[Four hours later]
"This is a scam. The afterlife is a scam, the system is a scam, and my life is a scam," I groaned, my face smushed directly against the rough wood of my crate desk.
Four hours. I had been sitting in this sweltering, dusty wooden box for four solid hours. The initial adrenaline of being thrown into another universe had completely worn off, replaced by the crushing boredom of running a failing small business.
I picked up a pebble from the floor and flicked it at the wall. It bounced off with a pathetic thwack.
"Not a single customer," I complained to a spider weaving a web in the corner. "Not even a stray dog wanting its bad vibes cleansed. I'm going to starve. I'm going to be the first person in the Soul Society to die of a bad business model."
Knock. Knock.
I froze. My head snapped up from the crate.
I stared at the squeaky sliding door. Did... did someone just knock? In the slums? Who knocks on a broken shed in the Rukongai?
I quickly sat up straight, frantically dusting off my grey suit and adjusting my pink tie. I cleared my throat, plastered on my million-dollar, entirely fraudulent smile, and walked over to the door. I slid it open, wincing at the loud SKREEEECH the wood made.
"Welcome to the Spiritual Consultation—"
The words died in my throat.
Standing in the doorway was a young woman. She looked to be around my age, wearing the white and red uniform of the Shinigami Academy. She had soft brown hair neatly tied back, a pair of thick square glasses framing mild, intelligent brown eyes, and a gentle, unassuming smile.
My brain completely short-circuited.
Brown hair. Glasses. That polite smile. Shinigami Academy uniform. Female.
Oh my god, my internal voice shrieked, sprinting around my skull while the alarm bells blared. That's Sosuke Aizen. The main villain. The mastermind. The one who stabs everyone and tries to become God! And she's a girl! Why is she at my door?! I've been open for four hours! How did I attract the final boss on day one?!
My mind raced. I couldn't mess this up. If I did a bad job and pissed her off, she might just erase me. But worse than that—if I somehow altered the timeline too much and ruined her villain arc, Ichigo Kurosaki might never be born.
I needed Ichigo to be born! The System explicitly stated I gained massive stat bonuses and rewards for building professional relationships with incredibly strong or important people. Ichigo was the main character; he was going to be my ultimate cash cow and EXP farm! I needed him to walk through my doors in a few decades!
And Aizen? Aizen was easily top five strongest in this entire universe. The System rewards for successfully running a business transaction with her would be astronomical. I had to secure this client.
"Hello," she said, her voice smooth and polite. "I saw your sign outside. I must admit, a 'Spiritual Consultation Office' in this district is quite unusual."
Don't panic. Be Reigen. You are a master of business. Fake it.
"Ah, yes!" I beamed, stepping aside and making a grand, sweeping gesture toward my incredibly pathetic wooden crate and buckets. "Welcome, welcome! Please, step inside! I am Master Sōji Tenkoshi. I go where the spirits guide me, and today, they guided me to help the hardworking souls of this district!"
She stepped inside, looking around the barren room with mild amusement. "I see. You have a very... minimalist approach."
"It keeps the spiritual energy pure," I lied smoothly, without missing a beat. "Clutter blocks the flow of the cosmos."
She chuckled softly, stepping over to the charcoal sign I had dragged inside. She scanned the list of services. "Hollow removal, life coaching... and premium deep-tissue massage? The pricing is actually quite fair compared to the apothecaries in the Seireitei."
"I am a man of the people," I said, placing a hand on my chest.
"Well," Aizen sighed, reaching up to massage the back of her own neck. "Academy training has been incredibly stiff lately. The exercises leave my shoulders in agony. I think I'll try the premium massage."
"An excellent choice!" I said, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Right this way. Please, lie down on the table."
I pointed to a slightly elevated, relatively flat wooden board I had dragged in earlier. She nodded, paid the initial fee upfront, and elegantly lay down on her stomach, resting her chin on her crossed arms, her back facing me.
I stood over her, taking a deep breath. Alright, System. You said I had unparalleled massage skills. Don't fail me now. Give me those sweet, sweet VIP EXP points.
I reached into my pocket.
Toss.
"Huh?" Aizen mumbled, turning her head slightly. "Did you just throw... salt on me?"
