"Guh."
A thick, fluffy towel draped over the small child's head, enveloping half his body. A wicked hand vigorously rubbed his damp hair, wiping away stray water droplets.
Under Makoto's 'humiliation,' Sōsuke struggled to maintain a stern face, standing obediently, bare and still, as the hand scrubbed him dry.
This guy was utterly detestable.
He thought to himself.
"From now on, you bathe before bed every night."
"Kids who don't like baths might wet the bed, you know."
Makoto's tone was coaxing, spinning lies to a child with practiced ease, not even blinking.
"Yes."
Despite his inner disdain, Sōsuke complied meekly.
Years of wandering had taught him one thing: when outmatched, adapt and assess.
Clearly, he was in a situation demanding just that.
Though he kept his face taut throughout, even Sōsuke vaguely sensed it.
After killing the enemy who destroyed his village and grandparents, if he could live a life as comfortable and peaceful as this…
He might not be as unwilling as he'd thought.
"Go."
"Cut the watermelon in the kitchen, plate it, and bring it to the corridor."
"Pick out the seeds."
As Sōsuke mulled over his feelings, Makoto tossed the towel into a basket, barking orders without a hint of reserve.
Joking aside, with Kirio off working overtime, he was the head of the house, right?
Sōsuke's face darkened, silently amending his earlier thought.
If Makoto could act a bit more normal, he wouldn't be that unwilling.
"Yes~"
Perhaps spurred by a flicker of emotion or lingering resentment from being scrubbed in the bath, Sōsuke, who'd been impeccably polite since arriving, let his tone drag slightly, like a real child.
But he quickly caught himself, suppressing the childish slip, and turned quietly toward the kitchen.
Makoto, catching the hint of discontent, smirked faintly.
"Don't go out naked! Your clothes are on the shelf!"
Sōsuke doubled back, grabbed the small bundle of clothes, and scurried to the kitchen.
A touch flustered.
"Not bad."
"A kid with potential to shape?"
Watching from afar, Makoto's gaze held a trace of sentiment.
Despite years of slander from ill-intentioned folks and his gremlin, tarnishing his image in some eyes, Makoto was, at his core, meticulous and cautious.
Whether facing Unohana, Yamamoto, or Yhwach, he always planned for the worst.
Naturally, Sōsuke was no exception.
Even ranking all characters from Bleach, while Sōsuke wasn't the strongest, his intellect, methods, and abilities made him the one Makoto feared most.
No contest.
Thus, though the current 'Sōsuke' was just a waist-high child, his strength barely vice-captain level, Makoto approached him with maximum scrutiny and speculation.
And… equal expectation.
Tap, tap, tap.
Perhaps from his time as a servant in the Aizen household, Sōsuke handled most chores with ease. His knife work on the watermelon was deft, and soon he carried a heaping plate to the corridor's edge.
"Makoto-sama?"
He asked softly, as he had as a servant.
"Just set it here."
Makoto lounged in a loose black yukata, its collar revealing swaths of pale, toned skin. His damp hair was casually tied back, a teapot and senbei at his side.
A warm afternoon breeze drifted through the open courtyard, gently stirring his dark locks.
Wind chimes on the eaves swayed, tinkling softly.
Makoto leaned against the corridor wall, languid and at ease, eyes half-closed in comfort.
Sōsuke placed the watermelon down, preparing to retreat obediently.
"What're you leaving for? Eat with me." Makoto's tone was matter-of-fact, grabbing a slice from the plate.
Sōsuke paused, then said nothing, sitting as ordered and taking a piece, biting gently.
Juice burst forth.
Sweet.
In that moment, he felt a touch of gratitude.
Aside from being a bit unhinged, Makoto didn't seem that bad.
But even with such thoughts, Sōsuke's face betrayed no discourtesy, not a flicker of emotion escaping as he ate silently.
Acting spoiled once was enough.
He wasn't some naive child.
As for why Makoto invited him to eat, Sōsuke had his guesses, likely the classic tactic of noble houses training loyal retainers: bestow favors, soften them, bind them with benefits.
He was clear-headed, rational.
His only value to others was his unrealized prodigious talent.
Though he looked like a child, young Sōsuke had seen much of the world.
Whether brought to live in a grand estate, fed delicious meals, or treated like a father and son bathing and scrubbing backs, his heart remained steady, untouched by gratitude.
He knew everything he received now would be repaid with actions and life in the future.
A fair trade, nothing more.
With that, the joy from the sweet watermelon faded, his heart settling back to calm.
Reason was a sobering poison.
Next, Makoto would likely teach skills or hint at loyalty, duty, and repaying kindness, standard tactics.
Sōsuke's heart grew stiller, quietly awaiting Makoto's next words.
"Sōsuke."
They ate slice after slice of watermelon until only one remained.
Makoto spoke suddenly.
Here it comes.
Sōsuke sighed inwardly but responded promptly. "Yes."
Yet Makoto's words caught him off guard. "If you didn't have to be a Shinigami, what would you want to do?"
"Huh?"
The unexpected question left Sōsuke momentarily stunned, blurting a confused sound, staring blankly at him.
Makoto, unperturbed, patiently repeated himself.
But the question stumped the boy who'd been so certain moments ago, leaving him adrift.
For so long, the young boy had lived for survival and revenge, never imagining, until that second, a life free of those burdens.
In his mind, being 'discovered' by Makoto and the others left him no escape.
