A Lecture on Kido [Benjiro and Turushino JT]

[Benjiro Hiroto]

Amid the halls of the recently restored Shino Academy, Benjiro Hiroto strode with an air of quiet introspection. His steps seemed to echo a distant melody, as if the cadence of his gait resonated with the weight of his ruminations. The memories of the recent invasion clung to his mind, an invasive vine that wound its tendrils around his thoughts. He remembered the chaos, the devastation that had left the academy in ruins, much like the fragments of his own convictions. He remembered the beam of nothingness that had erased existence itself, knowing that his death was imminent. 

A flicker of sorrow danced in his eyes as he replayed the moments when he had felt utterly inconsequential, a mere cog in a machine of defense that seemed to falter against the onslaught. A pang of self-doubt tugged at his heart, the sensation of futility clawing at his resolve. But Benjiro, ever the master of his emotions, dismissed these tendrils of doubt. Now was not the time to indulge in the lament of his perceived insignificance. He gripped his Zanpakuto at the side of his hip, feeling its warmth as Futan Juzemasu soothed his spirit.

Today, he bore a different mantle—one of a mentor, a guide to those who still walked the early steps of their path as Shinigami. The academy had chosen him to give a lecture, a beacon of wisdom and expertise for those students who had stumbled upon the rocky terrain of Kido. It was a remedial class, meant for those who thirsted for knowledge yet found the currents of spiritual arts challenging to navigate. Benjiro felt a spark of anticipation kindling within him; he was a riverbed that had weathered storms, and he was ready to guide these streams toward a tranquil flow.

The sun cast a warm glow upon the polished floors of the academy, its light mingling with the essence of diligence that seemed to shimmer around Benjiro. He stood before a small gathering of students. Only about ten students gathered here, with half of them seeming even partially interested in the Kido arts in the first place. Yet, despite the hesitancy of some and the lack of talent, Benjiro saw each as a canvas upon which the strokes of his teachings would be painted. As he began his introduction, his voice held a cadence reminiscent of falling leaves, each word a note in a symphony of guidance.

"My dear students," he began, his gaze sweeping across the room, "Kido is a manifestation of the soul's essence, a dance of energy and intention. It is not merely a tool of destruction or defense, but a reflection of one's spirit and purpose." His words were like ripples upon a tranquil pond, each ripple carrying the weight of his experience and wisdom. As he spoke, in order to better reflect this lesson, he raised a single palm outwards. With a single thought, a pulse of reiatsu shot out and filled the room. Benjiro's soul was reflected in this pulse, as if soothing waves crashing gently upon the sand. 

"My name is Benjiro Hiroto, I am the Twelfth Seat of the Tenth Division. It is an honor to be able to impart my knowledge on all of you, my future brothers and sisters." 

[Turushino Ronjiro]

In the dim-lit corridors of the rejuvenated Shino Academy, Turushino's footsteps resonated with a purposeful rhythm. The early morning light filtered through the windows, casting elongated shadows that seemed to echo his resolute determination. Today was another chance, another step on the unending path he walked to become stronger, to inch closer to his potential. Turushino's spirit burned with an unquenchable fire for growth, an insatiable hunger to refine himself.

Earlier, he had trained rigorously, his body moving with grace and precision. The echoes of his strikes and the measured rhythm of his breathing had filled the training area. Turushino's form was like a dancer's, every motion an expression of his dedication. His self-awareness was sharp; he understood his skills, his strengths. But he also knew that evolution sprouted from tackling the uncharted territories, from confronting one's shortcomings.

A towel slung over his shoulder, Turushino walked with a confident stride towards the classroom. Today's lesson revolved around Kido, a realm that had always intrigued him, even though its intricacies remained enigmatic. While his heart lay more with physical combat, he embraced the idea of broadening his horizons, of adding more strings to his bow. It was the pursuit of comprehensiveness that spurred him forward.

The classroom door swung open soundlessly as Turushino stepped in, his presence a fusion of eagerness and early exasperation. His gaze naturally gravitated to the instructor, an embodiment of experience and knowledge. Benjiro's words carried weight, each phrase a piece of the puzzle that formed a holistic image.

As Benjiro introduced himself and delved into the essence of Kido, Turushino found himself ensnared by the atmosphere. The cadence of Benjiro's speech flowed like a gentle current, a soothing stream of understanding. The idea of Kido as a reflection of one's very soul struck Turushino like a resonant chord, a notion that seemed to whisper to his own journey.

Turushino's focus remained unwavering as he absorbed Benjiro's words, his eyes drawn to the instructor's raised palm. When the pulse of reiatsu reverberated through the air, it felt like an unseen connection, like a bridge from one spirit to another.

In the midst of Benjiro's teachings, Turushino felt a sense of kinship in the words "my future brothers and sisters." The camaraderie in that phrase resonated within him, an acknowledgment of shared aspirations.

Silently, Turushino stood, a sentinel of attentiveness. He was ready to immerse himself in Benjiro's lessons, to explore this uncharted terrain of Kido. The sun's light filtered through the windows, infusing the room with an aura of possibilities, a space for knowledge to flourish and for souls to grow.

[Benjiro Hiroto]

In the hallowed chamber of knowledge, where the echoes of aspiration danced upon the air like delicate whispers, Benjiro Hiroto continued his lecture with a grace that seemed almost ethereal. His warm smile, a beacon of wisdom and encouragement, flickered like a candle's flame against the backdrop of eager, youthful faces. The ten students who had gathered in the presence of this enigmatic Shinigami bore expressions that spoke of both awe and inspiration. They were like fledglings nestled in the cradle of his words, their curiosity kindled by the incandescent spark of his teachings.

