Naruto: This Genius is Somewhat Ordinary-Chapter 413

"Shiba Miyako..."

Fujimoto Tōma quietly repeated the name as the world finished stabilizing around him.

Unfortunately, it meant nothing to him.

If he were deeply familiar with Bleach, he probably would’ve reacted. The Shiba surname alone should’ve rung bells. But between dying once, reincarnating into the shinobi world, and spending decades there, his memory of Bleach had thinned out to a few vague silhouettes.

He looked around.

A narrow, run-down street.

Low wooden houses.

People in worn hemp clothes walking past like this was perfectly normal.

No one even blinked at the fact that he had just appeared out of thin air.

"So this is Soul Society..." he muttered.

A broad-shouldered man with short hair walked up to him, sizing him up.

"New arrival?"

"Yes," Tōma replied.

"Follow me. This is West Rukongai, District 56."

The man introduced himself as Koshi and explained the basics as they walked. Souls sent here by a Konsō all ended up in Rukongai. Which district you landed in was pure luck.

Lower numbers meant better security and living conditions.

Higher numbers meant... not dying was already a success.

District 56 was firmly in the "don’t get stabbed in an alley" tier.

"So where are we going?" Tōma asked.

"To the district elder. If you’re lucky, he’ll set you up with work. Or a family."

"...A family?"

Koshi nodded.

"Your memories from when you were alive don’t last forever. Most people forget everything eventually. Life here becomes your new life."

"...People lose their memories?"

"I don’t remember my past at all," Koshi said honestly. "Neither does anyone I’ve asked. So yeah. That’s my guess."

"Solid logic," Tōma replied dryly.

They stopped at a creaky old house.

Koshi knocked.

A raspy voice answered. "Who is it?"

"It’s me, Koshi. I brought a newcomer."

After a long moment, the door opened.

An elderly man stepped out, stooped and wrinkled, easily in his late seventies.

"This the new one?" he asked, looking at Tōma.

"Yes. Fujimoto Tōma. I was sent here today by a Shinigami."

"...A proper Konsō. Good. That means no trouble."

Tōma raised an eyebrow.

"People arrive here without Konsō?"

The old man’s smile faded slightly.

"Sometimes. It’s a bad sign."

He didn’t elaborate.

Koshi bowed slightly. "I’ve done my part. Got a family to feed. Good luck surviving, kid."

"Thanks for the help."

Koshi waved and left.

Inside, the old man scratched his head.

"Troublesome... no families short on members right now."

"I don’t need to be assigned to a family," Tōma said.

"Nonsense. Soul Society is long. Living alone isn’t healthy."

Tōma sighed.

"...The Shinigami who sent me here gave me advice."

The old man’s eyes widened.

"She did?"

"She said Shin’ō Academy is enrolling soon."

"...Shin’ō Academy?!"

The old man stared at him in disbelief.

Only Shinigami talked about that place.

"You must be talented..."

Tōma raised a hand and formed a small orb of spiritual energy.

The old man leaned closer, squinting.

"...I see. No wonder."

Tōma dismissed it.

"Then I’ll stay here until the test?"

The old man nodded eagerly.

That night, alone in his borrowed room, Tōma ran his fingers along the wall.

Spiritual energy.

Everything here was made of it.

"...So this entire world is basically one giant reishi construct."

He carefully opened his absorption channels a fraction.

Energy flowed in silently.

Not a storm this time.

Good.

He had no interest in attracting captains before even enrolling.

The moon sprite popped out of space beside his head and licked his cheek.

"...Apparently you’re an ominous sign here."

"Gula~"

"Stay hidden when people are around. We’ll fake a normal explanation later."

Two days passed.

Shin’ō Academy.

A massive complex stood before them.

Hundreds of souls gathered.

Some in rags.

Some well dressed.

All nervous.

The old man clasped his hands.

"You’ll pass. I’m sure of it."

Tōma nodded politely.

Then his gaze drifted.

Two teenagers stood nearby.

A short black-haired girl.

A tall red-haired boy.

"...Rukia?" he murmured.

And Renji.

So this really was that era.

The entrance exam began.

Simple.

Measure spiritual pressure.

Nothing else.

When it was his turn, Tōma extended his hand and formed a controlled orb of spiritual energy, matching the level he’d seen from the red-haired boy.

The examiner glanced at it.

"Excellent. Next."

Tōma lowered his hand.

"...Good enough."