Playing God 15
Charlie Foxtrot
Bleach.
I was in Bleach.
I. Was. In. Bleach.
Those four words circled through my mind like an endless train. This realization alone was enough to make me want to tear my hair out. My luck was truly something else.
In Planetos, the biggest threat was at best a mid-tier lich. Danaerys’ dragons were only about as smart as horses, couldn’t use magic, and were led by a deeply traumatized girl with delusions of grandeur. Their “greatest warriors” wouldn’t even crack level ten. I’d certainly played pattycake with Oberyn and his men enough times to know.
But I was in Bleach now. This man with the silly chonmage was Shigekuni Yamamoto, the captain commander of the Gotei Thirteen and founder of the Genji School. He wielded the might of the sun, could raise an army of countless fallen, and would probably do well as a YGGDRASIL raid boss in his own right.
And he wasn’t the strongest thing in this reality, not even close.
I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. Aizen. Yhwach. They were a long way off if Yamamoto still had hair on his head. Hell, he might not be as powerful as I knew he could be. He had hair on his head, and as per the Saitama school of powerscaling, that meant he’d yet to reach his full potential.
I comforted myself with the knowledge of the World Penetration Gate. There was no reason for me to stick around. Maybe it was cowardly of me, but this wasn’t my battle. Just because I encountered Yamamoto pre-canon didn’t mean I had to join him.
“What is your purpose here?” he demanded. His killing intent still weighed on me, though it had lessened slightly.
“I am a wanderer,” I answered truthfully. “I visit different lands so that I can learn more about how people live.”
“You assisted these humans.”
“I did. I can’t say I’m a good man, but defeating a monster like that inconveniences me little. Is it not right to help those in need?”
“Perhaps. What will you do now? Where are you going?”
I dipped my head an inch. My tails swished languidly back and forth. “I have no destination in mind. If I may ask, where is the nearest large town? I would not be opposed to visiting such a place.”
He studied me for a bit before finally sheathing his blade. Still suspicious, but no longer ready to execute me for blinking wrong. “It is Rukongai, twenty ri to our west.”
“The Town of Drifting Souls?” I mused. That was the name of the afterlife all souls were brought to in Bleach, but I didn’t think the Gotei Thirteen had been formed yet. “How did it get its name?”
“A strong man took up residence there. He opened a school to train others like him. Wandering souls gathered around his school.”
“Ah, that strong man must be you, Yamamoto-san. You are powerful and your sword burns like the sun.”
“So I am. So it does.” He turned to leave. “Harm no humans and we will have no quarrel.”
I made my decision. This early on, perhaps it was an opportunity. I caught up to him in a blink. “If it’s not too much trouble, I will follow you to this Town of Drifting Souls. I wish to know what a town built around a school might look like.”
“Suit yourself, many-tailed fox.”
“I shall, funny-haired human.”
He almost stumbled his next step. Apparently, no one had ever sassed him back before.
X
That was how I found myself at the Genji School. So, I’d been mistaken. Yamamoto had indeed founded the school already, but he’d yet to take on the name of “Genryusai.” If I remembered right, that came after he fought his to-be right hand, Chojiro Sasakibe.
That and a few more hints provided points of reference for when exactly I was in the timeline. At a guess, I predated the Gotei Thirteen by over one thousand years. Which meant Yhwach hadn’t even been born yet.
It was the best news I’d gotten since arriving here. As the old adage went, “Not my monkeys, not my circus.”
Liberated from that particular looming death sentence, I felt much better about sticking around this reality for a bit. Now that I thought about it, there were plenty of reasons to remain.
For starters, there was the asauchi. After a subtle round of questioning, I concluded that Oetsu Nimaiya must have joined the Royal Guard already. How else could Yamamoto have his zanpakuto? Which meant that if I played my cards right, I could get myself an asauchi.
I didn’t need one. I was plenty powerful in my own right and Ame no Nuboko was a World Item, a peer to any zanpakuto. Maybe I lacked Yamamoto’s raw destructive might, but I was pretty sure I had a larger repertoire when it came to magical nonsense. Besides, “not as strong as Yamamoto” wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, despite my earlier panic.
No, I wanted one. I had many katana in my vaults. Some were even divine treasures. And yet, none pulled at my heartstrings quite like the thought of unleashing my very own bankai.
