Faced with Nobu's question, the black cat still gave no reply, simply keeping its head down over the plate of fish.
That, however, told Nobu something.
It clearly knew he had seen through its ordinariness, yet it had no wish to expose its identity further.
But then—why had it come here of its own accord to seek him out?
What if he were to call out its identity right now…
He weighed it in his mind.
The other party was surely someone whose name appeared in his system—a guaranteed source of rewards if handled right.
But if he were too direct, it would only raise its guard.
He rose, poured it a bowl of water, set it beside it, and said with a small smile, "After eating my fish twice, can I at least pet you?"
The black cat said nothing.
He reached out to touch it—and this time, his hand actually brushed its fur, only for a paw to slap it away almost immediately.
The cat tilted its head, chewing its fish, and those golden eyes seemed to flick him an unmistakable look of disdain.
"Truly a thankless creature," Nobu muttered.
The cat finished its meal, drank some water, and—rather than leaving—lay down on the table as if it owned the place.
He really couldn't guess its thoughts.
After a moment, he stopped trying.
It posed no threat to him.
Maybe it was just curious that he could see through it.
...
That night.
Shiba residence.
Returning to her room after working on fireworks, Shiba Kūkaku found the black cat sprawled on her bed.
"You're here again?" she asked in mild surprise, then frowned. "You've been coming to Soul Society a bit too often lately, haven't you?"
"Bored, so I came by for a stroll." The black cat spoke lazily. "Besides, I didn't come for you."
Kūkaku's brows rose higher. "You met an old acquaintance?"
"No." The cat didn't move. "It's that Tachikawa."
"Him?"
She blinked, then quickly pieced together some of the reason.
Her friend's disguise was flawless—enough that even Seireitei's captains wouldn't notice.
Last time, it had mentioned that Tachikawa Nobu seemed to have noticed something.
So that was why it had sought him out.
"Did you reveal yourself to him? Or did he really see something?" Kūkaku pressed.
"Neither."
She thought for a moment, then said, "Just be careful. Aside from your own people, anyone in Seireitei could act against you."
The black cat was silent.
...
A week later, Nobu saw the cat again.
This time, a search through his kitchen turned up nothing fit for it to eat.
It had come far sooner than before, and he hadn't had time to prepare.
They ended up just staring at each other across the living room.
"Water?" Nobu offered.
The cat gave him a glare and left.
Over the next stretch of days, it began appearing far more often.
He grew used to it—sometimes speaking to it, though it was more like talking to himself.
Their… relationship, if it could be called that, grew oddly familiar.
Sometimes it would let him pet it; more often, it batted his hand away without mercy.
Life was otherwise unchanged—only with the addition of a cat.
Another year slipped by.
Perhaps because each day was so alike, its passing was hard to notice.
Nobu didn't know how long he could live.
At Third-Class Reiatsu, even in death his body would not return to the Soul Society in reishi form, meaning his natural lifespan had already stretched far beyond a century, perhaps several.
He might live a thousand years…
A thousand years.
Even the word itself felt distant and heavy.
He had not even been in this world for ten.
Could he endure the wear of such a span? Could he contain all that time?
Perhaps it was because those around him had already lived decades or centuries, their appearances hardly changing, time's traces smoothed away.
While he still looked like a boy in his teens.
[Reiatsu Level: Lv54]
[Zanpakutō Unlock Progress: 51%]
Through training alone, the pace of growth was painfully slow.
On the system display, it barely shifted—only Nobu himself could sense the faint changes in his body.
...
At Nobu's home.
Kuchiki Rukia, Hinamori Momo, Abarai Renji, Kira Izuru, Ganju…
along with Hisagi Shūhei, Kanisawa, Aoshika, and Hitsugaya Tōshirō were all gathered.
They were all Shin'ō Academy classmates.
Every month or two they met, and the meeting place was almost always Nobu's house.
"This kid's a Third Seat now, huh."
Hisagi eyed Hitsugaya, unable to keep a trace of envy from his tone.
