The fifth year at Shin'ō Academy marked a turning point for the students of Shino Academy. No longer confined to the polished courtyards and theoretical drills, students were thrust into the real duties of a Shinigami. For the fifth, patrols in the outer districts of Rukongai became mandatory—supervised excursions to perform Konso on wandering spirits, monitor spiritual disturbances, and maintain order among the souls. It was meant to bridge the gap between academy theory and the brutal reality of the Gotei 13. They wouldn't venture too deep into the lawless fringes where Hollows prowled unchecked, sticking instead to the safer mid-districts where Seireitei's influence still lingered.
The evening sun draped the far edges of Rukongai in gold, its light filtering through crooked roofs and dusty alleys. A breeze carried the faint smell of smoke and baked earth. On the stone road, Akio walked in step with three of his classmates, their Academy uniforms crisp, Asauchi swords tied to their sides. Ahead of them, Instructor Taneshiro strode, his hand resting lightly on his hilt, eyes sharp despite his casual gait. Taneshiro was a seasoned unseated Shinigami from Squad 7, reassigned to academy duties after a battlefield injury. His scar across his left eye and grizzled demeanor commanded respect, but he wasn't a powerhouse—reliable, yes, but not the stuff of legends.
Their patrols started routinely enough. Three days in a week. The first few days blurred into a monotonous rhythm: walking the dirt streets of District 40, performing Konso on lost souls who lingered too long, breaking up petty squabbles among Rukongai residents, and scanning for any spikes in Reiatsu that might signal trouble. Akio played his part flawlessly—observant, efficient, but never flashy. Though his classmates were a little distant due to his display of power in the earlier years, but honestly he didn't care much about it.
"Patrolling feels… too quiet," muttered Kenshiro, a stocky boy with a buzz of unruly hair. He gripped the hilt of his Asauchi tightly, as if a Hollow might leap from the shadows any moment.
"You should be grateful," whispered Ayame, a slim girl with nervous eyes. "Quiet means no one's in danger."
Hiroto, the tallest of the three, gave a strained laugh. "Still. We've been walking hours. I thought Hollows show up in Rukongai all the time."
Akio just walked silently without talking.
Instructor Taneshiro glanced back at them. His voice was steady, practiced."Patience. Hollows don't appear just because you want them to. Most patrols end without incident, and that's a success. Don't crave danger — survive long enough and danger will find you."
Akio nodded along, his sharp blue eyes scanning the horizons. Rukongai stirred old memories—the hunger, the fear, the will to survive. But now, with his Asauchi at his side and the Captain-Commander's vow as a shield, he felt untouchable. Still he told himself not to be overconfident.
Days turned into weeks and months without incident. The group grew complacent, sharing stories around campfires at night. Kenshora's fears of failing the final exams, Hiroto's bragging about joining Squad 11, and Ayame quietly admired Akio's calm demeanor. Even Taneshiro softened, sharing tales of his early patrols. "Hollows are rare this close," he'd grunt. "But if one shows, stay back. That's my job."
Then, on a crisp autumn evening in District 42, the air shifted.
The sun dipped low, casting long shadows over the sagging rooftops. The patrol was winding down—another uneventful loop—when a tremor rippled through the ground. Akio felt it first: a crushing weight in the air, like an invisible hand pressing down. His Reiatsu stirred instinctively, shadows flickering under his skin. 'This... it's familiar.'
A low, resonant roar echoed from the alley ahead, shaking the stalls. Souls scattered, screaming. From the gloom emerged a towering silhouette—easily thirty feet tall, its white mask grinning jaggedly, eyes glowing like embers. A black cloak billowed around its elongated form, and the pressure of its Reiatsu slammed into the group like a tidal wave.
"A Hollow!" Hiroto yelped, drawing his Asauchi with trembling hands.
But Akio's blood ran cold. He recognized it instantly—the same level of monstrosity he had faced 2 years after his awakening. "No... that's a Gillian. A Menos Grande."
Kenshora froze, his face paling. "G-Gillian? But... we're not supposed to—"
Ayame backed away, her Hohō failing her as fear locked her legs. The three classmates stood paralyzed, the academy's warnings flooding back: Gillians were mid-level Menos, their Reiatsu alone enough to crush unseated Shinigami. Fifth-year students? They were lambs to the slaughter.
Taneshiro stepped forward, his scar twisting as he gripped his Zanpakutō. "Stay back! Protect the souls—get them clear!" His voice was steady, but Akio saw the sweat on his brow. Taneshiro wasn't captain-level; heck he wasn't even vice captain level, he was a fighter,yes, but this was beyond him.
The Gillian tilted its massive head, its mask cracking open as it charged a Cero—a crimson orb swelling in its maw. Taneshiro flashed forward in Shunpo, drawing his blade. "Kuzure, Tetsuō!" he roared, releasing his Shikai. The sword warped, expanding into a massive cleaver with a jagged edge, its surface rippling like molten iron. The air hummed as Reiatsu poured into it, generating faint shockwaves that cracked the ground beneath him.
Akio watched, impressed despite the danger. 'So that's a real Shikai. Offensive... heavy-hitting.' Taneshiro swung the cleaver in a wide arc, the blade generating a concussive shockwave that slammed into the Gillian's side, carving a chunk from its black cloak. Black ichor sprayed, and the Menos recoiled with a bellow. Flashy, powerful—enough to draw blood, but not to fell the beast. The Gillian swiped a massive claw, forcing Taneshiro to dodge with a Shunpo burst, his cleaver dragging furrows in the earth.
