Southwest Seireitei

Seimei Ukitake (浮竹 清明)​

The bout was beginning to unfold—and everything went to plan. Seimei and Yuto, together, were a near seamless unit that had honed their tactics together throughout their years of mutual service and had fought Hollows of all kinds and they hadn’t yet faced a threat that could overcome them. Although their captain was certainly a foe much mightier, it didn’t change the way they would approached things. They had honed their skills and tactics together, with either being able to act as a spear or an anchor in any given battle. And in this instance, Seimei deliberately acted as the spear while Yuto acted as the anchor with the former acting as a probe, a feint, while the latter took advantage of that to assume control of the battlefield and would observe and track any opening and mistake that their captain would commit. And indeed, the first mistake that their captain made was that he swallowed Seimei’s feint whole. He likely assumed that Seimei committed to an open, direct attack without any thought or consideration behind it. An arrogant, brash action. If so, he was certainly wrong in his assessment. Their captain did tactically what he was expected to do—with Seimei attacking him, he chose to ignore the assault and he himself chose to attack Yuto who would seem as the real threat to him in this instance. But he never considered that Seimei’s assault was a mere ruse, an illusion to entertain Jushiro Izanagi’s train of thought. Seimei began to utter words in silence precisely the moment when the captains’ silhouette began to dissipate before the perceived image of himself.
​

He uttered with silence and precision beneath his breath as he began to cultivate his Reiryōku for a technique. Seimei’s spiritual perception tracked every fluctuation and movement of their captain with acute precision. And indeed the captain’s use of Shunpo was fast—but something Seimei could easily keep up with given his expertise in the area. Perhaps he was holding back, or perhaps he underestimated the skill and speed of his subordinates. The tale would soon unfold before the captain and he would find himself trapped between the duo he himself sought to challenge. Much like Yuto and Seimei having to prove whether they were worth their ranks, the same would apply to Jushiro Izanagi. Acquiring the white haori was one thing, but holding on to it and living up to and carrying the weight it presented was another. The upper lofts of the surrounding buildings of their barracks began to flock with the Shinigami of their division, spectating and watching the ensuing battle between the duo and their supervisor. The crowd didn’t keep quiet either, they cheered and chanted; and none of them cheered their captain. Perhaps that was a result of leadership, or perhaps the shinigami merely sought to cheer some of their own.
​

Could be heard chanted from the crowd as the chants grew louder and louder by the moment. Hopefully that wouldn’t play to the captains’ mind or get beneath his skin for he wasn’t in the favor of the crowd. Similarly, Seimei hoped it wouldn’t affect his brothers’ performance—but knowing him, he believed that external encouragement perhaps would give him strength and resolve beyond what he already had. But he couldn’t afford to be distracted by it. Seimei didn’t let it affect his perception nor train of thought, he remained content and focused on the task ahead as their training grounds had turned into an arena of entertainment. In the meanwhile, the captain had relocated himself behind Yuto utilizing Hohō—and apparently he hadn’t come empty handed either and threatened to utilize a handgun-like apparatus against his partner, apparently a weapon that could deploy Kidō. A handy showcase of technology, no doubt an invention that was born in the workshops of the 12th Division. However, the captains’ timing and pace in itself couldn’t be much worse—for him that is.
​

Seimei thought to himself within the recesses of his minds’ eye as his plan was beginning to realize. Had the captain kept his eyes on the position where he previously saw Seimei, he would find that the silhouette he saw earlier that tried to strike him in the head would dissipate into thin air in just a moments’ blur—it was a decoy all along. The tale tried to tell the captain that it was never the 4th ranked officer that he saw before him but a mere image, an illusion that seemingly tried to strike him but that was never the purpose of Seimei’s seemingly quick and sudden attack. Seimei had used Utsusemi (空蝉)—(”Cast-Off Cicada Shell”)—as a means to create a decoy. It is a technique where the practitioner moves at blistering speed to avoid an attack, leaving behind an afterimage so realistic it can appear to have suffered damage. It is a technique proven capable of duping even some of the best Shunpo and Sonido masters. Seimei was a former member of the Riteitai, a branch of Onmitsukidō that specializes in information relay, with the members of the branch being called Runners as of today. Therefore, him being skilled in the area of Hohō was well merited. He made sure he was a step ahead of their captain in this instance, and he ended up being at an advantageous position. Both him and Yuto, in fact, had the advantage now.
​

