Led by the steward, Shirō wound his way through endless corridors of the Shihōin estate. Left, right, left again, the twists made his head spin until he lost all sense of direction. Finally, they stopped before a quiet, secluded side hall. The steward knocked softly on the door.
"My lady, I've brought the boy."
"Enter." The voice inside was cold and steady. Yoruichi's voice.
The steward slid the door open and gestured politely. Shirō had no idea what "politeness" was supposed to look like, so he walked straight in without hesitation.
Inside, a girl sat formally on the tatami. It was indeed Yoruichi, though her face betrayed no emotion, her expression unreadable. Beside her stood an elderly man holding a book, with a blackboard behind him already filled with notes. Clearly, the lesson had started long before Shirō arrived. No one had waited for him.
Shirō didn't mind. He knew perfectly well he wasn't the focus, he was just here to play the role of a "study companion." Still, he couldn't help but envy Yoruichi. One-on-one tutoring, a teacher coming straight to her house, truly the life of a noble princess.
Before he realized this was the Bleach world, Shirō had resisted studying altogether. After all, his modern knowledge was already centuries ahead; why bother learning these "backward" things?
But once he confirmed where he was, his hunger for knowledge surged. Everything here was mysterious and magical. The thought of one day gaining his own zanpakutō, casting kido like a sorcerer, Shirō's heart raced with excitement. He wanted to learn everything, and fast.
"Emiya Shirō?" It was not Yoruichi who spoke, but the old man at the front.
"That's me," Shirō nodded.
"Sit." The teacher gestured.
Shirō walked over and sat at the spot prepared beside Yoruichi.
"I will not teach with you in mind. Whatever you understand, you understand. If you don't, do not ask questions. Sit quietly and keep still." The old man's tone was indifferent.
Shirō had expected this, but actually being dismissed so bluntly still made him twitch with irritation. Of course, he didn't try to talk back. He wasn't stupid, no matter how frail this old man looked, a single kido spell would reduce him to ash.
The old man resumed lecturing. As Shirō feared, none of it made sense. He had no foundation whatsoever, beyond his knowledge of the "plot," he knew nothing about Soul Society. Yoruichi, though only recently of age, had already mastered most of the basics.
It was like dragging a boy who should've been in first grade into a university lecture halfway through the semester. There was no chance he could follow.
Before long, Shirō felt his eyelids drooping. He was back in his university days, nodding off to some droning professor. But this time he didn't dare. With only two students in the room, even the blind could spot him slacking.
To stay awake, he turned his attention sideways, sneaking glances at Yoruichi. To his shock, she looked utterly serious, listening intently, her posture perfect. Was this really the mischievous Yoruichi he knew from the story? Could this actually be… her twin? A "Yoru-ni," perhaps?
The thought almost made him chuckle. He half wanted to poke her just to see if she was real.
Then, Yoruichi's eyes flicked toward him. That cold mask shifted, just slightly, into a sly glint.
A chill ran down Shirō's spine. Yes. This was it. The unmistakable feeling, being stared at by a cat.
He no longer doubted it. This was the real Yoruichi, through and through.
But then her gaze slid away as if nothing had happened, her face returning to its icy façade. Shirō was still puzzling over the shift when the teacher turned and pointed at the blackboard.
"Do you understand?"
"Yes," Yoruichi replied smoothly, bowing her head with the perfect air of a diligent student.
Shirō couldn't help it, he snorted. He didn't know much, but he knew one thing for certain: Yoruichi had been spacing out moments earlier. That act was pure theater, played for the teacher's benefit.
The sound betrayed him instantly.
"Did I not tell you to remain silent?!" The old man's eyes flared as he shouted, releasing an oppressive wave.
The pressure slammed onto Shirō like a mountain. If he hadn't already been sitting, he would've collapsed. His mouth opened wide as he clutched at his throat, he couldn't breathe.
Then a hand landed gently on his shoulder. The crushing weight vanished at once. Gasping for air, drenched in sweat, Shirō almost thought he'd imagined the whole thing, it had come and gone so quickly.
Looking up, he saw the hand belonged to Yoruichi. Even he wasn't dense enough to miss it, she had saved him. He forced a shaky smile. "Thanks."
Yoruichi didn't reply. Instead, she faced the teacher.
"Emiya is still just a child. How can you casually release your spiritual pressure on him?"
Spiritual pressure. So this suffocating power, that's what it was! Shirō felt another pang of humiliation. To be crushed so easily… he was pathetically weak.
The teacher chuckled. "A slip of temper. I didn't control it." His tone was light, and not the least bit apologetic. Why would he apologize to a mere study companion? From his perspective, Shirō had disrupted the class first. A punishment was only natural.
"Please be more careful next time," Yoruichi said as she withdrew her hand.
"You know me," the old man smirked. "So long as I'm not angered, I'm quite easy to get along with."
It was a warning, plain and simple.
Shirō clenched his teeth and endured. He knew it, this wasn't about fairness. It was about strength. If he were strong enough to resist, would the old man even try crush him? No. At the very least, he'd be forced to acknowledge him.
Shirō didn't dream of leaping straight to captain-level power. No, his goal was simpler: one day, he wanted to withstand this kind of pressure without crumbling. Then no one, not even this teacher, could look down on him again.
✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦
Support me by adding this fic into your library!
150 P.S = 1 Extra Chapter