Waking at dawn, Jie Chengxian sat up, saw Aizen still asleep, and couldn't help praising himself for being both gifted and diligent. With Sōusuke this lazy, how could he ever compete?
It was a day off; normally Chengxian would've slept in too, but he had to go to that old man Yamamoto for private instruction, so he could only envy the still-snoozing Aizen.
After washing up and stepping out, Chengxian left; Aizen rose, slipped on his glasses, and began his own agenda. Today he would move every piece of Central 46's research equipment into the secret base he'd finished the night before. He had to be careful not to let Chengxian notice anything unusual. Though he knew in his heart the day would come when Chengxian learned the truth, Aizen simply wanted to delay that moment as long as possible.
"Old man, I'm here!"
Yamamoto, in the middle of calligraphy practice, startled at Chengxian's shout. Which reckless greenhorn dared yell like that in his quarters? Looking at the ruined characters, Yamamoto drew a deep breath, reminded himself that this disciple was his own choice, and swallowed his anger—only to spot Chengxian realizing the old man's mood and preparing to bolt.
"Get in here!"
Years of cultivated composure crumbled against this brat; the boy was even wilier than Kyōraku in his youth. With a pang of regret Yamamoto tossed the spoiled sheet aside and glowered at the already-apologetic Chengxian, too exasperated to scold.
"Next time you visit, don't bellow—I'm not so deaf yet."
Spreading a fresh sheet, Yamamoto resumed writing while warning the boy to stop ruining his practice every visit.
"I watched your Shunpo yesterday; there's plenty of room for refinement. Today I've brought you a teacher—learn well."
Though Chengxian's self-improved Shunpo already left most Shinigami astounded, to Yamamoto it still looked raw; only deeper study would let him find the Shunpo best suited to him.
Chengxian looked puzzled. This thousand-year-old strongest Shinigami, master of "Zan, Kaku, Ho, Gi," was going to have someone else teach him?
"Yo, old man, I'm here."
A strange woman's voice reached Chengxian's ears, yet he saw no speaker. Could Shunpo pushed to its limit render one invisible? No wonder the teacher had brought this person; once he learned it, he'd kill without a shadow.
"Hey, kid, you're the old man's new student?"
Feeling a tap on his chest, Chengxian looked down to find a brown-skinned, purple-haired girl staring up as if he were a rare beast. Had he not noticed the absence of an Adam's apple, he'd have sworn this was some voice-acting prodigy.
So she was just too short to see… "Hey, runt, what's with that look?"
Sensing the slight, the girl bristled like an angry cat. At 156 cm she stood thirty centimetres shorter than Chengxian; no one dared mock her height so brazenly.
"Shihōin Yoruichi, remember who you are."
Still writing, Yamamoto reminded her coolly. He had arranged for the Shihōin heiress to instruct Chengxian: their ages were close enough to keep things from being dull, and the Shihōin Clan understood Shunpo better than he did.
Learning the girl's identity from Yamamoto, Chengxian was stunned. This plain kid was the curvaceous "Goddess of Flash" Yoruichi? Apart from skin and hair colour, nothing matched. In the anime she'd looked tall—wasn't this false advertising?
"Tch—"
At Yamamoto's reminder Yoruichi glanced reluctantly at Chengxian, then a mischievous grin crept across her face.
"Old man, if I'm to teach him Shunpo and Hakuda, I set the training, right?"
"Just bring him back in one piece."
With that permission Yoruichi laughed, suddenly sweeping Chengxian's legs. Before he could react he pitched forward; she clamped an arm round his neck and hauled him out of the First Division Barracks. His opinion was irrelevant.
She dragged him to the Shihōin training ground and stood atop a stone pillar, looking down at him.
"Yūki, I'm a responsible teacher. Over the next few days, I'll be sure to take very good care of you."
Yoruichi, free to settle personal scores as she pleased, felt terrific. Laughing, she shot toward Jie Chengxian with a Shunpo so fast he couldn't even track her. With his asauchi already left behind on the road, he had no choice but to meet her empty-handed, relying solely on Hakuda.
Though she was ostensibly giving him a small lesson under the banner of official revenge, she used only a fraction of her strength—just enough to let him feel a slight sting. One had to admit her Hakuda was superb: she could make him ache without leaving the faintest bruise.
Worthy of her reputation as the most gifted Hakuda prodigy in the history of the Shihōin Clan, she blended Shunpo and Hakuda so seamlessly that her strikes showered around Jie like rain, penning him in so tightly he couldn't Shunpo out. Were it not for his sturdy body, he'd have been flat on the ground long ago.
Getting into the rhythm, Jie grew familiar with her patterns, rapidly studying her Hakuda and reshaping it into moves that suited him best. With combat instincts beyond the norm, he could sense where her next blow would land—guard, counter, all in one breath. When a fist grazed her cheek, Yoruichi Shunpo'd back to a stone pillar.
"Hey, brat, don't you know you're supposed to be gentle with a lady?"
Hands on hips, she scolded him; if not for her quick reflexes, that punch would've smashed straight into her face. The only reply was another whistling fist. In an instant their roles reversed: she flickered about with Shunpo to dodge his onslaught, firing back with Hakuda. Thanks to her superior speed, she managed without much strain.
"What, giving up already?"
Seeing him stand motionless, Yoruichi teased, thinking No wonder old man Yamamoto took him as a disciple—talent like that could make anyone green with envy.
"Something feels off. There should be a stronger way to use Hakuda. Don't you have any more powerful techniques?"
"Ha? What did you just say, runt?"
While he was lost in thought, she Shunpo'd behind him and perched on his shoulders; even through her black thigh-highs he felt the warm pressure as her legs clamped around his neck.
"Don't get cocky just because you've got a bit of talent!"
Gasping for air, Jie slapped at her legs and croaked out a plea.
"Cough… I'm dying here…"
With a snort she released him, tugging her slipping stockings back into place.
"There is a level above what you've seen, but for now it's only my own theory—nothing proven."
Frowning, she warned him sternly.
"Don't even think about trying to invent it on your own. It's dangerous; mess it up and you could lose both arms."
He nodded hastily. He wasn't stupid; developing something like that would need old man Yamamoto watching over him to be safe.
"Anyway, you haven't even mastered my Shunpo yet—no point thinking about the next step."
The stronger the Hakuda technique, the faster the Shunpo needed to back it; otherwise you'd just waste your reiatsu swinging at thin air.
"Enough talk—let's eat."
Stomach growling, she pulled him up and headed for the Shihōin estate.
"Oh, right—Yoruichi, do you know Urahara Kisuke?"
Urahara was a rare scientific genius; if Jie could recruit him and pair him with Aizen, who knew what insane tech they might cook up.
"Never heard of him. You know him?"
She shook her head. Names that stuck in the mind of the Shihōin heiress were few; she'd only start tracking ordinary Shinigami after she took over the Onmitsukidō.
"Forget it, then."
"Come on, I'm starving."
Urahara wasn't going anywhere in Soul Society; they'd run into him eventually. Giving up the search for now, Jie let her drag him into the dining hall. Faced with a table laden with exquisite dishes, he lamented the decadent life of nobles—then sat down and, heart heavy with sorrow, joined this great aristocrat in her corruption.