"Salt Splash!" I declared confidently. "To cleanse the bad spiritual residue clinging to your academy uniform! Now, relax your muscles."
Before she could question why I was seasoning her like a piece of salmon, I placed my hands firmly on her shoulders.
The moment my thumbs dug into her tense muscles, it was like a superpower activated. My hands moved entirely on their own, finding the exact knots of tension with laser precision. I pushed down, applying the perfect amount of pressure, kneading the stress right out of her fibers.
Aizen gasped. Her entire body jolted, and then immediately melted into the wooden board.
I leaned down, bringing my face near her ear to keep the professional guru persona going. "How is the spiritual alignment feeling, Miss?" I whispered smoothly.
"I—ah—" she stammered, completely losing her composed, mastermind facade. She stifled a series of soft moans into her arms, her fingers curling against the wood. "Th-that is... incredibly effective. Heavens, my shoulders..."
"You carry the weight of the world on them," I said, entirely bullshitting her, though knowing her future, it was ironically true.
I worked my way down her back, pressing my palms along her spine, erasing weeks of grueling academy training in minutes. She was practically a puddle of jelly at this point, letting out tiny, shaky sighs of relief.
As I reached her lower back, I stopped. I lifted my hands, skipped a very specific section of her lower half, and moved directly down to her calves, kneading the muscles there.
"Mmm..." Aizen murmured, her voice hazy with absolute relaxation. "Master Sōji... you missed a spot. My lower back..."
"Ah, the areas I skipped are perfectly fine," I said, my voice dripping with fake sage wisdom. "The gluteal spiritual nodes are already perfectly aligned. Massaging them now would disrupt your internal Kido flow."
Internal Translation: I am absolutely not going to massage a female supervillain's ass. I enjoy having hands, and I am a professional.
"I... see," she breathed, too relaxed to argue the spiritual anatomy of her own body.
I finished up with her calves, my thumbs working out the stiffness in her legs. I could tell she was genuinely surprised I was doing this all by hand so flawlessly without using any Kido healing techniques. Finally, I gave her legs a final, expert squeeze before stepping back and clapping my hands together.
"And... done! Your spiritual and physical alignment is fully restored."
Aizen slowly pushed herself up. She looked dazed, her glasses slightly askew, a light flush on her cheeks. She rolled her shoulders, her eyes widening in genuine shock.
"Incredible," she whispered, touching her neck. "The tension is completely gone. I feel... lighter than I have in months. I must admit, Master Sōji, I was skeptical. But your technique is flawless."
[Ding! Elite Bond Established: Sosuke Aizen (Pre-Canon). Massive EXP & Charisma Bonus Awarded!]
A tiny holographic notification popped up in the corner of my vision. I almost pumped my fist in the air. *Jackpot!*
"Just doing my part for the cosmos," I smiled, bowing slightly.
She stood up, smoothing out her academy uniform. She reached into her robes, pulled out a stack of paper currency, and set it down on my crate desk.
I glanced at it. My eyes bugged out. It was easily five times the amount I had listed on the sign.
"Keep the change," Aizen said, giving me a warm, significantly less fake smile than the one she had arrived with. "Consider it a tip for your... unique spiritual cleansing. I will highly recommend your services to my classmates and the upperclassmen. Some of them could certainly use this."
"I am always happy to help!" I beamed, walking her to the door. Oh god, she's going to send more terrifying Shinigami women here.
"Have a good evening, Master Sōji," she said, giving a polite bow before stepping out into the fading evening light of the Rukongai.
"You too! Watch out for the stray dogs, nasty teeth!" I called out, waving.
The moment she was out of sight, I slammed the sliding door shut. I leaned against it, sliding down until I hit the floor.
I crawled over to the crate and stared at the massive stack of Kan. Five times the price. I grabbed the money, fanning it out. I kept it all, of course. A true businessman never refuses a willing tip, especially when the client just practically threw it at him.
"What should I buy?" I wondered aloud, clutching the cash to my chest.
——
I lay there on the wooden board for what felt like hours, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the distant sounds of the Rukongai nightlife slowly waking up. The stray dogs started howling, someone two alleys over was yelling about stolen cabbages, and the temperature finally dropped to something manageable.
