Makoto Ito stepped forward to the wooden stand and picked up a wooden practice sword. Following Hisagi Shugbuki's earlier demonstration, he bowed slightly in the direction of Ikkaku's watchful gaze before taking his stance. With a steady step, he lunged forward, striking swiftly and powerfully.
Ikkaku''s expression shifted the moment their blades met. He immediately recognized that the candidate before him was no ordinary opponent. Gone was his previous air of indifference—he now regarded Ito with focused seriousness.
Reacting swiftly, he raised his weapon to parry the blow. Then, adjusting his breathing, he gripped the wooden sword firmly in both hands and launched a counterattack, his movements filled with exhilaration. Instantly, the tide of battle turned—Ikkaku transitioned from defense to offense with seamless precision.
"Who's evaluating whom here?" Ito mused to himself as he faced Ikkaku's relentless assault. He could only sigh inwardly at the unexpected enthusiasm of his examiner. However, despite the absurdity of the situation, he found himself enjoying the duel.
After all, he had spent much of his time wielding his Zanpakutō in the Great Hollow Forest, battling Hollows. The only true expert in combat he had ever faced was Ito Hime, whose spirit had been consumed by obsession. To cross swords with a warrior like Ikkaku was an entirely new experience, one that set his blood alight with excitement.
"He's on par with Itokai!" Ito realized as the fight continued.
Ikkaku was more than deserving of his rank as the third seat of the Eleventh Division, and his combat skills rivaled, if not surpassed, Itokai's. By contrast, Ito's own skills—derived entirely from his inherited memories—were not yet at their peak. He was still inferior to Itokai, let alone Ikkaku, whose refined technique and relentless attacks gradually pushed him into a disadvantageous position.
Recognizing his predicament, Ito decided it was best to hide his true limits. Seizing an opportunity, he feigned a lapse in grip, loosening his hold on the wooden sword.
With a sharp crack, his weapon was split in two.
Ikkaku immediately stopped, his expression shifting as he scrutinized Ito. He stared at him for a long moment, as though recognizing a long-lost friend.
"Well, well, kid. Your name is Makoto Ito, right?" Ikkaku said, grinning. "You even share the same surname as him. And your fighting style—it's just like his! If I didn't know he had no family, I'd have thought you were his son.
"Listen up—after graduation, you must join the Eleventh Division!" he declared, clearly exhilarated. The last time he had felt such excitement had been during his bout with his own captain.
Ito's heart pounded. The Eleventh Division!
This was the legendary combat-obsessed squad, the ultimate proving ground for warriors. And within it resided an even greater fighter—Kenpachi Zaraki. The thought of battling endless strong opponents, sharpening his skills through blood and battle, ignited a fire within him.
After weighing his options, Ito made his decision. "Yes, I'll join the Eleventh Division after graduation."
Ikkaku burst into laughter, overjoyed by the response.
"Uh… Examiner, you still haven't scored my combat test," Ito reminded him, exasperated.
Ikkaku blinked, then smacked his bald head in realization. Quickly, he grabbed his pen and scribbled down the score. "Makoto Ito, 100 points for combat skill!"
With that settled, Ito bowed and left for his next examination.
He hurried to the third testing room, a tiny chamber barely a few square meters in size. Due to its cramped quarters, only one candidate could enter at a time. He waited patiently for his turn before stepping inside.
"Focus your spiritual pressure into your palm until it becomes tangible," an aged voice instructed.
A hunched, wrinkled old man, clad in the standard black shihakushō, stepped out from behind a curtain, his beady eyes scrutinizing Ito with interest.
Ito nodded and followed the instruction. He gathered a small thread of spiritual energy, channeling it into his palm. Almost immediately, a dark golden glow ignited, flickering brilliantly in his grasp.
The examiner's eyes gleamed with approval. He stroked his chin thoughtfully before muttering, "Not bad, not bad… Worthy of a fifth-class genius."
A subtle smile formed on Ito's lips. The assessment was far from over, but he was making steady progress.
Makoto Ito watched as the examiner waved his pen and wrote on the assessment form:
"Makoto Ito, 90 points in Kido."
It was a deliberate choice on Ito's part not to achieve a perfect score. Drawing too much attention—especially from someone like Aizen—was dangerous. Staying low-key was the safest strategy for now.
After all, compressing spiritual pressure was merely the foundation of Kido. Anyone proficient in spellcasting could do it with ease. There was no need to stand out unnecessarily.
With the evaluations of Killing Fist and Kido complete, only one test remained.
Makoto Ito proceeded to the fourth room. This final assessment focused on Shunpo—the movement technique of the Shinigami. However, since most candidates had never formally studied Shunpo before entering the Shin'ō Academy, the test was not overly demanding.
As he stepped inside, he noticed that the room was filled with wooden dummies, strategically placed to obstruct the path ahead. At the center stood a short-haired woman clad in a standard Shinigami uniform—the examiner for this stage.
"To pass, you must navigate the dummy formation within five minutes," she announced.
Without hesitation, Ito set off. In less than ten seconds, he was already at the other side.
And that was without using Shunpo.
Had he activated the technique, he could have completed it in a single breath.
The examiner, unfazed, marked a score of 95 on her clipboard. Ito merely smiled to himself.
"As expected, the entrance exams of Shin'ō Academy are nothing more than child's play for me."
That afternoon, the successful candidates stood outside Shin'ō Academy, forming orderly lines.
A man draped in a pristine white robe stepped onto the raised platform before them. His voice rang out confidently:
"Welcome, students, to Shin'ō Academy. I hope that in the coming years, you will grow in strength and skill, ultimately joining the Gotei 13 to serve the Seireitei and protect the Soul Society!"
A wave of cheers erupted from the crowd.
Among them, Tsukada Nobuji, a green-haired student, trembled as he stared at his scorecard in disbelief. Despite an unimpressive 60 overall, with only 20 points in each of the three subjects, he had somehow made it through.
"Am I dreaming? Did I really pass?!" he muttered, shaking with excitement.
Yano Masahiko, the white-robed instructor, continued speaking.
"Following recent reforms in our admission system, those who pass the initial Reiryoku assessment are automatically accepted into Shin'ō Academy. The subsequent combat and movement tests are simply used for class placement. As long as you remain dedicated and do not forfeit your training, you will be considered a full-fledged student."
Relief spread through the crowd as students realized they had secured their place at the academy.
With the exam concluded, students were given a half-month break before official classes commenced. They had the option to either return home or stay in the academy's dormitories.
"Brother Ito, I've already arranged your dorm for you!" Oda Yu exclaimed, trailing eagerly behind Ito. "It's a single room—I made a special request just for you! If you ever need anything, just say the word. I, Oda Yu, am always at your service!"
Ito glanced at his overly enthusiastic companion, who practically radiated excitement, like a dog wagging its tail in eager anticipation.
"Oda-kun…"
"Yes, Brother Ito?!"
"I preferred you when you had some dignity. Try to bring that back."
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