What happened to me? Why are these peasant clothes?” Shuuhei wondered. Was this the “karma” his town’s Buddhist priests had been obsessed with? Had he been reincarnated as a peasant to atone for his sins? Shuuhei decided that he needed to figure out what was going on, and began to walk in what seemed to be the direction of the town’s central area.

As it would happen, Shuuhei’s conjectures about being placed in a low social class after his death were not particularly far from the truth. He would soon learn that after his death, he had been sent to Soul Society, the place most human souls make their way to after death, with few exceptions. Like the vast majority of these souls, he had ended up in Rukongai, the sprawling settlement that makes up most of Soul Society. This afterlife settlement was divided into northern, southern, eastern, and western sections, each divided into districts numbered 1 through 80 depending on their distance from Seireitei. This, of course, was the massive, shining city in which Shinigami like the one that saved Shuuhei resided. Generally, lower-numbered districts had better standards of living than high-numbered ones. The outer districts were also dangerous, with high crime, little food or other basic needs, and frequent appearances of Hollows, which as Shuuhei would learn, were the mask-creatures that had attacked him. In addition, Shinigami response times were often very high due to the distance they needed to cover. Shuuhei was in for quite a challenge over the next decades.

As luck would have it, Shuuhei had been sent to Northern Rukongai, District 80. This was the furthest district from the Seireitei and the most difficult place to live in Northern Rukongai. Life was not easy, even for those who had lived there for years, decades, even centuries. Shuuhei, on the other hand, had just arrived here not even an hour ago. Given that he had spent his entire human life as a member of a high social class, he was not exactly well-suited for survival in a place such as District 80. Stealing and other such behaviors done solely for survival were something he not only had no experience with but also viewed as dishonorable. Luckily, he did have above average situational awareness and combat skills due to having been a samurai, so staying alive would be feasible, but that was just about all he could do for now. Shuuhei had much to learn, and this segment of his existence was not going to be even remotely easy by any means.

By now, Shuuhei had reached what passed for the central plaza of District 80. Weak with hunger, he stumbled into the open space. For the first time, he saw other people, all of whom, he presumed, had died and come to this strange afterlife like him. As he had expected, this large central plaza was a bustling hub of activity. The sounds of people’s voices and of high amounts of human activity in general almost reminded him of his own town on a busy afternoon. But there was something else even more important his senses were picking up. The smell of food. A quick look in the direction from which the smell seemed to originate told him that for at least half a mile along what seemed to be this town’s main road, street vendors were preparing and selling food. An exhausted and ravenously hungry Shuuhei began limping toward the nearest wooden cart. ”Wait… I have no money,” he realized in dismay.

What to do then…? Would he have to steal? That was certainly not honorable behavior, nor was it the right thing to do. Then again, it was necessary for survival. Without food and water, it seemed, he would suffer some sort of dire consequences. This was the afterlife, so could he really die again? ”Not something I wish to find out,” he decided. He was going to have to swallow his pride and steal food. If it was necessary for his survival, he reasoned, it was no different from the times he and his fellow samurai had raided an enemy village or camp when supplies ran low. There was nothing inherently dishonorable about it. The main question was how to evade capture after stealing the food, and where to find safety in which to eat. He knew nobody here, and had no idea of how to find his way around. Additionally, he did not know whether the town employed watchmen or any other form of law enforcement. This was risky… but he was unbelievably hungry by now. ”It can’t be helped,” Shuuhei realized as he stepped forward.

As he approached, the recently dead Shuuhei noticed a group of seven young men and women around his age approaching the street vendor he had selected as his target. He immediately stopped, realizing that stealing right in front of the group was an exceptionally stupid idea. To his amazement, the group suddenly spread out, swarming the cart. Each person grabbed as much food as they could carry and dashed away into a nearby alleyway. This was Shuuhei’s chance! Mustering his last bit of energy, he sprinted in, snatched the remaining food, and ran into the same alleyway he had just watched the group disappear into. “Get back here! You better pray I don’t catch you or I really will kill you!!” he heard the enraged man yelling. The sound of footsteps close behind him informed Shuuhei that this was no empty threat. He risked a glance over his shoulder, only to find that not one but at least ten men were now pursuing him.

Up ahead, one of the members of the group from earlier seemed to notice him. “This way!” he yelled, turning down a side street towards the outer parts of District 80. Shuuhei turned to follow, but at that point, something slammed into his back, knocking him forward into the dirt. He sprang to his feet just as a fist and a foot flew past the spot where his head had been only seconds ago. Instinct and muscle memory took over, and his hands dropped to his side, where of course, no swords were kept anymore. ”I need a weapon…” he thought, the instant of distraction allowing several more flying limbs to plow into his face and body, dropping him to the ground once again. A thin stream of blood trickled down his face, dripping into the dust below. Shuuhei jumped to his feet once again and turned to his right, tearing a wooden plank out of the wall of a nearby house. Gripping it like he would a sword, he swung hard at the face of his nearest attacker. The board struck the center of the man’s face, and he felt a rewarding crunch as his assailant’s nose broke.