Benjiro understood the potency of his own display, how the dance of spiritual energy ignited a spark of wonder within those who observed. A gentle laugh escaped from his lips. He understood, after all. His own journey through the corridors of Shino Academy's Kido lectures had only been illuminated by his talent and his understanding of the spirit. Buddhist practice and meditation had given him a bit of a leg up on the rest of his classmates. Yet, as he looked upon the mesmerized gazes, he couldn't help but cast his mind back to the days of his own tutelage—days of strict rigidity and overly technical discourse that had threatened to unravel his mind. 

That was why he wanted to teach with simplicity. 

As he spoke of the essence of Kido, his voice carried the cadence of a seasoned philosopher, each word a brushstroke on the canvas of understanding. "Let us begin today's lecture with what Kido actually is," he began, his tone as fluid as the currents of the afterlife. "It is quite simple really, for Kido is just the manipulation of the soul and the spirit." His words were accompanied by a gesture, a single finger conjuring a sphere of ethereal light. The radiant orb shimmered with a brilliant silver glow.

"The soul is a wellspring of power, a repository of energy that is held within each and every one of you," Benjiro continued, his eyes alight. "When you wield Kido, you are not creating or wielding energy; you are harnessing the very essence of your being to shape reality itself." His words hung in the air like notes of a haunting melody, lingering to be savored by attentive minds. He expected confusion, watching as they struggled to grasp the concept. It was a difficult subject, after all.

He paused a little longer, allowing the weight of his words to settle upon his students, their expressions shifting from awe to contemplation. He needed them to think, to try and understand before he continued. "This ball of light," he said, his voice a velvety cadence, "is an embodiment of my will, an assertion of my presence within reality. It is not an illusion, it has form and substance—it is real. It produces light, blinding even, should you stare too long." His gaze swept across the room, scanning for anyone who may have understood the concept.

Benjiro's fingers began to dance, moving with elegance as the ball of light danced between the spaces of his fingers. "I cannot physically produce light, just as I cannot create fire from nothing. With Kido, I use my will to coax reality to reflect it." he said, his voice a lilting melody, "Therein lies the difficulty of Kido. Can you manifest a conviction so strong, so bold, that reality has no choice but to waver? This is why many study Kido for years before being able to use it, for they need to first convince themselves that it is possible." 

Turning his attention to the students once more, Benjiro's eyes sparkled with a gentle warmth. "Does anyone have questions?" he inquired, inviting their curiosity like a gardener tending to fragile blossoms. He awaited their queries with an open heart, ready to guide them through the labyrinth of knowledge and lead them toward the light of understanding.

[Turushino Ronjiro]

Turushino's presence exuded an air of rapt fascination, a student eager to soak up the reservoir of knowledge that filled the room. Within those walls, where wisdom seemed to shimmer in the air, Benjiro's words cascaded like a tranquil brook, and Turushino's concentration remained resolute. His eyes, sharp and introspective, absorbed each syllable with an almost reverent eagerness, as if each utterance were a precious gem unearthed in the desert of his understanding.

With the lecture's progression into the intricacies of Kido, Turushino's forehead knit in pensive contemplation. The concept of wielding one's soul and spirit as tools to shape the fabric of reality stirred at the fringes of his cognition. His expertise thrived in the realm of physical combat, a ballet of steel and sinew, yet the allure of expanding his arsenal beckoned irresistibly.

The luminous sphere conjured into existence by Benjiro's fingertip held Turushino's gaze, a testament to the instructor's mastery. Benjiro's speech flowed as smoothly as a tranquil river, its cadence weaving vibrant threads of insight through Turushino's thoughts. The analogy of reality bowing to the dictates of one's unwavering belief shone like a lighthouse against the obscurity, charting a course through the labyrinthine intricacies of Kido.

In response to the query posed, Turushino's voice carried a tinge of genuine curiosity. "Yo," he began, his words too casual for the situation, "the concept you speak of, shaping reality through conviction, sounds amazing. But how does one cultivate such ability? I have tried many times, and I mean many times, but it all evades me.”

[Benjiro Hiroto]

In the midst of his eloquent discourse, Benjiro Hiroto found his rhythm gently punctuated by the stirring curiosity of his students. One young soul, his gaze aflame with intrigue, raised his hand as if seeking to grasp the elusive threads of understanding that wove through the lecture. This boy, his countenance a mixture of fascination and bewilderment, longed to decipher the enigma of wielding Kido. His desire was palpable, an ember within his spirit yearning to be stoked into a roaring flame of mastery.

Benjiro's eyes met the boy's, and he nodded, acknowledging the unspoken plea for guidance. "That is fair," he began, his voice a resonant timbre that brushed against the edges of the lecture hall. "It is quite difficult to find one's spirit and one's conviction, especially in the face of continuous failure. That is why it is important to know what exactly it is to look for." His words were a soothing current, washing over the boy's uncertainty like a tide embracing the shore.

He illustrated his point with a tangible metaphor, drawing forth his Zanpakuto with a grace that bespoke the kinship between a Shinigami and their blade. With a deliberate sweep, he executed a slice that bore the marks of inexperience—a blemish upon the canvas of his artistry. It was sloppy, to say the least, slow, the edge unaligned with the slice. It perfectly encapsulated how not to swing the blade. "Tell me," he inquired, his voice a gentle inquiry, "are you confident that you can perfectly swing your sword after you've made a mistake?" His gaze held a depth of wisdom that seemed to pierce through time itself.

