Late at night, within the 9th Division Headquarters.
Click.
Shiki Mirai locked his room door tight. Still uneasy, he leaned in and listened closely, making sure nothing strange had followed him in. Only then did he sneak over to the bed.
But he didn't lie down.
Instead, gripping the heavy wooden frame with both hands, he braced his waist and lifted the entire bed up with a grunt of effort.
Reaching for a concealed corner on the inner side, his fingers twisted an unassuming knot in the wood grain.
Clack.
A faint mechanical sound echoed out as that corner detached, revealing a hidden compartment.
With care, Shiki retrieved a thread-bound booklet from within.
On the cover, the title The Genius Boy's Solitude and Pride pulsed faintly with spiritual light. The ink on the characters shimmered like living water, endlessly shifting and flowing — alive with Reiatsu.
This was one of the sources of his power: an original manuscript imbued with resonance — handwritten using the true ability of his Zanpakutō, Tsuzuribumi Banshō.
He sat cross-legged and opened the book with reverence.
The familiar words on the pages glowed in uneven patterns — like sparse stars scattered across a night sky.
And he could hear them.
The faint emotional echoes left behind by readers as they immersed themselves in his story:
Sympathy for Sozen Aisuke's loneliness.
Longing for the path of genius.
Debates over the plot…
Shiki placed his palm gently on the page and closed his eyes.
In the next moment, the flickering light and the emotional ripples within the text merged into a warm, pure stream of Reishi — flowing smoothly through his arm and into his body.
When the final trace of energy had been absorbed, the book returned to normal — now appearing like any other well-written manuscript.
He carefully tucked it back into the hidden compartment and lowered the bed, restoring everything to its original state before sitting at his desk to reflect on the gains.
"...Sigh."
He opened his palm and stared at it with a helpless expression.
Two weeks had passed, and yet the spiritual energy gathered from his readers was still pitifully small — barely worth mentioning.
His current true Reiatsu level? Around Grade 6 — stable, but low.
That was far below real prodigies like Kuna Mashiro, who had entered the Academy with a natural Grade 4 spiritual power.
In the Soul Society, Reiryoku Grade — the amount of Reishi one could hold and control — was the core indicator of a Shinigami's potential.
For most souls, this grade was fixed the moment they entered the Soul Society.
Yes, there were rare cases of breaking past those limits — but those were so absurdly rare, it was statistically more likely to get struck in the head by gold while walking in Rukongai.
Back at the Academy, Shiki had been a completely average Grade 9. Realistically, becoming a low-tier Seated Officer would've already been his ceiling.
That was why he had spent most of his time just coasting through life.
Until he joined the 9th Division…
Until he nurtured a Zanpakutō of his very own — Tsuzuribumi Banshō.
That was its true name. That was the core of his power.
The ice and snow?
Just a disguise. A deliberately misleading false Shikai.
Tsuzuribumi Banshō's real ability wasn't elemental — it was narrative.
Whenever someone read a story personally written by Shiki using his Zanpakutō's power — and experienced strong emotional resonance — be it sadness, excitement, anger, or joy…
They would unconsciously release a trace of Reishi.
It was a natural phenomenon among Shinigami: when emotions stirred, spiritual energy bled into the air.
Tsuzuribumi Banshō's power was to capture that stray "resonance energy" born from his stories — drawing it across space, quietly collecting it within the original manuscript he had written.
Over time, it formed a personal Reishi Reservoir.
By absorbing this energy, Shiki could shatter his inherent limits and gradually elevate his spiritual power — breaking free of his fixed Grade 9 status.
That's why he wrote novels. Not just to earn sake money, but to survive.
Without growth, he'd just be another corpse the next time the Soul Society was invaded.
He stared at his palm again and sighed.
It's not that I don't want to write the next part of The Genius Boy… I just can't anymore.
Not merely because the story touched on sensitive topics like nobility or the Soul King…
The deeper issue was that writing with Tsuzuribumi Banshō meant interfering with narrative itself.
Writing about the past — events already established — cost little spiritual energy and posed no danger.
He could disguise the details: Rukongai became Meteor City. Aizen became Sozen.
But he couldn't change the essence.
The moment he tried to write Sozen's future — just a few words — it nearly drained his entire body of spiritual energy.
He had even considered "rewriting" the plot. Since the future hadn't happened yet, wasn't it fair game?
But the instant his brush touched paper with intent to do so, his Reiryoku evaporated on the spot — not a drop left — and he collapsed for an entire day.
To continue Sozen's story, he would need to reach at least Grade 3, maybe even Grade 2.
To rewrite the future?
At minimum, Grade 1. Maybe more. Maybe even a full transcendence of the limits of a Shinigami soul.
He clenched his hand into a fist.
The Genius Boy was on pause, and the "reader rewards" it could generate had dried up.
Time to start a new series.
But who should the next story be about...?
Screeeeee—
Suddenly, a sharp scraping sound — like nails against wood — pierced the quiet outside his door.
Shiki raised an eyebrow, stood up, and yanked the door open.
Sitting there at the threshold was a pitch-black cat, eyes gleaming like molten gold. Its tail flicked lazily, body relaxed in an elegant pose.
Shiki instantly put on a cheerful "surprised guest" smile.
"My, my! If it isn't our little black kitty! Here to visit Vice-Captain Kuna again?"
At the mention of "Kuna Mashiro", the cat froze for a split second.
Then, with calculated nonchalance, it stretched in a long, sensuous arc — all lazy grace and teasing charm.
Shiki, of course, knew exactly who this was.
This wasn't some stray feline.
It was none other than the eldest daughter of the Shihōin Clan, Captain of the 2nd Division, Shihōin Yoruichi.
A walking disaster.
He'd had the misfortune of encountering her back in the Academy — which was exactly why he'd been dodging her for weeks.
And now here she was, showing up at his door again…
Still, if it were anything serious, she wouldn't have come in cat form.
More likely she was just here to mess with him — maybe wait for the right moment to suddenly transform into her human form and give him a good scare.
Tch... if she really did suddenly shift into human form, would that be such a loss...?
No. Bad thought. Don't go there.
This woman was a demon in disguise. Poor Byakuya was practically traumatized from growing up with her.
Better to stay cautious.
…