Chapter 31 : District 80

O Lord Lander, mask of flesh and blood, everything that soars high on wings—humanity itself! Truth and restraint, the great wall of dreams, I know not, but I shall stand firm!

"Way of Destruction 33: Blue Fire, Crash Down!"

In the Soul Society, within the martial arts training ground of Shin'ō Spiritual Arts Academy, Makoto Ito stood poised, his gaze locked onto the dummy before him. A brilliant light blue flame surged from his palm—a high-concentration spirit energy attack unleashed through the full incantation of Blue Fire, Crash Down!

"Boom!"

The spiritual flames engulfed the training dummy in an instant, reducing it to smoldering cinders. The force of the blast cratered the ground around it, sending embers and debris scattering across the training field.

The instructor overseeing the Kido training swallowed hard, eyes wide with shock.

"This kid... he's way too powerful!" he thought. But regaining his composure, he cleared his throat and announced solemnly, "Makoto Ito, your mid-level Kido performance is outstanding!" His voice held an undeniable note of admiration.

Makoto Ito exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "Was that too much?" he muttered to himself. He had intentionally restrained his spiritual pressure despite using the full chant. Yet, even with that control, the so-called reinforced dummy from the Technology Development Bureau had been utterly destroyed.

"Is that really Makoto-senpai? His swordsmanship is already impressive, but I didn't expect his Kido skills to be on this level too!" Hisagi Shūhei exclaimed, rushing over with amazement in his eyes.

"Brother Ito, you're incredible! I thought I had some talent as a Shinigami, but now I feel like I'm nowhere near your level!" Hisagi admitted with a wry grin.

Beside him, a lively young girl with golden hair and striking blue eyes—Matsumoto Rangiku—nodded eagerly. "You're so strong! I was feeling pretty confident, but now..." she pouted playfully.

Makoto chuckled and ruffled both of their heads. "You two are great on your own right. Keep pushing yourselves, and you'll go far!"

Hearing his encouragement, Rangiku and Hisagi exchanged determined glances. "We'll do our best!" they declared in unison before heading off to take their own Kido proficiency tests.

As Makoto watched them leave, he stretched lazily, his eyes drifting toward the shadows beyond the training field. A faint smirk crossed his lips.

"Oh? You noticed me already? What monstrous spiritual perception..."

In the far corner outside the training grounds, a white-haired boy with a fox-like smile—Ichimaru Gin—had been quietly observing from a distance. Realizing he'd been detected, he grinned slyly before vanishing from sight.

It had been five months since Makoto Ito had joined the Shin'ō Spiritual Arts Academy.

Within the first month, he, Rangiku, and Hisagi had already skipped to the second-year curriculum. Now, just a few months later, they had advanced to the third-year level, studying alongside students who had been at the academy for over three years. Naturally, this rapid progression had forged a strong bond between the trio.

"Brother Ito! There's a hot pot place in the 3rd District of South Rukongai that's supposed to be amazing! My scholarship funds just came through—let's go celebrate!" Rangiku beamed, practically bouncing with excitement after class.

Hisagi nodded eagerly. "Yeah, my treat this time! You in?"

Makoto smiled but shook his head. "Sounds tempting, but I've got something to take care of. Rain check? My treat next time."

Disappointed but understanding, Rangiku pouted before linking arms with Hisagi. "Fine, but don't forget! Let's go, Hisagi!"

As his friends left, Makoto turned and made his way toward the 80th District of Rukongai—the most lawless and dangerous part of the Soul Society.

The moment he entered the slums, the stench of decay and filth assaulted his senses. The narrow, dirty streets overflowed with waste, and crude shelters lined the alleyways. He covered his nose, intending to move through quickly.

"Oi, kid."

A ragged figure emerged from the shadows—a gaunt man with sunken eyes and deep dark circles beneath them. He held a battered dagger in his trembling hands, its blade nicked and rusted.

"Hand over everything. Your valuables, your food... and that clean uniform of yours. That fabric alone is worth a fortune."

Makoto exhaled slowly, his golden eyes calm as he stared down the desperate man.

"Oh? Is that how this is going to go?"

Makoto's expression shifted from amusement to mild disappointment as he took on the half-starved man before him. It was almost comical—this fool didn't even recognize the uniform of the Shin'ō Spiritual Arts Academy. Worse still, he was trying to rob a future Shinigami.

Without a word, Makoto released a mere fraction of his spiritual pressure.

The effect was immediate. The man's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed unconscious, his frail body unable to withstand the sheer weight of Makoto's presence.

Shaking his head, Makoto stepped over the fallen man and continued on his way. Someone this weak wasn't even worth killing—just as he wouldn't bother crushing ants beneath his feet.

This wasn't his first time in these parts, and every visit was the same. The last districts of Rukongai lacked even the most basic necessities—clean water was a rarity, and the spiritual energy in the air was pitifully weak. Meanwhile, the so-called nobles of Seireitei hoarded over 80% of the Soul Society's resources, enjoying the highest spiritual concentrations and the most pristine living conditions.

Now, Makoto could somewhat understand Aizen and Tōsen's ideology.

"Where there's injustice, there will always be resistance."

After walking through the barren streets, Makoto finally arrived at his destination—an abandoned wasteland. Two figures clad in ragged clothing awaited him. One was a broad-shouldered man with narrow eyes and a gleaming bald head, while the other had smooth, medium-length hair that partially covered his right eye, adorned with feather decorations and a neck guard.

It was Madarame Ikkaku and Ayasegawa Yumichika.

"You're late again, Ito!" Yumichika yawned, running a hand through his hair.

"My apologies, senior. I ran into some unexpected delays on the way," Makoto replied with a casual smile.

"Enough chit-chat. Let's get started!" Ikkaku, impatient as ever, tossed a wooden practice sword to Makoto before unsheathing his own blade, a gleeful grin on his face.

Since Makoto hadn't officially received his Asauchi yet, Ikkaku had borrowed a spare from his Eleventh Division comrades for these sparring matches. Though technically against Seireitei's regulations, neither of them cared. The thrill of battle was all that mattered.

Thus, their duels were always held in the secluded outskirts of Rukongai, far from prying eyes.

With a flicker of excitement in his golden gaze, Makoto caught the sword and readied himself. The fight was on.

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