With a yell, he charged into the group of men, swinging the board left and right, hitting as many of them as possible… and found that he was no longer alone! The group from earlier had joined him, striking with feet and fists. One by one, the men either ran back the way they had come or fell into the dry, dusty soil unconscious. Breathing hard and barely able to stand now, Shuuhei dropped the blood-splattered plank and turned to face the group that had come to his rescue. “What’s your name?” asked the man who seemed to be the group’s leader. He was tall, easily over six feet, and strongly built, with short, light brown hair. “Yamada… Yamada Shuuhei,” he replied weakly. “Come with us… Yamada-san,” said the man. “Life isn’t easy in Rukongai, and it’ll only be harder alone,” he explained. “Thank you,” Shuuhei replied, turning to follow the group.

Eventually, they arrived at the group’s sort of “hideout.” It was a large, abandoned building with space for nearly twice as many people as were actually occupying it. Blankets, pillows, and personal belongings lay scattered across the floor, showing where each person’s personal area was located. Shuuhei was introduced to the rest of the group, which seemed to accept him as one of their own after hearing about his bravery in fighting off the angry street vendors. So began Shuuhei’s time in District 80 of Northern Rukongai.

Through his conversations with the group, Shuuhei began to learn about the new word of which he was now a part. The place he found himself in after his death and the subsequent Konso was called Rukongai. It was the place where the vast majority of human souls end up following their death. It was divided into districts numbered 1 through 80, with life being far more rough in the higher-numbered districts. Having awoken in District 80, Shuuhei was in the roughest place of all. However, this “Rukongai” was only a part of the realm known as Soul Society. Beyond it was a place known simply as “Outer Rukongai,” an extremely dangerous place consisting of mostly untamed wilds with nothing of note. Creatures called Hollows often appeared there.

Through further questioning, Shuuhei learned that these “Hollows” were the mask-creatures that had appeared shortly after his death and tried to eat him. These beings, he was shocked to learn, were once humans like him. However, they had either lived lives of regret or been eaten by other Hollows and ended up in that form. These creatures ate human souls, and most had levels of consciousness and intelligence equal to that of animals. Shuuhei was quite distressed to realize that had he not been saved by that black-clad warrior, he would have been eaten and turned into a Hollow as well. Come to think of it… who were these soldiers in black uniforms? It turned out that these were called “Shinigami.” They lived in Seireitei, another part of Soul Society with far better standards of living than any part of Rukongai. To Shuuhei, they were the “samurai class” of this strange afterlife. It was then that he made up his mind to one day become a Shinigami.

Becoming a Shinigami, of course, required one to have a significant amount of something called “Reiryoku,” or spiritual power. One sign of having this was being hungry. All spirits could be thirsty and needed to drink water, but only those with spiritual power would become hungry and need to consume actual solid food. Shuuhei was encouraged to hear this, but it soon became apparent that those with enough spiritual power to become Shinigami would likely have other signs of such latent power. Often, he was told, it would manifest itself in a time of need, meaning he would have likely seen it in the fight against the angry street vendors several days ago. Shuuhei accepted that he would probably never become a Shinigami, but he decided to at least attempt it one day. Meanwhile, he would focus on his day to day survival and helping his newfound friends as much as possible.

Days dragged on into weeks, weeks into months, and then months into years. Shuuhei led the same tedious existence in Rukongai, day in and day out, just trying to survive. The group obtained most of their water from a nearby river, usually boiling it over a fire before putting it into some large jars they had stolen at some point for storage. Food, for the few group members with spiritual power, was usually gotten through hunting or fishing, though they did make trips into town from time to time to steal food. The group also maintained a small vegetable garden. Overall, existence in Rukongai was tedious and sometimes dangerous, but overall not as bad as Shuuhei first feared it would be. Soon, he forgot all about spiritual power and becoming a Shinigami and made up his mind to accept an eternity of life in Rukongai.

Years, decades, maybe even centuries passed. One by one, the members of the group met their ends in one way or another. Some died in accidents. Others starved to death. Others, still died in fights attempting to steal food. One, disillusioned with the life he was leading there, wandered off into Outer Rukongai and was never seen or heard from again. Before long, only Shuuhei and three others remained. Loneliness and despair slowly began to creep into Shuuhei’s heart. What would he do when everyone had died off? Would he be alone in Rukongai once again? He already knew that out here in District 80, living alone was almost the same as asking for death. ”Might as well just wander off into the wilderness like Nakamura-san,” thought Shuuhei one cold, lonely morning.

