Bleach: Gazing Mirage

Yuichi was abruptly woken up by the shocking sensation of cold water being poured over him. His body jerked, and his eyes flew open to see Urahara standing over him, smiling with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Did you have a good nap?” Urahara asked, his tone light, as if they were simply having a casual conversation.

Yuichi could barely answer, his head throbbing with pain. He groaned, rubbing his temples as he tried to sit up. His entire body felt like it had been run over by a stampede of wild beasts, and the cold water did little to help.

“Here, take this,” Urahara said, tossing Yuichi a small, black pill. “Eat it, and we can start again.”

Yuichi stared at the pill for a moment, his mind racing with suspicion. Urahara wouldn’t poison him—of that, he was fairly certain—but the man was definitely not above slipping something extra into the pill to mess with him. However, with no real choice in the matter and knowing that refusing would only give Urahara more reason to mistrust him, Yuichi reluctantly popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed.

Almost immediately, the headache and the pain that had been coursing through his body began to fade. He felt a surge of reishi flood his system, replenishing his depleted reiryoku. The relief was so profound that Yuichi couldn’t help but let out a small sigh.

“Feeling better?” Urahara asked, watching Yuichi with a knowing smile.

Yuichi nodded, still a bit wary, but grateful for the temporary reprieve from the pain.

“Good,” Urahara said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get started again.”

Yuichi’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Already?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “I just—”

Urahara didn’t wait for him to finish. He launched into another assault, his movements swift and precise. “Hadō #31. Shakkahō!” he called, sending another flame ball toward Yuichi.

The next three days were a blur of pain, exhaustion, and relentless training. Urahara pushed Yuichi to his absolute limits and then beyond them, never allowing him more than a brief moment of rest before ramping up the difficulty yet again. Each time Yuichi thought he had adapted, Urahara would change tactics, adding new kido spells or increasing the intensity of his attacks, making sure that Yuichi was constantly on edge, constantly struggling to keep up.

On the second day, Urahara introduced Hadō #54. Haien (廃炎, Abolishing Flames), a spell that generated a purple orb of energy, which incinerated anything it touched although he weakened it enough to avoid killing Yuichi. Yuichi barely avoided being scorched multiple times, the heat singeing his hair and clothes. Urahara even began to mix in more complex Bakudō spells, like Bakudō #30. Shitotsu Sansen (嘴突三閃, Beak-Piercing Triple Beam), a spell that created three beams of light that pinned Yuichi to a wall, immobilizing him completely.

Despite the pain and exhaustion, Yuichi could feel himself growing stronger. His instincts were sharpening, his movements becoming more fluid, more precise. He was learning to read Urahara’s subtle cues, to anticipate the man’s attacks, and to react with speed and efficiency. But no matter how much he improved, Urahara was always one step ahead, always increasing the difficulty so that Yuichi never had a chance to feel comfortable.

On the morning of the third day, Yuichi finally began to feel a shred of confidence. He managed to deflect a Haien spell with his zanpakutō, redirecting the deadly energy into the ground, where it incinerated the earth with a hissing sound. He even dodged a Byakurai spell without having to think, his body moving instinctively out of harm’s way. But just as he started to believe that he was finally keeping up, Urahara’s voice cut through the air.

“Bakudō #9. Hōrin (崩輪, Disintegrating Circle),” Urahara intoned, and in an instant, an orange-hued tendril with spiraling yellow patterns, ensnared and immobilized Yuichi. He struggled against the restraints, but it was no use. The spell was far too powerful for him to break.

“Hadō #31. Shakkahō,” Urahara said calmly, and the flame ball struck Yuichi square in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground. He lay there, gasping for breath, his vision fading in and out.

“Hmmm, I guess that’s enough for now,” Urahara said, his voice distant. “You’ve improved enough that this kind of training would be pointless.” He turned and walked away, leaving Yuichi lying on the ground, battered and exhausted.

As the words sank in, Yuichi felt a wave of relief wash over him. The brutal training sessions were finally over. He had survived, and he had come out stronger. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he thought about finally getting some well-deserved rest.

But before he could fully relax, Urahara’s voice rang out again. “Oh, by the way, classes are resuming today,” he said nonchalantly. “You should probably run if you don’t want to be late.”

Yuichi’s eyes snapped open, and he looked up at Urahara in disbelief. “Classes… today?” he repeated, his voice filled with exhaustion and confusion. He pushed himself to a sitting position, wincing as his body protested every movement.

“Yup,” Urahara said, a cheerful smile on his face. “You don’t want to miss it, right? I hear you’ve got a new instructor. Don’t want them to have a bad opinion of you on the first day do we?”

Yuichi’s mind raced as he looked down at his tattered uniform. He was a complete mess—bruised, battered, and covered in dirt, blood, and sweat. How was he supposed to show up to class like this? He glanced up at Urahara, hoping for some kind of reprieve, but the older man’s expression was unwavering.

“Better hurry,” Urahara said, his tone almost sing-song as he started climbing the ladder out of the training room. “You wouldn’t want to be late on your first day back.”

Yuichi stared after him, a dumbfounded look on his face. He couldn’t believe that after three days of nonstop torture, Urahara expected him to go straight to class. He groaned, pushing himself to his feet. There was no way he could be late, but he also knew he couldn’t show up looking like he’d just crawled out of a battlefield.

He dragged himself to the exit, every painful step a reminder of the brutal training he had just endured. As he climbed the ladder, his muscles screamed in protest, but he forced himself to keep going. By the time he reached the top, his body was trembling with exhaustion, but he was determined to push himself to make it to class on time.

As he stepped out of the training room, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a nearby window. His uniform was in tatters, his hair a disheveled mess, and his face was streaked with dust and ashes. He looked like he had just gone through a war—and in a way, he had.

With a resigned sigh, Yuichi realized there was no time to clean up. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come, and started running toward the academy. As he sprinted through the streets, his mind raced with thoughts of how he would explain his appearance, but he pushed those thoughts aside. There was no time to worry about that now.

He just had to get to class on time—no matter what.