When Shin asked the question, the black cat gave no answer—just continued quietly eating the fish on the plate.
That only made Shin more certain.
It knew he had seen through it, and it had chosen not to speak. Not because it couldn't—but because it didn't want to expose itself any more than necessary.
So why had it sought him out in the first place?
If he called it out now, forced its identity into the open… what would happen?
The question lingered. Whoever it was, Shin was sure their name would appear in his system—making it a potential source of rewards. But if he tried to force the truth, he might only provoke caution—or worse, drive it away.
Instead, he played it casual.
He stood, poured a bowl of water, set it beside the cat, and smiled. "You've eaten my fish twice now. How about letting me pet you?"
The cat made no sound.
This time, when he reached out, his hand actually made contact—soft fur, warm body—before a paw batted him away. The black cat raised its head, chewing the last of its fish, and gave him a golden-eyed look of sheer feline disdain.
"…Ungrateful little thing," Shin muttered.
But the cat didn't leave. It finished eating, sipped the water, and then, without a care in the world, sprawled out across the table as if it owned it.
Shin watched, unable to figure it out.
There didn't seem to be any hostility. If anything, perhaps curiosity—an interest in the fact that he had noticed something others hadn't.
That night—at the Shiba estate—
Shiba Kūkaku returned to her room after tinkering with fireworks, only to find the black cat already lying on her bed.
"…You again?" she asked, raising a brow. "You've been visiting Soul Society a lot lately."
"Nothing better to do," the cat replied in a lazy male voice. "And I'm not here for you."
Kūkaku's eyes widened. "You made contact with your old friend?"
"No," the cat said, tail flicking. "Tachikawa."
"…Him?"
Kūkaku paused—then understood. Her "friend" had an exceptional disguise. Even most Captains in the Seireitei couldn't see through it. If they'd come to Shin… perhaps it was because Shin had noticed.
"You revealed yourself?" she asked. "Or did he actually figure you out?"
"Neither."
Kūkaku frowned. "Be careful. Aside from your family, no one here is safe. The Gotei would kill you if they knew."
The cat said nothing.
A week later, the black cat came again.
This time, Shin had nothing prepared. Its visits were becoming more frequent, and he hadn't stocked up on fish yet. They just stared at each other in the living room.
"…Want some water?" Shin asked.
The cat gave him a look, then turned and left.
In the following weeks, the visits became routine. Shin grew used to its presence. He talked to it sometimes—though it felt more like talking to himself. They grew… familiar. Occasionally, it let him touch it. Most times, it smacked his hand away.
Aside from the extra feline, life remained steady.
A year passed.
The monotony of days, so alike, blurred time. Shin often wondered just how long he could live.
As a soul with third-class Reiatsu, even death wouldn't return his body to reishi. His lifespan now exceeded centuries. Possibly millennia.
A thousand years.
The phrase alone felt too large, too distant. Shin hadn't even been in this world for a decade. Could he endure so many years? Absorb them?
Perhaps it was the people around him—souls who had lived decades or centuries already, whose appearances no longer changed—that dulled his sense of time.
Shin still looked like a teenager.
[Reiatsu Level: Lv54]
[Zanpakutō Unlock Progress: 51%]
Despite all his training, the system showed almost no progress. Only Shin could feel the minute changes in his body.
Today, Shin's house was full.
Rukia, Hinamori, Renji, Kira, Ganju—all present. Plus Hisagi, Kiyone, Seirō, and even Hitsugaya Tōshirō.
All former Shin'ō Academy classmates. They made a habit of gathering every month or two—and always at Shin's home.
"This bastard's a third seat now, huh?" Hisagi grumbled, casting a look at Hitsugaya.
The young prodigy had been promoted to Third Seat of Squad 10 earlier this year.
Compared to before, Shin could feel his spiritual pressure had deepened. He was likely already at Fourth-Class Reiatsu.
Hitsugaya had been improving rapidly these past two years.
"A talent that makes people jealous," Shin admitted.
Hitsugaya rolled his eyes. "You're the last person allowed to say that."
"C'mon now, we might've graduated the same year, but I spent six years at the Academy. If you had the same time, maybe you'd be where I am too." Shin laughed.
He wasn't lying—without the system, he probably wouldn't even be here yet. At best, he might have just reached Vice-Captain level after several decades.
Hitsugaya didn't reply, but his gaze lingered.
Yes, he was progressing. But the gap was real.
Both Shiba Kaien and Ichimaru Gin had similar achievements. Like him, they were called prodigies—but it had taken them decades to achieve Bankai.
Could he do it faster?
And Shin… Shin had defeated Gin without using Bankai.
That kind of record? He couldn't imagine matching it.
Hitsugaya stayed silent. But in his heart, Shin had become a goal to surpass.
Shin, unaware of this, was thinking of Hitsugaya too. If he became Squad 10's Captain in a few years… what would happen to Hitsugaya?
He'd outgrow Third Seat.
"…You two?" Shin turned to Hisagi and Kiyone.
Hisagi clicked his tongue. "Looks like I'll make it to Seated Officer this year. Nothing major."
Kiyone answered calmly. "Lieutenant Ise seems to have high hopes for me. Probably another year or two."
Shin nodded—then noticed Seirō staring at him with a hopeful glint.
"Shin, what about me? Think I can make Seated Officer?"
Shin stared. "Why are you asking me? That's up to the Captain and Vice-Captain."
"You're Third Seat. You do get a say."
In truth, Seirō had a decent shot this year. Few in Squad 4 pursued healing as seriously as she did. But Shin kept that to himself.
Then Hinamori asked suddenly: "President… did you get a cat?"
Shin glanced at the windowsill.
A black cat was perched there again, tail twitching, golden eyes watching them.
"Not really. It just comes by sometimes to mooch food."
The cat gave him a glare. A literal golden-eyed glare at the word mooch.
Shin went to fetch it some fish.
Hinamori approached and reached out. The cat didn't resist. Instead, it lay still and let her pet it.
She picked it up easily—cradled it in her arms.
Shin's jaw clenched.
This cat only sometimes let him touch it. And Hinamori just waltzed up and scooped it like a plushie?
Rukia joined Hinamori, both girls now fawning over the cat as it lay between them like royalty.
After it finished eating, it left as suddenly as it had come.
Later, during dinner, they drank a little.
Hinamori, as always, had zero tolerance. A few sips, and she was flushed and giggling. Soon, she stood up shakily.
"Gotta use the bathroom—"
"I'll help you," Rukia offered.
"No, I'm fine. I'm not drunk."
She stumbled off. The living room quieted slightly.
Inside the bathroom, Hinamori leaned against the door. Her head was foggy.
She glanced around—basic toiletries. Only one set.
Her lips curled.
If she were dating Shin, there'd be two toothbrushes. Two towels.
She giggled softly.
After relieving herself, she washed her face—trying to sober up.
Then spotted the towel. She hesitated… then took it.
Shin wouldn't mind.
It smelled faintly of him.
She pressed it to her face, eyes fluttering.
She'd wanted to visit Shin many times. But he was always busy. On rare days off, somehow Rukia always invited herself over.
Finishing up, she went to hang the towel—and paused.
Something was stuck to it.
She squinted, plucked it off.
A hair.
Silver. Short.
Hitsugaya's…?
Her expression darkened.