He watched as the students all lost themselves in thought, the cogs of contemplation turning within their minds. Benjiro's words were a mirror reflecting the truth he had glimpsed over his myriad of experiences, a truth that resonated with the essence of not only Kido but life's pursuit itself. With a patient smile, Benjiro continued, his words an intricate tapestry woven from the loom of his life's journey. 

"Failure sows doubt, even unconsciously," he elucidated, his voice a soothing balm. "The echoes of uncertainty ripple through every subsequent action, eroding the foundation of conviction. However," His blade arced once more, but this time the motion was a testament to unwavering focus and perfect form. The air whispered in reverence as the blade carved a path through space, a flawless embodiment of skill and intent. The sound of singing steel could be heard along with the slice, followed by the gentle golden shimmer of Futan Juzemasu. Benjiro always enjoyed its love of spectacle. 

"When you learn to look past that doubt and trust in yourself, your conviction strengthens," Benjiro proclaimed, his words a clarion call to the hearts of his listeners. The dance of his blade embodied not only the art of Kido but the essence of resilience—the ability to rise above one's own doubts and limitations. It was a truth that would aid all of them regardless of what type of training they aimed to do. Whether it was through the learnings of Zanjutsu, Hoho, Hakuda, Kido, or even the matters of the heart and soul, resiliency was universal. 

The classroom was now a sanctuary of rapt attention, each student a witness to the unfolding symphony of insight. Notes were hastily jotted down, the parchment capturing the pearls of wisdom that dripped from Benjiro's lips. He shared his truths freely, laying bare the path to mastery as he illuminated the secrets of soul and spirit. After all, would it not only benefit the Soul Society if the students could learn and develop more holistically? It may not be the fastest of paths, but it builds a solid foundation that will take these students to even greater heights.

"And how exactly can you nurture that trust within?" he queried, his gaze once again fixing upon the earnest student who had posed the question. "By embracing the crucible of training and practice. It is through the crucible that the sword is forged, and it is through diligent practice that your spirit hones its craft. Simply put, through disciplined study and practice will your conviction be steeled. Remember, there are no shortcuts." His words were a declaration of a truth as ancient as time itself, a truth that resonated within the hearts of all who aspired to greatness.

Turning his attention to the inquiring youth, Benjiro extended an invitation laden with promise. "You," he addressed the boy, his voice a gentle caress, "what is your name? Would you like to come before the class and share your journey? What have you done to find your will?" The air seemed to shimmer with anticipation as the boy's name hung like a quiver on the precipice of revelation, a new chapter poised to unfold in the tapestry of Benjiro's lecture. Perhaps this was the start of a practical exercise.

[Turushino Ronjiro]

Amidst the symphony of words and wisdom that flowed from the lips of Benjiro, Turushino found himself completely immersed in the rhythm of guidance and introspection resonating throughout the classroom. The very atmosphere underwent a metamorphosis, morphing into a sanctuary of learning where every sentence bore the weight of experience and understanding. Turushino's typically wandering gaze remained steadfastly fixed on Benjiro, utterly captivated by the finesse with which he wove his invaluable lessons.

In the moment when Benjiro's gaze met the hand raised by an eager student, Turushino couldn't suppress the sensation of a shared connection. The thirst for knowledge and mastery transcended divisions, be they the boundaries of varying abilities or the gaps of age and experience. He observed with unwavering attention as Benjiro acknowledged the unspoken plea for insight, his nod serving as an unspoken bridge that spanned the chasm between mentor and student.

The metaphor that Benjiro presented, illustrating the far-reaching consequences of failure on subsequent actions, struck a chord deep within Turushino. He had personally encountered the persistent doubts that accompanied missteps and errors, and he comprehended how these doubts could accumulate like burdens upon the spirit. The scene played out before him like a vivid tableau—Benjiro's initial, imperfect maneuver contrasting starkly against the refined, perfected form that succeeded it. It wasn't merely an exhibition of swordsmanship; it was a visual embodiment of growth and resilience, a reminder that every setback had the potential to serve as a stepping stone toward mastery.

As Benjiro delved further into the concept of self-trust, Turushino's thoughts embarked on a journey of introspection. This concept struck a harmonious chord with his own experiences, both as a student across various disciplines and as an individual navigating the intricate labyrinth of life. He recollected instances when doubt had whispered insidiously in his ear, attempting to corrode his determination, and how he had retaliated with a renewed resolve to surge forward.

The ambiance of the classroom appeared to shift, transforming into an arena of collective contemplation and inspiration. The students remained in a state of rapt attention, their gazes locked onto Benjiro, while their quills danced across parchment to capture the pearls of wisdom cascading from his lips. Turushino marveled at the way Benjiro's words weren't mere dissemination of knowledge, but rather a delicate tapestry skillfully weaving together experience, guidance, and motivation.

The question posed to the inquisitive student, coupled with the promise of shared journeys, lingered in the air like an unvoiced challenge. Turushino sensed the tangible anticipation saturating the room, a shared breath suspended as they awaited the student's response. It was a moment of vulnerability, of standing before peers and mentors to offer a glimpse into one's struggles and growth. In this very instant, Turushino recognized the potent force of community and shared experience—a woven tapestry of learning and growth, woven through the threads of support and comprehension.

As the silence extended, Turushino's thoughts wandered to his personal voyage. He recounted instances of stumbling, the doubts that had nibbled at his determination, and the triumphs that had propelled him forward. Within Benjiro's lecture, he glimpsed a reflection of his own convictions—a fusion of seeking uncharted horizons and embracing the wisdom of those who had traversed the path before.