That day, it just so happened, was Shuuhei’s day to procure some type of food. He headed over to the corner of the dilapidated building used by the remainder of the group for shelter and took up their crudely constructed fish spear, taking care not to get any wood splinters in his palms. Then, he made his way down a dirt path in the direction of the river. As always, he waded into the lukewarm, oily, murky water and squinted into the swirling silt beneath him, trying to make out the silhouette of a fish. Time and again, the spear dipped into the water, retracting with a decently sized fish upon the barbed spearhead. By late afternoon, he had caught enough fish for an absolute feast of a dinner. Shuuhei smiled as he lifted the straw basket, heavy with fish, in one hand, rested the spear over his shoulder with the other, and turned to walk to the building that had become home for him.

“Dinner is here!” shouted Shuuhei as he approached the run-down shack of a building. But no response reached his ears. That was strange… usually his friends would come happily running at the mention of food. ”Something’s wrong,” Shuuhei realized. He set the fish basket in the long grass at his feet and gripped the spear tightly, holding it out in front of him as he advanced toward the suspiciously wide-open door. Suddenly, a feeling of pressure filled the air, bearing down on Shuuhei’s shoulders and causing his chest to tighten up. His arms and legs suddenly felt as if they were three times their normal weight. This was called… ”Reiatsu!” But what was it from? A familiar roar assaulted Shuuhei’s ears. At that moment, the pressure let up, and Shuuhei could get a hold of himself. He sprinted forward, spear poised to throw, and entered a scene of complete disaster.

The entire room had been mostly destroyed. Beds and the dinner table were overturned and broken apart on the floor. Blood soaked into the walls and pooled on the floor. In the center of it all was a large Hollow, at least seven feet tall, with light green skin and in the shape of a gigantic lizard or maybe a crocodile. Fresh blood dripped down its mask, and the pale, dead arm of one of Shuuhei’s friends hung from its mouth. Shuuhei watched in horror as the Hollow tossed back its head, gulping down the arm whole, and then charged at him. He barely sidestepped the first charge in time, jabbing at it with the spear. To his dismay, the tip of the spear barely nicked the Hollow’s skin, drawing only a single droplet of blood. Still… he could cut it. Gripping the wooden spear even more tightly, he turned to face the Hollow’s next charge.

This one was even faster than the previous charge, and Shuuhei just barely managed to strike the creature with his spear, this time doing no damage whatsoever. A light green tail whipped into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him and sending him crashing through the wall of the house and into the warm late afternoon air. He staggered to his feet, just in time for a searing pain to punch through the entire left side of his body. A quick glance in that direction showed Shuuhei that a significant portion of his body was now in the Hollow’s mouth. ”I guess this is it…” he thought, closing his eyes and waiting for death to come, praying it would at least be painless.

”Not yet!”

The two words echoed in Shuuhei’s mind as a strange rush jolted through his body. Suddenly, the pain from his wounds faded to a dull warmth, and the fatigue all but vanished from his body. The Hollow roared in surprise and opened its jaws, dropping Shuuhei. A dark blue glow crackled to life around his body as he took up the barbed fish spear one last time. “Come then! You killed my friends, come get me too!” he heard himself yelling. The crocodilian Hollow lunged forward, though this time it somehow seemed much slower. Shuuhei plunged the spear deep into the creature’s neck and then tore it back out immediately, the barbs taking a chunk of the Hollow’s throat with them. It gurgled as it attempted to roar, its own blood flooding its lungs and flowing out over its lower jaw in a crimson waterfall. ”Not getting away,” thought Shuuhei as he flung the spear. It spun once in the air, then buried itself deep in the Hollow’s pure white mask. Shuuhei then ripped the spear away, tearing apart the upper part of the creature’s mask and head. The Hollow staggered back a single step, and then faded away. Likewise, the blue glow around Shuuhei faded, and with that, his previous pain and fatigue hit him tenfold, bowling him over like a brick wall. He was unconscious before he even hit the dust.

When Shuuhei awoke, the air was chilled, and the sky was black and filled with thousands of stars. Judging by the position of the moon, it was most likely some time after 2 AM. The first thing he noticed was hunger, just as bad as when he first arrived in Rukongai all those years ago. “I must have used up quite a lot of Reiryoku,” said Shuuhei to nobody in particular. There was nobody left to listen to him anyways. A few paces away, the basket of fish still sat in the long grass, miraculously undisturbed. He lifted the basket and gathered some wood from the ruins of the building that had once been his home, using that to light a cooking fire. As he ate, a thought came to Shuuhei that had not entered his mind in decades. ”I could become a Shinigami.” After all, something had happened while fighting that Hollow. Maybe that was a sign of some sort of latent spiritual ability, or above average Reiatsu, or something. Anyways, none of his group remained alive now except him. The only way forward was to make the long trip to Seireitei.