I waited. And waited.
Not a single other person walked through my door.
"Well," I sighed, sitting up and stretching my arms over my head until my shoulders popped. "I guess that's it for day one. One customer. But hey, it was the final boss- second final boss, and she tipped 500%. I call that a successful business model."
I stood up, dusting off my grey suit once again. I was exhausted. My feet hurt from these cheap dress shoes, my stomach was growling aggressively, and I desperately needed to find a place to buy a rice ball before I passed out.
I walked over to the sliding wooden door and grabbed the edge, ready to yank it shut for the night.
"Oh, my. Are you closing up already?"
A voice, playful and dripping with a lazy kind of amusement, drifted through the open doorway.
I froze. I slowly peeked my head around the doorframe.
Standing in the alleyway was a woman. She was tall, with messy, untamed blonde hair that fell around her shoulders. She had a folding fan held lazily up to her chin, hiding the bottom half of her face, leaving only a pair of incredibly sharp, observant grey eyes visible.
But it wasn't the hair or the fan that made my stomach drop into my shoes. It was the clothes.
She was wearing a standard black Shinigami Shihakusho, but draped casually over her shoulders was a pristine, long white Haori coat. The symbol for the 12th Division was printed boldly on the back.
A Captain.
My brain completely flatlined.
Blonde hair. Folding fan. Playful attitude. 12th Division Captain.
Kisuke Urahara.
The internal wailing began instantly. Are you kidding me?! Are you actually kidding me?! First Sosuke Aizen, and now Kisuke Urahara?! On the exact same day?! I'm dealing with literal Bleach rivals! The two smartest, most manipulative, hyper-dangerous characters in the entire franchise, and the universe decided to send them both to my dusty shed on a Tuesday?! I don't have a sword! I have a pink tie and a bucket!
"Hello?" Urahara chuckled, snapping her folding fan shut with a sharp thwack and tapping it against her cheek. She didn't have her iconic bucket hat yet—that came later, after she got exiled. Right now, she was a fully-fledged Captain of the Gotei 13, arguably at the peak of her official authority. "Is the proprietor of this... charming establishment in?"
Fake it. Fake it so hard you become the lie.
"Ah!" I threw the door wide open, slapping on a smile so bright it probably hurt to look at. "Of course! Master Sōji Tenkoshi is always in for a soul in need! Welcome to the Spiritual Consultation Office!"
Urahara stepped inside, looking around the dilapidated room. Her eyes scanned the cobwebs, the uneven floor, and finally settled on my makeshift crate desk. A highly amused, entirely entertained smirk spread across her face.
"My, my," she practically purred, her eyes dancing with mirth. "I heard a rumor from some of the Academy students wandering around that a strange man in bizarre clothes had opened a 'clinic' out in the slums. I just had to see it for myself. This place is... hilariously rustic."
"It is a grounding technique for the spiritual pressure," I replied smoothly, crossing my arms and nodding sagely. "If the establishment is too opulent, the soul forgets how to humble itself."
"Fascinating," she chuckled, clearly not buying a single word of it but enjoying the performance anyway. She sauntered over to my charcoal sign. "Hollow removal? Life coaching. And... a premium deep-tissue massage? A massage parlor in the Rukongai?"
"The body and the spirit are one," I quoted, making up spiritual jargon on the fly. "If the physical vessel is tense, the Kido flow is obstructed."
Urahara looked back at me, her head tilted slightly. "You know, compiling research data for the 12th Division all week has left me with a dreadful ache in my lumbar region. I think I'll partake. It sounds far too funny to pass up."
"An excellent decision, Captain," I said, gesturing to the wooden board. "Please, make yourself comfortable on the table. I need to prepare the spiritual... unguents."
I turned my back to her, walking over to my crate to mentally prepare myself. Okay. Urahara is a VIP. A massive VIP. If I nail this, the System rewards will be insane. But if she catches me lying, she'll probably dissect me in a lab. I took a deep breath, clutching the small pouch of table salt in my pocket.
"So, Master Sōji," Urahara's lazy voice came from behind me, accompanied by the rustle of fabric. "Do you get many Shinigami out here?"
