People… are forced to grow by circumstance.
That saying isn't wrong at all, in fact, it might as well be a universal truth. And Shinigami are no different; they, too, are forged under pressure.
Back home, Shirō had never really felt that pressure. He didn't even realize he was in the world of Shinigami yet, so swordsmanship never sparked his interest. With no urgency hanging over him, he simply lazed about, making almost no progress in strength.
Now things were different. Under the crushing pressure of Yoruichi, Shirō didn't even have the option of "growing slowly."
Every day began with "school", sitting in on her lessons, and every evening ended with him staggering home bruised and battered. The outcome never changed, but little by little the process did.
After the first day, Shirō understood: little tricks and cleverness wouldn't work. No matter what scheme he tried, it was useless against Yoruichi's shameless persistence.
Eventually, the routine settled into something more stable. He really did become her sparring partner, not a direct one-on-one, because that wouldn't serve any training purpose, and not the silly "team battles" they'd tried before either.
Instead, Shirō would side with the masked black-clad trainees, all of them pitted against Yoruichi. He usually stuck to the shadows, launching sneaky surprise attacks and retreating the instant they failed. Yoruichi played along, ignoring him at first and focusing on the other fighters, letting him escape again and again.
But the end result was always the same. Yoruichi always won.
It wasn't even about her overwhelming strength, the matchups were balanced on paper, and both sides looked evenly matched. The real problem was that the black-clad fighters never dared to go all out. Under those conditions, how could Yoruichi possibly lose? It wasn't about numbers or raw strength at all. No matter how many opponents there were, it was only ever a matter of time before she took them all down.
So the final scene of every "battle" became a familiar one: all the masked fighters laid out, leaving only Shirō standing. Then came the game of cat and mouse.
And it really was a game. Yoruichi would catch him, smack him on the head hard enough to raise a bump, let him go… then catch him again. Round and round it went, like she was literally playing him to death.
Still, she never once struck with full force. Against Shirō, she always held back, otherwise their matches would've ended in a single move. In truth, she deliberately suppressed her strength to match his level, using the sparring as training for herself as well. Controlling her power with precision honed her skills, while Shirō grew little by little alongside her.
And because she limited herself to his apparent level, yet still defeated him every single time, Shirō's temper began to flare. Same speed, same strength, no kidō and just pure hand-to-hand, so why was he always the one lying flat?
How could the gap be so wide? Shouldn't he at least land one clean hit?!
But Shirō was missing the point. It wasn't that he wasn't trying, it was that the gap was simply too large, and not just in terms of strength. The real difference lay in experience. Every time Shirō grew stronger, Yoruichi simply revealed more of her own hidden strength to keep pace. With her overwhelming battle experience, how could he ever win?
Experience wasn't just reflexes or adaptability. It was also deep familiarity with one's own power, knowing every nuance of what you could do.
Shirō was in a period of rapid growth, constantly adjusting to new bursts of strength before he'd fully mastered the last. His training was a constant cycle of growth and adaptation happening simultaneously. Yoruichi, on the other hand, had already been through all that long ago. She could fight without ever needing to "adjust." Until Shirō reached her level, she could suppress him effortlessly.
Of course, there was one other possibility, if Shirō stopped growing for a while and focused on stabilizing his current strength, then Yoruichi might struggle to hold him down using only "equal" strength.
But really, was growth something one could just choose to stop?
One morning, Shirō returned to the Shihōin estate for another round of "heaven-script" lessons. But this time, the grumpy old instructor seemed oddly considerate.
"Ahem. Today, we'll review the basics from the beginning," he said without preamble.
Shirō, who had planned to doze with his eyes open, instantly sat up straight. Even Yoruichi glanced at him curiously.
A chance? Was this really a chance for him? No matter what, Shirō forced his eyes wide and, for the first time, listened intently.
But review was still review. At first, the "addition and subtraction" made sense. The "multiplication and division" he could just barely grasp. But before he'd wrapped his head around it, the old man had already leapt ahead to "algebraic formulas."
Shirō gritted his teeth. Forget comprehension, he'd just memorize it all, like some legendary manual. He'd cram every word into his head now and make sense of it later.
Soon, he was drenched in sweat. Memorizing abstract formulas wasn't like memorizing poems or stories, it was grueling, mechanical, and often fruitless. If you understood, you didn't need to memorize. Without understanding, cramming felt pointless. Still, what else could he do? He clenched his jaw and pressed on.
Suddenly, smack!
The old man slammed a book down in front of him, never breaking the flow of his lecture, not even glancing Shirō's way.
But the gesture was far too obvious.
Shirō hurriedly grabbed the book, flipped it open, and his face lit up. At last! Real material, the same foundational exercises Yoruichi must have studied at the start. They weren't trivial, but they weren't impossible either.
In modern terms, this was like being handed a set of actual exam prep problems, essential practice, directly aligned with the test.
With this, Shirō no longer needed to waste energy blindly cramming. For the first time, the path ahead looked clear. He even chuckled to himself in secret:
"Special treatment, huh? You could be a little less obvious you know~.
While Shirō muttered smugly to himself, Yoruichi's lips curved into a smile. The old man really was all sharp words and soft heart.
From that point, Shirō was completely absorbed. He didn't even notice when the old man slipped away. Not until mealtime did he snap back to reality.
When he fumbled awkwardly, unsure where to stash the precious book, Yoruichi spoke up casually.
"Just leave it with me. If word of this leaked, it'd be trouble. Besides, you'll be coming here every day anyway."
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150 P.S = 1 Extra Chapter