Shuuhei departed Northern Rukongai District 80 the next morning, taking nothing but the clothes on his back and the old fishing spear for protection. The journey, he knew, would be long and dangerous. The danger would decrease the closer he got to Seireitei, of course, but it would always be present.

As it happened, traveling from the edges of the inhabited part of Rukongai to the outer wall of the Seireitei, on foot took just over two weeks. For Shuuhei, that meant two weeks of constant travel, sleeping in the open, stealing food and water if there was no place to feasibly hunt, fish, or draw water, and of course fighting off bandits and other criminals. In the middle of his ninth day of travel, the outer wall of Seireitei first became visible. Infuriatingly, the enormous wall seemed to remain exactly the same distance away for days on end, never getting any closer. However, eight days of fighting off criminals and struggling to survive later, on the seventeenth day of his travels, Shuuhei reached the southern frontier of Northern Rukongai District 1, and thereby the outer walls of Seireitei. His long and difficult journey had come to an end, and he could finally (hopefully) begin a new chapter of his life.

Shuuhei spent the next year of his existence studying to take the entrance exam to the Shinoreijutsuin, or the Shinigami Academy. Before becoming a Shinigami and gaining a place in what was then the Gotei 13, one had to complete all of the training requirements at this school as well as attain Shikai. This was a more powerful form of a Zanpakuto, which as Shuuhei was learning, was the proper name for the katana he had seen the Shinigami wielding just after the end of his human life. For most people, this required somewhere between four and six years, though there were cases of exceptionally talented students doing so in much less time. Before he could even think about Shikai and graduating the Academy, however, Shuuhei needed to pass the exam required to even enter the school. For that, more study would be needed.

After a year of study, Shuuhei decided he had enough of a grasp of the principles of being a Shinigami to take the Academy entrance exam. He had learned about Zanpakuto, using Kido, fighting enemies like Hollows and Arrancar, and much more. He had also studied the Shinigami rank system of normal squad members, seated officers, lieutenants, and of course captains. With this knowledge in hand, Shuuhei arrived on the campus of the Academy to be administered the exam. As luck would have it, he passed the test on his first attempt with a score of eighty-five percent. This was enough to enter the Academy, but to his dismay, it did not secure him a spot in the advanced class. Rather, he would be placed in Class 2, which proceeded at a somewhat slower pace. Class 1, he had heard, mainly consisted of the children of the Soul Society’s noble families, who had spent much of their lives preparing for that entrance exam, whereas Shuuhei had only taken one year. Nonetheless, he had been admitted to the Academy and was well on his way to truly becoming a Shinigami.

The next six years of Shuuhei’s existence would be spent at the Academy. His days were spent practicing Zanjutsu, or using a sword, Kido, which referred to Shinigami spells used in battle or for other purposes, Hoho, or high-speed movement, and Hakuda, or unarmed combat.

As it happened, in his first few Zanjutsu classes, Shuuhei excelled beyond the expectations of his classmates or instructors. His mind and body seemed to remember the movements involved in using a sword from so many centuries ago, and swordsmanship came almost naturally to him. For some reason, his classes in Kido went almost as well, and he once again impressed his classmates and instructors alike during each class session. Next, however, were Hoho and Hakuda classes, taught by ex-members of what was then the Second Division and something called the “Onmitsukido.” This was basically a group of assassins, very similar to ninja in Shuuhei’s time. Possibly for this reason, he found himself somewhat suspicious of their techniques and was quite apprehensive about using or even learning them. As such, his performance in these areas was lower than the rest of his class and a source of confusion and disappointment for his instructors. How could a student be so talented at Zanjutsu and Kido but have so much trouble with his other essential skills? Common refrains from these instructors included “Yamada, focus and put in the effort!” or “Stay after class, Yamada!”

As his time at the Academy went on, Shuuhei’s Zanjutsu and Kido continued to improve, but his Shunpo remained quite slow and clumsy, and his Hakuda was simply not up to par. Around the middle of his fifth year in the Academy, his instructors in these subjects actually had to order up extra training. This proved quite difficult, as he was already working with a full class schedule, including a new class on communicating with his Zanpakuto. That year, he and his fellow students had been given Asauchi, or Zanpakuto whose names were not yet known. In that state, they had no powers and functioned as little more than a sword capable of harming spiritual beings. By the end of their time at the Academy, students were expected to learn the names of the spirits within these weapons and thus gain Shikai. Dispite all this, Shuuhei managed to fit in all of his required classes and extra training in Hoho and Hakuda, slowly approaching the proper level for a fifth-year student in those areas.