All along, he'd only thought of how to fetch a higher price for himself.
Unmatched talent, obedient demeanor, exceptional learning ability, maturity beyond his years…
These were his armor, carefully forged.
But Makoto's words pierced through the gaps like an arrow. "I… haven't thought about it."
Sōsuke set down his watermelon rind.
Against an overwhelmingly strong opponent, don't overplay your hand, another lesson from his short life.
"With talent like mine, wouldn't it be a waste not to become a Shinigami?"
He looked up at Makoto.
Even Sōsuke genuinely believed it.
"Bold words." Makoto said with a subtle smile, grabbing the last slice, his tone shifting. "But I asked what you want to do, not what you should do."
"In terms of talent, no exaggeration, you're likely second only to me and the Captain-Commander."
"Maybe even surpassing the Captain-Commander in reiatsu."
"But…" Crunch. "I don't even like being a Shinigami."
Sōsuke froze, bewildered. "But Makoto-sama, you're…"
"I know, I know." Makoto cut in brusquely. "Soul Society's strongest, slayer of Yhwach, the most handsome and charming shinigami, uncrowned Shinigami king, top pick in the Shinigami Women's Association marriage polls, Soul Society's number-one heartthrob… I'm sick of those accolades! That's not what I'm asking."
Sōsuke opened his mouth, then closed it.
He'd only meant to say 'the savior of Soul Society.'
Those other titles?
He'd never even heard of them.
Did Makoto make them up?
What a shameless guy.
The child speculated maliciously but kept his thoughts to himself, wise to Makoto's pettiness.
Makoto's thick skin, honed by that pesky blade, showed no hint of shame as he looked calmly at him. "What you want matters most."
Sōsuke hesitated, testing, "I want… to learn how to grow stronger."
"And?"
"To see what the world is like."
"And?"
"I want to do things no one else can!"
"And?"
"I want to be surrounded by people, admired by all…"
Under Makoto's prompting, Sōsuke gradually lowered his guard, or perhaps felt his small mind held nothing worth hiding, voicing his true desires.
By the end, his usually stern face flushed with a rare, shy warmth.
But the bullets a boy fires at the sky often pierce his own heart through time.
Hearing the child's innocent words, Makoto glimpsed the shadow of the future Sōsuke, peerless, solitary, seated on a heavenly throne.
Lonely, arrogant, cloaked in pretense, looking down on all the fools of the world.
His only equal, Urahara Kisuke, matched him in intellect and thought.
In that loneliness and pride, he rejected the Hōgyoku, step by step sealing himself in an inescapable purgatory.
If anything, no one could defeat him.
Sōsuke trapped himself.
How could such a dull fate be changed?
Makoto looked at the boy, his face faintly red, a touch bashful after speaking.
He reached out, ruffling Sōsuke's soft hair, grinning broadly. "All this, and you just want to be like me?"
"?"
Sōsuke's shy expression froze, his face visibly greening.
The rare moment of baring his heart vanished instantly.
"I-I meant… I…"
Sōsuke struggled, at a loss.
But recalling his words, he realized every one aligned perfectly with Makoto.
He looked up, staring at the unkempt man, shirt open, patting his rounded belly, leaning against the wall.
Savior?
A wave of confusion surged within.
What's going on?
Is my dream to become this guy?!
"…"
Sōsuke sat, muttering "yes" repeatedly, then fell silent, speechless.
Seeing his reaction, Makoto chuckled. "No rush if you can't think of it now."
"You've got plenty of time to figure it out."
"If your answer satisfies me, you don't even have to be a Shinigami."
"Huh?!" Sōsuke's head snapped up, stunned. "Makoto-sama, won't you teach me to get stronger?"
"Shin'ō Academy's full of that stuff." Makoto said carelessly, waving a hand. "Besides, effort in the wrong direction just brings bad luck."
"Whether it's you or me, we're Shinigami who don't age."
"There's plenty of time."
"I can wait."
With that, he stood, sauntering into the house.
Sōsuke sat dazed on the corridor, watching Makoto leave, silent for a long time.
From entering this house until now, this was the first time Makoto's response completely defied his expectations.
But what kind of answer did he want?
Sōsuke didn't understand.
Like a wooden puppet with its strings cut, unsure how to move without guidance.
Lost in thought, he reached for the last watermelon slice.
Only to find a pile of gnawed rinds.
Black lines crept across Sōsuke's face.
Of course!
Still a thoroughly annoying guy!
…
For the next while, Sōsuke stayed at Makoto's home.
True to his word, Makoto didn't teach him anything, and despite being a captain, he seemed perpetually free, clocking in at the office and then slacking off at home, leaving who-knows-who to handle his work.
Kirio, meanwhile, was swamped, often staying at the lab for days, returning exhausted, yet somehow finding cooking relaxing.
Though Makoto taught no combat skills, he shared plenty of other techniques.
Cooking, painting, shamisen, tea tasting, senbei-making…
Before Makoto's lessons, Sōsuke never imagined reishi could be applied to daily life, deepening his understanding of 'living.'
Unknowingly, some of his rigid notions about 'Shinigami' began to shift.
Until two months later.
Shin'ō Academy, closed after the 'Academy Massacre,' reopened.
***
Bonus Chapter:
100 Power Stones = 1 BC
300 Power Stones = 2 BC
500 Power Stones = 3 BC
700 Power Stones = 4 BC
1000 Power Stones = 5 BC
***
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