To me, Bleach captains were the pinnacle of aura-farming masters. I wanted that. Not because zanpakuto were natural “soul-cutting” weapons, or because some bankai were utterly broken and I wanted another “hax” power for myself, but because they looked so damn cool with their haori fluttering behind them. I had the haori and the tails. I had to have the shiny stick, too.
Another reason to stay was the strength of its inhabitants. Truthfully, being in a place where I wasn’t an untouchable, godlike existence was rather exciting. The thought that I might actually die was scary, but it wasn’t as if I didn’t have any contingencies to revive myself. There were several such methods I’d prepared, especially because I planned to wage a one-man war against Nazarick. I certainly hadn’t been arrogant enough to expect a “perfect raid clear.”
Here was Shigekuni Yamamoto, the greatest swordsman of his era. Here was a man who wanted to teach others. And, if I ever wanted to wreak senseless havoc in the name of training, there was an entire realm full of soul-devouring monsters a quick hop away. I literally couldn’t run out of practice targets if I tried.
The third reason to stay was Rukongai itself. Rukongai was genuinely fascinating to me. It was like no other pre-industrial town I’d been in, though to be fair, I’d only ever visited the Shadow City and Planky Town in Dorne.
The biggest difference was that it was a town built around the Genji School. The school itself was a traditionally Japanese compound, not unlike a building out of the Sengoku era. People had drifted to Yamamoto, gathering around like fireflies to the very literal flame.
The town therefore spread out radially from this central point with seemingly no rhyme nor reason. It was a chaotic mess because the only man who could be considered a central authority had bigger concerns. Yamamoto was no architect or city planner. Nor was he an administrator at this time.
Because of this, there was no distinction between rich and poor. Everyone was a refugee. There was a sense of camaraderie because everyone fled here from the noble holdings scattered around the world, or hollows, or sometimes both. That was convenient. It gave me a convenient gap that I could slide into.
Being a kyubi, I naturally stood out even in a world of spirits. With liberal use of healing magic, I quickly built a reputation for myself as a wise man. And when I began purifying water and forming sturdier earthen homes for the destitute, I suddenly became their favorite person.
Yamamoto was their beacon of security and strength. In just a week, I became their symbol of hope. I took the lives he’d secured, and teased them with a better tomorrow.
My place in this town secured, I found the legendary swordsman for the next stage of my plan. Each morning, he liked to take his tea alone in his room, which looked out into a bare bones rock garden in the inner courtyard of the Genji School.
“Yamamoto-san,” I greeted as I appeared soundlessly onto the cushion laid out for me. “Good morning.”
A student, who’d been sweeping the garden, yelped in surprise. There were quite a few of them, though virtually none were worth mentioning. They were “students,” but were deployed more like the town guard, sent on group patrols to eliminate this or that hollow or settle disputes between townsfolk.
Yamamoto did not react to my sudden arrival beyond pouring me tea, but I knew better. His chonmage wiggled when he was thinking hard about something, or when he was suppressing the instinct to cut something. Probably proof that I’d managed to surprise him.
“Asahina-san,” he said plainly. That was another change. I’d shifted from “fox” to “Asahina-san,” a promotion. I considered going by my in-game handle, but “Rui Asahina” admittedly fit the culture better. “You have been busy.”
“I have. There is still much to be done if you want Rukongai to become a proper city.”
“I have no such intentions.”
“They follow you anyway, like little ducklings. At this point, I’m not sure that your intentions matter.”
“They do. The more they gather, the less time my students have to train,” he said gruffly. It wasn’t quite a complaint, but he wasn’t especially fond of those who couldn’t fend for themselves.
“Hunting down hollows is good training,” I pointed out. The tea was just humble barley, hardly fitting for the man who’d one day oversee the balance of souls.
“Combat builds upon foundations laid in the training yard.”
“True enough.”
“And what of you?”
“Me?”
“You built for people homes that will not leak in the rain nor shake in the wind.”
“That, I did.”
“You healed the sick and gave them water to drink.”
“It is fortunate that they are spirits. Only your students require sustenance.”
“Yet, you have asked for nothing from the people,” Yamamoto observed. He eyed me carefully, like a hiker trying to decide if the mushroom was food or poison.
I shrugged helplessly. “I can't draw blood from a stone… Well, perhaps I could with enough magic, but that sounds exhausting. The people here have little enough for themselves, never mind anything I might want to take.”