Shifting his gaze towards the mentor who had thus far illuminated their path, gratitude and admiration gleamed in Turushino's eyes. And then, as his gaze swept across the eager students, Turushino's lips curved into a genial smile. "Allow me to introduce myself then!" he began warmly, his voice inviting. "The name is Turushino! And I'd be more than happy to delve into my own experiences of failure. But it's not a sentiment that drags me down; rather, it's a recognition of our individual strengths and weaknesses. Interestingly, I've noticed a marked improvement in my performance when I wield a blade, much like the display you demonstrated a moment ago, teach." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle, eager to share his own transformative journey within the crucible of experience.

[Benjiro Hiroto]

Benjiro's lecture continued to unfold after he had answered the question of one of his students. It was quite fun to teach, he thought to himself, as he imagined this was what Abbot Eshin experienced in his lifetime. Nurturing young minds with vast potential was fulfilling and rewarding in its own right. As the classroom buzzed with attentive minds, his gaze settled upon one student who radiated an infectious enthusiasm, a radiant spark of eagerness that mirrored the vitality of youth itself. The student introduced himself as Turushino, his demeanor marked by a spirited vivacity that beckoned the warmth of camaraderie.

Benjiro nodded in acknowledgment, his voice a soothing timbre that mirrored the gentle rustle of leaves in a tranquil garden. "Ah, Turushino," he mused, "your vigor is a welcome presence in our midst. Enthusiasm and a willingness to learn often lay the foundation for success." His words were a nod to the age-old wisdom that passion was the furnace that forged mastery. They were words he once heard in his life, after all. The fruitful years of his life at Kiyomizudera Temple were filled with the wisdom of monks much greater than him, after all. 

Benjiro then watched and listened as Turushino began to share his own experiences throughout his life, dissecting the enigma of failure with his own personal view of the matter. Unlike what Benjiro had spoken of, the doubts that clouded success within oneself, Turushino felt disconnected from such emotions. Instead, he spoke of recognition, of the delicate interplay between one's strengths and weaknesses. Benjiro listened with a contemplative serenity, his gaze locked onto the young man's soul as his words painted a portrait of resilience and self-awareness. "I see, you have a more objective view on your own capabilities. This is a good thing, as it belies caution, but caution can also limit one's creativity. Remember that, young Turushino."

After warning Turushino of the flaw in his thinking, he focused on the revelation of Turushino's swordsmanship skills. "So, you are a swordsman then!" Benjiro observed, a twinkle of intrigue glinting in his eyes. "Zanjutsu is your forte, I presume?" His inquiry was born out of genuine interest, a testament to his commitment to nurturing the potential of each student. "If so," he continued, his voice a soothing river that guided the conversation's flow, "it may be good to grasp your Asauchi while you practice Kido, as an anchor or a focus of your will."

Benjiro spoke in a gentle tone, similar to that of a mother's warmth. He had been trying to guide and mentor each one of them, so setting forth a good first impression by teaching Turushino was vital. "Be careful not to let this be a crutch," he advised, his tone sagacious, "but rather an assistive tool, for Kido is a power that works even when disarmed of your weapon." His guidance was a reflection of the profound understanding that mastery encompassed not just skill but a fusion of heart and soul.

With a smile that held the wisdom of countless lessons learned, Benjiro extended an invitation, a beckoning toward the tangible manifestation of Turushino's will and resolve. Holding a hand outstretched towards the rest of the class, Benjiro spoke. "How about you demonstrate your Zanjutsu for us?" he proposed, his eyes alight with anticipation. It was a practical entreaty, an opportunity to glimpse into the essence of Turushino's spirit as it wove through the art of the blade. The classroom awaited, an eager audience yearning to witness the harmony of skill and soul in motion.

[Turushino Ronjiro]

Turushino's eyes gleamed with appreciation as Benjiro acknowledged his presence and offered insights that transcended the lecture's surface. The ambiance of the lecture hall felt like a haven of wisdom and guidance, a space where young minds could bask in the light of experience. He nodded in agreement as Benjiro emphasized the significance of enthusiasm and its role in fostering growth. This was a philosophy he carried close to his heart, for he had lived the truth of its power.

"Indeed, a passion for learning drives us forward, well passion in general does" Turushino responded, his voice a soft echo of agreement. "It's an honor to be part of this journey though! Long as it may be." His tone carried respect, tinged with a warmth that signified his sincere eagerness to grasp the teachings. As Benjiro delved into the depths of Turushino's perspective on failure, his mentor's observations were astute, resonating with a clarity that seemed to pierce through the layers of Turushino's thinking. The caution inherent in his approach, an objective self-evaluation, made sense to him. Yet, the warning against stifling creativity was a seed of insight that planted itself in the soil of his mind. Turushino's lips curved into a thoughtful smile, acknowledging the wisdom bestowed upon him.

When Benjiro identified his skill in Zanjutsu, Turushino's countenance brightened, his own eyes mirroring the intrigue within the instructor's gaze. He appreciated the thoughtful advice that followed, the notion of using his Asauchi as a focal point for his Kido practice. The concept resonated with him, a bridge connecting his physical prowess with the mystic arts he was venturing into. "An anchor to channel my resolve," he mused, his words laden with appreciation. "Gotcha!" Turushino responded, his voice respectful and eager as he considered the instructor's guidance. "I understand the need to integrate my skills, to create a synergy that embodies both my swordsmanship and the art of Kido. It's tough, I get it, but I am sure I can pull it off"

As Benjiro extended the invitation for a practical demonstration, Turushino's heart quickened with anticipation. He looked around the room, noting his fellow students' curiosity and the palpable aura of learning that surrounded them. He took a deep breath, allowing the energy of the moment to envelop him, his steps carrying him to the center of the classroom. With a fluid motion, he drew his practice sword, its weight familiar and comforting in his hand.

