Kisaragi Tomofumi lowered his head and nodded in agreement, offering no objections. The contrast with someone else's previous behavior couldn't have been starker.
For the Third Division, whose role was primarily to support other squads, they were essentially like a movable brick in Soul Society—placed wherever needed. Whenever another squad lacked personnel, the Third Division would be called upon. Investigation missions like this had become routine for Kisaragi Tomofumi. To him, it was nothing extraordinary.
Full of confidence, he assured that the case could be solved within three days. After all, incidents of disappearing souls weren't exactly rare.
Captain Yamamoto furrowed his brow slightly, his gaze sweeping the room until it settled on one person:
"Eleventh Division, Kisaragi Akira."
Kisaragi Akira: "…"
He knew it—old man Yamamoto wasn't about to let him off the hook. Just hearing the tone was enough to guess what came next.
"You will assist Captain Takeda in this investigation," Yamamoto continued.
"And when the culprit is found, deal with them—life or death."
Kisaragi Akira sighed, replying with minimal enthusiasm. Investigations weren't exactly as thrilling as slicing people up. If it came down to it, he'd much rather go undercover in some faction. From his previous experience, he had discovered he had a knack for that sort of thing.
The meeting ended with a discussion about security in the Sixth District. With the downfall of the Tsunayashiro family, the district was a chaotic mess. Even with Shinkai Renge's formidable abilities and the capable support of son-in-law Shinkai Kyoka, the situation was overwhelming. They had no choice but to request reinforcements from the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, temporarily transferring some officers to help maintain order. At the very least, they needed to prevent assassinations from occurring openly.
Second Division, training hall.
Boys and girls alike poured sweat into the spacious hall, the thunderous sounds of body impacts echoing repeatedly. Gusts of wind whipped across the room, splitting the solid floor beneath them.
Yoruichi panted heavily, beads of sweat sliding down her forehead and dripping from her chin. Her sleeveless Shihakusho, soaked and darkened, clung to her form. She glared across the hall, unwilling to admit defeat despite recognizing the massive gap in ability.
After a brief pause, the black-skinned girl's lithe body coiled like a predatory cheetah on the grassland. In an instant, she lunged toward the boy in front of her. Her delicate fingers brushed like plucking strings, then clenched into a fist. The moment she struck, the air itself seemed to explode—a roaring shockwave that screamed as if a bomb had detonated.
Bang!
A thunderous crack shattered the air, concentric waves of energy rippling visibly outward like smoke rings—only much faster. Words were unnecessary. A relentless storm of attacks followed, unleashed without the earlier restraint. Yoruichi poured everything she had into the fight: spiritual pressure, Hakuda techniques, Shunpo, even Kido.
Kisaragi Akira, given permission by Yoruichi, met her assault head-on at full capacity, completely focused on the duel. Yet, to her astonishment, no matter what moves she threw, he countered with perfect timing.
His defenses, seemingly casual and effortless, withstood her every strike. Even more shocking, Kisaragi Akira's spiritual pressure was significantly lower than hers. By raw power alone, she could have crushed him—but even so, he dominated every engagement. Each attack was deflected as if it were nothing. His mastery of Hakuda was impeccable, his motions swift and precise, growing like an unstoppable gale seeking to swallow everything in its path.
Strong as she was, she found herself powerless.
Kisaragi Akira had grown far beyond the boy who had just entered the academy. Even when winds and shocks surged around him, he remained unshaken. Without resorting to secret techniques, Yoruichi's own strength barely matched Hakuba Shinichi's. Pressuring him was impossible. He could control the battle with sheer instinct.
Earlier, when Yoruichi had asked if he had time tonight, he had thought it was about stance training—but no, it was for mastering Hakuda knowledge. As soon as the council ended, before he could complain to old man Yamamoto, Yoruichi had dragged him to the Second Division's hall for an intense sparring session.
