"How many times do I have to tell you? Stop using my name like that!"
Yoruichi's brow furrowed, her irritation unmistakable. "We're not even married yet."
"And even if we were, don't you dare get comfortable. We're not that close. Not even close to close enough for that."
She stepped closer, her voice taking on an edge. "Let's be clear about the hierarchy here. Privately? I'm the Shihoin clan head, and you're the son-in-law my father dragged in. Professionally? I'm the Second Division Captain, Commander of the Onmitsukidō, and head of the Covert Operations Corps. You're my subordinate. My subordinate. Understood, Yanagi, Fourth Seat?"
Yanagi's expression remained unmoved—flat, almost wooden. Her obvious disdain seemed to bounce right off him.
"I understand perfectly."
He paused, tilting his head slightly. "Though you made an error just now."
"Technically speaking, I'm not just your father-in-law to be. Your fiancé." His voice was quiet but firm. "I'm also Shunsui's adopted son. Legally, we're equals."
"Back in the human world, they'd call me a 'muko yoshi'—a bridegroom adopted into the family."
Yoruichi's mouth twisted downward. Her gaze turned decidedly colder.
"Tch. Listen to you, throwing my father's name around like a weapon." She shuddered dramatically, pulling down her lower eyelid and sticking out her tongue in exaggerated disgust. "And I already told you—stop saying my name. It makes my skin crawl. Seriously, it's gross."
Her resentment was barely veiled.
Yanagi understood perfectly. Forced into an engagement with a complete stranger by your father's decree? Anyone would bristle. Especially Yoruichi—wild, reckless, bound by no one's rules. The fact that she hadn't punched him on sight was restraint on her part, however grudging.
He, meanwhile, couldn't have cared less.
Shunsui had chosen him precisely because of his serious, steady nature. The old patriarch needed someone to keep Yoruichi in check—someone her volatility couldn't sway. Yanagi was the perfect restraint. Of course she resented him. It was inevitable.
Yanagi had never expected romance from this arrangement. He'd agreed to the engagement for one reason: status. The privilege of nobility.
Yoruichi, for all her wild impulses, knew when to quit. She could see Yanagi wasn't budging on the formality issue—could read the stubbornness in his posture. Pressing further would change nothing. So she dropped it, pivoting back to her original question instead.
"Fine, whatever. But you still haven't answered me—where the hell were you? My father had people looking for you. Nobody could find you."
"Rukongai."
Yanagi answered without hesitation. "When we got engaged, Vice-Captain Maeda sent congratulatory gifts. Some of them were property deeds. I went to check on them, arranged for some staff to help manage them."
He left out the details about where and how he'd recruited that "staff." Seemed unnecessary.
Yoruichi's interest evaporated instantly.
"So the guards told me you came looking for me. What's going on?" Yanagi asked.
"What, I need a reason to find you?" Mischief flashed across her face. "I'm in a foul mood and feel like picking a fight. How about it? You up for it?"
Without hesitation, Yanagi drew his Zanpakutō and held it ready.
"No objection." His tone was perfectly serious. "Where should we fight? The Second Division grounds or the training hall here?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa—I was joking!" Yoruichi's smirk died. She rushed to stop him, looking genuinely alarmed at his dead-serious demeanor. "Put that away. Now."
In all their brief interactions, she'd clocked him as earnest and rigid. But this was something else. The man took a joke literally.
If word got out that she and her new fiancé had fought, House Shihoin's reputation would take a hit. And if her father found out? The old man might have a stroke.
After some urgent persuasion, she finally got Yanagi to sheathe his blade. She sighed, her expression weary.
"You're actually insufferable, you know that? Zero sense of humor. You just pounce on everything like it's a matter of life and death."
She knew he'd understood her joke perfectly. He'd just decided to be difficult about it—a pointed way of showing his displeasure at her earlier jabs.
"Besides, it's stupid. You're only a Vice-Captain ranked spiritually. I'm a Captain. There's no way you'd win against me."
"That's exactly why the old man chose me to be your husband." Yanagi's voice remained flat, but he added one more sentence: "I'm considerably stronger than a certain yellow-haired brat, at least."
"Ohhhhh?" Yoruichi's eyes lit up with sudden interest, like she'd discovered buried treasure. "Is that... jealousy I'm detecting?"
Yanagi gave no response, his expression unchanged.
The lack of reaction disappointed her. Her face fell.
"Ugh, what a waste."
She leaned against the wall, her expression exaggerated. "You're supposed to get all flushed and flustered, then say something like 'B-baka! Who'd be jealous over you?! I don't—don't like you or anything!' You know, proper tsundere material."
"..."
Some silences were truly, profoundly silent.
Yanagi had assumed his fiancée was simply difficult and headstrong. He hadn't anticipated she was also genuinely dramatic.
Whatever he said now would be ammunition for her mockery. After a moment of internal calculation, he forced out the most monotone statement possible: "I'm not tsundere. And I don't have time to play games with you."
"Oh, tsunderes never admit they're tsundere. That's the whole point."
Seeing Yanagi wouldn't break, Yoruichi's disappointment was genuine.
"Ugh. Fake, boring, no fun at all." She waved a hand dismissively. Every time they met, she tried to get a rise out of him. Just once, she wanted to see that perfect control crack. But he never cooperated.
She'd almost stopped expecting it.
"Alright, I'm done messing with you." She straightened up, her tone shifting. "Real talk—Father wanted me to bring you to him. He has things to discuss."
"The old man?" Concern flickered across Yanagi's features for the first time. "Is he alright? How's his health?"
Since the engagement, Shunsui had stepped down—handed the clan leadership and the Second Division captaincy to Yoruichi. The old patriarch seemed to have lost his will after that. He'd fallen ill overnight, now barely sustained by medicine.
"Go see for yourself," Yoruichi said quietly, and for once her playfulness was gone. Deep worry etched itself across her features.
They made their way to his quarters. Before they even entered, a thick, bitter medicinal stench hit them—acrid, almost choking.
Inside, an elderly man lay on tatami mat. His face was gaunt, drained of all vitality. He looked as though he might not survive the next breath.
Two attendants hovered nearby, tending to him.
The old man shared Yoruichi's deep brown skin. And seeing him like this—Yoruichi's expression crumpled. Her eyes grew wet.
"Father..."