As the blade caught the light, Turushino's stance shifted, his movements marked by a grace that flowed from years of dedication. His focus sharpened, his presence a whirlwind of intent. His attack was swift, a calculated feint that drew the attention of his imaginary foe. But instead of following through with the initial strike, Turushino dropped low, his body sliding beneath the imagined adversary's guard. The room seemed to hold its breath as he reemerged, his body pivoting smoothly. His blade danced a crescent arc, tracing a path from the imagined enemy's unprotected back. The motion was swift, a fluid choreography of skill and strategy. Turushino's eyes remained locked on his mental opponent, his movements a testament to his mastery of swift combat.

With a final flourish, Turushino's practice sword came to a stop, its edge barely inches from an imaginary foe's throat. His breath came steady, his gaze unwavering, his being a reflection of his combat philosophy—precise, swift, and imbued with a sense of purpose. The silence of the room was broken by the soft exhale of breath, an unspoken applause that lingered in the air. Turushino's gaze shifted to Benjiro, his expression a mix of pride and gratitude for the opportunity to demonstrate his art. "That, teach, is my approach to fightin'—swift, a dance of precision and speed," he explained, his voice carrying the resonance of truth.

[Benjiro Hiroto]

Within the lecture hall's subdued ambiance, Benjiro Hiroto continued to impart the wisdom of Kido to his attentive audience, and among them, Turushino stood as a beacon of receptivity and enthusiasm. The young man seemed to absorb each syllable like a sponge, his eager demeanor a testament to the wellspring of curiosity that dwelled within him. Benjiro couldn't help but smile inwardly, appreciating the genuine hunger for knowledge that radiated from Turushino's every expression.

As Turushino prepared to demonstrate his combat skills, a spark of anticipation glinted in his eyes—a fire stoked by the teachings he had absorbed thus far. His movements, swift and fluid as the current of a river, wove a tale of precision and grace. It was a dance of crescent motions, a testament to a style that married speed and finesse with seamless grace. The way he had feinted spoke of a cunning style that focused on technique above all. Technique and skill were useful and versatile, usually to make up for a lack of overwhelming ability and talent. It was a style that relied on one's sharpness of mind and body at once.

Upon the completion of his demonstration, Turushino beamed with a pride that was well-earned. His words bore the weight of his accomplishment as he shared the essence of his swordsmanship—a dance of speed and precision. Benjiro nodded, his approval a gentle acknowledgment of Turushino's dedication and proficiency. "Very impressive, Turushino!" he commended, his voice a soothing current of affirmation. "Pride in one's technique leads to confidence and resolve in performing it. If you can apply the same principle to Kido, then the application will follow."

Benjiro's wisdom came with a grin, a shared understanding that mastery, regardless of the discipline, thrived on the foundation of pride in one's craft. Yet, he knew that pride, like any virtue, bore the seed of its own shortcomings—rigidity and overreliance. If left unchecked, in the heat of battle, technique-focused styles become predictable. Not only that, but versatility and novelty becomes even more difficult to attain. Such lessons, however, would find their place in the tapestry of learning on another day.

Turning his gaze toward the assembled class, Benjiro's eyes held the promise of a new journey—an exploration into the depths of spiritual energy and its manifestations through Kido. He wasn't here to teach Zanjutsu or Swordsmanship after all, he was meant to teach Remedial Kido. "So, let's begin," he began, his voice a steady beacon, "by drawing in our spiritual energy. Focus your willpower and connect it to the outside world through meditation. Find anything that you can concentrate on and use it as a focus."

His guidance was like a guiding hand, gently steering his students toward the shores of concentration and spiritual awakening. They needed this lesson first and foremost in order to get a grasp of what spiritual energy feels like flowing through the body. Without the foundation and principles of gathering reiatsu and tapping into spiritual power, all the incantations would lead to nothing. "Remember," he emphasized, his tone imbued with a serene wisdom, "meditation is not about your mind; it is about your spirit. The spirit is entwined in reality, not in your head."

With that, he set them on their path of introspection, a journey where the realm of Kido intersected with the realms of the soul. The lecture hall became a sanctuary of contemplation, each student embarking on their own unique voyage of self-discovery and mastery, guided by the wisdom of their Shinigami instructor. He only hoped that they would learn with the limited time left. He would then focus back on Turushino. "I hope you don't mind staying as my assistant down here. The others may learn more if they see a spirited volunteer learning along with them."

[Turushino Ronjiro]

Turushino's unwavering gaze remained steadfastly locked onto Benjiro's every word, his eyes reflecting a fusion of gratitude and readiness that painted his expression with an undeniable intensity. The instructor's words about his combat display, delivered with the weight of an experienced teacher, resonated on a profound level, confirming that his dedication to the art of the blade had been not only acknowledged but also understood and valued. It was as if Benjiro's affirmation had breathed life into the fire of determination that always simmered within Turushino, igniting a new blaze of ambition that spread through every fiber of his being.