A year of meditating with his sword, trips to Earth to practice fighting Hollows, (using fake ones, of course) taking classes, and of course extra training in the subject areas in which his skills were lacking, Shuuhei’s training was coming to an end. Final exams were only a week away, and he still had to pass the true final test of the Shinigami Academy. This, of course, was attaining Shikai. Some of his classmates had already done so, learning the names of their Zanpakuto after extensive meditation. The night before his final exam, Shuuhei knew his time was running out. If he could not find out the name of the spirit within his weapon by the morning, it would be another full year before he could graduate from the Academy and join the Gotei. That night, after everyone had fallen asleep, he removed his blade from its sheath, crossed his legs, set the weapon across his lap, and closed his eyes.

Unlike the previous times he had attempted this, Shuuhei suddenly felt a sensation of falling, followed by a strange feeling as if he were just waking up after a long night’s sleep. Bright light flooded his retinas as he slowly opened his eyelids. ”Oh no! did I fall asleep? I’m going to be late for the exams!” he wondered as he leapt to his feet in panic. Wait… this most definitely was not his dorm room at the Shinoreijutsuin. He was somehow standing on the rocky shore of an alpine lake. A cool breeze rustled the tops of the pine forest that seemed to surround the lake on all sides. The sun sat still, directly overhead. It seemed that the only way forward was, well, forward, towards a peak of black rock and pure white snow straight ahead. Shuuhei walked forward, following the rocky shoreline toward the massive peak.

As he walked, something strange became apparent. It was extremely hard to breathe. Even a light walk was a strenuous effort. As it would turn out, it was a wasted effort as well. Not long passed before Shuuhei was met with impassible, sheer rock cliffs. It was blindingly obvious that there was no way to climb these massive stone structures. Looking to his left across the lake, it seemed that the same was true on the opposite side of the body of water. Reluctantly, Shuuhei turned back and began making his way to the place he first found himself upon entering this strange world. The only way to get anything done here, it seemed, was to swim across the lake. Shuuhei stepped forward into the icy water and immediately pulled his foot back in shock. The water was easily colder than anything he had ever experienced. But it was the only way to proceed. Bracing himself, he took one step into the water. Gritting his teeth in pain, he took another, and found himself up to his neck in the water instantly. His breath was sucked away at once, and his limbs immediately went numb. Still… this was what had to be done. Shuuhei took a deep breath of the thin air and then surged forth, taking his first stroke.

Nearly dead with cold and fatigue, Shuuhei pulled himself onto the opposite shore almost an hour later. In his drenched Academy uniform, he continued on across the boulder field ahead and toward the mountain’s peak. As he climbed, he noticed breathing becoming more and more difficult, and his fatigue mounting to nearly unbearable levels. After another hour of treacherous rock climbing and scrambling, Shuuhei pulled himself over the final rocky ridge to the mountain’s summit. Behind him, a sweeping view of the lake and surrounding mountain scenery stretched to the horizon. Ahead, an equally beautiful castle sat at the center of an icy pond. A bright red bridge was the only way across this frigid water. Curious and ready to be done with this strange trial, Shuuhei pushed on, fighting cold, fatigue, and hypoxia.

At the bridge’s opposite edge, Shuuhei found the golden castle gates shut tight. But as he set his palm upon the heavy doors, they began sliding open, revealing a seemingly endless and empty courtyard within. When Shuuhei entered, he nearly jumped in shock at the sight of two gigantic dragons. One appeared to be skeletal in form and crackling with what looked like blue lightning, while the other was more… alive and shined with a golden glow. “Welcome,” they said in unison. “My name is Shiryu,” the skeletal dragon said. “And I’m Jinryu,” followed the golden dragon. “And together we make up—” they began, but at that moment, a burst of thunder rumbled through the room, drowning out their words. “What?” Shuuhei asked. “Oh? You couldn’t hear our proper name?” asked Shiryu. “Then you’re not yet worthy,” said Jinryu. ”I get it… this must be my Zanpakuto… I need to find a way to hear their proper names, then,” realized Shuuhei. “Is there any way I can… become worthy?” Shuuhei asked. “Yes, child. We shall test you,” replied the dragon that called itself Shiryu.

So began the first phase of the test. Shiryu tested Shuuhei’s knowledge, asking him multiple questions very similar to those that would likely be on the Shinigami Academy exit exam the following day. To Shiryu’s enjoyment and Shuuhei’s relief, each question was answered correctly. “You seem to have the knowledge of a worthy Shinigami, and I can tell from your Reiatsu that you are strong enough to wield us properly. Very well. Our name is—” Shiryu said before suddenly being cut off. “WAIT!!” cried Jinryu. “How come you get to test the child but I don’t? And how can you say he’s ready without testing his strength?! Unbelievable!” said the spirit, beginning to crackle and buzz with golden electricity.

