The Adaptive Quincy of Bleach

It had been a long time since that incident. Ever since that day, Sora had kept up his training, mastering whatever technique he could.

He did his research on the Quincy King, and if everything said about this man was true, then Sora would need a lot of strength to even hope to beat him.

Luckily, he had once again reached a level near, if not the same level, of Reishi manipulation he used to have—and that was with the gloves.

Without the gloves, he was probably very busted.

He trained his body by working out, so his build was pretty good—compact with lean muscle. That swimmer build was truly the only one that fit him best right now.

It was like the perfect build for what he wanted. He was tanky and had endurance in spades. Sure, he used a gun, but still—he was tanky. A tanky sniper, one might say. No, "tanky duelist" rhymed better.

Anyway, all he knew was that his strength was above that of his adoptive father, or at least whatever level of strength Ryuken had shown him.

Sora was strong, yes. That strength, however, came from the fact that his training started with him adapting to something for a couple of hours, then going back to base and learning that thing himself using muscle memory.

It was quite an effective method.

Currently, he was in his class. He sat in his chair, looking pretty lazy—carefree, even.

His fingers brushed through his messy silver hair.

He gazed at the material he had studied for. Yeah, he was going to pass this test.

There was no way he would fail this one.

In the background, two girls could be heard speaking: one with orange hair, a big personality, and a slim figure, and the other with black spiky-ish hair.

The second girl gave off the vibe of a tomboy and could probably beat the ass of most guys in the class.

Another orange-haired teenager could be seen speaking with his friend, although something about him felt different—very different.

Sora decided not to question it much.

The boy felt like a Shinigami.

There was no mistaking it—the boy had become a Soul Reaper.

Wasn't this fun?

He sighed to himself. This was going to be just thrilling.

Soon the teacher entered the room and clapped her hands before saying:

"All right, everyone, settle down. We have a new student joining us today."

The door slid open, and a girl with short black hair stepped in. She was petite, but she had an air of confidence that didn't quite match her short stature. Sora chalked it up to a Napoleon complex.

"This is Rukia Kuchiki," the teacher introduced. "She recently transferred here. Please make her feel welcome."

Yup, that was a Soul Reaper. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Sora also felt her power in Ichigo.

Well, wasn't that weird.

None of his business. He had to study for an upcoming test or some shit like that.

"Rukia... what are you doing here?" Ichigo's voice rang out. He looked shocked to see the girl there.

The girl showed Ichigo her palm before saying, "Hello, Kurosaki-kun."

All the light vanished from Ichigo's eyes. He looked like he was being blackmailed. Oh well.

"Do you know him?" one of Ichigo's friends asked.

"He helped me when I came into this town," her voice sounded awfully sweet and fake. "Right, Ichigo?"

"...Yeah..."

Well, that was blackmail if Sora had ever seen it.

Sora yawned a bit. Wasn't this just boring? Though, he did need to find a part-time job.

Asking Ryuken for money was not something he wanted to do for the rest of his life.

Yawning again, he half paid attention to the class.

As class ended, he got out of his spot and passed his hand through his hair a bit, making sure it was fine before making his way outside of the classroom.

His Reiatsu level was so low that it appeared like that of an average person, and thus, when he passed by Rukia and Ichigo, neither of them noticed him at all.

With his hands in his pockets, he made his way outside the school. This peace felt nice, and he wondered what his mother would be doing right now.

He had a soft smile on his face as he thought of her. One of these days, he would make sure the man responsible for her death died.

His mother would receive the justice she so deserved. Sora walked around the town.

While walking around, he noticed a small shop with a hiring sign. Deciding to test his luck, he entered the shop.

"Welcome, welcome to my humble abode," a man with a hat said. Yup, that would be his vague description of the man.

"I saw on the flyer that you are hiring."

"Yes, we are."

"I'm here for the job."

"Okay, first, let me ask you a couple of questions."

"How do you deal with a moody customer?"

"Put on a fake smile and act like they're right."

"How busy is your schedule?"

"Heh, I'm free for the most part after school, though on weekends, I'm unavailable."

"Good. Now, what do you know of the supernatural?"

"Like Hollows and spirits? I'm pretty knowledgeable."

"You're hired," the man said with a smile.

"Heh, just like that?" Sora was confused. He had never gotten a job so easily.

The man handed him a mop.

"The shop's not going to clean itself. Get to work."

...

...

...

This man was a weird boss.

A/N....