Seimei thought to himself as he assessed the situation in the usual observant and analytical manner as he did. The dissipation of his empty shell would concur simultaneously with the captain aiming his weapon at Yuto, not yet having performed his intended Kidō technique. As he was aiming his weapon at Yuto, the captain could feel Seimei’s spiritual presence emerging behind him—with him now being some five meters behind him, placing the captain well between Yuto and Seimei now. Between the spear and the anchor, or between a hammer and an anvil if you may. He was flanked and outmaneuvered. Seimei appeared almost in the same position as he was when he feinted his strike against the captain, however instead of his left hand being clenched into a fist his palm was wide open and pointed at the back of the captain’s head whilst an orb of purple Reiryōku was forming within his palm. His right hand now held his unsheathed Zanpakutō which he held in a relaxed manner, with the tip of the blade pointing at the ground at roughly a forty-five degree angle at his side. Seimei’s composure and expression hadn’t changed for the slightest, his emerald gaze was fixed on the back of their captain’s head whilst his spiritual perception retained focus on any shifts and fluctuations in Reiryōku. The chants from the crowd intensified as soon as Seimei appeared behind Jushiro Izanagi.
​

The chants were loud and clear—and so was the loyalty of the Shinigami of their division. They backed the underdogs, as you’d expect. As soon as Seimei appeared behind Jushiro’s position, in the same breath a few words escaped his breath.
​

He spoke with calmness and precision, and above everything with full destructive intent. He would however withhold from revealing or releasing his technique, not until Yuto would reveal his cards as well. Regardless of what their captain would choose to do, his chances of a proper counter were slim. Seimei was already somewhat aware of what his brother intended to do considering their usual drills and tactics, therefore he was ready to unveil his cards even at the last moment. Now the captain would once more be at a disadvantage—he was in the middle of an action, being outpaced by his subordinates and even outmaneuvered. That wasn’t a good look for someone wearing a haori certainly. The tension was rising ever higher and the sparring session had become as much as a spectacle for those of their division. Either way, the captain would now almost have to bear and witness what would unfold before him.​

​

The ability to react with agility was not born from raw speed alone, but from observation. Yuto’s focus had never been fixed solely on the opponent’s physical movement. He watched the subtle precursors that existed before motion even occurred; the tension of muscle, the shift in posture, and, most importantly, the behavior of spiritual energy itself. When a combatant prepared to act, their Reiryoku stirred subtly, betraying intent long before the action fully manifested.

It was precisely this that Yuto had been waiting for.

The disturbance in Captain Izanagi’s spiritual pressure was clear. Just before the Captain executed Shunpo, Yuto sensed the subtle shift in his body. He could not track the exact destination of the movement, but the direction of intent was easier to discern. The posture, the alignment of the body, and the orientation of energy revealed enough to infer the likely vector: behind him.

Yuto had positioned himself carefully from the start, arcing along the Captain’s flank rather than remaining directly behind Seimei. There had been no indication that the Rookie intended to stop moving, meaning he remained mobile throughout the exchange. His stance stayed light and balanced, weight poised on the balls of his feet. That choice now proved critical.

“With light, divide this into six.”

The moment Captain Izanagi vanished, Yuto moved, acting on the Captain’s commitment to the motion before the displacement fully carried through.

Not in panic, nor in a hurried turn. He pivoted on his lead foot, rotating smoothly just enough to bring the Captain into the edge of his vision as he emerged. The Captain had misread Yuto’s earlier posture entirely. There had never been any commitment to Zanjutsu; the blade had been drawn as readiness. From the beginning, Yuto had been compressing a Kidō spell beneath the surface of his gathered Reiryoku.

By the time Izanagi fully emerged, the spell was primed. Yuto lifted his left hand, two fingers aligned toward the space the Captain had just occupied.

“Bakudō #61… Rikujōkōrō.”

The Kidō released instantly. Six beams of golden light shot forward, converging toward the Captain’s torso as he emerged, attempting to bind him in place. Yuto had never intended to overpower the Captain. Only to complicate his response.