”He’s coming,” Shuuhei realized. His hands flew to the hilt of the Asauchi at his side, but before they could even reach it, cruel talons ripped into his chest, shredding the soft tissues and bringing forth a stream of blood. A dark red blotch slowly spread across his Academy uniform as he drew his sword, gripping the hilt tightly in both hands. On Jinryu’s next pass, Shuuhei timed his swing just right, the edge of the blade slamming into the spirit’s neck. To his astonishment, however, the blade snapped in two, leaving Jinryu completely unharmed. “See? Unworthy! It’s unfortunate but… better you die this way than against the first enemy you face with such a lack of ability,” the spirit said, opening its mouth wide and releasing a blast of golden lightning. Shuuhei screamed in agony as the bolts of electricity seared his flesh and flung him backwards, pummeling him into the wall of the courtyard. Barely conscious, Shuuhei slid down the wall, gasping. ”Not giving up.” He gripped the hilt of what remained of his weapon and ran forward, blade held high. Jinryu lowered his head and flew forward, preparing for what was sure to be the final clash.

At the exact moment his weapon met the top of Jinryu’s head, a name flashed through Shuuhei’s mind. “Kogane Raikō!!” he exclaimed. A burst of dark blue Reiatsu pushed Jinryu back, and when it faded, Shuuhei held two swords; a golden katana in his right hand and a silver wakizashi in his left. Shuuhei had finally attained Shikai.

When he next opened his eyes, Shuuhei was laying in his bed back in the dorm room at the Academy. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, indicating that it was time to rise and prepare for the day’s final exams. Touching his chest, he noticed that all of his wounds from that battle with the two spirits were somehow gone. Which reminded him… he turned to the place where he normally set his Asauchi to find it gone, replaced with a katana and wakizashi. A quick inspection revealed that these were the same weapons he had found himself holding after doing battle with Jinryu. Placing the two swords at his side, Shuuhei began the short walk to the building where the final exams would be administered. Six years of study and training, he hoped, would be about to pay off.

Shuuhei passed the Academy exit exam with flying colors. Now, it was time to apply to join a division. His top choices were what were, at the time, arguably the most distinguished divisions in what was then the Gotei 13: the First Division and the Sixth Division. The First, was of course the division led by the Captain-Commander, the almost legendary Genryusai Yamamoto, and the Sixth was usually led by a member of the powerful Kuchiki family. When all was said and done, though he received a letter of acceptance from both divisions, Shuuhei chose to join the First and serve under the Captain-Commander. Thus began his life as a full-fledged Shinigami and his time as a Gotei member.

Like any new division member, Shuuhei’s first assignments consisted mainly of basic chores and assisting higher ranking members or those who had served longer with the various administrative duties with which the First Division was tasked at that time. It was quite a tedious job, and Shuuhei often found himself bored and chose to procrastinate when it did come time to get one of these even more boring tasks done, much to the annoyance of his superiors and fellow First Division members. Of course, as he continued to serve, things gradually got better, and after his first decade of service, Shuuhei finally found himself moving on to more interesting tasks. Soon, he was being assigned to missions on Earth and elsewhere. Now this was what he had always thought being a Shinigami was like.

As the years went by, Shuuhei felt himself slowly growing stronger. He soon developed a much closer bond with his Zanpakuto spirits, allowing him to increase his abilities even further. Of course, this was only possible as a result of the rigorous training regimen he had decided to impose on himself. Fighting his ADHD and tendency to procrastinate and avoid difficult things, Shuuhei forced himself to train and hone his abilities whenever there was time. Before long, he found himself appointed to his first seated officer position. At the time, he was made the 10th Seat of the First Division. The appointment greatly motivated Shuuhei, and he stepped up his training even further.

Over the next century or so, Shuuhei steadily moved up the ranks of the First Division. His Reiatsu increased greatly, and with it, his Shinigami abilities. Promotion after promotion came over the years, from Ninth, to Eighth, then Seventh Seat, and so on. Before he knew it, one morning, he found himself being notified that he was to be promoted to the rank of Third Seat in his division the following day. Little did Shuuhei know that this would be his final promotion as a member of the Gotei. Throughout the day, he began to feel increasingly ill. At first, the sickness seemed like one caused by any other virus, causing fever, chills, fatigue, and nausea. But to Shuuhei’s horror, the sickness became more… spiritual in nature. He knew that something was horribly wrong. To make matters worse, his usually talkative Zanpakuto spirits were completely silent throughout the day. There was no question that something was seriously amiss. But what could it be? A sense of dread filled Shuuhei as he went to sleep early that night, weak with fever.