The idea that his approach to swordsmanship could seamlessly merge with the intricate art of Kido was a revelation that had caught Turushino by surprise, and yet it felt like the missing piece of a puzzle he hadn't even realized he was trying to solve. Benjiro's words had gifted him a bridge between the disciplines, a bridge he was eager to traverse with unwavering commitment. As the lecture hall's atmosphere seemed to thicken with potential, Turushino's eyes glittered with an internal fire—a fire that symbolized the birth of a new aspiration, a crossroads where his two worlds were set to collide in beautiful harmony.

The transition into the meditation practice was met with Turushino's complete immersion, his attention honed in like a razor's edge. Each word from Benjiro was a gem of wisdom, a key that could unlock a realm of possibilities he had yet to comprehend fully. The concept of harnessing one's willpower to synchronize with the external world through meditation was like a door to uncharted dimensions swinging wide open before him. He swept his gaze across the classroom, an observer of his fellow students, each engaged in their own intimate journey of self-discovery. The lecture hall itself seemed to have transformed into a hallowed ground of introspection, where spirits embarked on a pilgrimage of inner understanding.

When Benjiro's gaze circled back to him, Turushino met the instructor's eyes with a mix of deep appreciation and an unwavering determination that had been freshly stoked. The instructor's request for him to remain as an assistant, a presence of camaraderie within the classroom, resonated deeply. It was as if Benjiro had extended an olive branch of purpose that reached beyond the confines of academia. Turushino's nod was firm, a symbol of his resolute commitment to the path that had been illuminated for him. His voice, when he spoke, was steady and filled with unwavering resolve. "Well teach! You have my full dedication. I'm more than willing to lend my assistance and learn alongside my peers. Being a part of this learning experience is an honor to me, and if there's a chance for me to contribute, no matter how humble, I'm wholeheartedly in."

A respectful bow of his head followed, a gesture that carried both humility and an acknowledgement of the profound journey that awaited. As Turushino turned his gaze back to the class, his spirit surged with renewed fervor. He was ready to embrace this unique opportunity with arms wide open, to dive into the depths of his spiritual potential, and to walk a path guided by the wisdom of an experienced Shinigami. The tapestry of his education was being woven, thread by thread, and Turushino was determined to leave a lasting mark of dedication and growth on it.

[Benjiro Hiroto]

As the students settled into their meditation, Benjiro found himself bathed in the radiant glow of Turushino's unwavering determination. The young student's enthusiasm, like a blossoming lotus, cast a luminous light upon the lecture hall—a beacon of hope that resonated with the promise of uncharted potential. Benjiro couldn't help but admire the resilience of youth, the tenacity that led them to believe in the boundless horizon of their abilities. Yet, within the corners of his sage-like eyes, there lingered a shadow of worry—a premonition of the harsh lessons that awaited them on the path of a Shinigami.

"That's wonderful to hear, Turushino," Benjiro remarked, his voice a soothing current that guided the young student's steps. "Now, quiet yourself," he instructed, words that carried the weight of a sage's wisdom, "immerse yourself in the world around you and try to find that invisible force all around you." That was the power of silence and concentration. Getting into a state of complete surrendering to the forces around oneself would allow one to feel just about every slight and imperceptible force.

With the gentle hint he offered, Benjiro observed as the students embarked on their individual journeys of meditation. Their progress varied like stars in the night sky, each student a unique constellation of effort and potential. For some, the simple guidance to escape the confines of their thoughts proved to be the key—a testament to the reservoirs of spiritual energy that rested within them, waiting to be awakened. He could feel one or two of them gathering a significant amount of spiritual pressure in their chests, building like a wellspring. 

Benjiro smiled, proud to see the progress of those he would soon call sistren and brethren. It was quite impressive, considering that Benjiro himself had a much weaker spiritual pressure than most. It had grown with use and practice, but he didn't have the natural talent that most of his comrades had. For the other students, the path to communion with the unseen forces of the spirit realm remained shrouded in the mists of uncertainty. Benjiro, like a patient mentor, pondered the best way to unlock the doors of their perception, to guide them toward the realm where the tangible and the ethereal intertwined.

"The reason I ask you to remain still when you meditate," he began, his voice a gentle stream of instruction, "is to better feel everything around you." His words held the essence of a profound lesson, one that spoke of the senses as the conduits to the realm of the spirit. "Focus on everything that stimulates your senses," he continued, his guidance akin to a guiding breeze, "then block it all out. Keep doing so until you can even block out the wind. Only then will you feel the power of the spirit all around you."

With the watchful gaze of a sage, he observed his students, each one navigating the labyrinth of their own experiences. In this quiet sanctuary of meditation, the seeds of enlightenment were sown, their growth a testament to the unfolding potential of the young Shinigami before him. As time flowed like a serene river, Benjiro awaited the sign that would mark the moment when their spirits would transcend the boundaries of the mundane, attuned to the symphony of the spiritual world.

[Turushino Ronjiro]

Amidst the hushed atmosphere of the lecture hall, Turushino found himself enveloped in a cocoon of determination, the radiant glow of his resolve casting a palpable energy that seemed to ripple through the air. His eagerness, akin to a lotus unfurling its petals, filled the space with a luminous hope—a beacon that spoke of untapped potential and the possibilities that lay ahead. Benjiro's gaze, like that of a sage, absorbed the essence of this fervor, mingling admiration with a hint of concern—a recognition of the trials that awaited these budding Shinigami on their arduous path.

