Being watched by Aizen was an extremely unpleasant feeling.
Shimo approached this schemer with nothing but absolute caution.
He wasn't some high-IQ, all-knowing mastermind.
If it came down to playing mind games with someone like Aizen, Shimo was sure he'd be devoured without even bones left behind.
Right now, the only thing he could rely on—was his privilege, his cheat system.
And just as that thought surfaced—
[New check-in mission issued: Check in during the Swordsmanship Class and earn the title of Top Newcomer in Swordsmanship.]
[Mission Reward: Divine Dream—Ichitō-ryū (One-Strike Style)!]
Shimo stared blankly at the reward prompt.
Wasn't that reward… a little over the top?
Last time it was Limitless Swordsmanship, and now it's Divine Dream—One-Strike Style?
What's next—Shigure Soen Ryu? Gale Sword Path?
At this point, Shimo had no clue what direction his system was going in anymore.
But hey, a reward was a reward.
If the goal was the pinnacle of swordsmanship, then why not absorb every style and forge them into one?
"If I'm remembering correctly, our first class is Swordsmanship."
Shimo rubbed his chin thoughtfully with his thumb and forefinger.
"Might as well take this chance to finish the mission early."
Since he'd been the first student to complete the Asauchi selection, he was alone in the training field of the Swordsmanship Class.
Not caring about the emptiness, Shimo stepped onto the field and began his sword training.
The Way Without Extremes begins within.
Limitless Swordsmanship had no fixed forms.
Its essence wasn't in techniques, but in the flow.
As soon as both hands gripped his Asauchi, a transformation flickered in Shimo's eyes.
A light flashed in his pitch-black pupils like a sharpened blade, eager to pierce through an enemy's heart.
Unlike the composed and serene mastery of a traditional swordsman, Shimo's interpretation of Limitless Swordsmanship was more like a blade newly honed—raw and unrestrained.
Each motion carried chaotic yet controlled energy. The air split with each strike, echoing with sharp wind howls.
He stepped forward, twisted his waist, and slashed his Asauchi at an improbable angle—
The tip of the blade began to exude a subtle pressure, as if ready to sever everything in its path.
After warming up, Shimo slid the Asauchi back into its sheath.
Moments ago, he had been satisfied with his current strength. But now, a deep frown crept onto his face.
He was lazy by nature, but he wasn't talentless.
Thanks to the "instruction" of his unprincipled elder, his foundational training was solid.
Yet that foundation meant little—here in the Soul Society, he wouldn't even qualify as cannon fodder.
"Hopefully the next mission will come with a more meaningful reward."
Shimo glanced up at the vast blue sky, the sunlight glinting across his face as a faint concern crossed his expression.
As time passed, more students who had acquired their Asauchi began entering the training field.
Their faces beamed with satisfaction—they had clearly bonded with the blades they'd selected.
Shimo's gaze drifted past most of them—until it landed on one particular red-haired youth oozing arrogance.
A product of the lawless 78th District of Rukongai, Inuzuri.
Renji had developed a tough, aggressive persona to survive—and now used that same persona as a shield in this unfamiliar environment.
While others arrived in small groups, he stood alone—isolated and guarded.
Soon enough, Renji noticed Shimo watching him.
He paused briefly, then returned the gaze with what he thought was a menacing glare.
Shimo smiled casually and looked away, not taking it to heart.
He understood Renji's personality well and didn't plan to engage him unnecessarily.
Renji blinked, slightly confused, and muttered under his breath—
Once all of Class One had gathered on the training grounds, the Swordsmanship instructor appeared before them.
"My name is Kaede Miyano. I'll be your swordsmanship instructor."
Miyano was an unremarkable-looking middle-aged man—nothing about him stood out. His demeanor was calm and easygoing.
"To better tailor your training, we'll begin with a simple assessment."
"Each student will be evaluated so we can place you into the appropriate tier of instruction based on your skill level."
"So I expect all of you to give it your best effort."
Standing among the crowd, Shimo's expression shifted slightly.
"A swordsmanship evaluation, huh…"
Miyano didn't seem concerned about the murmuring that rippled through the students. He continued in a calm voice:
"You'll be paired off and use wooden swords in mock duels. The winner advances to the next round."
The students glanced around, sizing up their classmates, hoping to pick a favorable opponent.
But it was clear Miyano had already arranged the pairings.
Soon, the vast training field was full of sparring students.
From atop a small platform, Miyano's hawk-like gaze swept across the grounds. His low voice rumbled:
Shimo raised his wooden sword, assessing his opponent.
The boy had a pale face and looked quite young. The noble insignia on his uniform indicated he came from an aristocratic family.
Which family? Shimo couldn't quite remember.
Without saying much, he gave a nod of acknowledgement—and immediately entered combat mode.
One-handed grip. Left foot forward.
The blade thrust straight toward his opponent's throat.
A sharp gust split the air.
Caught off guard, the young noble stumbled under the pressure, unable to properly defend himself.
Shimo's swordsmanship had already reached a remarkable level after comprehending Limitless Swordsmanship.
His extended arm stopped just as the tip of his blade hovered at the opponent's throat.
One move. Fight over.
Though the noble boy was clearly frustrated by the gap between them, he had no choice but to accept it.
The duels continued round by round.
None of Shimo's opponents proved challenging—his most difficult match so far ended in just three moves.
This streak continued until the final round.
As Shimo sized up his new opponent, a dangerous glint crept into his smile.