"Seen through me?"
Rangiku Matsumoto's gaze darkened, but she said nothing. She surged forward again, blade flashing in a cascade of cold light. The edge in her hand split into multiple streaks—so fast and layered that it was impossible to tell which was the true strike, or whether every single one was real.
Mizuhara Shin responded just as swiftly.
Steel met steel in rapid succession. Each of her attacks was intercepted, deflected, neutralized. Sparks burst brilliantly in the air between them, scattering across the polished wooden floor.
The unease in Rangiku's chest deepened.
On the surface, Shin appeared suppressed—forced entirely onto the defensive, unable to counterattack. And yet, it was she who was being compelled to maintain constant offense. If she slowed for even a breath, the momentum would shift.
Has he truly seen through every one of my attacks?
Or is he merely compensating for the difference in speed by reacting at the last possible instant?
Then what if I stop attacking?
Teeth clenched, Rangiku abruptly withdrew her blade.
In that single instant—
A flash of cold light ignited before her eyes.
The plain, unadorned Asauchi slid in from an impossibly sharp angle, brushing so close to her cheek it nearly kissed her skin.
Was it off target?
Or did she move in time?
For a split second she didn't know.
Her breath hitched as something golden drifted down before her eyes—one slender lock of hair severed cleanly, settling across the steel of her own blade.
Rangiku swallowed.
Her body froze in place.
Shin slowly withdrew his sword and stepped back.
"Vice-Captain Rangiku?"
"… "
She remained standing there, seemingly still caught in the aftershock of that strike. It was unclear whether she even heard him.
From the sidelines, Hisagi Shūhei had witnessed everything.
Moments ago, Rangiku had been pressing Shin relentlessly.
And now—
Had she just lost in a single exchange?
That's impossible…
Rangiku exhaled slowly and sheathed her Zanpakutō.
"When you defeated your instructor," she asked quietly, "was it like that?"
Shin replied evenly, "Nanda-sensei is much weaker than you."
Back then, he and Nanda Hidezawa had sparred with wooden swords.
Shin had split his teacher's weapon cleanly in two.
Rangiku smiled.
She didn't particularly want to smile—but she couldn't think of any other expression appropriate for the moment.
Had she really just lost?
A vice-captain of the Gotei Thirteen—defeated by a fourth-year Academy student?
Only in swordsmanship, she corrected herself internally.
Only in Zanjutsu.
Even so, the justification felt hollow.
And then she remembered.
The first time she had seen him—in a crumbling structure in Zaraki District, Rukongai Eighty. A thin boy standing amid several corpses, a blade in his hand.
She had forgotten that.
He wasn't merely slippery.
He was dangerous.
"I came here for something," Rangiku said at last, glancing toward Shūhei.
Shūhei immediately understood. "I just remembered I have something to take care of. I'll leave you two to talk."
The kendo hall fell silent once more.
Shin walked to the side and took a drink from his flask.
After a brief pause, Rangiku asked, "Vice-Captain Shiba from the Thirteenth Division invited you as well, didn't he?"
"Mm."
"What seat did he offer?"
Shin tilted his head slightly. "Vice-Captain Rangiku gives me too much credit. Seated officer positions in the Thirteenth Division aren't cabbages lying by the roadside."
So you do know your place, she thought.
"Then which division do you intend to join in the future?"
Shin answered lazily, "I haven't decided. I still have time before graduation. There's no rush."
Rangiku met his eyes directly.
"If you're willing to join the Tenth Division, you can start as a seated officer immediately. As for which seat—that depends on your ability."
Shin broke into a grin. "Vice-Captain Rangiku is truly generous to me. But that's still far in the future. I'll think about it when I graduate."
A flicker of irritation stirred within her.
She had already extended this level of sincerity. Did he really consider himself some unparalleled prodigy?
Yet—
Judging by the swordsmanship he had just displayed…
He wasn't ordinary.
The Tenth Division handled patrol and security duties. The work wasn't particularly dangerous, but it was relentless. Her captain was notoriously carefree, and much of the division's administrative burden fell squarely on her shoulders.
She wanted someone capable of sharing that load.
In terms of strength alone, by the time he graduated, Mizuhara Shin could absolutely hold an upper seat. Even if he started at Tenth Seat, his advancement would likely be rapid.
Third Seat.
Assistant to the vice-captain.
If he joined the Tenth Division, reaching that position wouldn't take long.
Recalling her captain's instructions before she came, Rangiku took one more step.
"Then set your own condition," she said. "Which seat do you want?"
Seeing her press so directly, Shin decided it would be excessive to continue playing coy.
"Vice-Captain Rangiku, after I graduate, I'll prioritize the Tenth Division. Vice-Captain Shiba already spoke with me—I won't be joining the Thirteenth Division."
Rangiku narrowed her eyes. "Really?"
"Really."
He nodded solemnly—then immediately smiled again, eyes curving.
"After all, I'd quite like to see Vice-Captain Rangiku every day."
She responded with a graceful, knowing eye-roll, brushing a hand through her hair—briefly remembering the strand he had cut moments ago.
A pity.
She still hadn't drawn out his true strength.
There was no way she could unleash her full Spiritual Pressure against an Academy student—not without consequences.
After exchanging a few more casual words, Rangiku departed the Academy and returned to the Tenth Division barracks.
"That kid really is slippery," laughed Shiba Isshin after hearing her report.
"No wonder he could come up with that idea. He's not someone to underestimate. Rangiku, if you're hoping he'll become your assistant and lighten your workload, I wouldn't count on it."
Rangiku pursed her lips—then suddenly paused.
"I never said I wanted him as Third Seat, Captain. And what idea were you just talking about?"
Isshin waved a hand lazily. "There's nothing else in our division that would satisfy him besides Third Seat. And who knows—he might not even look at that position."
"That's exaggerating, isn't it?" Rangiku frowned. "He wouldn't be eyeing the vice-captain's seat, would he? No one graduates straight into vice-captain. Even if his strength is enough, he wouldn't be able to manage division affairs properly. Your nephew didn't start above Third Seat either."
Isshin chuckled.
"Before Kaien, no one imagined someone could graduate and immediately become Third Seat either. That's what makes a genius a genius—they accomplish what ordinary people wouldn't dare predict. Otherwise, the word 'genius' becomes cheap."
Rangiku's brows knit together in silence.
Isshin added casually, "Let's leave it at that for now. If Mizuhara Shin wants to join the Tenth Division, he will. If he doesn't, forcing him would be meaningless. You've done enough, Rangiku."
She stared at him.
"No. You're hiding something from me."
Isshin shook his head lightly.
"There's a matter that isn't suitable to publicize yet. You'll know soon enough."
"… "
Rangiku felt even more confused.
Something had occurred between her captain and Mizuhara Shin—something she hadn't been told.
But they shouldn't have even met.
Just what had that boy done…?