Naruto: This Genius is Somewhat Ordinary-Chapter 412

A quiet corner of a busy city.

The air rippled, warping like overheated glass.

Then it tore open.

A jagged black rift split reality, and a slightly disheveled figure stumbled out.

"...So that was a terrible idea."

Fujimoto Tōma floated a few centimeters above the ground, now nothing more than a soul form. The body he had created with Yin–Yang Release hadn’t survived the turbulence inside the spatial rift, and he had abandoned it mid-transit before it tore itself apart.

"If that had been my real body, I’d be bruised. Badly."

He rubbed his chin. "First-time mistake. Won’t happen again."

He flicked the tiny creature perched on his shoulder.

"You good?"

"Gula~"

The moon sprite wiggled happily. As a natural space-time creature, it had passed through the rift without even a scratch.

"Lucky you."

Tōma drifted forward, weaving between crowds and skyscrapers. No one reacted to him. No one even looked his way.

"So... modern world," he muttered. "Late twentieth-century tech level, give or take."

No chakra.

No natural energy.

No enhanced humans.

At least, not that he could sense.

Worse, he didn’t feel the familiar flow of chakra anywhere in this world. If this place really had no supernatural power system, then this trip would be a complete waste.

And yet...

He felt strangely comfortable here.

Not physically.

Spiritually.

There was a subtle energy in the air, warm and dense, constantly trying to seep into his soul. He had been unconsciously blocking it since arrival.

"...Whatever this is, it definitely isn’t chakra."

He let it be for now and kept walking.

Then—

SCREEECH—BOOM!

A crash.

Screams.

Tōma turned.

A traffic accident.

A man lay dead on the pavement.

And something else rose from the body.

A translucent human silhouette, shaking, staring at its own corpse in horror.

"...So souls just... pop out?" Tōma muttered.

The ghost panicked, then froze, then drifted aimlessly after the ambulance carrying its own body.

"...That’s bleak."

He frowned.

If souls just lingered like this, the world should be flooded with ghosts.

But it wasn’t.

So either souls eventually dissipated... or something collected them.

Before he could think further, a pressure brushed against his senses.

Low.

Violent.

Hungry.

Then came a roar.

Tōma’s eyes sharpened.

"...Finally. Something interesting."

He shot toward the disturbance.

A woman in black robes hovered in midair, wielding a katana-like blade.

Opposite her was a grotesque white-masked monster, its body warped and twitching as it lunged at her again and again.

Each clash sent shockwaves rippling through the real world. Windows cracked. Streetlights flickered. Pedestrians stumbled without understanding why.

"...Black robes. Katana. White mask monster."

Tōma rubbed his chin.

"Right. This is Bleach."

The woman clearly had the upper hand. The monster was already wounded.

He studied her blade.

"...Zanpakutō."

Then he felt it again.

That same energy.

The same one trying to crawl into his soul.

"So that’s what you are... spiritual energy."

He stopped resisting.

The world surged.

Spiritual energy from the surroundings bent toward him like a tidal wave.

The woman stiffened mid-swing.

"What—?!"

The ambient spiritual pressure in the area plummeted, sucked toward a single point.

Toward him.

Even the white-masked monster froze, then howled in excitement.

It felt a feast.

It charged straight at Tōma.

"Oi! Move!" the woman shouted, sprinting after it.

Tōma stared at the incoming Hollow.

"...Guess I overdid it."

The monster opened its jaws.

Tōma stepped forward and threw a straight punch.

No technique.

No finesse.

Just compressed spiritual energy packed into his arm.

BOOM.

The Hollow was launched backward like a missile, smashing through three buildings before collapsing into smoke.

The woman barely dodged its flying body.

She turned slowly.

"...What are you?"

Tōma shook his fist.

"Huh. Weaker than expected. I thought it’d explode."

He slowed his absorption. The spiritual storm around him faded.

Then he waved.

"Hi. Mind explaining what’s going on?"

The woman stared.

Then finally spoke.

"...That’s my line."

He shrugged.

"I just died. Walked around. Absorbed whatever this energy is. Punched a monster."

She hesitated.

"You know you’re dead, right?"

"Close enough."

She nodded.

"That was a Hollow. They eat souls like yours."

"...Charming."

"I’m a Shinigami. My job is to purify Hollows and send souls to the Soul Society."

"Soul Society," Tōma repeated. "Familiar name."

She raised her blade.

"I was supposed to perform a Konsō on you."

He lifted a hand.

"Can that wait? I attracted a lot of those things just now. Feels rude not to clean up my mess."

She checked her device.

Her face paled.

"...There are dozens incoming."

Tōma smiled.

"Perfect."

Ten minutes later.

Silence.

Hollow bodies dissolved into light, one after another.

Each had gone down in one punch.

The woman stared at him like he’d just punched reality itself.

"...You should go to the Shin’ō Academy," she muttered. "They’re enrolling soon."

"Noted."

She stepped closer and tapped his forehead with her sword’s hilt.

A strange pull wrapped around his soul.

Space bent.

Before he vanished, she blurted out:

"What’s your name?"

"Fujimoto Tōma. Yours?"

"...Shiba Miyako."

The world folded inward.