"The foundation of a noble house isn't built on secret techniques or hidden knowledge," Yoruichi said, her tone casual but her gaze sharp.
"But those things — the most valuable ones — are always buried deep, where no outsider could ever reach."
Seiya sat quietly, his mind racing. It had been two hours since Yoruichi had draped her arm around him, pulling him into that unexpected conversation.
After that brief, cryptic exchange, she had simply patted his shoulder, said, "Enjoy the banquet," and left.
Ōmaeda's organized feast had certainly lived up to expectations. The porcelain dishes alone looked worth a fortune, and the food and drink served were top-notch.
It wasn't about the taste anymore; it was about the experience.
Once the feast ended, Ōmaeda had cleared the hall, escorting even Yūshirō out. Now, the grand reception hall was empty except for Seiya and Yoruichi.
Only now did she bring up the topic again.
"Are you wondering how I figured it out?"
"…"
Honestly? Not really.
There wasn't much point in dwelling on it. What's done is done. Obsessing over it would only make things awkward.
But seeing the teasing smirk on Yoruichi's face, Seiya knew it was best to play along.
"Could you explain it to me?"
"Oh-ho, very good." Yoruichi chuckled, holding out her cup.
"Pour me a drink first."
Seiya obliged.
Yoruichi took a sip, her dark skin flushing slightly from the alcohol.
"Actually, it was Captain Unohana who first mentioned it."
Seiya blinked.
Wait, what? How does this involve Unohana?
"See, most of the competent fighters in the Eleventh Division ran off because of Kiganjō. The healers left behind? Utter trash."
Yoruichi leaned back, clearly enjoying Seiya's growing discomfort.
"And that injury on Kiganjō's back? It stood out."
She lifted her right hand, tracing a pattern in the air.
"Precise. Too precise. You severed two major muscle connections, cut through nerves and blood vessels, yet avoided the bones to prevent deformation."
Yoruichi's amber eyes glinted with amusement.
"Frankly, it was textbook assassination technique."
Seiya swallowed.
"And those techniques," Yoruichi continued, "are unique to the Shihōin family."
She leaned in closer.
"I'm sure you understand what that means."
"Of course, that alone wouldn't have been enough to prove anything. People's styles vary. I might've just thought you had a natural talent for… killing."
Yoruichi chuckled softly, poking Seiya's chest with her finger.
"But when I brought it up, your heartbeat spiked. Your body betrayed you."
Seiya sighed internally.
Great. So it wasn't just her observation skills — she was testing my reactions the whole time.
"Good thing I sent Yūshirō away," Yoruichi said, her smirk widening. "If he heard that you mastered a technique he's spent three years practicing… poor kid would've cried himself unconscious."
Seiya felt the weight of those words settle on his shoulders.
There's no escaping these seasoned veterans.
These captains weren't just powerful warriors. Their experience, their knowledge, and their connections made them nearly impossible to deceive.
He rubbed his temples, resigning himself to the situation.
No wonder Aizen is so careful. He's not fighting people — he's fighting a whole system.
The captains weren't just individuals. They were the embodiment of the Soul Society's traditions, politics, and accumulated wisdom.
Each one was a fortress, guarded not only by their strength but also by centuries of experience.
"Alright, now that you've admitted it, let's move on to the next part," Yoruichi said, pulling him out of his thoughts.
She smiled slyly, tapping her fingers against the table.
"Using a Shihōin technique without permission… that's a serious crime."
Seiya felt a chill run down his spine.
Yoruichi's tone remained playful, but her words carried a weight that couldn't be ignored.
"According to Soul Society law, as head of the Shihōin family, I have the right to judge and sentence you however I see fit."
She swirled the wine in her cup, her eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Secret execution? Public trial? Which would you prefer?"
"…"
There's no third option?
Seiya wiped the sweat forming on his brow.
He couldn't tell if Yoruichi was joking or serious. With her, it was impossible to know.
Seeing his tension, Yoruichi suddenly burst into laughter, slapping his shoulder.
"Ahahaha! Your face — you look like you've seen a ghost!"
Seiya let out a long sigh of relief.
"Seriously, kid. Relax a little."
Yoruichi grinned, setting her cup down.
"Alright, let's get to business. Real talk now."
She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. Her gaze locked onto Seiya, intense and searching.
"Seiya Arima."
"…"
"Have you really never considered working under me?"
"Pardon?"
Yoruichi chuckled.
"Don't play dumb. I mean it. Join the Second Division."
Seiya hesitated.
After all, it wasn't every day that someone like Yoruichi made such an offer.
But what did she really have in mind?