Chapter 93 ⥤ Let's Take Off Your Clothes First
A cheerful figure wove between the barracks, humming a merry tune.
"What a beautiful sunny day. Red flowers and green grass."
He paused before an ancient mansion that exuded luxury. A plaque with gilded characters adorned its vermillion main gate.
[Shihōin Estate]
Upon seeing the youth's sudden appearance, the guard Shinigami startled briefly before recognizing him.
"Lord Kisaragi!" The guard bowed deeply with great respect.
Since Akira's previous visit to the Shihōin estate, every member of the Shihōin clan had come to know this youth.
As the one who helped Lady Yoruichi reclaim their family's hereditary Zanpakutō, he was a true benefactor of the Shihōin. None would dare look down upon him.
"Please wait while I announce you!"
The guard vanished with Shunpo as soon as he finished speaking.
Akira watched in surprise, not having expected the Shihōin house to be so well-established that even a mere guard would possess such mastery of Shunpo.
Moments later, the guard reappeared with an inviting gesture.
Following his lead through several grand corridors, Akira arrived at a dojo.
The dojo was empty — no sign of Yoruichi.
As he glanced around, a sharp whistle cut through the air from above. An agile figure descended, powerful thighs striking down like a battle axe.
Bang!
Akira caught the powerful strike with his hand and raised his eyebrows at the figure before him.
Beads of sweat glistened on her tan skin, purple ponytail flowing down her back, form-fitting black clothes accentuating her perfect curves.
Years of training had only enhanced the girl's charm, making her like a fine wine — rich and passionate.
"Perfect timing! I've developed a new Hakuda technique. Help me test it." Yoruichi said without preamble.
Before he could refuse, her nimble form launched into a flurry of attacks.
To her, Akira was unmatched in Hakuda talent. Few in all of Soul Society could rival his ability.
She regretted that he hadn't joined 2nd Division — they could have trained together daily.
Her slender fist whistled through the air, creating shock waves and crackling with what seemed like lightning.
Their combat had evolved dramatically since their first match, when Akira could only defend and occasionally steal a technique with his remarkable talent. Now, armed with Genryūsai's teachings, he could engage her head-on.
As her graceful fist struck, he extended his right hand to meet it.
Jajanken: Paper!
Snap!
In one fluid motion, Akira's right hand enveloped her slender fist, the movement deceptively gentle.
But when his grip fully closed, it erupted with a heart-pounding, thunderous roar. Waves of force tore through the spacious dojo.
The familiar technique left Yoruichi momentarily stunned, unable to recover.
Akira chuckled, his right wrist turning to unleash a new close-quarters grappling technique.
Yoruichi's pupils contracted as she sensed an overwhelming, inescapable force bearing down, instantly locking away all her options.
Though she tried to counter with her exquisite Hakuda skills, Akira gave her no opening.
His relentless storm of attacks drove her back step by step until she reached the dojo's edge.
Complete suppression!
She found herself outmaneuvered at every turn. The fight ended with her hands locked together, right leg pinned by his knee, leaving her completely immobilized. Despite her superior Reiatsu, his technical and physical dominance rendered that advantage useless.
Finding his face so close to hers, Yoruichi turned away with a light cough and declared decisively.
"Ahem, I surrender!"
Akira released her hands, wearing a regretful expression.
What a pity. Had her persisted longer, he could have followed through on his earlier thought and pinned her down completely.
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Tea room.
Akira sipped the fine tea poured by the servant, quietly waiting.
Soon, Yoruichi appeared before him again, fresh from her bath. She wore loose robes, her damp purple hair falling over her shoulders, a faint fragrance drifting through the study.
"What brings you here? Have you finally decided to join my Second Division?" The girl's face bore a mischievous smile, her attitude unchanged despite her earlier defeat.
"We'll discuss that later." Akira waved his hand, "I'm here about the Azachiro family's property."
He briefly explained Sōya's actions.
"I see." Yoruichi crossed her arms, "You want to avoid noble entanglements, so you're selling off the Azachiro family's assets."
He nodded, "Among the nobles, I trust you the most. You wouldn't cheat me, right?"
The girl grinned and gave his shoulder a hearty pat.
"I could never be so ungrateful. Leave it to Ōmaeda — he has the connections to sell everything quickly. Don't worry about it."
Akira nodded, "Thank you, then."
"What are you thanking me for with our relationship!" Yoruichi patted her chest spiritedly, causing a slight ripple.
Her casual manner made it clear she had thrown on only a bath robe before coming.
"What relationship?" Akira asked, bewildered, snapping out of his profound observations.
Yoruichi glanced at him, sitting cross-legged across the tea table without concern. She poured herself a cup of tea and said with a serious expression.
"Didn't you agree to marry into our family before?"
"??"
No one knew where the rumor had started, but Yoruichi seemed convinced of it.
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Leaving the Shihōin estate, Akira walked along the streets of Seireitei.
He tugged at his Shin'ō Academy uniform — something he wouldn't have noticed if Yoruichi hadn't pointed it out.
Gosuke had promised to prepare a new Shihakushō for him, but after searching through the entire 11th Division storage, they'd found it empty. They'd had to request one from the 12th Division instead.
Several days had passed, and the Shihakushō should be ready now.
After some thought, he bypassed his Division's barracks and headed toward the 12th Division. He would collect his Shihakushō and check on how Aizen was settling in.