"Hiroto! Kenshiro! Ayame! Move!" Akio shouted, snapping them from their stupor. But his classmates could barely stand under the Reiatsu pressure, their knees buckling. Kenshiro whimpered, trying a weak Sai, but it fizzled harmlessly.
The Gillian fired its Cero—a beam of red destruction scorching the street. Taneshiro intercepted, swinging Tetsuō upward. The cleaver's shockwave met the beam head-on, deflecting part of it into a nearby building, which exploded in rubble. But the effort cost him; the Gillian's claw grazed his shoulder, sending him skidding back, blood soaking his robes.
'He's struggling. That Shikai's strong—offensive bursts, shockwaves that can cut chunks—but it's not enough for a Menos. If we want to survive, I have to help. Hold the gillian until a squad comes for help.' Akio's mind raced. He couldn't hold back now. Drawing his Asauchi, he channeled Ha along the edge, shadows coiling like ink. "Instructor! I'll support!"
Taneshiro glanced back, eyes wide. "Kid, no—get clear!"
But Akio was already moving. He blurred into Shunpo, appearing at the Gillian's flank. His blade slashed with Mune-propelled speed, the shadowy Reiatsu adding a disorienting veil. The cut bit into the Menos's leg, drawing a shallow wound, but the beast roared and swung, forcing Akio to Utsusemi—leaving an afterimage that shattered under the claw while he repositioned.
Taneshiro recovered, charging with another shockwave swing. "Crush!" The cleaver hammered the Gillian's mask, cracking it slightly and sending tremors through its frame. Chunks of bone-like material flew, but the Menos retaliated with a sweeping arm, slamming Taneshiro into a wall. He coughed blood but rose, his Shikai still humming. 'Impressive... he's holding, but barely.'
Akio pressed the attack, weaving Hakuda into his assault. A Toryū punch to the Gillian's knee, laced with dark threads that numbed the limb momentarily. The Menos staggered, but its Reiatsu flared, crushing Akio back like a physical force. He gritted his teeth, remembering his first Gillian encounter—Isshin's effortless kill. 'We're outmatched. This thing's tanking everything.'
The fight devolved into a desperate defense. Taneshiro's cleaver carved gashes, shockwaves blasting holes in the cloak, but the Gillian regenerated slowly, its movements sluggish yet overwhelming. Akio darted in with Senka, stabbing from behind, shadows blurring his form to evade counters. He fired a Hadō #1: Shō, the thrust pushing the Menos off-balance, buying Taneshiro time for another crushing blow. But the instructor tired—his swings slowed, blood loss taking its toll.
The classmates watched in horror, too frozen to help. Kenshiro collapsed to his knees, sobbing. Hiroto's blade shook uselessly. Ayame whispered, "We're gonna die..."
A claw nearly bisected Akio; he rolled away, shadows absorbing some impact. Taneshiro took a direct hit shielding him, his cleaver blocking but cracking under the strain. "Damn it... hold on, kids. Reinforcements... should be coming."
The Gillian charged another Cero, the orb swelling larger. Akio and Taneshiro braced, exhausted, knowing they couldn't deflect this one.
Then—a surge of Reiatsu from the east. Figures blurred into view: a squad of Shinigami, led by a man with spiky black hair and a confident grin. Kaien Shiba, Vice-Captain of Squad 13, drew his Zanpakutō. "Nejibana!" he called, releasing Shikai—a trident that swirled with water. His seated officers flanked him, blades drawn.
"Step aside!" Kaien barked, Shunpo-ing forward. His trident spun, unleashing a torrent of water that slammed the Gillian back. The Menos fired its Cero, but Kaien pierced it with a thrust, the water vortex shattering the beam. His officers joined, slashing with coordinated strikes—one binding with Bakudō, another blasting Hadō.
The Gillian thrashed, but Kaien was relentless. A final stab to the mask, water exploding inward, and the Menos dissolved into particles with a final roar.
Akio slumped, breathing hard, shadows receding. Taneshiro reverted his Shikai, leaning on his sword. "Vice-Captain Shiba... thank you."
Kaien sheathed Nejibana, waving off the thanks. "Just doing our job. You did well to hold out," he said, voice carrying both warmth and command. His eyes landed on Akio, "But next time, don't play hero. You're Academy student. Your duty is to survive, not to win impossible fights."
Akio nodded, masking his awe. 'So this is a vice-captain's power. Effortless... the gap is huge. I was almost being arrogant after winning the tournament and getting Yamamoto's support. But this incident humbled me.'
Kaien grinned. "Good instinct. Keep it up—you'll make a fine Shinigami." He turned to his team. "Clean up. Escort these souls."
Kaien studied him a heartbeat longer, as if weighing a question he did not voice. Then he turned away, barking orders to his squad to secure the district thinking, 'How the hell did the Gillian stepped inside Rukongai? It's just like the incident 5 years ago. It's like someone is deliberately sending them here.'
As the Shinigami spread out, the students huddled together, silent in their fear and awe. The sight of the Gillian would haunt them for years. But for Akio, the taste of battle lingered differently — a reminder of his weakness, and his goals.
The patrol ended, but the shadow of the Menos lingered—a stark lesson in the duties, and dangers, of a Shinigami's life.
[End of Chapter]