“What is it you want? If the town cannot pay you, then you must want something from me.”
There it was, the only thing this place could offer me, the main reason I invested so heavily into this town and not Sunspear. “Teach me.”
“You are strong enough already. You can defeat even the greater hollows with ease. I heard from Nagi that when he arrived to face a hollow, he found you, fist buried in its skull.”
“Nagi… Ah, is he that kid who looks like a ten year old child? I gave him a baggie of rock candy a few days ago.”
He let out a gruff snort, which was about as close to laughter as I’d ever get from him. “He is. He is sensitive about his appearance.”
“Well, who told him to have so much potential? It’s not my fault that stronger souls don’t age as quickly,” I laughed. He was hilarious, and possibly a first generation captain of the Gotei Thirteen. “I still want to learn. Zanjutsu, hoho, and hakuda. Teach me.”
“Why? Why do you seek greater strength?”
“Not strength, per se. You’re right. I’m quite capable on my own. But I really want an asauchi”
“Oh? What do you seek if not strength?”
“They look cool,” I said with complete honesty. Strength was secondary. Aura-farming was the goal. For that, the foundation must be laid.
He looked at me like I was an idiot. “They… look cool…?”
“Yes. ‘Cool,’ meaning aesthetically pleasing. Visually impactful. Impressive and awe-inspiring.”
I hadn't planned on it, but teaching “old man Yama” twenty-first century slang millennia before its time sounded hilarious. I now wanted Yamamoto to say “fo’ shizzle” unironically.
This went on my mental to-do list, right below receiving an asauchi and sword training. One day, millennia from now, I'd interrupt a captains meeting so I could tell them all about their vaunted commander's “hip” phase.
He’d kill me. I was immune to all flames, but there would be slices of fox sashimi for miles around. I’d have to burn a revival item for it, but some things were worth the sacrifice.
Priorities. I had them.
Yamamoto spoke slowly, as if talking to an especially dim-witted child. “You want to learn my techniques because they are… cool.”
I nodded enthusiastically. “Yup! If my service to Rukongai means anything to you, you can reward me with lessons.”
“You do not have an asauchi.”
“Ah, yeah, I'll have to get one.”
“Only Nimaiya-dono can forget an asauchi. Only deep meditation and introspection can awaken a zanpakuto spirit. This is the work of years.”
“Then I'll have to go find him. Besides, if there’s something I have in abundance, it’s time.”
“He is not here any longer. You will not be able to reach him.”
So I was right. He'd already been promoted to the Royal Guard. “That's fine. I'll wait until an opportunity to meet him arises. Until then, I have plenty of swords, and the Ame no Nuboko, of course. I can use them in lieu of a zanpakuto.”
He studied me intensely. Then, with a final grunt, he accepted. “Very well. You may join my students.”
I leapt into the air, tails spinning like helicopter blades. “Yes! You won't regret this, Yama-sensei!”
“I already do.”
X
I was bored. Zanjutsu was boring. The fancy bankai aura-farming lied to me. Even though I knew what to expect, I found the repetitive sword swings annoying and tedious. Alas, this was the basics and there was no getting around it.
As a monk, I could use a wide assortment of weapons, or none at all. But “could” did not mean “can currently.” I specialized in wielding the staff or spear because in YGGDRASIL, staves counted as casting mediums. To use old D&D terminology, I had a very specific weapon proficiency, which meant my new body didn’t come with convenient swordsmanship intuition.
In my hand was an unadorned katana. Its tsuba was a cobalt-blue, with royal-blue wrappings around the hilt. It was named the Imperial Regalia: Storm God's Divine Judgment. And, like most other such grandly named weapons in YGGDRASIL, it was not at all what it purported to be.
It was a level thirty katana with the unique effect of attracting all forms of lightning. No, the requisite elemental resistance was not included. Anyone who wielded this sword simply auto-failed evasion rolls against most lightning attacks.
I got it from a scammer of a tanuki NPC who claimed to be selling the three Imperial Regalia. I then used it as a disposable lightning rod while completing a quest to hunt down a rabid raiju. I made a clone from one of my tails, gave it this sword, and let it be the distraction while I drove my spear through the back of the mutt’s head.