This year, Hitsugaya Tōshirō had been promoted to Third Seat of the Tenth Division—an upper-seat officer.
Compared to before, Nobu could clearly feel that Hitsugaya's reiatsu was more contained.
By his estimate, it was already at Fourth-Class Reiatsu.
In the past year or two, the boy had been advancing day after day.
"An enviable talent," Nobu couldn't help saying.
At that, Hitsugaya shot him a look. "You're the last person allowed to say that."
"Come now—we may have graduated in the same year, but I spent a full six years in the Academy. If you had that long, you might reach my level too." Nobu smiled.
Without the system, who knew how long it would take him to reach Fourth-Class Reiatsu—decades, perhaps.
His own raw talent wasn't much different from Hisagi's.
In the original timeline, he might have ended up at vice-captain level, perhaps even reaching bankai and captain-class like Hisagi did later, but that would be his limit.
Hitsugaya only glanced at him, eyes flickering.
He might have Fourth-Class now, but his experience was lacking.
Geniuses like him weren't new—Shiba Kaien and Ichimaru Gin had similar records.
He doubted his own talent could surpass either of them.
Would it take him decades, as it had them, to achieve bankai?
And Nobu… had defeated Gin without even using bankai.
That was a feat Hitsugaya knew he couldn't match right now.
Nobu didn't know the boy had quietly made him a goal to reach.
He himself was wondering about Hitsugaya's future—
If he became Tenth Division captain one day, what would happen to him?
A few more years, and once Hitsugaya had bankai, keeping him as a Third Seat would be far too wasteful.
"What about you two?" Nobu turned to Hisagi and Kanisawa.
"This year I might make it to seated officer," Hisagi said, "but just a regular seat."
Kanisawa was calmer. "Ise-fukutaichō thinks well of me. Two years, maybe."
Nobu nodded, then noticed Aoshika watching him eagerly.
"Nobu, what about me? Am I ready for a seat?"
"That's up to the captain and vice-captain," Nobu deadpanned.
"You're Third Seat, you have a say!"
Fourth Division promotions were a bit different from other squads, but Nobu privately thought she'd likely get it this year—she was one of the few who truly studied Kaidō.
He didn't say so aloud.
"Kaichō, you have a cat now?" Hinamori asked suddenly.
Nobu glanced instinctively at the windowsill, and smiled. "Not really. It just comes by sometimes to mooch food and drink."
A black cat had appeared without anyone noticing, watching them lazily.
When Nobu said "mooch," those golden eyes flicked him a look of clear offense.
He went to the kitchen and brought out a fish.
Hinamori went to the window, reached out, and stroked it.
The cat lay there docilely, no resistance at all—even letting her lift it into her arms with ease.
Nobu felt a twinge of irritation.
It only occasionally let him touch it, yet with her it was so compliant.
Rukia joined her, and together they fussed over the cat, which stayed curled in their laps, perfectly calm.
Once the fish was gone, it left of its own accord.
Over dinner, they drank.
Hinamori's tolerance was as poor as ever.
A few cups and her head was spinning.
She announced she was going to the bathroom.
"I'll help you," Rukia offered, seeing her sway.
"No need, I'm not drunk."
She wobbled into the bathroom, closing the door.
The chatter outside dimmed.
Leaning against the door, she touched her forehead, her thoughts slow and hazy.
Her gaze drifted over the contents of the room—basic toiletries, but for one person.
She found herself thinking…
If I were with Kaichō, my things would be here too.
A soft laugh escaped her.
After finishing, she washed her face with cold water to clear her head.
Then she noticed the towels.
Biting her lip, she took one down.
He wouldn't mind…
It smelled nice.
She pressed the soft, fluffy fabric to her face.
She had often thought about seeking Nobu out in private before.
She'd had the time, but as Third Seat, he was usually busy in the barracks.
And on his rare days off, Rukia—somehow—always ended up tagging along.
Finished, she hung the towel back—and caught sight of something.
She stared at it, then picked it up.
A strand of hair.
Silver.
Short.
Could it be… Shirō-chan's?
Her expression grew doubtful.