Chapter 27: Kill the Fist and the Ghost

Yano Masahiko barely flinched at the surprising revelation before him. Instead, he moved toward Makoto Ito in an instant, his sharp eyes scanning the young man with curiosity and calculation. He had to see for himself just who this so-called genius with fifth-class spiritual power was.

"Your name is Makoto Ito?" Yano Masahiko asked, his tone laced with polite inquiry, yet there was an undeniable authority behind it.

He held a slim file in his hands, a single sheet of paper containing minimal details about Ito. Compared to the thick dossiers that usually accompanied exceptional talents, this file was almost an insult. Nevertheless, it intrigued him. He looked up, studying Ito with a kind expression, before reaching out to pat the young man's shoulder.

"You're quite the remarkable young man! The future of the Soul Society depends on the youth, and I must say, you are one of its most promising prospects."

His words were smooth, a mixture of praise and subtle manipulation. Ito, however, remained passive, his expression unreadable. He had experienced enough in his past life to recognize the underlying motives behind flattery. Yano Masahiko wasn't just offering compliments—he was setting the stage for something larger.

True to expectation, Yano's tone soon shifted. "Makoto Ito, have you considered your future after graduation? If not, allow me to offer you an opportunity you won't want to miss."

He paused for dramatic effect before continuing, "The Sixth Division is the pride of the Gotei 13, responsible for upholding order among the nobility. Nearly half of our ranks belong to noble families, and we maintain close ties with the Central 46 Chambers. With your talent, joining the Sixth Division would secure your future."

Yano leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "And, should you accept, I would personally see to it that you marry into my clan. A noble name, status, influence—all within your reach. This is the fastest way to change your destiny."

The offer was not surprising. The Sixth Division, also known as the Noble Guard, was deeply entangled in the politics of the Central 46. They maintained power and influence in ways far beyond mere military duties. For a civilian from Rukongai, such an offer was an undeniable golden ticket.

But Makoto Ito was no ordinary civilian.

He was a time traveler, one who had already foreseen the looming destruction of the Central 46. He knew that in the near future, Aizen would wipe them out in one decisive stroke. To join the Sixth Division now, to bind himself to these people, would be akin to walking into a death trap.

Still, Ito knew better than to outright refuse.

"Mr. Yano, I am honored by your offer. However, I have only passed the spiritual pressure assessment. The remaining exams still stand before me. I would not want to get ahead of myself or disappoint such high expectations," Ito replied, his voice filled with feigned humility and nervousness.

Yano chuckled, his keen eyes assessing the young man in front of him. "Hahaha, you underestimate yourself! With your spiritual pressure alone, even if you were to score zero in the remaining assessments, the academy would still accept you!"

He waved dismissively, his confidence unwavering. "Think on my offer, young Ito. The doors of the Sixth Division are always open to you. When you've made up your mind, come find me. But for now, go on—continue your examination."

Makoto Ito bowed respectfully before heading toward the next assessment. As he walked away, Yano Masahiko watched with a knowing smile. He had not missed the subtle refusal in Ito's words. But he did not seem concerned. Time, he believed, would guide this young genius toward the right decision. After all, wasn't it natural for those of lesser birth to seek a better future? Ito would come around.

But Makoto Ito was no ordinary recruit, and Yano's expectations were nothing more than wishful thinking.

Stepping through an ornate wooden door painted in deep red lacquer, Ito found himself in a long corridor lined with intricate carvings of ancient battles and warriors. The air was thick with the weight of history, the echoes of past hopefuls who had walked these halls before him. At the end of the corridor stood four rooms, each marked with different test categories.

Without hesitation, Ito entered the first room.

The space was expansive, designed for combat testing. The walls were lined with protective gear, and various weapons hung neatly in racks. The room smelled of polished wood and sweat, a testament to the countless battles fought within. In one corner, a young man slouched lazily on a stool, yawning and rubbing his eyes. His disheveled uniform suggested boredom rather than authority.

The young man straightened slightly as he noticed Ito's entrance, his expression shifting from apathy to mild interest.

"Ah, finally, someone worth testing," he muttered. "Name's Shuya. I'll be your examiner. Your task is simple—knock me down."

He remained seated, arms crossed, exuding confidence. "Go ahead. Whenever you're ready."

Ito remained still, observing his opponent. Was this arrogance or sheer skill? Shuya had not even bothered to stand up.

Seeing Ito's hesitation, Shuya smirked and beckoned with a lazy hand. "What? Scared? Come on, hit me!"

Ito sighed inwardly. "Fine."

Without another word, he lunged forward, his fist aimed directly at Shuya's face.

Though he did not use Shunpo, his speed was still formidable, enhanced by his fifth-level spiritual pressure. Within a fraction of a second, he closed the distance, his strike moving like a blur.

Shuya's eyes widened, realizing—far too late—that he had severely underestimated this candidate.

"Wait, this isn't—"

Before he could finish, Ito's punch connected squarely with his face.

A loud "BANG!" echoed through the room as Shuya was sent flying backward, his nose instantly bleeding. He crashed into the wooden wall behind him with enough force to leave a dent. His stool clattered to the ground, rolling to a stop.

For a moment, there was silence.

Ito exhaled, flexing his fingers. "Oops."

