I Became a Shinigami After Death

In the world of Bleach, the concept of Spirit Class, Reiatsu or Spiritual Pressure can be simplified as the "density of the soul."

Essentially, those with higher Reiatsu can harness greater spiritual energy, but control depends entirely on individual skill.

This principle applies universally to Shinigami and Hollows. For example, Ichigo Kurosaki possesses extraordinarily high Reiatsu but lacks control. Early on, he struggles to regulate his Reiatsu, resulting in poor management of his spiritual energy (as seen when he creates the unstable spirit energy pathway to Hueco Mundo).

However, Quincy are an exception. They don't necessarily have high Reiatsu but leverage external reishi to fight, enabling them to wield substantial spiritual power regardless of their natural reserves.

According to Ren's understanding, Shinigami compress reishi into their own bodies and rely on their internal reserves in battle, while Quincy draws from the environment to fuel their techniques.

Thus, Reiatsu isn't equivalent to "mana" in the games Ren once knew, nor is it entirely analogous to his current mental attributes. Instead, it's a more comprehensive evaluation metric.

For example, Ren's current physical body is immensely powerful. If he truly existed as a soul in the Shinigami world, his soul density would undoubtedly be high, which naturally means his Reiatsu wouldn't be low.

Of course, given how dependent Shinigami combat styles are on externalizing Reiatsu, Ren reasoned that mental strength likely plays a critical role in determining Reiatsu levels.

"Unbelievable…"

At this moment, the instructor, Fujimoto-sensei, stared at the screen in astonishment, and the surrounding students began buzzing with animated discussions.

As purple-black light flickered, the bar on the screen surged upward. The instant Ren placed his hand on the testing device, the scale shot past the ten-level benchmark.

"Level 20 Spiritual Pressure!"

Someone gasped in shock.

However many students remained composed. Since the founding of Shin'ō Academy, prodigies with Reiatsu levels as high as seven upon entry weren't unheard of.

However, as the numbers on the screen continued to shift, the room's atmosphere grew more tense.

20… 19… 18… 17… Level 17 Reiatsu!

"Is this enough?" Ren asked, seeing the numbers stabilize. He turned to Fujimoto-sensei.

Unlike the astonished students, Ren didn't think his Reiatsu was particularly high. He was well aware that in the original work, geniuses entering the Academy had Reiatsu levels in the single digits.

For instance, Shiba Kaien, who would appear two centuries later, or Hitsugaya Tōshirō and Gin Ichimaru—both of whom entered with monstrous levels of Reiatsu that utterly dwarfed his.

Still, Ren wasn't disappointed. He wasn't originally from this world, nor was he a true reishi entity. His strengths lay in his remarkable growth potential, exceptional combat skills, and sharp intuition.

"No wonder Captain Unohana brought you here," Fujimoto-sensei remarked, recovering from his shock. "You truly are a remarkable talent. Let's proceed to the next test."

Putting away his surprise, Fujimoto grabbed two wooden swords from nearby.

Truthfully, Ren's Level 17 Reiatsu wasn't top-tier among this year's entrants, not even in the top ten. What surprised Fujimoto was Ren's origins—he was just a stray from Rukongai.

Those geniuses with single-digit Reiatsu at entry were often from noble families in the Soul Society. They had trained extensively before attending Shin'ō Academy, receiving years of preparation.

Ren, by contrast, had no such advantages. He didn't even know how to condense reishi. His Level 17 Reiatsu was pure, raw talent!

With six years of proper training at the Academy, Fujimoto estimated Ren could easily reach Level 8, perhaps even Level 6—a level comparable to seated officers.

To Fujimoto, Ren was a rare, unpolished gem. The only question was his combat aptitude.

With that thought, Fujimoto tossed one of the wooden swords to Ren and said, "Try attacking me."

Ren caught the wooden sword, weighing it thoughtfully. He quickly deduced that this so-called "second test" wasn't part of the standard entrance exam. Fujimoto simply wanted to assess his swordsmanship.

That's why the instructor had said passing the first test already qualified him as a full-fledged student. This second test was likely Fujimoto's personal interest as the Academy's kendo instructor.

Noticing Ren didn't immediately attack, Fujimoto assumed he was hesitating. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll suppress my Reiatsu to match yours, and I'll only use as much force as necessary. Come at me with everything you've got."

Hearing this, Ren's lips curled into an uncontrollable grin as he looked at Fujimoto. "Are you sure, sensei?"

Fujimoto frowned. He felt as though the young man before him was mocking him.

"Don't overthink it," Fujimoto said sternly. "Just attack with the intent to kill. Let me see your skills so I can design a training plan for you to keep up with your peers."

Before becoming the Academy's kendo instructor, Fujimoto had been a seated officer. He prided himself on his expertise in swordsmanship.

To him, Ren was talented but arrogant. Growing up in the chaotic Rukongai, he had likely been in countless brawls and never tasted defeat. Today, Fujimoto would teach him that such crude techniques were no match for true kendo.

"With the intent to kill…" Ren repeated, lowering his stance and gripping the wooden sword tightly.

In that instant, Fujimoto noticed a transformation. The relaxed and nonchalant youth suddenly radiated an entirely different aura.

His eyes, his posture, even the atmosphere around him—everything shifted.

It was the crouch of a hunting tiger, the poised stillness of a sheathed blade gathering momentum.

Beneath his lowered gaze was a frenzy barely contained—like a volcano on the verge of eruption. It was the madness of a warrior, the fervour of a berserker.

In the next moment, the wooden floor beneath Ren splintered as he launched himself forward like a cannonball—yet his movement was shockingly graceful, almost weightless.

The ten-meter gap vanished in an instant. Ren's wooden sword traced an elegant arc through the air, like a master's brush painting on rice paper. Though it was merely a bamboo sword, the strike carried a menacing gleam, like the cold flash of a bloodied blade.

Bang—

At the last possible moment, Fujimoto-sensei's bamboo sword intercepted the strike. The clash sent shockwaves rippling through the air, lifting strands of both his hair and Ren's.

As their gazes locked, Fujimoto saw something unmistakable in the young man's eyes: a fierce hunger… and unbridled exhilaration.

"This is bad!"

A warning bell rang out in Fujimoto's mind. He had been a fraction of a second too slow on the opening exchange, and the young man before him showed no signs of letting up.

Ren's attacks were relentless, almost feral in their precision. Fujimoto felt as though he were facing not a novice, but a seasoned master of kendo—or worse, someone blessed with an innate, predatory instinct for battle. Every flicker of hesitation, every opening, was mercilessly exploited.

As Fujimoto attempted to shift his blade into a defensive posture, Ren's next strike came like a serpent lunging for the kill. The tip of the bamboo sword slipped through his guard, aimed directly at his throat with unerring precision!