Shiki Mirai finished the opening of The Killer of Meteor City in one breath.
Just as he was about to set down his brush and gauge the Reiatsu he had consumed, he noticed something unexpected—his spiritual power hadn't diminished nearly as much as he'd anticipated.
He froze slightly, eyes drifting back to the blood-soaked, poetic prelude that opened the chapter. A flash of insight surged through his mind.
'So that's it!'
By using poetry—refined, symbolic, and suggestive—he had captured the core atmosphere of the story, while deliberately leaving vast blank spaces in the details.
It was like dancing through the cracks in the rules.
He hadn't directly altered the established past of Captain Unohana.
He'd simply used images like "bone river," "blood blossom," and "scattered petals" to portray a state, a mood.
How the readers interpreted it… was their business!
Whether they thought of the first Kenpachi or some other mass murderer—it had nothing to do with him, the humble poet.
A bolder idea cut across his thoughts like lightning:
'If I used poetry to foreshadow Sozen Aisuke's future… could I also avoid that terrifying spiritual backlash and drain?'
After all, Sozen Aisuke had no shortage of devoted readers now.
"BANG!"
A loud crash shattered his train of thought, accompanied by a burst of flying wood chips.
"Agh! C-Captain Yoruichi! You really can't go in there! There's a—there's a very important spiritual experiment happening inside!"
Outside, Urahara Kisuke's voice cried out in distress, mixed with the sound of frantic resistance.
Shiki's heart clenched. In a blur of motion, he shoved the freshly written manuscript into the wide sleeve of his shihakusho.
He shot to his feet, face hardening as he turned toward the door.
The entrance had already been kicked open.
A tall, lithe figure stood there, hands on her hips with a casual confidence.
She wore the standard white haori of the 2nd Division Captain, but underneath it was a fitted combat-ready shihakusho that highlighted her powerful, explosive build.
Her skin was a healthy bronze, and her long, deep violet hair was tied into a ponytail that swayed lightly in the air.
That sharp, spirited face now wore a cocky, amused grin. Golden eyes gleamed like a predatory feline's, scanning the room with interest.
It was none other than Captain of the 2nd Division—Shihōin Yoruichi.
"Yo! Long time no see, Shiki," she called out cheerfully, her tone casual, her gaze sweeping up and down his figure.
"What's this? You come into my territory and don't even stop by to greet your Captain? Instead, you're sneaking around with Kisuke in some back room… playing what fun little game, hmm?"
As she spoke, her golden eyes had already absorbed every detail in the room: the softly humming "iron barrel" machine, the faint Reishi circuit etchings carved discreetly into the floor.
As head of the Shihōin Clan—one of the Four Great Noble Houses—and commander of the "Heavenly Armor Division," she immediately grasped what this setup meant.
Still, she didn't seem too bothered by Kisuke's little scheme.
Her gaze remained locked squarely on Shiki.
Behind her, Urahara rubbed his jaw with a wince, throwing Shiki a series of exaggerated eye signals.
Bro, I swear it's not my fault! The whole 2nd Division is basically her backyard—she can go wherever she wants! And she's way too strong to stop!
Shiki gave him a slight nod in understanding.
He took a deep breath, steadied his expression, and strode calmly toward the door.
"You know how it is," he said. "Lately there've been too many pointless rumors flying around Seireitei. It's been giving me a headache. So I came here to Kisuke's place for a bit of peace and quiet… and maybe some inspiration. Can't exactly write in peace at the 9th Division."
He stepped up beside Yoruichi and tried to pass her. "Now that I've got what I came for, I should get going. Would you mind stepping aside?"
But Yoruichi didn't budge.
Her sly smile deepened.
"Oh? So you're chasing inspiration for a new book," she drawled, then suddenly thrust her palm right up under his nose.
"Perfect timing! Lemme see! I'll be your very first reader—help you workshop the draft!"
A chill gripped Shiki's heart.
His face turned cold.
"That's not funny. A manuscript to a writer is like a Zanpakutō to a Soul Reaper—an extension of life and pride. It's not something to casually hand over."
More importantly, this fresh manuscript still radiated the unique Reishi resonance of "Tsuzuribumi Banshō" when it was written. Not to mention the blood-heavy imagery!
To a normal person, it might be harmless—but this woman's sensory perception was absurdly sharp. If she caught even a hint of something strange, everything would be exposed.
Absolutely unacceptable.
But Yoruichi pressed on, still waving her open palm.
"C'mon, what's the big deal? My lips are sealed—I promise I won't spoil your plot twists. Now hand it over~ Let me appreciate the elegant prose of the 'Most Handsome Noble in Soul Society'~"
Shiki's gaze turned to ice. His voice dropped low, edged with warning.
"Captain Yoruichi. This isn't a joking matter."
Why is she so damn persistent?!
"C-Captain Yoruichi…" Kisuke finally mustered up the courage to interject softly.
"As a fellow creator, I—I can understand Brother Shiki's feelings… Reading someone's unpublished manuscript without permission is… well… a bit much…"
"Hmph." Yoruichi pouted and finally stepped aside, allowing him through.
But the dazzling grin on her face had vanished. In its place was an unmistakable scowl.
"Fine, fine. I won't read it. Stingy." She folded her arms. "It's not like you won't publish it eventually anyway!"
Shiki let out a quiet breath of relief and stepped quickly out into the courtyard.
'That was… surprisingly easy. She actually let it go?'
He glanced back in confusion.
Given her usual personality, shouldn't she have just snatched it by force?
Has two years of being Captain actually made her more mature?
His mind flashed back to their time at Shin'o Academy.
Back then, when he was training alone in the Forest of Blades, trying to overcome his instinctive fear during the "defenseless" state—it was this very woman, always masked in black, who'd jump out of nowhere to ambush him in the name of "sparring."
Again and again, she pushed him to the brink of death until he finally mastered the art of extreme Reishi compression.
That borderline torture only stopped when she became Captain two years ago and got buried in official duties.
Guess time really can change people…
He sighed inwardly and instinctively reached into his sleeve, meaning to check that the precious manuscript was still safe—
And froze.
His face went pale in an instant.
No… no way! Where's the manuscript?!
His sleeve was empty.