Without hesitation, he pushed off the ground and sprang backward along the southwest diagonal, maintaining his distance from Seimei and Izanagi. The Rikujōkōrō streaked forward as Yuto widened the gap, clearing the immediate line of engagement. His landing was light and controlled, purposeful rather than panicked. It was a familiar rhythm between them. By yielding the front for a brief instant, Yuto allowed Seimei the freedom to execute a tactic they had rehearsed more than once. Seimei surged forward from the Captain’s front-left, while Yuto’s retreat ensured Seimei’s approach remained unobstructed, keeping the Captain within the potential reach of the Rikujōkōrō. He positioned himself to observe, respond, and support without interfering with Seimei’s momentum. The maneuver was subtle but intentional. Seimei could strike without hesitation, and Yuto remained poised for whatever the Captain might do next.

​

"Bakudō #61"​

Seimei Ukitake (浮竹 清明)​

”Shit.” Was the sole and punctual thought that crossed the recesses of his mind as both his emerald eyes and spiritual perception witnessed the formation of a barrier—Millón Escudo more than likely. The emerald barrier was indeed constructed with precision and pace that didn’t truly surprise Seimei, however witnessing such execution and flawlessness at such pace did earn more than just his caution and respect. He had to be acute, fast and flawless in what he did next. As such, he was wise not to unleash his Hadō the moment prior as he knew that shooting anything without caution would likely end up failing—despite him betting on his brothers’ Rikujōkōrō succeeding due to the timing and even preparation. However, they were indeed facing a captain of the Gotei 13. A mighty Shinigami in his own right, someone who had fought in many battles against formidable foes and faced many threats throughout his life. As he witnessed the many of the rods being thwarted by the green barrier, Seimei began to act with utmost haste.
​

Escaped his lips with haste and silence before his body as if vanished from his prior position behind the captain, utilizing Shunpo once more at blitzing speed—leaving a vivid afterimage in his wake as he decided to take action. The sphere in his palm didn’t yet depart his grasp however, as he wouldn’t waste the Reiryōku he spent forming it on a useless attack. He would release it in due time. He whispered the finishing tenet just to keep his cards hidden until the last moment, although their captain would likely already know the technique at Seimei’s disposal.
​

His internal monologue raved as he flashstepped along the right side of the captain’s barrier from his perspective, circling around it at a distance of roughly five meters. His movement would leave more afterimages in its wake, truly showcasing his speed in the art of Hohō.
​

He murmured beneath his breath with promptness while he moved as he prepared yet another Kidō technique—a precautionary action. This preparation could certainly be perceived by both his brother and the captain as his Reiryōku spiked, but finely so. He wasted little spiritual strength or energy on his Kidō with his years of refined control and expertise. He had to make sure that if this sparring session, or a test, went to distance, he would have the necessary strength and stamina to keep things going. Otherwise, it’d be a rather short afternoon for both him and Yuto. He had now circled to a position nearly in front of the captain as he shot his sphere at the opening at the front of the barrier, with the distance between him and the captain being at ten meters, with Yuto being some distance behind Seimei at this point as the latter was positioning himself between their captain and his younger brother. The sphere would be thrust at the captain at blinding speeds, being capable of crossing their current distance in half a second—pacing at the captain as if a bullet. The sphere was roughly the size of a fist, but if it collided with the captain he would find him encased in fiery flames of purple color that’d incinerate him, leaving nothing but cinders in his wake. However Seimei did not bet on succeeding in his technique landing after having witnessed how efficiently their captain had constructed the horseshoe barrier that was now erected.
​

He surmised in his thoughts as he now halted his movement directly in between the line of fire of their captain and his brother. His circling and the shooting of Haien occurred between the moment when the captain cast Sai against Yuto but before the captain had even begun casting his following technique, for which he seemingly needed to move his Kidō gun in a zig-zag pattern to cast the technique. Seimei had now emerged between Yuto and Jushiro Izanagi, and that was perhaps what the latter intended. If he was baiting him to come into his line of fire, Seimei welcomed it. If this was a trap, Seimei was ready to spring it. He stood with strength and certain stillness about him. He eas calm, collected and alert simultaneously. His right foot had now become the dominant one as his right hand held the upper part of his Zanpakutō’s hilt in its grasp while his left hand held onto the lower. His chest and face, as well as his hips were turned forward and his stance was shoulder wide at best. He held the blade at the height of his torso at a slight angle, with the tip of the blade pointing forward but also up at the same time—with the tip being at the height of his head.