He had held back. If he had used his full strength, Shuya wouldn't have just hit the wall—he'd have gone straight through it.

Groaning, Shuya peeled himself from the indentation in the wood, a mixture of shock and pain on his face. "What the hell?! That was way stronger than I expected!"

Ito scratched the back of his head. "You told me to hit you."

Shuya wiped the blood from his nose, wincing. "Yeah, but I didn't think you'd actually do it that hard. Damn, what kind of monster are you?"

Ito shrugged. "Just a guy trying to pass an exam."

Despite the pain, a grin crept onto Shuya's face. "Heh. I like you. Let's see how you do in the next round."

Makoto Ito smiled. If this was just the first test, things were about to get interesting.

Makoto Ito studied the man before him, gauging his level of strength. Compared to the giant hollow he had previously defeated back in his own district, this opponent didn't seem nearly as formidable. It almost felt underwhelming.

"If you don't have real strength, why bother pretending to be a big-tailed wolf?" Ito muttered under his breath.

Shuya, still covering his bloodied nose, trembled slightly as he signed off on the assessment form with reluctant acceptance.

"Makoto Ito, score: 100 points in hand-to-hand combat!"

Without lingering, Ito exited the first examination room and proceeded to the next.

The second room was bustling with activity. Unlike the previous examination chamber, which had been largely empty, this one was filled with candidates waiting in line for their turn. It was designed like a traditional dojo, spacious and orderly, but with one notable difference—along the walls stood multiple wooden racks filled with practice swords.

It was immediately evident that this was the examination area for one of the four core combat disciplines of the Shinigami: Zanjutsu—the art of the sword.

As Ito observed the proceedings, his gaze fell upon the current examinee on the field—a small yet fierce blonde girl. Despite her youthful appearance, she carried an air of determination. With sharp, focused movements, she engaged the examiner. However, it was clear she was outmatched.

"Da-da-da-da!"

In mere seconds, the young girl was knocked away, skidding across the dojo floor before stopping ungracefully. The examiner, a composed and authoritative figure, wasted no time recording the result on his test sheet.

"Matsumoto Rangiku, score: 70 points in Zanjutsu."

Makoto Ito's eyes slightly widened. "Matsumoto Rangiku…?" The name struck a chord. He recognized her from the future—she would one day serve as the Lieutenant of the Tenth Division under Captain Hitsugaya. However, for now, she was just a promising candidate, still in the early stages of her journey.

Shifting his focus, Ito studied the examiner. A tall man with narrow eyes and a large, gleaming bald head stood at the center of the room, wielding a wooden sword with a relaxed confidence. Recognition dawned upon him immediately.

"Madarame Ikkaku…" Ito mused quietly. "The third seat of the Eleventh Division. No wonder the candidates are struggling."

The next few assessments unfolded quickly. Four more candidates stepped forward, each one meeting a similar fate. Three of them were struck down instantly, barely managing to react before they were disarmed. Only one managed to withstand a single blow, though it was clear he was still no match for Ikkaku's superior technique.

Despite their struggles, Ikkaku never gave anyone a failing grade. The lowest score he awarded was 60 points, ensuring that all participants passed, even if just barely. Ito took note of this pattern.

Finally, it was the turn of a familiar face—Hisagi Shūhei.

The young candidate stepped forward with a composed demeanor, his hands gripping the wooden sword with steady confidence. Bowing respectfully to Ikkaku, he introduced himself.

"Candidate Hisagi Shūhei, I am ready for the test, examiner. Please, proceed."

Ikkaku chuckled, his lips curling into a sly grin. "You talk too much, kid. Just get on with it!"

With no further hesitation, Hisagi advanced, raising his wooden sword high and bringing it down with a strong, calculated strike.

Ikkaku's response was effortless. With just a slight movement of his arm, he blocked the attack, sending Hisagi stumbling backward. The force of the impact sent a numbing sensation up Hisagi's arms, nearly causing him to drop his weapon.

"Hmm?" Ikkaku's grin widened. "Interesting."

Unlike the others before him, Hisagi did not fall immediately. Though shaken, he held onto his wooden sword, determination gleaming in his eyes.

Recognizing the potential in his opponent, Ikkaku decided to test him further. He engaged Hisagi in a series of quick clashes, each blow executed with more intensity than the last. Hisagi held his ground for four exchanges before he was finally overpowered, forced to retreat as Ikkaku's strike sent him reeling across the floor.

"Hisagi Shūhei, score: 80 points in Zanjutsu."

Ikkaku nodded approvingly at Hisagi before adding, "Hey, kid, you've got guts. You should join the Eleventh Division after graduation. You'd fit right in."

Hisagi hesitated for a brief moment. A flicker of conflict crossed his face before he straightened his posture and responded firmly, "Thank you, examiner, but I have already decided—I will join the Ninth Division."

Ikkaku clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Tsk. Your loss."

With that, he moved on to the next candidate.

Makoto Ito had been observing closely, taking mental notes of the process. The grading system seemed lenient—so far, no one had received less than 60 points. It was clear that as long as a candidate demonstrated basic proficiency, they would be given a passing grade.

Now, it was his turn to step forward.

Steeling himself, Ito took a deep breath and gripped the wooden sword provided to him. The moment of truth had arrived.

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