"A few wander in seeking enlightenment," I lied, staring blankly at the wall. "The cosmos do not discriminate by rank."
"How profound," she laughed. "Alright. I'm ready."
I turned around, the fake smile locked and loaded on my face—
And immediately choked on my own spit.
Urahara was lying face-down on the wooden board. But unlike Aizen, who had politely kept her academy uniform fully intact, Urahara had casually slipped the top half of her Shihakusho and her Captain's Haori completely off her shoulders. The fabric was pooled around her waist, leaving her entire back completely bare to the cool evening air.
What is she doing?! My internal monologue shrieked. Why is she half-naked?! Is this a trap?! Is this a test?!
"Something wrong, Master Sōji?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder with a teasing, lazy smile, completely unbothered by her state of undress.
"N-no! Nothing!" I squeaked, quickly clearing my throat and forcing my voice an octave lower. "Just... admiring the spiritual pathways of a Captain! Very robust!"
"I try to keep fit," she mused, resting her chin on her folded arms. "Now, show me this 'premium' service of yours."
Don't think about it. Just do the job. Secure the EXP.
I marched over to the board, raising my hand high into the air. I pinched a generous amount of table salt between my fingers.
"Salt Splash!" I roared dramatically, throwing the handful of cheap seasoning directly onto her bare back.
The salt scattered across her skin.
Urahara blinked, completely thrown off guard. "Eh?"
She started to push herself up, looking over her shoulder with genuine confusion. "Did you just throw—"
Before she could finish the sentence, I slammed my hands down onto her bare shoulders, my thumbs instantly digging into the impossibly tight knots of muscle near her shoulder blades. The System's unparalleled massage cheat activated instantly.
"Ah—!"
The loud, completely uncharacteristic moan of pure surprise that tore out of her throat echoed off the thin wooden walls of my shed.
Urahara didn't even try to stifle the sounds that followed. As my thumbs worked their way down the impossibly tense muscles of her upper back, she practically melted into the wooden board. All of her playful, lazy Captain energy evaporated instantly, replaced by a series of breathless sighs and low, echoing groans that sounded incredibly, dangerously suggestive.
"Goodness... that's..." Urahara breathed, her fingers curling into the wood. "What exactly... are you pressing...?"
Oh, god, I thought, sweat immediately beading on my forehead. My hands were moving flawlessly on their own, finding every knot built up from decades of paperwork, but my brain was panicking.
She was being way too loud. The walls of this hut were practically made of paper. Outside, the Rukongai was a crowded slum. If someone walked by and heard the Captain of the 12th Division making those noises inside the broken-down shed of a strange man in a grey suit, I wouldn't just be arrested. I'd be executed on live television.
It was getting impossible to focus. I needed to shut this down before a mob with pitchforks—or Zanpakuto—busted down my door.
I dug my thumbs into a particularly stubborn knot right between her shoulder blades—a guaranteed sweet spot. As she let out another sharp gasp, I leaned all the way down, bringing my face right next to her ear.
"Captain," I whispered smoothly, keeping my voice low and completely professional. "I am going to need you to please quiet down."
Urahara shivered slightly, her breath hitching.
"If the people outside misunderstand what I'm doing in here," I continued, my breath ghosting over her ear, "I will be forced to stop the spiritual alignment immediately. And your Kido flow will be permanently cramped."
Urahara didn't say a single word. But the effect was instantaneous. She bit her lower lip hard, burying her face into her crossed arms. The loud noises stopped, replaced by heavily muffled, stifled squeaks whenever I hit a deep pressure point.
"Excellent," I muttered, straightening up and continuing the work.
I finished her upper back, marveling at how a woman who spent all day hunched over experiments could carry so much physical stress. As I moved down to her lower body, I kept my hands strictly professional. Just like with Aizen, I completely skipped the glutes and moved straight down to her calves and hamstrings.
I was not about to grope a Captain. I had boundaries. I had dignity.
"Master Sōji..." Urahara mumbled into her arms. She sounded completely sedated, but there was a distinct edge of amusement returning to her voice. "You skipped a section."
"The spiritual nodes there are perfectly aligned," I recited my previous bullshit perfectly. "To massage them would disrupt the cosmos."