This was the standard Chūdan, the stance that practitioners of Kendo learn first. He emerged in this stance whilst the captain was zig-zagging his weapon into the air, preparing his Kidō. He stood there with the same confidence as ever, however the small drop of sweat that traversed down the right side of his forehead certainly told a different story. He was confident, but now that he had seen a fraction of Jushiro Izanagi’s power he was also wary. His emerald green gaze was set on the captain, monitoring his every movement and gasp of breath—all the while perceiving the movements of his Reiryōku. A smile escaped his lips as he spoke.
​

He spoke with confidence and resolve about him as he similarly monitored Yuto’s spiritual energy and its fluctuations. He stood there, in full readiness to withstand anything that’d come their way.
​

He thought to himself as the spectating ground around the barracks was no longer as cheerful as it had been. Instead, there were voices of doubt and even audible cheers for their captain.
​

Shouted one of the shinigami spectating their sparring session—sowing his voice of doubt into the crowd.​

Although Yuto Togami was, by most standards, competent in what he did, that competence didn’t come from confidence. It came from fear. He observed everything, overanalyzed even the smallest possibilities, and often reacted to outcomes that hadn’t even happened yet. His mind would race ahead, constructing worst case scenarios, all in an effort to avoid putting himself in any situation where he could be hurt, or worse, embarrassed in front of Seimei.


That was his trick.


What others might dismiss as anxiety or a coping mechanism, Yuto reframed as “training.” Instead of seeing situations as trials meant to test and potentially break him down, he treated them like controlled exercises. Predictable, manageable, and most importantly, survivable. By doing so, he could keep moving forward without ever confronting the weight of failure directly. It wasn’t bravery. It was careful avoidance disguised as discipline.


But reality doesn’t always respect self made rules.


Despite everything Yuto had done to optimize his path, his constant movement, his calculated positioning, his reliance on anticipation, there was one critical factor he had overlooked. Actual combat experience, especially against someone of a Captain’s caliber. This wasn’t a scenario he could fully simulate in his head, nor something he could safely “train” around.

In his mind. A certain scenario was formed

Even if Jushiro fired Sai, the attack did not take him instantly. Not because Yuto had outmatched him, but because Yuto had already been moving in a southwest diagonal when the technique was launched, shifting his position before it could immediately lock him in place. His habits saved him, if only for a moment. He was never still long enough to be an easy target, and his instinct to keep moving, born from his fear of being cornered, worked in his favor once again. To an outside observer, it might have even looked intentional. Tactical. Skilled.


For a brief moment, Yuto Togami appeared to be a fairly competent fighter.


And then it unraveled.

The sai was thrown with the intent of moving in a zig-zag pattern, its erratic path designed less to strike and more to unsettle, to force a reaction and break rhythm. It cut through the air unpredictably, each sharp deviation demanding attention, threatening to pull his focus apart piece by piece. This could have paralyzed him, causing him to fall flat on the ground and potentially rendering him unconscious due to the continuous movement, which would ultimately become his undoing.


But just as the scenario was about to fully play out, the atmosphere shifted.


His older brother appeared in the middle of it, sudden and unannounced, cutting through the flow of the exchange like a blade through silk. The interruption did not just halt the sai’s casting, it fractured the momentum entirely. What had been a controlled sequence turned into a pause, a reset forced upon everyone present.


He exhaled quietly, grounding himself as his thoughts began to settle. Instead of rushing back into motion, he chose restraint. His senses stretched outward, taking in everything, the subtle shifts in posture, the tones in each voice, the underlying tension in the air. It was deliberate, almost methodical, as if understanding the full scope of the training session would steady him more than any immediate action could.


