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Chapter 9: Don't Fear Your Shadows I
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Akashi arrived last to class, still absent-minded, a piece of bread in his hand.
He gently took a breadcrumb and threw it to his mouth, seemingly unaware that the teacher was eyeing him with a twitching mouth.
He was aware enough, however, to walk out to the side of the nobles, regaining his focus as he stood before them, "Shin, how did you do it? The last exercise?"
Shin was speechless, clearly glimpsing the teacher's venomous gaze upon Akashi, the latter though unaware.
"..." Akashi felt a tap on his shoulder, so he turned around, finding a man almost as tall as himself standing there, "Oh... I think I lost myself there for a second?"
"A second?" The Instructor narrowed his eyes, "Name?"
"Akashi, and I apologize for my conduct," Akashi apologized, his voice calm yet gentle.
The good thing is that the academy is very lax, rarely if ever punishing students for anything. The instructor simply nodded before walking away.
The training yard buzzed with nervous energy as the new students welcomed their first Zanjutsu lesson, especially Akashi's actions which elevated the tension to a whole new level.
The morning sun bore down on the students, highlighting their mismatched postures.
At the center of the yard stood Instructor Arisaka, a towering figure with a presence as sharp as his blade.
His Zanpakuto hung at his side, its hilt seemingly worn from countless battles.
Arisaka's gaze swept over the students like a hawk surveying prey, lingering briefly on Akashi before continuing. Akashi has certainly left an impression.
"Form up!" Arisaka shouted, his voice commanding absolute obedience. The students scrambled into lines, though their movements were sloppy and uneven.
"Zanjutsu," Arisaka began, pacing before the students like a general addressing his troops, "Is not simply the art of wielding a sword."
"Zanjutsu is the art of life and death. A single strike can decide everything. Your ability to cut down your enemy without hesitation will determine whether you live or die."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the group, "Some of you come from Rukongai. Others from cushier backgrounds in Seireitei. I don't care where you're from. Out there, it doesn't matter. Only your skill with the blade matters. Only your resolve to strike matters."
Akashi somehow doubted his words for a single glance at the nobles by the side told him that his words weren't really taken seriously.
However, something did resonate with him, the resolve to strike. It was the one thing he had in abundance.
He had learned long ago that hesitation meant death, hesitation is defeat, that mercy was weakness, and that every fight ended faster if the other person never had a chance to fight back.
"Pick up a bokken," Arisaka commanded, gesturing to the racks. The students rushed to comply.
Akashi grabbed one with practiced ease, testing its weight. It was lighter and more balanced than the makeshift weapons he had used in Rukongai, but it was certainly not bad.
Akashi's grip was natural, his body relaxed but poised. He had obviously wielded weapons far cruder than these bokken, often in the chaos of blood-soaked alleys and moonlit ambushes.
Hell, in the hellish place that is Rukongai's outer Districts, he'd had to kill people with small pieces of wood, forks, nails, basically everything that could make a gash.
"This is Seigan no Kamae," Arisaka said, demonstrating the standard stance.
He stood tall, his bokken held firmly in both hands, its tip pointed directly at an invisible opponent.
"From here, you control the engagement. Your movements are grounded. Your attacks flow naturally. Master this, and you master the first step of Zanjutsu."
The students mimicked the stance, their efforts awkward and uneven. Akashi adjusted his posture instinctively, grounding his feet and lowering his center of gravity. The stance felt foreign but functional, and he adapted quickly.
"Now, footwork," Arisaka continued. "Zanjutsu isn't just about swinging a sword. It's about movement. Step forward. Step back. Keep your balance at all times."
Akashi followed the drills, his movements fluid. Unlike some, who stumbled and hesitated, he adapted quickly.
While his form lacked polish, it was effective, his balance honed through countless life-or-death struggles.
Akashi never learned any stance or technique, he simply killed. The fastest way to kill is the skill he learned.
He wasn't that talented. Still, he survived in the darkness of Rukongai, and that should amount to something, even if the largest reason he survived was the Voices.
"Strikes are the essence of Zanjutsu," Arisaka declared, holding his bokken aloft, "A wild swing is useless. Every cut must have purpose. Every blow must aim to end the fight."
