Yuhua Town – Unfinished Building
"Huff… huff…"
Ginjo Kogo panted heavily, gripping his Zanpakutō with both hands. The blade was almost as tall as he was, and beads of sweat as large as raindrops rolled down his forehead.
Makoto Ito watched him struggle and nodded approvingly. "Not bad. I didn't expect that in just five days, you'd last more than thirty breaths."
For a mere seven-year-old, the boy's progress was astonishing. When they had first started, he could barely lift his sword. Yet now, he was holding his own—if only for moments at a time—against Makoto's relentless pursuit.
As expected from the first-generation Shinigami Substitute… Makoto thought. If he had been born in the Soul Society, he might've had the potential to become a captain.
Watching the exhausted boy hunched over his sword, trying to steady his breathing, Makoto smirked.
"You've passed the first phase of training. Now… let's move on to the second."
He drew his own Zanpakutō, its cold steel gleaming under the dim light.
Kogo felt a sudden chill creep up his spine. A deep sense of unease welled up inside him.
"W-wait… there's a second phase?" he stammered, swallowing hard as his eyes flickered nervously between Makoto's blade and his unwavering gaze.
"I… I don't think that's really necessary, right? Brother Makoto?"
His voice held a pleading note.
Makoto's smirk deepened. "Not necessary?" He stepped forward, his blade raised slightly. "Let's see if you still think that when a Hollow is chasing you down."
Then, without warning—
Bang!
Makoto struck with the back of his blade, sending Kogo flying backward. He crashed into the unfinished concrete wall behind him, his small body crumpling on impact. The force of the blow knocked the wind out of him, and a sharp pain bloomed in his chest.
A trickle of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.
Kogo's eyes widened in shock. He's serious…
"Ack… it hurts!" he coughed, his voice breaking. Tears welled up in his eyes. "Ahhhhhh!!!"
The seven-year-old curled up on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. He didn't understand—why was Brother Makoto, who had always been so kind to him, suddenly so harsh?
But Makoto remained unmoved.
Years of fighting in Hueco Mundo had hardened his heart, turning it into a frozen tundra of logic and survival.
As Kogo sobbed, Makoto simply looked down at him with cold amusement.
"Get up," he ordered. "Pick up your sword and fight me. Next time… I'll use the sharp edge."
The words sent a jolt of fear through Kogo.
Still trembling, he lifted his head just in time to see Makoto's blade slicing toward his feet. In pure instinct, he yanked his legs back at the last second, narrowly avoiding the strike.
His body moved before his mind could process what had happened.
There was no time to wipe his tears. No time to complain.
In a panic, Kogo gripped his Zanpakutō—his small fingers barely able to wrap around the hilt properly—and raised it in defense.
Clang!
Makoto's sword crashed against his, sending vibrations up Kogo's arms. His legs buckled under the pressure, and the force of the impact launched him backward once again.
But Makoto did not scold him.
Instead, a faint, almost imperceptible smile flickered at the corner of his lips.
He's adapting.
Makoto had, of course, been holding back. With his strength, he could have cut the boy down in a single stroke. But that wasn't the point.
Kogo struggled to his feet, wavering slightly, but steadied himself.
Makoto wasted no time. He swung again.
"Hold your sword properly," he instructed. "Watch how I move."
With every strike, he adjusted Kogo's posture, teaching him not just how to endure—but how to fight back.
The boy learned fast.
Though his face was still streaked with tears, his grip on the sword tightened. He met Makoto's blows head-on, each time lasting a little longer before being knocked back again.
Makoto gradually increased the intensity of his attacks. Each strike was heavier, faster than the last.
And Kogo… kept pushing forward.
It was brutal. Any ordinary child would have collapsed from exhaustion or fear long ago.
But Makoto knew—if he didn't do this, if he didn't force Kogo to grow now, the boy wouldn't survive once Makoto returned to the Soul Society.
Without power, Kogo was nothing more than easy prey for the Hollows.
I won't let that happen.
Clang!
Kogo barely managed to block the next attack, his arms shaking from the impact.
Then, through ragged breaths, he grinned—tears still in his eyes, but determination burning within them.
"Brother Makoto… I blocked it!"
Makoto's smirk widened. "Not bad."
With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed another strike, this time sending a shockwave of spiritual pressure rippling through the air.
Kogo braced himself—
Boom!
He was knocked back again.
But this time, Makoto gave a nod of approval.
"Good. You're improving."
And so, their relentless training continued.
Kogo fought until his body gave out, until he collapsed in utter exhaustion. Only then did Makoto sheath his blade, placing a hand over Kogo's unconscious form.
With a controlled burst of energy, he sent the boy's soul back into his physical body.
Moments later, Makoto returned to his own form as well.
Another day of training was over.
But this was just the beginning.
With that, the two left the unfinished building that had served as their temporary training ground.
Makoto Ito, seeing Kogos exhaustion, decided to treat him. Their first stop was Okamoto's, where the boy devoured his favorite beef burger.
Afterward, they strolled aimlessly through the bustling streets, the neon lights reflecting in their eyes.
"Hey, kid, hurry up. You've got school early tomorrow morning," Makoto called, noticing Kogo lagging behind.
But the boy wasn't paying attention.
He had stopped in front of a jewelry store, his gaze locked onto something in the display window.
Makoto sighed and walked over. "What are you staring at so—"
His words trailed off as he followed Kogo's line of sight.
Displayed in the glass case was a beautifully crafted silver cross pendant.
Makoto's eyes narrowed. He recognized it instantly.
So that's it…
In the original timeline, this cross would later become the medium for Kogo's "Perfect Form" technique.
Turning back to the boy, Makoto noticed the way his eyes shimmered with longing.
He exhaled sharply and ruffled kogo's hair. "Honestly, kid… why do I feel like I'm taking care of my own son?"
Shaking his head, he pushed open the store's glass door.
"Miss, how much for the silver cross in the display case?"
The store clerk, a young woman dressed in a sleek black uniform and sheer stockings, flashed him a polite smile.
"You have good taste, sir. That's our last one." She leaned forward slightly. "Since you really want it, I suppose I could offer you a deal…"
After some back-and-forth bargaining, Makoto managed to secure the pendant—though at the cost of nearly all of his remaining salary.
Walking out of the store, he handed the pendant to kogo with a resigned sigh.
"There. Take it. But don't get used to this—because thanks to you, we're skipping beef burgers for the next two weeks."
Kogo's face lit up.
"Thank you, Brother Makoto!" He clutched the cross in his small hands, his excitement barely contained. Without hesitation, he looped the chain around his neck and held the pendant to his chest, grinning from ear to ear.
Makoto couldn't help but smile.
After all, he's still just a kid…
But just as that thought crossed his mind, a sudden shift in the atmosphere sent a chill down his spine.
His expression darkened.
Something was wrong.
"…What the hell?"
... patreon Seasay for more chapters. Check it out whilst still on 20% discount subscription