While it wasn’t a legendary weapon, it was still a serviceable katana. It was well-balanced and made of a mithril alloy, which could both hold an edge and channel mana reasonably well. In other words, good for training and expendable enough that I wouldn't regret getting it damaged.
I slid forward a half-step, only for Ryujin Jakka’s sheath to smack me on the shin. I hadn’t even moved two millimeters out of position. I whined in annoyance but made the correction without complaint.
There was snickering around me. Apparently, it amused my fellows that the “fox sage” who was so popular in town was getting scolded like a kit. None of them were being held to such a strict standard, either.
“You lean forward deeper than you should,” my new sensei grunted. “You favor a spear so you are accustomed to extending your reach however you can.”
“I know. I just need to teach myself new habits,” I nodded back. Starting from a neutral stance, I began counting from one again. A thousand swings in a row, done flawlessly. It was harder than it looked.
“You’ve been here three weeks now.”
“Fo’ sho’, Yama-sensei.”
I ignored the thwack of reprimand for the cheek. He didn’t like me shortening his name. He also didn’t like it when I said “cool” or “lit” or “rizz” or any other slang word.
Naturally, I endeavored to use them more often. I even got the kids in town to copy me, something I counted as a personal victory. The Genji School was a bastion of swordsmanship and old school, Japanese bushido. It was far too stuffy for a fox like me; I had to get my jollies somehow, even if it came with my share of lumps.
“You will no longer benefit from sparring against my other students,” he observed. It was as close to a compliment as I’d ever get.
“I have experience already,” I demurred. “I started from a much higher baseline than a normal civilian.”
“You are dismissed. Each day from tomorrow on, you will lead a small team to find and exterminate hollows. Fight them with only zanjutsu. Only report back when you have integrated these skills into your repertoire.”
“Eh? I mean… I guess that’s fair, but what happens when I get rid of all nearby hollows?”
“Then, we spar.”
I caught the gleam in his eyes. It was not the gaze of a teacher, but the glare of a warrior sizing up an opponent. No one got to be as strong as Shigekuni Yamamoto without their share of natural bloodlust.
Suddenly, crippling myself while fighting soul-eating monsters sounded like a wonderful idea.
X
The next day, I finished my customary morning sword swings and stood aside with Nagi. The boyish man was the newest student at the Genji School, myself excluded. Though he was the most junior in the dojo, he had the most raw talent.
He reminded me of Krillin from Dragon Ball, short and bald. Despite an appearance that often got him mistaken for a child, he was actually in his mid-thirties. The sheer abundance of spirit energy in his body had greatly slowed his aging, to the point that I wondered if he would one day become one of Yamamoto’s original Gotei Thirteen captains.
No matter. For now, he was “Nagi-senpai.” Appearance aside, he lacked Krillin’s good humor and insisted that I show him proper respect. To his credit, he did as he preached and bowed to all seniors, even if he was so much more talented than the others.
“What’s cooking, Nagi-senpai?” I asked as I handed him a packed rice ball. He was one of the few people in Rukongai who really needed to eat to live.
He took the rice ball with an eager smile. Teriyaki salmon onigiri wasn’t exactly easy to come by here. “Many thanks, junior. And yes, I am ready. Let us begin our patrol.”
“Patrol? Why would we patrol when we know where the hollows are?” I asked, removing Yatagarasu from my hairclip.
“More of your strange magics?”
“Real. Watch, this is how we start a fade where I come from.” The World Item came alive. I urged it into the air with a wish. “Fly, my friend. Find me the nearest hollow.”
He watched the World Item flutter off. “Why is it that you sought out Yamamoto-shisho? You have magic aplenty. I have not heard of even noble houses wielding magic like you do.”
“Because zanpakuto are cool, senpai. Swords are a man’s romance. The katana is the embodiment of manly spirit. Does a man need any other reason?”
“Cool…? Heh, foxes have strange sayings indeed…”
I felt Yatagarasu make contact. Clapping my hands, I summoned a torii gate that led us through. “There, a gate to the nearest hollow. Shall we, senpai?”
“Remember, you must use only what you learned at the Genji School,” he reminded. “I will ensure that shisho knows if you cheat.”
I barked my acknowledgement and dove through the portal. The nearest hollow turned out to be something that looked like a toad. It was twelve feet tall and had a mouth that could swallow a house. Its tongue was as thick as two tree trunks.