After a night of dreamless sleep, Shuuhei awoke to find the previous day’s sickness entirely gone. Even better, his Zanpakuto spirits were as talkative as usual, as if nothing had been wrong at all. Shuuhei considered asking them what had been happening yesterday, but decided against it. If everything was better now, he reasoned, then he would rather not know. He proceeded to his promotion ceremony, which took place without incident, officially elevating Shuuhei to the position of Third Seat of the First Division.

Several more years went by, and Shuuhei’s training continued as before, but with one exception. It now seemed as if something was, for lack of a better word, missing. He could not figure out what it was, but something unsettling was definitely happening. There were times, both during training and on missions, when he would inexplicably fight much more efficiently than he ever had before, but there was a strange feeling as if someone or something else was doing the fighting for him. Along with this, the same sickness he experienced the day before his promotion ceremony seemed to keep reoccurring every now and then, usually at times when he was under stress or had just finished a particularly tiring fight or training session. Still, Shuuhei kept up his training and kept fulfilling his duties as a Gotei member over the following years, but never quite managing to shake that persistent, nagging sense of unease.

Some interesting events began to occur around a century and a half after the day of Shuuhei’s promotion to Third Seat. They all began when a group of ryoka, a term applied to any unwelcome visitors to Seireitei, invaded. Shuuhei personally did not know much about why they were hear, but the rumors were that they intended to rescue Rukia Kuchiki, a Shinigami from the 13th Division scheduled to be executed for committing the crime of transferring her powers to a human. Interestingly, there were reports that one of the ryoka actually was the human who had received her powers. Shuuhei himself never came into contact with the ryoka, but his division’s lieutenant ended up being severely hurt in a short fight with one of them, a surprisingly powerful Shinigami with bright orange hair. In the ensuing chaos, a conspiracy developed that saw the captains of the Third, Fifth, and Ninth Divisions, Aizen, Ichimaru, and the blind captain Tosen commit acts of treachery and defect to Hueco Mundo. It was then that the truth of the Hogyoku and the plans of the traitors came to light.

Shuuhei did not see much action during the time between then and the conflict that would come to be known as the Winter War. Even during the Bount invasion, he was mainly out of the way and concerned with tasks not related to fighting the invaders. When the Winter War broke out, Shuuhei was one of many Shinigami deployed in the fight against Aizen and his army of Espada and other forces from Hueco Mundo. Though he was not yet powerful enough to do battle with any major enemy actors, he did engage in combat against many less-powerful Hollows and Arrancar. Even then, with each battle, something felt as if it was slipping. It was like he was losing control of something, but he could not figure out exactly what. Something was going to have to be done about this, so Shuuhei resolved to become stronger in order to push down this strange enemy within his soul.

It was at this time that he began his first venture into the possibility of training towards Bankai, the second release available to Shinigami. Captains were required to have one, and many lieutenants did as well. To attain this level of power, Shuuhei would have to manifest his Zanpakuto spirits in this world rather than travel to theirs. This much, he knew. How to cause this to happen, however, he had no idea whatsoever. First, he decided, he would need to become still stronger. Thus, in the era of relative peace following the defeat and imprisonment of Aizen, Shuuhei returned to the training regimen he had long ago implemented for himself.

This was, of course, a good plan, but it came too late to help. One day, Shuuhei was on Earth with two other Shinigami from his division. They were on a mission to deal with a reported Hollow problem in the city of San Diego, located in the state of California in the United States of America. It just so happened that there were not just a large number of regular Hollows, but a Menos Grande, better known as a Gillian. The night sky appeared to shatter before their eyes, and more Hollows poured from the pitch-black openings. These were mainly very weak, and neither Shuuhei nor the other two Shinigami had any trouble dispatching them. Still… they saw the haphazardly shaped Garganta opening and knew what would emerge. “Third Seat Yamada!” one of them began. “Let’s retreat for now, sir!” “No. You two stay back, please. I’ve got this,” Shuuhei replied. Forming an X shape with his two swords, he said “Disrupt, Kogane Raikō!” Dark blue Reiatsu flared around the swords, and a feeling of intense pressure filled the air. When it subsided, Shuuhei was gripping the curved blades of his Zanpakuto in its Shikai state.

That was when the Garganta opened fully, and the Gillian emerged into the human world, taking its first steps on Earth. Nearly a kilometer tall, the immense, deep black Hollow lumbered forward. Shuuhei lifted the right blade and channeled his Reiatsu into it, preparing to discharge a burst of electric energy at the enemy. But then, seemingly out of nowhere, a feeling of intense pain struck him. He coughed, and white liquid gushed forth from his mouth, the corners of his eyes, and even his ears. “What is this?!” he gasped, falling to his knees. “Third Seat Yamada!” he heard one of the other Shinigami yell as his vision faded to black.

