Snow had begun to fall lightly outside the window. After coming up with a casual excuse to send little Soi Fon away, Higashi Shuuichi carefully checked the sword case placed beside his bed.
Thankfully, it showed no signs of having been opened.
But upon finishing his inspection, Shuuichi couldn't help but chuckle at himself.
He was letting paranoia get the better of him.
If someone had opened the case—unless it was someone from the Kasumiōji Clan, who knew what it contained—no ordinary Shinigami would've thought to use the specialized gloves required to handle a Bakkōtō. Which meant they would've tried to touch Raika bare-handed.
And if that had happened… well, it would've been obvious.
He wouldn't have woken up to just Soi Fon outside his door.
"Third Seat Higashi, good morning. I'm Urahara Kisuke, also Third Seat of Second Division. May I come in?"
Just as Shuuichi was packing his things, preparing to leave the Second Division barracks, a knock sounded at the door.
"Urahara Kisuke…"
Shuuichi froze.
It must've been Soi Fon who reported his recovery.
"Come in!"
Shuuichi stood upright, calling toward the entrance.
A moment later, a man stepped in—relaxed posture, the kind of effortless grace that seemed to say the world spun at his pace. Handsome in an understated way, there was something serpentine about him—always a step ahead, never revealing too much.
Unlike Kyōraku Shunsui's overt playfulness, Urahara Kisuke's charm was subtler—composure with a veil of mischief.
It was no wonder that Aizen Sōsuke, after merely a few observations, had labeled Urahara as one of the few people in Soul Society worth taking seriously.
They were far too similar.
"I only used some very standard Kaido to heal you," Urahara said casually. "I didn't expect your body to recover this quickly!"
"Not at all. Without your healing, Third Seat Urahara, I'd still be in a sorry state."
Shuuichi offered a polite response, mirroring the formality of the exchange. His inner motto: if the enemy doesn't move, I don't move.
"But after such a lively spar with our captain," Urahara continued, "are you still sure you want to remain in Fourth Division?"
The shift was sudden—clean, sharp. He wasn't here to chat.
Shuuichi narrowed his eyes.
"Are you suggesting… I should transfer to the Second?"
Instead of answering, Urahara smiled faintly. Then he shifted the subject again—seamlessly.
"I heard that during your tenure as Fourth Division's Vice-Captain, you were especially beloved. The squad respects both you and Captain Unohana greatly. Even after stepping down, that hasn't changed. I hear your successor, Yamada Kiyonosuke, has had a rough time filling your shoes."
"Really?" Shuuichi replied with mild surprise. "I haven't heard Vice-Captain Yamada mention that. Truth be told, he beat me fair and square in our match. The entire squad saw it—it was a clean victory. I'm certain the Fourth Division holds him in high esteem."
Internally, Shuuichi smirked.
Yamada Kiyonosuke? That guy worshipped Unohana like she was the moon and stars. The rest of the division? They didn't exist in his world. He only became vice-captain to get closer to her.
There was no way Urahara didn't know that—so this comment?
A test.
"Ah, so just a rumor then," Urahara said lightly, as if dismissing it. "But still, it's strange. You're known for your gentle personality, your restraint… so why such an aggressive combat style yesterday? That didn't seem like the Shuuichi everyone knows."
A baited hook—nonchalant, but laced with purpose.
"Because I once made a promise to a little girl," Shuuichi said quietly. "To show her what a real Shinigami looks like when they fight."
His voice drifted, pulling at a distant memory.
"She was willing to strike at a Hollow even when she knew she had no chance. After that… how could I back down? Regardless of the outcome, I couldn't show her fear."
His tone was calm. But Urahara heard the resolve.
And so did the one hiding outside the door—Soi Fon, little hands clenching tightly at her robes.
"So that's why… Lord Shuuichi…"
She bit her lip, eyes misting over.
Shuuichi hadn't said this for her sake. Not intentionally. But it was true. She was the reason he went all out. After he had sealed Yoruichi inside the Kurohitsugi, he could've surrendered. He had proven his strength by then—no one would've questioned his ability.
But he hadn't.
"Pfft. Then you really don't belong in the Second Division," Urahara suddenly laughed, shattering the tension. "That kind of conscience will only get you punished in our squad!"
"Hah…" Shuuichi chuckled too, the abrupt shift catching him off guard. "True. I think I'm better suited for the Fourth Division. Seeing injured Shinigami walk again after my treatment—that's what really brings me joy."
They chatted for a while longer, the conversation drifting into lighter topics. After half an hour, Urahara excused himself and left.
But as Shuuichi stood at the doorway, watching him go, he knew the truth.
The real questions had all come at the start.
The rest was filler.
Whether Urahara had found what he was looking for…
Whether Shuuichi's answers had helped him reach his goal…
Shuuichi couldn't say.
Only Urahara Kisuke knew the answer to that.
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