“Geez... I did overestimate myself against the might of our Captain,” he murmured under his breath, the words carrying a mix of awe and self-awareness. With that, he eased into a passive stance, feet planted but relaxed, shoulders no longer coiled for engagement. He made a conscious effort to remove himself from the equation entirely. Seimei had spoken, and that alone was enough to shift his role from participant to observer. This was soon clear to be reflected on his expression, as it was shifted to more a carefree one.


If he was not meant to act, then he would learn.


His gaze sharpened, no longer chasing movement but studying it. Every detail mattered now. The Captain’s footwork, the subtle timing between motions, the way their presence influenced the space around them. He paid attention to patterns, how attacks were initiated, how they were restrained, how intent manifested before action. Even the smallest habits, tendencies to favor one side, to rely on certain cues, to channel energy in particular ways, were quietly noted and stored away.

There was no urgency in him anymore, only focus. The truth? He was more than glad to not get too involved in the training. If this was a glimpse of what the Captain was truly capable of, then rushing in blindly would have been pointless. Watching and understanding, that was where the real advantage would be built. And then, he could figure out what he had been lacking in the situation. So far, it was clear that he severely lacked the speed to even keep up with a Captain-level individual, a fact that had been noted. Everything that had just occurred in this moment would only serve to motivate him—to be careful, to avoid standing out recklessly. But for those who knew him, it only proved that he was actually competent, capable of rationalizing all the ways things could have gone wrong and preparing for them in advance.

Seimei would have known this from the fact that Yuto hadn’t fully withdrawn his sword and was instead paying close attention to how Jushiro would respond to Seimei's. This meant that he wasn’t completely giving up on the trial just yet. It showed that he intended to calculate and compare both Shinigami, observing what they were capable of and looking for any weaknesses, if there were any at all. In the end, Yuto remained an analytical individual who preferred to break things down and study them carefully.

And then he would be able to support him more effectively in the next bout, allowing Seimei to engage him in Zanjutsu and Hakuda. He couldn't perform well when he was given less informations to use and so this was the tactic, something both Seimei and Yuto uses regularly.

“I gave you the opportunity to disappoint me and that you did. Bravo. I did not think you would accomplish this so quickly”. ​

“You really do believe Yuto-san to be nothing but fodder? You’re doing him no favours by trying to protect him from me. And if you continue down this path, both of you will end up dead. If I use Kido, Zanjutsu or Hakuda, it's not designed to punish you. That inevitability will ONLY come about when it’s warranted. This is preparation!. Just now he casted a level sixty-one Bakudo spell, his execution could perhaps use some work. However, those truly helpless are not usually capable of such things. So why do you think he needs you to take his punches? And as for you, I think you should reconsider showing your hand too early. Doing so makes you predictable and as such you lose the element of surprise”. ​

“Your first action was to use a feint showing me your expertise in Hoho. You also demonstrated the ability to leave behind afterimages. Only those adept at the art can pull off such things. Bravo and well done on the flashy display”. ​

“What I need from you as you move is for you to move with purpose. Put some thought into it. How likely is something to succeed? If you’re testing the opponent then fine. However, you don’t show off your best moves when you do so. I understand that we’re not using our Shikai and the like. That would present a whole new ball game. In any case, I am denying your request to have Yuto take the back seat. In fact, you need to fall back and let him take the lead”. ​

“I want to be able to rely on you both. As such, I cannot afford to have a weak link. Seimei-san, overtime as you begin to prove yourself, I will even give you the responsibility of further adding the structure you so crave. And as for you, Yuto-san, you will surely step out of big bro’s shadows. Zanjutsu it is”. ​

Seimei Ukitake (浮竹 清明)​

Seimei’s emerald gaze was still locked onto the captain with intent and will to duel, but something behind his eyes indeed did change. After their captain had spoken, the briefest moment of silence lingered in the air but only for so long. And it was more than enough for Seimei to understand and realize more than he had prior to the beginning of their duel. Had Seimei perhaps taken more time to discern and listen to the captain’s words prior to their sparring session, he would’ve perhaps approached the entire debacle in an entirely different manner. His eyes told a tale now. Not one of frustration like when he entered the captain’s quarters. Nor defiance. But realization, understandment perhaps.
​

He thought in silence, with his train of thought being entirely absent of resistance. For all the precision in his movements, all the refinement in execution, he had indeed made a mistake. A flaw. Not one of skill, but one of intent. He tried to control and manage, and in doing so he had chosen for someone who didn’t ask for it.