Turushino's lips curved into a smile as Benjiro addressed him, his tone a comforting stream guiding him forward. The sage's words resonated with a depth of insight that could only come from years of experience. "Thanks,teach," Turushino responded, his voice carrying a touch of respect and gratitude. "I'm ready to dive in." As Benjiro instructed him to quiet his mind and immerse himself in his surroundings, Turushino nodded, his eyes closing gently. He allowed his senses to expand, embracing the symphony of the environment—the rustling of fabric, the distant hum of energy, the subtle shifts in the air. The silence became a canvas upon which his awareness painted a portrait of the unseen forces that moved through the world.

With Benjiro's guidance in mind, Turushino observed his fellow students as they embarked on their own meditative journeys. Each one was a unique constellation, a fusion of effort and potential. His awareness flitted from one student to another, sensing the ebb and flow of spiritual energy. Some seemed to grasp the essence of meditation effortlessly, their minds unburdened by distractions as they delved into the wellspring of their inner power. He noticed a few, their spiritual pressure building like a coiled spring ready to be released—a testament to the untamed reservoirs within.

Benjiro's gentle smile reflected a sense of pride as he observed the progress of his students, an affirmation of their growth under his guidance. Turushino's own appreciation deepened as he understood the dedication of the instructor before him, the journey of a Shinigami marked by relentless effort rather than innate talent. He admired this journey, recognizing its similarity to his own quest for self-improvement.

The sage-like teacher's words, as they resonated through the hall, carried the weight of ancient truths. Turushino absorbed them like a sponge, his mind embracing each word as it echoed the essence of the spirit realm. The reason for stillness in meditation—that elusive connection with the world around, the fine threads that wove the fabric of reality—became clear. It was about sensing, about honing the senses into conduits for the spiritual realm.

Turushino's focus sharpened as Benjiro advised them to focus on sensory stimuli and then block them out—a process of selective awareness that aimed to reveal the spiritual fabric beneath the mundane. His thoughts resonated with this wisdom as he allowed the various stimuli to wash over him, then gradually faded them into the background, creating a stillness within himself akin to the surface of a placid lake. As his fellow students navigated the labyrinth of their own perceptions, Turushino continued his own journey of introspection. He envisioned the wind as an abstract concept, something that stirred without affecting him. It was an exercise in mental fortitude, in isolating the spirit from the physical.

With time flowing like the gentle current of a river, Turushino felt a sense of camaraderie with his fellow students. He sensed the unity in their pursuit of understanding, the shared voyage into the spiritual realm. In the heart of this quiet sanctuary, the seeds of enlightenment were sown, a testament to the unfolding potential within each Shinigami present. Turushino's spirit seemed to align with the symphony of the spiritual world, his consciousness a thread in the intricate tapestry of existence, guided by the wisdom of his sage-like instructor.

[Benjiro Hiroto]

Amidst the hallowed realm of meditation, where the boundaries of the material world blended with the ethereal, Benjiro found himself assuming the mantle of the spiritual guide. His role as a mentor and a beacon of wisdom beckoned him to guide his students, like a guardian of enlightenment ushering travelers through a sacred garden. Today, his trusted assistant, Turushino, stood as a testament to the blossoming potential of their charges—a serene expression gracing the young man's visage, a reflection of the progress made in their spiritual journey.

Benjiro's keen gaze swept across the assembly of his students, each one embracing their unique path to enlightenment. Among them, he noted the diversity of their chosen focuses—swords, books, quills, hairpins, and for some, the pure essence of their own spiritual energy. These artifacts, chosen with purpose or sentiment, would serve as the conduits through which their spirits would forge a connection with the realm of Kido. Hopefully, they would not be a crutch, but that was a bridge he would have to cross later on.

As he embarked on the exploration of their first Kido, Hado number 1, Sho, Benjiro's words held the clarity of a mountain stream—a testament to his commitment to imparting knowledge. "Keep your eyes closed and focus on my voice," he instructed, his voice a gentle current that guided their consciousness in tandem with their spirits. "We are going to learn Hado number 1, Sho today. This is also known as Thrust, and it is most easily done without an incantation." He had wanted to demonstrate this Kido precisely because of its simplicity, because the less they had to focus on and memorize, the easier it would be to focus on casting it.

With a simplicity that bore the essence of enlightenment itself, he unraveled the essence of Sho—a burst of pure force borne from the wellspring of spiritual energy. His words transcended the complexities of magic, rooted in the pragmatic wisdom of experience. "To perform it is simple, albeit it may require intense concentration," he continued, his words like lanterns illuminating the path to mastery. "You need to feel the spiritual energy around you and harness it, gather it at the palm of your hand or your focus, then thrust it forward."

But beyond the mechanics lay the heart of Kido—a fusion of intent and meaning. Benjiro's guidance echoed through the lecture hall, each word a beacon of his understanding. "At the same time," he emphasized, his words laden with the wisdom of a seasoned practitioner, "put intent and meaning behind the words Hado number one, Sho. The combination of its name and the flowing energy will allow the Kido to come into reality." He asserted this point, hoping that it would allow them to remember what he said earlier, that they needed to convince reality to allow this to happen. Verbalization was key to this, at least at first.

With the grace of a master, he prepared for the demonstration, urging his students to maintain their connection with the spiritual realm. "I will now demonstrate," he announced, the hall immersed in the serenity of closed eyes and open spirits. "Focus on the spiritual energy, so keep your eyes closed. See if you can get a feel for it." If they could feel it instead of seeing it, perhaps they could replicate it more easily. At least, that was what the Twelfth Seat hoped would happen.

