Time slipped lightly over the long scale of the Soul Society, as if it were just ten cycles of the dry landscape garden being brushed away and redrawn. In the blink of an eye, ten whole years of time flowed silently through Hiroki's fingers like sand, while he played the role of the Shihōin Clan's live-in son-in-law and maintained a delicate 'balance' with Yoruichi.
For Hiroki, these ten years were a decade of living in luxury, yet filled with lingering frustration.
What made him grit his teeth most was that old geezer lying on his sickbed, who should have had half a foot in hell—Seigen Shihoin—was actually still alive!
"Damn it! The script wasn't written like this, you old bastard!" Hiroki roared in his heart more than once, feeling severely cheated by the original story and his own initial optimism. Seigen's body was indeed deteriorating day by day, his appearance withered, perpetually wrapped in a heavy scent of medicine and the aura of decay. Anyone who saw him would think he was about to take his last breath at any moment. But that breath had somehow been stubbornly held for ten years!
Every time Hiroki saw his father-in-law in name, he could feel a heart-palpitating obsession deep within those cloudy eyes. The old man, with a voice as raspy as a broken bellows, would repeat his wish over and over: "I... just want to see my grandson once before I go..."
These words were like an invisible thorn, making Hiroki restless. "Where the hell am I supposed to find a grandson for you!" Hiroki wailed internally. "Fuck!" Putting aside his and Yoruichi's "husband and wife" relationship, which was essentially that of strangers, even if they could "cooperate," given their personalities and statuses, the trouble caused by having a child would only be greater.
His relationship with Yoruichi was the perfect embodiment of this ten-year stalemate. In the Shihōin Clan's magnificent banquet hall and at social gatherings where nobles congregated, Hiroki and Yoruichi were still seen as a "model" noble couple in the eyes of outsiders. Hiroki played the role of the steady and reserved husband, while Yoruichi maintained her image as the dignified and proper Lady of the House. With perfectly timed smiles and supportive body language, everything looked so loving and harmonious.
However, once they returned to the inner courtyard of the Shihōin estate, the style changed completely. They were presences that found even an extra glance at each other redundant. Yoruichi had mastered Bankai five years ago and inherited the position of Captain of the Second Division; since then, her whereabouts had become even more unpredictable, and home was more like a supply point to her. Her mind was mostly focused on Urahara Kisuke, who was holed up in the Technology Development Bureau conducting dangerous research.
As for Hiroki? He was happy to be idle, turning his interests toward the two little maids with very different personalities by his side—Tamaki Chizuru and Uchiha Izumi. Chizuru remained sharp-witted, managing Hiroki's private life flawlessly, having grown from the naive maid of years ago into a trusted butler-like figure for Hiroki. As for Izumi, under Hiroki's "careful protection" and her own efforts, she had shed some of the panic from after her clan's massacre, her temperament becoming increasingly cool and serene. Those Sharingan eyes that occasionally lit up due to alertness remained the most reliable shadow by his side.
To maintain his status as the Shihōin son-in-law, and more or less influenced by the "commissions" from Seigen's bedside, Hiroki had not spent these ten years entirely as a leisurely rich man. Representing the gravely ill Seigen, he frequently moved through the top noble circles of the Seireitei. He had attended the solemn cherry blossom viewing parties of the Kuchiki Clan and held secret talks in the gloomy yet opulent tea rooms of the Tsunayashiro Clan. He finalized countless exchanges of interests for the Shihōin Clan and witnessed the filth beneath the glamorous surface. Power, resources, conspiracies... these things were like invisible mud that had already stained the soles of his shoes.
"No, old man, are you really planning to tie me down to the Shihōin Clan forever?" Hiroki complained in his heart more than once. But he only dared to think such thoughts. Although Seigen was like a candle in the wind, the majesty he had cultivated over centuries and his informants spread throughout the Shihōin Clan and the Onmitsukidō were still enough to make Hiroki extremely wary. Tearing off the mask now would bring him no benefit. That expected massive "alimony" and freedom had been pushed back ten years by the old man's obsession with "seeing a grandson" and his ability to cling to life.
What made Hiroki feel most absurd and angry was his useless system, which seemed to have died! For ten whole years! That so-called "Support System," which had responded coldly at the beginning of his transmigration and then fell into a dead silence after throwing him a "Newbie Gift Pack," hadn't even let out a peep! Let alone "receiving commissions from all realms," it hadn't even made a sound! Hiroki had tried calling out to it countless times over the ten years, but each time the only response was a cold "None." "What kind of trash cheat is this!" Hiroki couldn't help but curse whenever he thought of it. The only benefit was "no punishment"? But with no tasks and no improvements, what use was it other than proving its own existence?
And the system's inactivity was directly reflected in Hiroki's own strength. An incredibly ironic fact: compared to ten years ago when he first arrived in the Soul Society, he had not only made no progress but had actually become weaker!
The only thing that could be considered "growth" was his Spiritual Pressure, which had barely climbed from the level of a low-ranking Seat Officer (9th Class) to a middle-ranking Seat Officer (8th Class)—perhaps from mingling in noble circles and unconsciously picking up the aura of the strong, or perhaps just the slow natural growth of this body. However, his other skill levels had ruthlessly declined!
His already low Hakuda and Zanjutsu had actually dropped directly from C-rank to D-rank!
"No way, can this stuff actually regress???"
Hiroki looked at his noticeably more "rounded" wrists and gradually disappearing muscle lines, fuming with rage. Ten years of luxury, traveling by carriage wherever he went, using his mouth instead of his hands, with at least one Captain-level (Shisui/Fugaku) and several Lieutenant-level (like Tekka) guards accompanying him at all times (the Uchiha Squad rotated depending on the occasion)—what need was there to practice his meager strength? Comfort is the greatest corrosive of combat power.
As for Yoruichi? She had long since devoted her entire heart and soul to her duties as Captain of the Second Division and the Onmitsukidō, and to the secret business with Urahara Kisuke that looked like scientific experiments but was actually thrilling. Since officially taking over as Captain five years ago, she rarely came home. The spacious and magnificent Clan Head's bedchamber was left with only Hiroki alone most of the time. He had secretly rejoiced at this, as it was peaceful, but occasionally when drinking alone late at night, a subtle dissatisfaction would flicker through his heart—one he didn't even want to admit—at being completely "forgotten" in the deep estate by his nominally powerful wife.
"...I need to get paid more!" Thinking of this, Hiroki spat hatefully, as if to spit out the grievances and resentment of these ten years. The old man's "dying" wish was nowhere in sight, the system had completely slacked off, his strength had regressed instead of progressed, and Yoruichi was like a stranger... everything seemed to point toward a more shameless and realistic demand—that "alimony" which had been delayed for ten years must, no matter what, have its price increased!