When school ended, Ichigo hurriedly packed up his things, making sure not to forget his bokken from his locker before heading home. The sun hung low in the sky, a brilliant orange glow casting long shadows across the streets as he picked up his pace, gradually breaking into a sprint.
Before he knew it, he was moving faster than any normal human, weaving through the bustling sidewalks with an almost unnatural ease. He ducked under signposts, sidestepped pedestrians, and leaped over low obstacles with fluid precision, his body reacting as if guided by instinct. The wind rushed past his ears, and a smirk tugged at his lips—this sensation was intoxicating.
By the time he reached home, his breath was steady, his body barely feeling the strain. He wasted no time, quickly eating the food he had left for himself before heading upstairs to change.
'Time to go to that park I was at yesterday. Doesn't look like kids play there from the looks of things,' he thought, stepping onto the windowsill before leaping out. His feet barely touched the ground before he was off, sprinting through the dimming streets toward his destination.
When he arrived, bokken in hand, a realization struck him. He had rushed here with such excitement, yet there was one glaring issue—he knew absolutely nothing about swordsmanship.
'Wow, and to think I was in such a hurry. I could join a dojo, but that's already taken. Or I could train with Rukia when she arrives. For now, let me just test my strikes,' he thought, tightening his grip on the wooden blade.
Taking a deep breath, Ichigo raised the bokken, preparing to test his swings, completely unaware that this simple practice would mark the beginning of something far greater.
Ichigo took a deep breath, gripping the Bokken firmly as he adjusted his stance. The wooden sword felt light in his hands, almost too light, but he knew that was just because he wasn't used to wielding one.
The park was eerily silent, the rusted swing set creaking slightly in the wind. Overgrown grass and cracks in the pavement made it clear that this place had been abandoned for a while. It was perfect—no interruptions, no prying eyes.
Ichigo swung the Bokken in a wide arc, testing his reach. His first few swings were clumsy, lacking precision. He could feel it in the way his arms moved—too stiff, too uncontrolled. He adjusted his grip, holding the weapon a little lower on the handle, and swung again. This time, it felt smoother, but still not quite right.
'This is harder than I thought,' he admitted to himself. 'Just swinging wildly isn't going to do anything. I need some kind of structure…'
He closed his eyes for a moment, picturing how a swordsman should move. His mind wandered to the samurai films he'd watched as a kid, the way they'd hold their blades steady, their strikes sharp and purposeful.
Taking a deep breath, Ichigo tried again. He stepped forward, slashing diagonally, then quickly retracted and followed with a horizontal strike. He repeated the motion, slowly at first, then gradually increasing his speed.
Whoosh—the Bokken sliced through the air, his movements becoming sharper with each swing. His footwork was still unpolished, but he was starting to find a rhythm.
His body naturally adjusted, his strikes flowing more fluidly as he let instinct take over. After a few minutes, he began adding in different angles, imagining an invisible opponent in front of him.
His breathing was steady, his heart racing—not from exhaustion, but from excitement.
'This… this is fun,' he realized, a smirk forming on his lips.
The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the park. Ichigo exhaled, lowering his Bokken for a moment. His hands were starting to feel sore from gripping it so tightly.
'Alright, enough playing around. I need to get serious. If I want to survive what's coming, I can't just swing blindly.'
With that in mind, Ichigo tightened his stance, ready to push himself even further.
Ichigo exhaled deeply, gripping his Bokken as he focused on the energy within him. He had spent enough time learning to control his Reiatsu, keeping it from leaking out, but now it was time to do the opposite—to channel it into something.
He tightened his hold on the wooden sword, staring at the thick tree trunk in front of him.' If Soul Reapers can use their Zanpakutō to cut through Hollows, then I should be able to do something similar… right?'
Closing his eyes, he concentrated, feeling the familiar pressure of spiritual energy flow through his body. It was always there, constantly humming beneath his skin, but now he willed it to move—pushing it toward his hands, into the weapon he held.
At first, nothing happened. The Bokken felt the same—just an ordinary wooden sword.
'Come on, work with me here…'
He inhaled, visualizing the energy wrapping around the blade like an extension of himself. He imagined it flowing through the wood, reinforcing it, making it as sharp as steel.
A faint blue aura flickered to life around the Bokken, barely noticeable at first, but it gradually became more defined. Ichigo smirked.
'There we go.'
He stepped forward, adjusting his stance, and raised the Bokken high above his head. The energy surrounding it pulsed as he brought it down in a powerful arc.
Whoosh!
The moment the blade struck the tree, a sharp crack echoed through the park. A deep indentation formed in the bark where the strike landed, splintering outward. Ichigo's eyes widened slightly.
'Not bad for a first try.'
But the tree still stood, barely damaged. He clenched his jaw, gripping the Bokken tighter.
'Not enough. I need to go further.'
Ichigo steadied his breathing, focusing again. This time, he didn't just pour his Reiatsu into the weapon—he shaped it. He imagined the Bokken not as wood, but as a true blade, honed and deadly. The energy surrounding it grew denser, crackling slightly.
He adjusted his stance, bending his knees for more power. Then, with a single exhale, he swung.
SWOOSH!
The moment the Bokken connected, a burst of energy erupted from the point of impact. The tree shook violently, a deep gash carving through its surface. Leaves rustled from the force, and a long crack snaked through the trunk.
Ichigo stared for a moment, breathing heavily, before he smirked.
'Now that's more like it.'
This was just the beginning. If he could do this with a wooden sword, he could only imagine what he'd be capable of once he got his real Zanpakutō.
So Ichigo continued, swinging hard. Yet, no matter how much force he put behind his strikes, the wooden blade refused to cut through the tree. His arms ached from the repeated impact, but the stubborn trunk remained intact, mocking his efforts.
'Wait… I remember hearing something back on my world. That I should strike using both power and precision. I imagined this being a katana, so I should strike like it's a katana—not from the side, but diagonally,' he thought.
A grin spread across his face as he adjusted his stance. He focused, inhaling deeply as he gathered his spiritual energy, letting it flow into the bokken. The wood hummed faintly under the pressure, and he controlled the flow carefully, adding just enough energy to strengthen the weapon without breaking it.
Ichigo felt the weight shift in his hands, the bokken growing heavier as if acknowledging its newfound strength. He lifted it high above his head, muscles tightening, and with one swift, fluid motion—
Shing!
The blade cleaved through the trunk in an instant. A faint whistle followed as the tree tilted, groaning before crashing to the ground with a heavy thud. Leaves fluttered in the air, disturbed by the sudden impact.
Ichigo stared at the severed stump, his gaze locking onto the smooth, precise cut. He tightened his grip on the bokken, feeling a thrill rush through him.
'Wow… I could genuinely kill someone with this,' he thought, his smile lingering.
TO BE CONTINUED