When his sight returned, Shuuhei found a familiar view before him. This was the same place he had come when he learned the name of his Zanpakuto, but it was quite different. The usually clear sky was obscured by thick, dark clouds. Bolts of sinister-looking black lightning tore through the sky, followed by deep, rolling bursts of thunder. Some of these bolts struck the tops of the pine trees, setting them alight, and a furious wind whipped up, fanning the flames. The snow was gone from the mountain peak, replaced by more barren, black rock. The lake had completely dried, leaving a vast chasm in its place, so deep that the bottom was entirely out of sight. “Yo,” said a female voice behind him. Shuuhei barely had the time to turn around in shock before a foot impacted the center of his face, sending him tumbling backwards into the dark abyss where the lake had once been.

The fall seemed to last for an eternity, though it was likely only a couple minutes. Shuuhei made impact with the ground after a ten minute fall, though he landed surprisingly lightly for having fallen as far as he did. As he got to his feet, he noticed something terrifying. Shiryu and Jinryu were just ahead of him, chained to a gigantic slab of black stone. “What happened to you?!” asked Shuuhei. Before the spirits could respond, the mysterious woman from earlier appeared before him. “I put them there,” she responded, with a cruel smile on her face. “Just the same as I’ll do to you!” Without warning, something punched through both of Shuuhei’s shoulders simultaneously. Looking down in surprise, he saw two bone-white spearheads lodged there, attached to what appeared to be braided black hair. ”She can fight with her hair?” Shuuhei asked himself. The braids began to retract, pulling him steadily towards the woman. He drew his katana and hacked at one braid, to no avail. Sheathing the sword, he grabbed hold of both braids. ”This is going to hurt,” Shuuhei realized as he tore both spearheads free from his shoulders, splattering the stone beneath his feet with the first blood of the fight.

He looked back up at just the right time. An orb of black energy with a blue glow at its edges was forming at the tip of the woman’s outstretched index finger. It was very clearly a Cero! But how? The burst of energy launched itself toward Shuuhei as he drew both of his swords, barely managing to divert the blast around him. Gasping for breath, he asked “You… are you… a Hollow?” “Who the fuck knows?” she responded with a laugh, at the same time holding out her hands to each side. A pitch-black katana-like sword appeared in each one. Their handle section was a tang wrapped in cloth, the same as Shuuhei’s Shikai, but the blades were those of a normal katana. But there was no time to worry about trivial details such as this. A sonic boom sounded, and the woman appeared directly in front of Shuuhei, slashing down with both blades. A deep, X shaped gash opened up across his chest and stomach, spurting blood. Shuuhei slashed at her with his katana, but with another sonic boom, she was back where she had been a moment before attacking.

Shuuhei stumbled back, a metallic taste rising in his mouth. He gasped, and a stream of blood poured over his lower lip. He had been injured quite seriously already, and there was not even a single scratch on his attacker. “How can you be so damn weak?” she asked. “This isn’t even fun… I guess I’ll just end this now and take everything for myself,” she said with a shrug, lifting her swords again. Another sonic boom sounded and the woman surged forward, but this time Shuuhei was ready. He parried both blades with his own two swords, the metal meeting with a deafening clang. “The same thing won’t work twice!” said Shuuhei. “Disrupt, Kogane Raikō!” he shouted. But nothing happened. No flash of Reiatsu, no transformation. “Too bad,” said the woman, an instant before both blades plunged into Shuuhei’s chest, tearing through his skin and soft tissues and emerging from his back. He gasped for air, but none came as blood flowed into his lungs. His vision blurred, and he barely heard the clang of metal on stone as his swords fell from his hands.

“Don’t you see?!” asked the woman. “They can’t help you anymore! This is my world now!” she exclaimed. “Maybe if you hadn’t relied on them from the beginning of this piece of shit excuse for a fight, you wouldn’t be so fucking pathetic!” she said, gripping the handles of her blades. “No…” said Shuuhei softly. “I see now,” he said, barely audible. He raised his hand, palm facing the woman, and gasped “Hadō number 54: Haien.” A burst of bright purple flame ripped into the woman, pushing her backwards and setting much of her skin alight for a few seconds. Shuuhei reached down and grabbed the two black swords in his chest and pulled them free. Amazingly, there was no pain, and the wounds did not bleed. Dark blue Reiatsu flared around Shuuhei as he squeezed both weapons tightly, shattering them into tiny shards which soon faded entirely. The next thing he knew, both of his own swords were in his hands once again. He leapt at this strange, evil woman and stabbed both blades through the center of her chest with all his might. “Damn…” she said. “You win…” before dissolving into what seemed to be small white fragments and floating away. The stone slab and chains holding Shiryu and Jinryu vanished, freeing the two spirits. Shuuhei, meanwhile, felt his focus fading as his vision once again faded to black.