Szzzt!
A flash of white light split the air. In the very next instant, a burst of blood bloomed from Yoruichi's shoulder, even as she stood surrounded by the masked fighters.
Absolute silence came.
Every movement froze. And it wasn't the fact that Shirō had somehow pulled off a Kidō spell that stunned everyone, it was that Lady Yoruichi of the Shihōin family had actually been hurt.
In unison, cold sweat ran down every back, soaking through their uniforms. This… this was bad.
But the one to break the silence wasn't Yoruichi's cry, it was Shirō's triumphant laughter.
Clueless to the gravity of the situation, he was too caught up in the thrill of finally landing a blow after days of scheming.
"Hahaha! Yoruichi! Didn't I tell you? Prepare yourself! I finally hit you!" he shouted, hands on hips, laughing like a conquering hero.
The masked fighters nearly fainted. Are you insane? If you want to die, don't drag the rest of us with you!
"Shirō!" Yoruichi clutched her shoulder, her face dark as thunder. "Very good. After all the times I went easy on you, you've finally succeeded in making me angry."
Yoruichi thrived on challenges, yes, but even she didn't like being outplayed. She was the cat with the whip, never the mouse caught in the trap. To be hurt by her own trainee? To be manipulated into lowering her guard? That was humiliation.
A queen who reveled in domination could not tolerate being toyed with. And now, her wrath was real.
In other words, Shirō was finished.
"Eh?" At first, Shirō thought to toss another taunt, but the look on Yoruichi's face froze him mid-sentence. He turned to the fighters. "Hey, what are you standing around for? This is your chance, attack!"
He shuffled backward while shouting orders, his instincts screaming at him to flee even though escape was impossible.
"Bring him to me!" Yoruichi shouted.
In that instant, every single "ally" he had turned against him. Even the ones who'd been lying on the ground moments ago "injured" all sprang back up, ready to pounce.
"Seriously? You were all playing dead?!" was all Shirō could think.
"C-come on, after everything we've been through… don't we have some brotherhood between us?" he tried weakly.
Not a word of reply. They surged toward him, some even using flash step. Of course they would, helping capture Shirō was their only chance to redeem themselves.
"Yoruichi! I was wrong! I really was! I won't do it again! Please, fuck!"
Bang!
Crash!
Crack!
Smash!
What followed was remembered in later years as a pivotal battle, the "turning point" of Shirō's rise. In reality, it was a one-sided slaughter, ending with him beaten into unconsciousness.
Grievously injured. This time it wasn't just bruises, he was broken, battered, and barely breathing.
Maybe Yoruichi was merciful, or maybe she had simply vented her fury, but she eventually hauled his limp body to the 4th Division for treatment. This wasn't the sort of damage a little ointment could fix.
"Mmm…"
Shirō stirred, eyes fluttering open. Before he could piece together where he was, a soft, gentle voice drifted to his ears.
"You're awake? Does it still hurt?"
Such a soothing sound. For a moment he thought, was this heaven? Then panic struck. Wait, hadn't Yoruichi beaten him within an inch of his life? Was he already in heaven?
Of course, he'd forgotten: Soul Society was more or less heaven.
He turned his head, and froze.
There, smiling warmly, was the most beautiful face he had ever seen: Captain Unohana Retsu of the 4th Division.
This was true healing. Not the cheap "healing aesthetics" from his past life's internet fads, but the real thing. Compared to her, all those so-called "healing idols" weren't even in the same league.
Not only could she mend wounds of the flesh, her smile alone soothed wounds of the heart. Shirō's eyes welled with tears. For the first time, he had the urge to stay sick forever, just to remain in her care.
Unohana, seeing his teary face, assumed he was recalling Yoruichi's abuse. She gently stroked his hair and murmured,
"It's all right. It's over now."
Shirō was about to throw himself into her arms in gratitude, when, inevitably, that voice cut in.
"Haha, little Shirō, you're awake, huh?"
At once, he shrank back on the bed, desperately trying to hide where there was nowhere to hide.
"Haha, to think you've already learned Kidō," Yoruichi teased, hopping up onto the bed. She hooked an arm around his neck, pressing his head against her chest, not yet fully developed, but still enough to make his cheeks burn.
He couldn't enjoy it, though. Not with her unpredictable mood swings and the trauma of what had just happened. Sweat dripped down his temples as he stammered,
"J-just… learned it recently." It was true, he hadn't been able to resist the chance to finally score a hit on her.
"Impressive, really. So young and already able to use Kidō. You're a genius, Shirō~" she said with a playful pat on his back.
"Ha-ha… not really," he muttered, unsure if she meant it or if this was the setup for another beating.
Normally, he'd puff up with pride, chin tilted to the sky like some over-the-top conqueror. But not now.
And sure enough,
"However!" Yoruichi's smile turned sharp. She seized his ear and twisted hard. "Don't you know Kidō is forbidden in training?"
"I-I… forgot…" Shirō whimpered, face crumpling. Of course he knew. The whole point of these sessions was hand-to-hand. If Kidō had been allowed, the numbers alone would've overwhelmed her long ago.
And worse, if Zanpakutō had been brought into play, Yoruichi would've had no chance at all.
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150 P.S = 1 Extra Chapter