He perhaps finally saw value in the words of their captain, and even a tad bit of respect which he had this far lacked. Seimei’s frustration with structure and Jushiro’s leadership wasn’t perhaps a reflection of reality—but Seimei’s inability to adapt. Something which he had been silent about and something he hadn’t trusted to his captain. He had served in the Onmitsukidō for more than two centuries, and his mind and spirit still lingered there. Although he’d been a member of the 10th Division for more than a decade, he still found his current environment alien, even repulsive sometimes. But perhaps he needed to speak about it.

Seimei had prepared a Kidō the moment prior, but seeing that their captain had chosen against unleashing his technique—he did the same, but he retained a full readiness to utilize his technique at any given moment and a careful observer could even sense that his Reiryōku seemed to charge something, slowly and in slight but powerful pulses. A casual smirk appeared across his face as his gaze seemed as if relaxed in appearance. His tension was gone, he allowed the flow to take him now instead of trying to form waves. And all the while he could argue with his captain about his tactical and technical approach and how it worked in his favor, he realized that it wasn’t worth it.

He embodied acceptance and even obedience. It showed a visible change of demeanor, and the air about him itself seemed to shift.

He was never going to apologize, nor did he even begin to try to justify himself. He showed nothing but acceptance with his annoying, trademark smirk. Even his stance seemed to ease, not out of surrender but out of adjustment in measure. His grip on his Zanpakutō didn’t loosen up, but his grasp became lighter nonetheless. In a moment's notice, as if without using a single step, he vanished and emerged anew right next to Yuto. He used Shunpō to do so, no doubt, appearing a meter away from him on his right side. It wasn’t a sign of retreat. It was a deliberate reposition. When he was the spearhead just a moment ago, he was now the one covering the flanks. He had decided to allow Yuto to have his chance now. He appeared in the same stance as he had held prior—Chūdan, but he lowered the tip of his blade ever so slightly to show that he no longer intended to initiate the attack, but to watch and observe. He followed every breath and breeze that trespassed and every single mannerism and movement that both their captain and now Yuto did.
​

Two words escaped his mouth with clarity and respect, obedience even. He still retained his usual, nearly sarcastic demeanor but it could be seen that he was serious about his business. He decided to use the opportunity as a lesson and an opportunity to learn—which is perhaps something their captain would wish him to do as well. His gaze then ever so slightly turned to Yuto, as he looked at him with some pride in his eyes.
​

He spoke with utmost sarcasm and a tone of an elder brother bullying his younger brother in the most humorous of ways. But, it was a clear tell tale. Seimei was no longer trying to control the flow of the duel. He would now be reading it, listening to its beat. A light breath left him as he began to relax and refocus all at once, as the air about him became still and calm like a pond on a windless day. His gaze, relaxed but far sharper than it was before. He recalibrated. He might have misread the first question of the test, but he didn’t intend to do the same mistake twice.

He was ready to follow and float along.​

​

The thought of studying the captain from outside the fight was a chance he would have loved to enjoy, as it would have been his first time seeing real action. But it quickly became clear that Jushiro had another plan in mind, forcing that opportunity away from him. Instead, Yuto was now being pushed forward, the very thing he himself had originally tried to prevent. A soft gulp escaped the shorter Reaper as he stepped out from his prior position, moving forward despite the shift in expectations. He adjusted into a fighting stance, his Zanpakuto held firm and steady, pointed ahead.

The environment felt strange. Or rather, it was strange how quiet Yuto had become. The whispers and chatter in the background were still there, faint but present, and yet he stood there maintaining a cold composure that painted an entirely different picture. To anyone watching, it might have looked like confidence, like he wasn’t afraid of facing the captain at all. But that wasn’t the truth. Not even close. If anyone actually paid attention, they would’ve seen it. The beads of sweat gathering across his face, the slight tension in his jaw, the way his eyes darkened as if trying to bury everything underneath.

"...Man," he muttered. "I’ll get into position now."