With a resolute motion, Benjiro's spiritual energy surged forth, a burst of pure force coursing through the room like a tranquil stream. It whispered through the very essence of his students, a surge of momentary pressure that testified to his spiritual prowess and mastery. Its harmless touch served as a testament to the harmony that flowed between the Shinigami and the spiritual arts—a harmony that lay at the heart of their journey into Kido's mystical embrace. Yet, it was only due to Benjiro's own strength that it managed to make it across the room, and his own mastery that it had left no harm or even force. 

---

Using Kido Teacher Cinematic

[Turushino Ronjiro]

Turushino's presence in the classroom was like a calm oasis amidst the bustling sea of energy. His eyes, half-lidded and reminiscent of a sage lost in thought, held a quiet intensity that spoke of his deep connection to the art unfolding before him. The very air seemed to hum with anticipation, each student's unwavering dedication casting a palpable aura that hinted at the immense potential of this gathering. This was an opportunity that would push him towards greatness in the future.

As Benjiro, a clearly capable instructor, commenced the demonstration of Hado number 1, Turushino's senses sharpened, attuned to the delicate symphony of spiritual energy that was about to unfold. The room transformed into a sanctuary of learning, every surface and shadow resonating with the promise of enlightenment. With his eyes closed, Turushino immersed himself fully in the moment, his consciousness becoming a vessel for the profound essence of Sho. In this state, he became a conduit for the very energy that animated the world around him.

The surge of spiritual energy that accompanied Benjiro's demonstration was like a tidal wave of power, sweeping through the room and brushing against Turushino's senses with gentle insistence. It was as though the very fabric of reality had shifted, revealing the intricate threads that bound the universe together. Turushino's heartbeat synchronized with the rhythm of the energy surge, a physical manifestation of his profound attunement to the forces at play. In this shared moment, teacher and student were united by a common purpose—to explore the depths of knowledge and mastery that Kido offered.

As the wave of energy subsided, Turushino's eyes opened, revealing a tranquil smile that radiated a sense of deep contentment. The experience had been a revelation—an affirmation of his dedication to the path of a Shinigami. His journey, marked by countless hours of training and introspection, had led him to this point of connection with the very fabric of existence. It was a testament to the potential that lay within every student present, awaiting the spark of understanding to ignite their own journey of growth.

With a gesture of quiet admiration, Turushino turned his gaze toward Benjiro. The bond between mentor and student was forged not only in words but in the silent currents of shared experience. His eyes met Benjiro's with a depth of gratitude that transcended language, an unspoken acknowledgment of the wisdom and guidance that had shaped his evolution as a Shinigami. In this moment of connection, the classroom held a profound stillness, as if the universe itself paused to witness the exchange of knowledge and respect between two souls on their quest for mastery.

And as a mischievous glint danced in Turushino's eyes, he couldn't help but quip softly to himself, "Guess Kido isn't just numbers and chants—it's actually pretty cool." A quiet chuckle escaped his lips, a lighthearted testament to the newfound appreciation that bloomed within him for the intricate art that was Kido. The experience had breathed life into the structured teachings, infusing them with a vibrant energy that transcended the classroom and ignited a newfound curiosity for the boundless possibilities of the Shinigami world.

[Benjiro Hiroto]

Benjiro's watchful gaze swept across his audience—a diverse gathering of young souls embarking on a journey of spiritual discovery. Like leaves caught in a gentle current, each student navigated the tides of their own understanding, their spirits entwined with the teachings of Kido. Maybe it wasn't even Kido for some, as the application of their spiritual energy was beneficial in all aspects of a Shinigami. Among the students, Turushino seemed to have a bit of a knack for the spiritual arts, his efforts a testament to the thirst for knowledge that resided within the young Shinigami.

As Benjiro observed, he discerned the subtle nuances of each student's progress—a tapestry woven from threads of intention and effort. Turushino's understanding, though perhaps still in its infancy, bore the mark of authenticity. He was probably in the top three of the class, aside from those prodigies with the immense spiritual pressure in the back. He could sense the ebb and flow of Kido amidst the surrounding spiritual energy, even if the depth of that perception varied among the students.

In the back of the room, a student caught his attention—a lone figure whose intent gaze was fixed on her own spiritual energy. She was one of the more spiritually inclined of the group. She attempted the technique, seeking to mold her reiatsu into the thrust of Kido. Benjiro admired her tenacity, sensing the potential that flickered within her like a distant star. Yet, he recognized the uncertainty that shrouded her actions—a reminder that even the most promising flames of potential needed the guiding hand of experience.

"It's alright if you need some time to feel it," Benjiro reassured, his voice a soothing presence amidst the sea of their struggles. "There really is no shortcut to this, just feel it out. Confidence comes with repetition, and we only repeat when we fail." What he meant by this lesson was that failure was just another step on the road to success. The only real way to fall short of success was to stop taking steps. It was a very Buddhist way of thinking, one that he had learned from his life before the Soul Society. 

It was then that Turushino's voice interjected, a testament to the depth of understanding that blossomed within his spirit. His appreciation for Kido, more than a mere sequence of numbers and incantations, resonated with the sentiment that lay at the heart of every Shinigami's journey. A gentle laugh, like a breeze through the leaves, escaped Benjiro's lips. "It's a lot more than that, though memorizing numbers and phrases are just as important for casting!" he grinned with a gentle laugh.

As the tapestry of their lesson unfurled, Benjiro extended an invitation to his assistant, the only one in the class who wasn't actively trying to perform Sho at this point. It was actually quite funny to see how reactive he was in this moment, as the rest of the class was proactive in attempting this. "Actually, Turushino, why don't you give it a try? Try to cast Sho on me," he suggested, extending an opportunity that would allow him to nurture his appreciation of the spiritual arts.