Urahara turned her head just enough to look at me with one half-lidded, sharp grey eye. A wicked, lazy smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth.
"I'll pay you double if you do everything," she challenged.
I stopped. My hands hovered over her calves.
My dignity and my boundaries fought a brief, incredibly one-sided war against my crippling poverty. I pictured a warm bowl of pork ramen. I pictured an actual blanket instead of a dusty floor.
"Say no more," I replied instantly.
I moved my hands back up. I completely abandoned my fake spiritual reasoning and just went to work. The System's cheat skills flared to life, ensuring that every movement was strictly therapeutic, entirely professional, and ridiculously effective.
Urahara's smug smirk vanished the second my hands made contact. She practically bit through her own sleeve to keep from screaming. Her entire body tensed and then forcefully uncoiled, the elite deep-tissue massage absolutely destroying whatever tension she had left in her lower half.
She was struggling. Hard. Every time I hit a knot, she would kick her leg slightly, her muffled noises echoing into the wood. The great, manipulative Kisuke Urahara was being entirely defeated by a guy in a pink tie.
[Ding! Elite Bond Established: Kisuke Urahara (Pre-Canon). Massive EXP & Charisma Bonus Awarded!]
[Can cash in rewards at the end of the day or when available]
Another notification. Another VIP secured.
"And... finished," I declared, taking a big step back and clapping my hands to break the tension. "Your alignment is fully restored, Captain."
Urahara lay there for a solid ten seconds, absolutely motionless, before she let out a long, shaky exhale. She slowly pushed herself up, casually sliding her white Haori and black uniform top back over her shoulders.
She sat on the edge of the board, stretching her arms overhead and twisting her torso until her spine popped audibly. Then, she threw her head back and started laughing. It wasn't her usual teasing chuckle, but a genuine, bright laugh, acting exactly as if the last twenty minutes of her fighting for her life against my thumbs hadn't just happened.
"My, my," she sighed, rolling her shoulders with an almost scientific curiosity, probing at her own muscles with her fingers. "I must say, that was far more effective than any healing Kido I've ever experienced. You have quite the terrifying technique, Master Sōji. I might have to dissect—ah, I mean, study your methods later."
"Just providing a service to the community," I said, putting my hands on my hips and giving her a confident smile.
Urahara hopped off the board, landing lightly on her feet. She reached into her robes. True to her word, she pulled out a massive stack of Kan. It was easily double the already absurd tip Aizen had left me. She tossed it onto my wooden crate with a satisfying smack.
"A deal is a deal," she winked, picking up her folding fan and snapping it open to hide her grin.
"I welcome all!" I called out.
Urahara gave me a final, highly amused look, as if trying to figure out what my angle was, before she turned and sauntered out the door, her mood visibly a thousand times better than when she arrived.
The moment her white Haori disappeared around the corner, my fake smile dropped entirely.
I completely ignored her dramatic exit. I lunged for the wooden crate, grabbing the thick stack of bills.
"Double," I whispered reverently, my thumbs furiously counting the paper currency. "She actually paid double.
I was rolling in it. Two customers. Two of the most terrifying men turned women in the Soul Society, and I had successfully both
I carefully folded the massive wad of cash and stuffed it deep into the inner pocket of my grey suit jacket. I patted my chest, feeling the comforting bulge of financial security.
I walked over to the sliding wooden door, grabbed the edge, and pulled it shut with a loud, squeaking thud.
The sun was officially down. My first day in the afterlife was over. I rested my forehead against the cool wood of the door, letting out a long sigh of relief.
I slid the squeaky wooden door shut and dragged my makeshift sign inside. The Rukongai was finally quieting down, the oppressive daytime heat settling into a dusty chill. I desperately needed a futon and actual food, but first, I needed to figure out exactly what kind of freak I had just become.
"System," I muttered, leaning back against the thin wooden wall. "Status."
A translucent blue screen flickered into existence in the dark room.
Name: Sōji Tenkoshi
Race: Spirit (Plus Soul)
Level: 1
HP: 10 | Reiatsu: 5 | STR: 1 | DEX: 1 | INT: 1 | CHR: 99 (Base)
I stared at the row of ones. "Base stats of a background extra," I sighed. "A stiff breeze could snap my spine."
