Kuchiki Rukia hesitated, then, maintaining a friendly demeanor, introduced herself:
"Rukia."
The omission of her family name, Kuchiki, caused Kyōraku Callum to pause.
It seemed Kuchiki Byakuya hadn't yet met Rukia.
"It's a lovely name,"
Kyōraku Callum hadn't finished speaking when Rukia interrupted.
"Wait, what did you mean by that?"
Rukia's determination to get to the bottom of things was impressive.
"I was complimenting your appearance!"
Kyōraku Callum sighed, slightly exasperated.
This seemingly intelligent girl was being unusually stubborn.
The girl's cheeks flushed crimson, and steam seemed to rise from her head.
This was a completely new experience for her.
Growing up in the harsh Rukongai, scavenging in garbage dumps and dealing with various merchants, she'd resorted to any means necessary for survival—stealing, begging, even scamming.
No one had ever given her a compliment like that. This was completely overwhelming.
"Th-th-"
Kyōraku Callum, seizing the moment, gently ruffled her soft black hair before she could react.
"Don't worry about it. We need to get to our next class."
The warmth on her head left Rukia stunned. Only after Kyōraku Callum left the classroom did she recover.
"Hey!"
"Damn it! He took advantage of me!"
She hurried after him, but he was already gone.
"Oh no!"
"It's almost time for class! I'm going to be late!"
Rukia, seeing the few students in the academy, realized the gravity of her lateness. She hurried to her next class.
After navigating several winding corridors, she finally found the classroom.
"Calligraphy classroom,"
she read the sign. "This is it!"
She pushed open the door. A kind-faced teacher greeted her. Behind his glasses, his expression was tolerant. His low voice echoed in the classroom.
"You're late."
"I'm sorry!"
Rukia clutched her notebook, bowing deeply, feeling nervous. Being late for her first class was inexcusable.
"Just be more careful next time."
The calligraphy teacher gestured for Rukia to enter.
Rukia looked for a seat, only to find the room full.
"Rukia, over here!"
Feeling nervous under everyone's gaze, she heard someone call her name. She saw Kyōraku Callum waving to her with a warm smile.
"It's you?!"
She exclaimed, drawing the teacher's attention.
Realizing her mistake, Rukia quickly sat beside Kyōraku Callum.
"Why are you here?"
Once the stares subsided, she asked, adopting a fierce expression.
Kyōraku Callum fiddled with his brush, attempting some artistic creation.
"There are only a few calligraphy teachers at Shinigami Academy."
"And a single teacher often handles multiple classes."
After several attempts, Kyōraku Callum gave up.
He had to admit the importance of talent. He clearly lacked it in calligraphy. His characters were horribly distorted, as if protesting Soul Society's rigid hierarchy.
The teacher began the lesson.
"My name is Aizen Sousuke, and I will be your calligraphy teacher for the coming period."
Aizen's charisma was undeniable. His calm, soothing voice, the clear progression of knowledge, and his elegant calligraphy were as impeccable as his disguise—refined and cultured.
The new students were delighted. Kyōraku Callum, however, felt a constant tension beneath his calm exterior.
Throughout the class, Aizen Sousuke didn't seem to look at him directly. Yet, Kyōraku Callum, with his heightened awareness from his unique sword intent, sensed something unusual.
Why? he wondered. Why is Aizen watching me?
Is it because of my Zanpakutō?
Before entering Shinigami Academy, Kyōraku Callum remembered clearly that he had never met Aizen, never spoken a word to him.
Their only encounter was after leaving the narrow space.
He needed to understand the reason.
He propped his head up with his hand and inadvertently glanced at Rukia's work.
Snort, hahaha!
Kyōraku Callum stifled his laughter. Fortunately, Aizen allowed free practice, so the atmosphere wasn't as quiet as before.
He no longer suppressed his laughter.
Rukia's grip tightened, her knuckles turning white.
"Idiot!"
"What's so funny?!"
Realizing Kyōraku Callum was staring at her work, Rukia felt offended.
"I thought my calligraphy was bad enough,"
Kyōraku Callum said without hesitation, "but yours is hopeless!"
Snap!
Rukia's brush snapped.
Growing up in Rukongai, her daily concerns were survival, not art.
She'd been impatient with the brush from the start.
"Damn it!"
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