While he pondered the situation, Yoruichi seized a fleeting opportunity. She Shunpoed, a blur of motion, launching into the air. Her thighs, powerful as battle axes, came crashing down.
Boom!
The solid floor shattered again, leaving a deep crater. Kisaragi Akira's counterattack struck with the force of collapsing mountains, sweeping away her resistance like an unstoppable landslide.
Second Division trainees practiced rigorously even without missions, and Aya Hachisaki was no exception. The embarrassment of previous failure only fueled her determination to grow stronger, ensuring she could protect Yoruichi. She trained late into the night, becoming the hardest-working member of the Second Division.
That evening, returning to the barracks via a narrow path, her keen senses caught an unusual sound. Following it, she arrived outside the hall, cautiously pressing her ear to the wall.
"First, take off your clothes."
A man's voice. Aya squinted, sensing a cold, murderous aura.
"You went too hard—now we'll waste more time."
Her pupils constricted. No way—that was Yoruichi's voice?! Her mind raced, imagining forbidden scenarios.
"Mmm—"
A muffled moan, tinged with pain. Aya's heart thudded violently. The forbidden images in her mind seemed to match the sounds.
"Hey, take it easy!"
Yoruichi's voice snapped, shattering Aya's final illusions. The girl decided she couldn't wait any longer.
Bang!
The hall doors were flung open. A small figure darted in, ready to intervene—but froze. What she saw wasn't what she had imagined.
Yoruichi stood with her back turned. The sleeveless Shihakusho was removed, but a small underlayer protected her modesty. Her right hand was bent, clearly injured. Behind her, a familiar figure worked to restore her arm.
"Eh, Aya?" Yoruichi asked. "You're here?"
"Just in time! Hurry, fix this—he's clumsy," the figure said.
The girl realized her mistake, her cheeks flushing as she stammered. Reluctantly, she stepped forward, using precise motions to correct the dislocated arm. With Kisaragi Akira's expert reishi control, Yoruichi's arm healed completely.
Aya stood obediently aside, head bowed. Kisaragi Akira, meanwhile, watched her with curiosity, noting her reddening ears.
Yoruichi readjusted her Shihakusho, testing her fully restored arm. She glanced at the embarrassed girl.
"So, Aya, why are you here in the middle of the night?"
Aya mumbled, unable to explain that she had burst in thinking Yoruichi was being attacked. "I… I finished training… heard noises… thought there were intruders…"
Kisaragi Akira's eyes twinkled with amusement at her excuse. Yoruichi nodded, seemingly convinced, and dismissed her. Aya hurriedly left, avoiding eye contact.
Turning to Yoruichi, Kisaragi Akira sighed. "Do the Second Division have any Kido or secret techniques suitable for investigations?"
Yoruichi, understanding him well, replied: "The usual one's Tsukidori—tracking with minimal effort. The rest take time you wouldn't care for."
He thought a moment. Then Yoruichi spoke again, revealing a secret technique she had developed to disguise oneself for investigations.
With a flourish, her Shihakusho fell to the floor—and out popped a sleek black cat.
"Almost got tangled in my clothes," she said, pride flickering in her tone. "Even Kishinobu can't see through this. In cat form, your spiritual pressure is suppressed, and your combat ability drops like a normal cat. Only your body's strength stays the same."
Kisaragi Akira quickly grasped the principles. A complex spiritual barrier suppressed his reishi while altering his form—a sort of inverse imprint technique.
He raised his right paw; soft fur sprouted, claws extending and retracting as he tested them. Yoruichi watched intently, fascinated despite his rapid learning.
The transformation complete, Kisaragi Akira took in the world from a dramatically smaller perspective. Gray-white fur with small black patches, thick and plush. Short limbs gave a wide, sturdy look. Most striking was the broad, fierce-yet-adorable face.
Wait a second!
He stared, eyes wide, recognizing the breed he had become.
"Pallas cat… is that a cat too?!"
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