Then the screen violently flashed.
[Elite Bond Established: Sosuke Aizen (S-Rank VIP)]
[Elite Bond Established: Kisuke Urahara (S-Rank VIP)]
[Consecutive VIP Bonus Multiplier Active!]
The level counter started spinning so fast it blurred. The rapid ding-ding-ding echoed in my skull until it slammed to a halt with a heavy, metallic thud.
Current Level: 173
Unallocated Stat Points: 346
I stopped breathing for a second. Three hundred and forty-six points. I had just skipped the entire tutorial and early game by aggressively rubbing the shoulders of two future war criminals.
"Right. Allocation," I muttered, pacing the dirt floor. I glanced at my wooden sign leaning against the wall. Right there, in charcoal: Hollow Removal.
I had written that to sound professional, but if an actual Hollow—a giant, screaming monster with a bone mask—showed up at my door, throwing table salt wasn't going to cut it. I needed to be able to actually kill the damn thing if my bluff was called.
I brought up the menu. I dumped 100 points straight into Strength. If I had to exorcise a spirit, I was going to do it by punching a hole straight through its chest. I put 50 into HP so I wouldn't instantly die from collateral damage, 50 into Reiatsu so I wouldn't pass out from exhaustion, 50 into Dexterity to keep my massage technique flawless, and 46 into Intelligence.
That left exactly 50 points. I dumped the rest into Charisma.
The moment I hit confirm, my body felt... heavy, and then incredibly light. My muscles didn't bulge out and rip my cheap suit, but I could feel a dense, coiled physical power sitting just beneath my skin. I clenched my fist. Yeah. I could definitely punch a Hollow's teeth in now.
[Charisma Bonus Reward Unlocked!]
[Influence Tokens Generated: 149]
[Gacha System Accessed. Cost per spin: 50 Tokens.]
[First Day Bonus: +1 Free Spin!]
I stared at the screen. "You want me to gamble my personality traits? ...Fine. Three spins."
The screen shifted into a massive, glowing roulette wheel.
First spin (Free): [Common: Minor Reishi Reserve Expansion]
"A bigger battery. Fine."
Second spin: [SSR: Bakudō #99 — Kin (Prohibited Fugue)]
[First Song: Halting Fabric. Second Song: Hundred Linked Bolts. Final Song: Great Seal of 10,000 Forbiddings.]
I squinted at the floating text. "Bakudo 99? Dont know what it is but the highe rthe stronger so i pribably cant use it anyway!" I rubbed my temples. If I actually tried to cast that, even with my new stats, I'd probably be unable to cast it.
Third spin: [Rare: Kaidō Proficiency Buff - Intuitively grasp Kaidō #1-15.]
Information suddenly forcefully downloaded into my brain. The exact hand placements, the flow of energy to knit skin, muscle, and bone together.
"Oh, thank god," I exhaled, the tension leaving my shoulders. "Now I can actually heal people instead of just stretching them and lying about 'spiritual alignment'. That's a massive liability dodged."
With my stats sorted, I slipped out into the night market. I spent a chunk of my Urahara tip on a cheap futon, a stale rice ball, and some water.
Walking back to the shed, chewing on the dry rice, I turned things over in my head. I had the stats. I had Kaido. I had insane physical strength. I could totally walk up to the Shinigami Academy tomorrow, ace the test, and become a Soul Reaper.
But then what? I'd be stuck at the bottom of the military corporate ladder, taking orders, wearing a stuffy uniform, and risking my neck fighting for minimum wage.
"Screw that," I mumbled, sliding my door shut again and tossing the futon onto the floor. "I make my own hours here. I just scammed two Captain-class monsters into paying me double my rate to fix their posture. The private sector is where the real money is."
I collapsed onto the futon, not even bothering to take off the grey suit. My body was completely exhausted.
"Okay... tomorrow," I mumbled to the empty room, my eyes already sliding shut as I pulled my suit jacket tighter around myself. "Tomorrow I need to buy a real broom... and maybe figure out how to fake a spiritual aura so I don't look like a total... complete... zzzzz..."