He gave his blade a sharp swing, tightening his grip as if grounding himself. Each motion helped him settle back into rhythm. He had just come out of a fight, and slipping back into that mindset should’ve been easy. Just a small push, just enough to get the blood moving again. He bounced lightly on his feet, trying to build that momentum, trying to convince himself he was ready.
But his thoughts didn’t stay quiet for long.

"Why did I have to fight the captain, seriously what kind of initiation is this supposed to be? I just joined the division, I haven’t even figured out where everything is yet, and suddenly I’m being dragged into some mess about fighting the captain. The captain. Do I look suicidal to you? Is there a sign on my back that says, “Please throw me into a life or death duel before I’ve even unpacked”? HELLO, did anyone even think to protest this insanity? Like, even a little? Raise a hand? File a complaint? Anything? No? Just me?

And now I have to go first too? After all that?"

His eyes flickered slightly, just enough to glance toward Seimei for a split second.

"BRO, WHY ARE YOU NOT PROTESTING, SEIMEI? You were supposed to fight him and let me prepare, but no, you just stood there, nodded, and now you’re all calm about it like this is completely normal. It’s not normal. C’MON."

Then again… His gaze lingered just a fraction longer before snapping back forward.

"Wait, no… now you’re actually stepping back? You’re really letting me do this? Just like that?"

A pause in his thoughts, brief but noticeable.

"So that’s how it is now… you’re just going to watch? Great. No pressure or anything."

His grip tightened slightly around his Zanpakuto.

"I haven’t even met half the squad yet, and now I’m apparently expected to throw hands with someone who could probably knock me out just by breathing in my direction. And you’re just standing there like, “yeah, go ahead.” This isn’t training, this is a setup, and somehow I’m the only one freaking out about it."

Still…

Another small breath escaped him.

"…if he’s actually expecting me to do this…"

His stance steadied, just a little more grounded than before.

"Then I can’t mess it up."

"Here I go, Cap—" he said, his voice steadier than his thoughts, even as his heart pounded hard in his chest. But then, as he caught a glimpse of the Captain’s exposed eye, everything shifted. Clutching his sword tightly, his whole body tensed as emotion flooded over him, tears streaming uncontrollably down his face while his eyes burned with intensity. His grip tightened on the hilt, knuckles whitening as he drew the blade up, the steel catching the light. His expression twisted between fear and determination, teeth clenched before breaking into a full, desperate yell. In one swift motion, he raised the sword over his shoulder, his voice cracking as he screamed, and then launched himself forward in a sudden rush, charging ahead with everything he had, driven by sheer will despite the panic overwhelming him.




“Hey… did his voice crack just there?” a concerned shinigami muttered, eyes fixed on the scene as the midget continued dashing toward the Captain. What should have been a gripping fight instead became difficult to watch for entirely different reasons, not because of any profound meaning or overwhelming spectacle, but because of how painfully one-sided it felt. Yuto looked less like a warrior and more like a frightened kitten trying to challenge a tiger, his effort earnest but hopelessly outmatched.

"Poor dude."

"Oi... That Captain isn't actually going to kill him right? The way the kid acts just now.."

"Nah, he did said this was just a training session.. He just need to train some more."

"Yeah... It's alright. We'll train him as much as we can later."

"I mean, after all we shouldn't expect too much from someone who just joined us right? I mean he got a good instinct when it comes to being long range combat, he's smart but when it comes to close range combat he crumbles under pressure"

Several of them agreed, more or less, on one thing: that Yuto would have to be trained severely by the members, if possible. It wasn’t even a matter of preference anymore, but a necessity made painfully clear by what they had just witnessed. His form lacked discipline, his timing was off, and his instincts, while present, were unrefined and easily overwhelmed under pressure. If he were to survive encounters like this, let alone stand his ground, he would need rigorous, hands-on training from those more experienced. Not just to sharpen his technique, but to temper his resolve, control his emotions, and turn that raw, desperate determination into something far more dangerous.​

“Are those tears? Everything is off about this guy”. ​

“I don’t believe you”. ​

“I don’t believe that is all you have to offer. I dare say you left yourself intentionally open. Or maybe you’re just that bad. I haven’t yet decided if it's genius with a bit of cunning or just a complete lack of know-how. Seimei-san should definitely hide your teddy". ​

“You can stop pretending now”. ​