I leapt between it and a surprised lumberjack, sword already drawn. Slowly for me, I brought up my katana into a guard meant to parry the toad’s tongue. The appendage slid across the back of the sword and I flicked it aside at the moment of contact, deflecting the force to the side.
Behind me, Nagi arrived and pulled the lumberjack out of the line of fire. He’d run around and make sure there wasn't anyone else nearby.
I held myself back. This wasn’t about speed or brute force. This was about practicing the forms and techniques Yamamoto instilled in me in a live fire scenario. It helped that every hollow was shaped differently, and so fought differently.
I kept at it for a time. It was fun, like a game not unlike the one I’d played in Sunspear against the guards. I deflected its tongue with the back of my sword, each time trying to time an aggressive parry. That way, I could slap the tongue aside far enough to count the hollow’s guard as “open.” Unless I carried out the technique flawlessly, I refused to strike back at the hollow.
The obese frog must have gotten tired of this game. It let out a disgruntled croak, as if surprised that its morsel wasn’t grabbable. Opening its mouth wide, it lunged in an attempt to swallow me whole.
My first instinct was to shove a tail through its mask. My second instinct was to drown it in foxfire. My third, fourth, and fifth options were equally duel-ending. Yet, I wasn’t allowed to do any of it. I promised I’d rely on my zanjutsu only, as mediocre as it was.
Problem: I had no idea how to deflect that much mass with a level thirty trash sword while simultaneously relying on only technique and finesse. I could cut it, but I’d do so with brute force. I could project a sword-beam, but it’d be magic, not zanjutsu.
Fox.exe tried to compute a solution.
Fox.exe crashed.
My world went black. And wet. And slimy. The revolting scent of dead flesh assaulted my sensitive fox nose.
I froze, first because I was trying to figure out whether a bit of magic would be acceptable. Then, because I was too disgusted to move. With the toad, yes, but also myself. This thing belonged in a French restaurant. I’d allowed it to swallow me.
A surge of white-hot rage washed over me. All thoughts of my promise fled my mind. Nine tails blazed to life. Azure flames coated every inch of my being, scorching away the nauseating slime. A shout of indignant wrath left my throat as I punched clear through the damn toad like a blue comet streaking across the sky.
Breathing heavily from my own sudden tantrum, I settled back onto the forest floor, only to find Nagi laughing his ass off. I glared at him, still steaming from the vaporized stomach juices of the frog hollow. That only made the midget laugh harder.
Truly, zanjutsu was a deep and profound art. My path to aura-farming badassery was a long one.
Author’s Note
One ri is approximately 3.93 kilometers (2.44 miles). This was apparently the distance a man could walk at a leisurely pace in about an hour.
“Town of Drifting Souls” is the literal translation of “Rukongai.” Seeing how I have no idea what the spirit world looked like before the Gotei Thirteen, I decided to keep Rukongai.
I decided to repost Charlie’s stat sheet side by side with Momonga’s. Momonga’s is in parentheses. Asterisk/110 is the value used to indicate they exceeded YGGDRASIL’s 100 stat cap.
Attributes: Charlie | Momonga
HP: 60 | 60MP: 110 | 110P. ATK: 60 | 35M. ATK: 60 | 90AGI: 110* | 40P. DEF: 85 | 70M. DEF: 85 | 95RES: 62 | 95SPE: 110* | 100Total: 742 | 695
Charlie is a much more balanced character than Momonga, who went full-tilt into the caster build.
The biggest reason for this, besides his knowledge of the coming isekai, is that Charlie built his character with murder in mind. He fully expected to fight every Floor Guardian at some point, maybe even more than one at a time. He’s not allowed to have convenient weak points like Momonga’s low speed.
The above stat block alone wouldn’t have guaranteed victory. It was meant to be a foundation that he could build on using his items, equipment, and foreknowledge.
Animal(Historical?) Fact: A group of rhinos is called a crash. This is a “term of venery,” a collective noun used to describe a group of animals. Many of these, like a “parliament of owls” or a “murder of crows” are somewhat comical or whimsical.
Such terms in English originate from English hunting tradition as early as the mid-1200s. They were coined by gentlemen and nobles to prove they were learned men, not for practical communication. Basically, old-timey boy scouts came up with silly names for groups of animals so they could make themselves sound smart.