In Soul Society, strength was everything. Even without noble blood, a captain-level shinigami would always command respect. But presence mattered too. And Yoruichi didn't for a second believe that Shirō, with his cocky disregard for authority, would amount to nothing in the future. She decided to watch closely and see just how far he could go.
"Oh? And why do you think that?" Yoruichi's eyes gleamed as she tried to coax more outrageous words from Shirō.
Thud!
Shirō's head slumped forward onto the table. Out cold. Completely drunk. Which, in a way, was a blessing, because if he'd gone on to blurt out words like "Hollowfication" or "Resurrección," things would have gotten very messy.
Yoruichi sighed, shook her head, and picked up her chopsticks again. But staring at the spread of dishes without Shirō's noisy competition, her appetite evaporated. With another stretch, she hopped lightly to her feet.
"Ahh, stuffed! Time to move a little." She twisted her waist like she was warming up, then strolled toward the door. Passing by Shirō's slumped figure, she hesitated, then pointed lazily.
"Bring him along. He's supposed to be my study companion, right? Well then, he can accompany me all the way." Her grin turned sly, clearly already scheming some kind of mischief.
The old steward cast a pitiful glance at the unconscious boy, hoisted him up, and silently offered a moment of mourning in his heart.
Whoosh,
A cold wind swept through. Shirō blinked awake, shivering, clutching a wooden practice sword in trembling hands. He barely had time to process how in the world he'd ended up like this before realizing Yoruichi was standing across from him.
She was dressed in a skin-tight black outfit, hands clasped behind her back, smiling brightly. To anyone else, it looked warm and sunny. But to Shirō? That was the smile of a predator.
"Uh… maybe there's been a mistake?" Shirō swallowed hard.
"What's wrong? Don't worry, you'll be fine. Look, you've even got a weapon, and I'm barehanded." Yoruichi spread her arms innocently. Of course, Shirō knew perfectly well she was playing dumb.
He glanced down at the so-called "sword" in his hands, it was basically a stick. With his scrawny limbs, even if someone stood still and let him swing, he doubted he could knock them out.
"At this point, even if you gave me Excalibur or an AK-47, I wouldn't feel safe. Maybe if you threw in a Pegasus Cloth…" he muttered under his breath, then tried weakly, "I thought I was just here to study?"
"That's right." Yoruichi nodded, and before he could relax, she added cheerfully, "But for shinigami, combat training is essential. Which means being my sparring partner is part of the deal!"
Her serious expression almost sold it, but anyone could see the absurd mismatch: she specialized in hand-to-hand combat, and he was… well, him.
Sparring partner? More like study buddy, drinking buddy… now training dummy too. Shirō gave a bitter smile.
"Alright then, I'm going in!" Yoruichi warned playfully.
"Wait, !" he yelped, throwing up a hand.
She tilted her head, joints cracking as she stretched, her grin sharp as a demon's. "If you don't give me a good reason, don't blame me for going all out."
"What if… we tried another way?" Shirō blurted.
"Oh? Let's hear it." Her interest piqued.
"We could, you know… team up and go monster hunting!" Shirō's eyes darted, grasping at straws.
"Monster hunting?" Yoruichi repeated. Then it clicked, he must mean Hollows. And in Soul Society, hunting them was indeed a thing.
"Sounds fun," she nodded.
"Exactly! If you fight me, there's no challenge at all. Training wouldn't mean much, right?" he said quickly, relieved to see her nodding.
"Perfect. Normally I fight three hundred by myself. With you, we'll go for six hundred today!" she declared boldly.
Shirō promptly collapsed to the ground.
"Don't you think that number's a little… off?" he squeaked.
"Oh?" Yoruichi's eyes lit up again. Shirō's gut clenched.
"You're right," she said with mock gravity. "With the two of us working together, it's not just one plus one equals two. No, let's make it seven hundred, no, eight hundred. Actually, nine hundred sounds good!" She swung her arm like she was already commanding troops.
"Hold it! Three hundred and one is plenty!" Shirō abandoned all dignity. He wasn't a tree, he knew life mattered more than face.
"Oh? So that's just a little discrepancy?" Yoruichi smirked, deliberately stressing the word.
"Cough, cough…" Shirō flushed red. Even knowing she was teasing, he still felt flustered. He straightened up with forced seriousness. "As part of the Onmitsukidō, you should know missions come in many forms, right?"
"And?" she asked, amused.
"One of those… is escort duty!" he declared.
Whoosh,
Another gust of wind. Shirō shivered. Why did it feel so cold all of a sudden?
He looked at the scene again and nearly cried. He still held the wooden sword, trembling, but now Yoruichi stood behind him, dressed in an elaborate princess gown, clinging to his back with a faux-frightened look.
Her expression, if not for the mischievous gleam in her eyes, was the very picture of a sheltered noble lady facing danger for the first time.
"Yoruichi… isn't this backwards?" he croaked.
Her dainty act dropped instantly as she leaned close and growled, "What, you expect the heiress of the Shihōin clan to protect the likes of you?!"
Shirō knew she wasn't belittling his status, but still, he wanted to weep. This was supposed to be a game. Wasn't the strong supposed to protect the weak?
Suddenly Yoruichi shouted, "Guards! Assassins!" and promptly ducked further behind him.
Shirō's heart plummeted. That's not your line! A princess isn't supposed to call out ambushers! And sure enough, at her "signal," a group of hidden "assassins" emerged from the shadows.
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150 P.S = 1 Extra Chapter