"Ahem," the old man coughed, calling for silence. "Greetings to all applicants," he began. His voice was somehow amplified—everyone could hear him clearly. "I am Katashi Ikeda, Director of the Academy of Spiritual Arts." he introduced himself.
The old man was not weak. He released a faint pulse of reiatsu—just enough to cool down hotheads in the crowd and also to test for weakness. Such a mild influence didn't affect me, nor did it bother most of the people present.
"Today, we will conduct the entrance examinations for newcomers to our academy, as well as assign you to one of three classes. Future students will be divided into: Class 1—reserved for the most talented among you, those with the greatest potential. Class 2—for those who are not quite at the elite level yet, but may well reach it with time. And Class 3—for everyone else. Let me say this at once: placement in a class is not permanent. Should you excel, you may be promoted. Likewise, laziness and foolishness may earn you a demotion." He smiled faintly. Of course—now everyone had enough motivation to strive upward… or at least not fall below.
"The examination consists of three parts: Spiritual Energy Control, Spiritual Energy Volume, and Intelligence. And let me emphasize," he raised his voice, "the third test does not assess what you already know. That is what we will teach you. Do not worry—reading and writing are not required beforehand; you will learn them here. Instead, we will evaluate your reaction, logic, and quick-wittedness. Before the test begins, approach the registration desks and give your first and last name. If you do not have a last name, invent one. Otherwise, we will do it for you. Good luck, and may the Soul King guide you."
With that, he concluded his speech, and we all headed inside.
We reached the academy itself—an impressively long, multi-story building constructed in the same architectural style as the rest of Seireitei. I had been here twice before, so the similarities stood out.
There were many onlookers. Students poured out to stare at the newcomers. Their uniforms resembled the Shinigami attire, but in different colors: the girls wore white kosode with red hakama, and the boys wore the same, only with blue hakama.
Cute.
The registration line stretched quite far, but I managed to squeeze through quickly and register among the first. So after filling out all the forms, I stepped away from the crowd and settled in the shade.
There were several separate lines, and they all moved fairly quickly, yet waiting was unavoidable. I nibbled on onigiri to pass the time.
Then I heard a commotion. Not far from my tree, one guy fell right on top of another. Well, things happen.
"Hey!" someone called to me. One of the students—part of the registration staff—approached. He was tall, with the number 69 tattooed on his face and a tough look about him. "Give me your last name."
"Kuroki," I replied.
"Okay, that's it," he said, scribbling something on his tablet. "There was a little error in your form, so we had to locate you."
"Well, never mind," I scratched my head. I was sure I had spoken clearly, and they had written everything down right in front of me. Maybe something got mixed up. "Does this happen often?"
"Every time," the senior smirked. "Well, good luck with the exams." He waved goodbye and went off to find someone else.
Everything proceeded quickly, but not without incidents. Someone started a fight. Someone else couldn't understand simple instructions. And nobles—of course—demanded to be served out of order. The teachers promptly left. They were the ones who could permit exceptions, and since they weren't present, the aristocrats had no choice but to wait for their decision. And I think, they'd probably turn up only when the line was nearly over.
Rangiku once told me the Academy wasn't as strong or independent as the Gotei 13 and had to obey noble orders—yet that didn't stop the teachers from subtly infuriating arrogant students whenever possible. A small revenge. If the nobles weren't such snobs, things would go smoothly, but their pride was their own worst enemy.
After eating and drinking some water, I waited for registration to finish.
Then I moved on with the rest.
The first test was for control.
We each received a glass sphere and had to follow the teacher's instructions: first, simply ignite a light inside the sphere. Then do it again. Increase the speed. Make it flicker. Make two lights. And more. I passed this test easily. With my control, there were no particular problems.
The teacher nodded to me, signaling that the test was over.
The next exam was for volume. It took place in a completely white, empty room.
The moment I stepped inside, pressure from reiatsu began to fall on me. With every second, it grew heavier. I braced myself, tried not to give in. I absolutely did not want to kneel.
A minute passed. The pressure became monstrous—crushing me toward the ground. Breathing grew difficult. My brain felt like it was melting. My vision blurred, as if covered by a red veil.
By the end of the second minute, I was on the verge of losing consciousness.
They stopped the test.
The examiners wrote something down and allowed me to rest. They even gave me food.
They didn't reveal the results yet—everything would be announced tomorrow.
Also I wasn't the best after all, unlike I initially assumed. The red-haired guy with the strange eyebrows, who went in shortly after me, lasted four full minutes and had to be carried out. So no, I wasn't the strongest here.
An hour later, when I had recovered enough, I proceeded to the final test.
First, they gave us puzzles, each one more complex than the last. Then came questions—some of them oddly phrased. Situational problems where every word mattered, logic tests, and even some trivial questions about tastes and preferences.
But eventually, that ended as well.
By evening, they released us, instructing everyone to return tomorrow at noon. That was when they would announce the results and assign our placements.
That's great.
When I returned home, a festive dinner awaited me. No one doubted I would be accepted, so they decided to celebrate early—everything at once. After all, tomorrow I wouldn't be back until the weekend.
Wonderful. I have a feeling tomorrow will be… interesting.
***
"So, what do you say?" Katashi Ikeda asked his colleagues. Evening had already settled, and they were finishing up the day's work. "In my opinion, this girl deserves a first-class rating."
"Are you sure?" asked Gengoro Onabara. "She has excellent control and high intelligence, but her volume is insufficient."
"That can be corrected," the old man nodded. "But I want to draw your attention to her surname. Kuroki."
"What about it?" the teachers asked, puzzled.
"The fact that one of this year's genius candidates has the same surname. Look at this young man," he said, handing out folders with data to the others. "Perfect control, good strength, and an excellent mind. Volume does not necessarily mean 'best.' Look, Abarai has enormous reatsu volume for a student, but his control is poor. Kuroki has every chance of graduating early. I think the sister of such a person could catch up quite quickly. She's just a little short of the mark."
"You're too soft, Katashi-sama," the Kidō teacher smiled. "But I think you're right. She deserves a chance."
"Very well. Then first Class it is," they concluded.
But none of them noticed one small mistake…