If Aizen wasn't comfortable there, he could use his connections to transfer him to the 11th Division early. Together, they could bide their time for a few decades before taking the old bald eagle's position.
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12th Division Barracks.
At the main gate, Akira's nose twitched as he detected unusual scents wafting through the air, his brows furrowing in curiosity.
"Miso, tempura, fried cutlets, tofu soup... Is there a feast going on?"
Thanks to his frequent late-night visits to the Academy cafeteria, he could easily identify every dish just from its aroma.
Intrigued, Akira slipped into the barracks.
Following the scents through two corridors, he arrived at an enormous space.
It was a kitchen. He stood dumbfounded at the sight, momentarily disoriented.
Who am I, where am I, what am I doing?
Before him sprawled a bustling cooking operation, with countless people diligently attending to their tasks — so focused that none noticed the uninvited guest in their midst.
Using his natural talent, Akira seamlessly blended in, weaving between stoves and prep tables.
"The fish balls lack flavor—failure."
"These radishes are poorly selected—failure."
"The pork skin is overcooked, no texture—failure!"
"The pudding falls apart at a touch—ultimate failure!"
"Uh, let's skip the intestines..."
Eyeing the pork intestine sashimi before him, Akira promptly abandoned any thought of tasting it.
Judging by their poor cooking techniques, this intestine dish had to be the worst of the lot — to call it "shit" would be literally accurate.
Aizen observed Akira moving through the crowd, his composed face betraying hints of exasperation.
Though he knew his friend was unreliable, brazenly sneaking into the 12th Division like this was asking to end up on a cutting board himself.
"Why are you here?" Aizen set down his work and approached the speed-eating intruder.
"Looking for you." Akira placed his empty plate down with a grin, "I thought if you weren't adjusting well to Twelfth Division life, I could help transfer you to the Eleventh Division."
Aizen sighed helplessly. Things had predictably taken a familiar turn.
Seeing Akira about to continue his freeloading spree, he quickly reached out to stop him.
"These aren't ordinary dishes. They're Captain Hikifune's experimental research."
Akira's eyes widened as he stared at the serious-faced youth, his expression clearly saying "I'm not well-read, don't try to fool me".
"How can this awful food be considered research?" He wondered.
In his impression, research should involve a group of white-coated intellectuals using various instruments in a bright, clean laboratory, engaged in heated discussions using terminology he couldn't understand at all.
The scene before him bore no resemblance to research whatsoever. More like a lively food market with a bunch of amateur cooks trying their best (and failing).
Seeing his skepticism, Aizen explained the principles of Soul Cooking.
Akira's eyes suddenly lit up with understanding, "So you're telling me eating can make you stronger? How's it going? Have you made anything that works yet?"
Aizen shook his head.
The experiment had only recently begun, and the researchers were still mastering basic cooking skills. The next phase would take considerable time.
"Is there anything that at least tastes decent?" Akira asked, lowering his expectations after sampling the mediocre dishes.
"Try this." Aizen said, bringing over a bowl of tofu pudding from a nearby prep table.
The priest's eyes widened at the sight.
This dish stood leagues above the others. Its appearance alone put everything else to shame.
The crystal-clear white jade tofu pudding quivered like jelly at the slightest movement. This wasn't mere cooking — this was—
Art!
Taking the bowl and spoon, Akira drew a deep breath and began his tasting ceremony.
The moment it touched his tongue, the pudding's fragrance bloomed. Its silken texture, like condensed milk, melted instantly. Flavors danced between his lips and teeth, leaving a lingering sweetness.
After devouring the entire bowl in moments, he pushed it toward Aizen with a serious expression.
"Another bowl!"
"There isn't any more." Aizen spread his hands, having anticipated this reaction.
He had only prepared enough soybeans for two bowls of tofu pudding, planning to save the second portion for himself.
Akira didn't question him and turned to survey the other dishes.
However, after experiencing the tofu pudding, the other dishes' poor quality killed his appetite immediately.
He shook his head and glanced at Aizen, noticing his new Shihakushō. Combined with his slightly drooping brown hair, Aizen gave off a rather frail impression.
"By the way, do you know where to get a Shihakushō?"
Aizen pointed, "Remember the Shutara Lab we visited last time?"
Recognition dawned on Akira as he recalled the Lab's distinctive architecture — like a dye house with colorful, magnificent fabrics hanging everywhere.
"Alright, I'll head over there then."
Without another word, he strode out of the kitchen, giving Aizen no chance to respond.
Watching him leave, Aizen sighed helplessly, hoping his friend wouldn't get himself into too much trouble.
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Arriving at the Shutara Lab again, the familiar scene greeted him.
The dramatic architecture featured several bone-like giant arms embracing the cocoon-shaped building, with colorful silk ribbons and fabrics floating in the air.
After explaining his purpose to the guard Shinigami, they courteously led him to a laboratory.
"Lady Shutara is inside."
Akira pushed open the door to find countless brilliant brocades cascading from the ceiling. The rhythmic sound of looms echoed from deep within, occasionally broken by the sharp snap of tearing fabric.
"We meet again..."
As he studied the room's structure, the tap of wooden clogs drew nearer until they stopped before him.
An elegant woman with pale skin approached, her beautiful black eyes assessing him carefully.
Just as Akira began to feel uneasy under her scrutiny, Senjumaru made a startling declaration.
"Since you're here for a Shihakushō, let's take your clothes off first..."
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