He demonstrated a series of strikes: overhead, diagonal, horizontal. His movements were precise and deliberate, the bokken slicing through the air with authority.
"Your turn!" He said aloud, stepping back to observe.
The students lined up, practicing the strikes in unison. The yard echoed with the sharp sound of wooden swords slicing the air.
Akashi's strikes were not very refined, but they were devastatingly direct as if he meant to kill.
Arisaka stopped behind Akashi, watching intently, "Your strikes are cruel," He said, his voice low enough that only Akashi could hear, "But they lack refinement. Raw power is dangerous, but without control, it's wasteful."
Akashi nodded, tempering his aggression, sometimes glancing sideways at the others, trying to learn something from the nobles and those who came from Rukongain.
Akashi was trying to mimic the nobles' elegant and controlled swings but also seeking to keep his lethal touch.
"Enough drills!" Arisaka announced, "Let's see how you handle an opponent!"
The students were paired off, each duo given a space in the yard. Akashi's opponent was a tall, wiry man with nervous energy radiating off him. His grip on the bokken was tight; too tight.
"Begin!" Arisaka yelled.
The man lunged first, his attack sloppy but aggressive.
'I can kill him,' Akashi determined, his wide inky eyes, tracing his movement as he sidestepped effortlessly, his bokken already swinging toward the boy's neck.
The blow landed with a loud crack, sending the boy stumbling back in a painful daze.
Akashi didn't stop, too focused. He closed the distance in an instant, his bokken poised for a finishing strike.
Only Arisaka's sharp appeared by him, and before he realized it, his bokken was absent from his hands, "Enough!"
The boy fell to the ground, clutching his neck, his face pale. Akashi stepped back, his focused expression returning to calm.
Arisaka studied Akashi before saying, "You aren't in control. You lose yourself too easily. That's no behavior of a swordsman," He said.
"Remember this; we're training, not slaughtering. Channel that instinct, but learn to temper it."
"Understood, teacher," Akashi nodded, his eyes brightening in seeming understanding before he turned his attention to the man he sparred, extending his hand, "I'm sorry, are you okay?"
"Yea... Yeah, I'm good," The man took his hand, allowing Akashi to help him stand.
As the sparring matches ended, Arisaka gathered the students in a circle, "Zanjutsu is not just about swinging a sword," He said.
"It's about understanding what it means to carry one. A blade is not just a tool; it's a responsibility."
"When you draw your sword, you must do so with intent. Hesitate, and you die. Strike without purpose, and you are no better than a beast!"
"Now, go back to training! I want to see overheads, diagonals, horizontals. Thousand of each strike! You do not rest! You strike!!"
It's only today that the students would realize what hell is as Arisaka pushed them way beyond their limit to the point that he simply broke many.
Even when they finish their sets of strikes, he forces them to start all over again, swing and swing till their arms no longer work.
You can only stop when your arm fails you, and Arisaka knows when someone is pretending though he didn't push the nobles as much.
By the end of the day, none could remain standing, haggard on the ground, desperate for a breath.
Even, some of the students were already unconscious, "Awaken!!" Only to be shaken into awakening by a deafening shout from Arisaka.
"Had some rest? Fret not. This is only the beginning. Every session will be like this. No, it will only become harder and harder!"
"What? Did you believe that you could just come here and become a Shinigami!? No, you have to work for it!"
Arisaka coldly glanced at the pale look on most students' faces on continued, "My next session is the day after tomorrow... You have only until then to quit. Now, walk yourself out!"
Their body trembled, legs shaking and arms quivering, sweating a river as they walked a slow step, to an even slower step.
Akashi was the same. No, he was worse. It's exactly because he worked harder that he suffered more, leaving him in a daze as if he were about to faint.
Akashi, however, rarely if ever faints. The Voices make sure he doesn't.
He walked, still having enough reason to catch a few seemingly senior students laughing their asses off as they watched them stumbled their way back.
There seemed to be many, assembled far to the side as if they knew this was going to happen.
'I see... They're trying to weed out the weak-willed. That's why they do not give us our Asauchi directly. Only those who survive can get their Asauchi... Ughh, my mind hurts.'
Akashi collapsed the moment he reached his room. There was no dinner for him today, way too tired to even muster the strength to eat.