On his first day back at school, Satoru was subjected to rciless scrutiny.
From the mont he entered the classroom, the way everyone looked at him was strange.
So gazes were solemn, so pitying, so worried.
And of course, so were secretly amused.
Aizen, sitting behind Satoru, felt the weight of the class's furtive glances and couldn't help but feel uneasy.
A few students seed like they wanted to ask sothing but hesitated, too afraid to approach.
Just then, Kinoshita walked into the classroom with teaching materials.
The mont he entered, his eyes landed on Satoru by the window.
Kinoshita opened his mouth as if to say sothing.
But in the end, he remained silent, his expression heavy as he stepped onto the podium to begin class.
Satoru's hand was ruined.
At first, it was just a rumor spread among small circles by students with relatives in the Fourth Division.
But soon, almost the entire school knew about it.
Many speculated that Satoru would not return to classes.
After all, for a Shinigami, losing the use of both hands essentially rendered one useless.
What could a Shinigami who couldn't wield a sword possibly achieve?
Even the Kido Corps required hand seals for many of their techniques.
Of course, if one insisted on remaining a Shinigami, it wasn't entirely impossible.
Many Kido spells, like Shakkahō and Sōkatsui, didn't require hand seals.
But… how far could one go relying solely on such Kido?
If Satoru were an ordinary student, it wouldn't matter much—just a different way to get by.
The problem was, Satoru was a prodigy of True Central!
Everyone knew that upon graduation, he would imdiately start as a seated officer.
Becoming a vice-captain in the future was practically a foregone conclusion.
Against such a bright future, the loss of his hands was devastating.
Even soone with the strongest ntality would likely crumble under such circumstances.
During lunch, the crowd around him grew even larger.
Students from other grades and classes couldn't help but glance toward Satoru's table.
Not wanting to disappoint their expectations, Satoru set down his chopsticks and picked up a wooden spoon, eating with visible difficulty.
Aizen: "..."
Yamada Seinosuke studied Satoru's hands with a puzzled expression.
Though Satoru's movents were strained, from a professional standpoint, many of his motions didn't resemble those of an injured person.
Could it be that he had secretly healed his hands through so ans and was pretending to still be injured just to visit the Fourth Division and see the beautiful won there?
After a mont's thought, Yamada shook his head slightly.
No, Satoru might often be unreliable, but he wouldn't go that far.
Probably.
Just then, a small commotion arose near the cafeteria entrance.
Several heads turned toward the source.
A petite girl with fair skin, dressed in a yukata, was walking toward them.
Despite the softness of her attire, her steps were firm and purposeful, clearly those of a trained fighter.
Her gaze was resolute, her expression composed. Carrying a lunchbox, she strode directly toward Satoru.
A student from a lower noble family, recognizing the crest on her yukata, suddenly gasped.
"The Fēng family crest?!"
At this, many students froze.
The Fēng family… a subordinate clan of the Shihōin House?
Weren't mbers of that family trained in the Onmitsukidō and exempt from attending True Central?
What was going on?
The girl reached Satoru's side.
Under his surprised gaze, she lifted the lunchbox with both hands, holding it before her, then bowed.
"Sa… Satoru-sama, this subordinate, Suì-Fēng, has been ordered by the Commander to…"
Here, she bit her lower lip lightly.
"...to assist you with your al."
Hearing this, Yamada raised an eyebrow.
The girl's words carried significant implications.
The "Commander" likely referred to the leader of the Onmitsukidō, Yoruichi Shihōin.
As for this "subordinate," that was particularly intriguing.
Satoru hadn't even joined a division yet, yet he already had a subordinate—a lower noble and an elite mber of the Onmitsukidō—serving him.
Such treatnt was… impressive.
Anyone who claid Satoru had no connections with the Shihōin family head would be lying through their teeth.
Students at nearby tables nearly gaped at the revelation.
"Servicing the al? What kind of service is that?"
"Is this sothing I can watch for free?"
anwhile, Satoru let out a surprised sound.
He asked with so astonishnt, "Suì-Fēng? Why are you called that na now?"
In his mory, the na Suì-Fēng seed to be one that Soi Fon had given herself after Yoruichi's defection from the Soul Society.
Since there was no defection incident now, why was she still using this na?
Soi Fon replied, "Reporting... Lord Satoru."
"The na Suì-Fēng has been passed down through generations in the Fēng Family, bestowed upon the most outstanding mber of the current generation."
"The previous Suì-Fēng was my grandmother."
"Yesterday, I officially beca the captain's guard, so I inherited this na."
Hearing this, Satoru showed an expression of sudden realization.
So that's how it is... As expected of Japanese-style aesthetics, actually playing the na inheritance card.
Although the reason was a bit absurd, he was quite pleased. At least in his view, the na Suì-Fēng felt more familiar.
Satoru cheerfully said, "I see, I understand now."
"By the way, didn't Yoruichi ask you to serve during my al? Then let's not waste any ti, shall we?"
Suì-Fēng: "..."
After two seconds of silence, she sat down beside Satoru with an expression as if she was facing certain death.
Under the envious and jealous gazes of the other students in the cafeteria, she opened the lunchbox.
Inside were various delicacies, all specially prepared by the Shihōin family chefs according to Satoru's tastes.
"Hmm, looks good."
Satoru nodded: "Let's start with the tamagoyaki. Pick it up and feed ."
Suì-Fēng pursed her lips slightly and gave a light nod.
With one hand holding up the sleeve of her kimono, she gently picked up the tamagoyaki with chopsticks in her other hand and brought it to Satoru's mouth.
Watching the boy open his mouth like a feudal lord, enjoying her service, Suì-Fēng's gaze was extrely complicated.
She felt imnse gratitude toward Satoru.
During their first eting, Satoru had helped her solve a problem in her training.
During the prison assault incident, he had saved Lady Yoruichi and preserved the Second Division's reputation.
Afterwards, he even used the Hell Springs to save .
No matter how you look at it, I should be grateful and properly thank him.
But... every ti I think about how Yoruichi-sama smiles in front of him, how the two of them go out together, or how Yoruichi-sama's eyes light up with joy whenever Satoru is ntioned, I can't help but feel a tightness in my chest.
At the sa ti, an overwhelming urge to cut Satoru down on the spot surges within .
However, Suì-Fēng understands that this line of thinking is problematic.
Not only is Satoru the benefactor of both Yoruichi-sama and herself, but even without that connection, she has no right to interfere in Yoruichi-sama's personal life.
With this in mind, she lowers her gaze slightly.
Since Yoruichi-sama has already entrusted herself to him, she should learn to accept it.
Just as she thinks this, Satoru swallows a bite of tamagoyaki and suddenly grins.
"Have you ever fed Yoruichi like this?"
"Hmm, judging by your expression, I guess not."
"Your first ti serving food wasn't for Yoruichi—it was for , Satoru!"
"Ahahahaha!!"
Watching Satoru's smug grin, Suì-Fēng grits her teeth with an audible creak.
Resignation?
Resignation my ass!
She'll cut this bastard down sooner or later!!
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