The excitement caused by the kendō tournament made it nearly impossible for the students to concentrate in class. Even Arata had to put in serious effort to bring them back to the lesson.
However, after classes, during their free time, the students would immediately gather in small groups and start whispering, and of course, the topic of conversation was the kendō competition.
While Arata was studying the match schedule in the office, he vaguely heard constant voices coming from the hallway.
"Damn it! Why is this tournament divided into school and official groups? I really wanted to fight senpais, even shinigami from the Seireitei!"
"Meizō, no offense, but with your grades at the very bottom of the class, do you really think you can keep up with the best?" a boy with a headband tied around his forehead complained.
"Don't underestimate me, Michiaki! It's true that my Kidō and Shunpo are at the bottom, but Teacher Saito really praised my kendō!" – the long-haired, shaggy boy named Meizō protested angrily.
"Ximen, come on, you be the judge." Meizō looked at the third boy next to him, hoping for support.
"Huh? Uh… I do remember that Teacher Saito did comment on your kendō." Ximen, neat and polite-looking, hesitated for a moment, scratched his head with an awkward expression, and said.
"See, see!" Meizō immediately perked up like a drowning man grabbing a straw.
However, Ximen quickly reversed the story: "But I also remember clearly that the comment wasn't exactly encouraging."
"What was it again? Right, your backhand is weak, your forehand is unstable, your footwork is sloppy, your reactions are slow, and not a single move is worth praise."
"With that level of kendō, and you want to catch up to others? You've got a lot more practice to do!" Ximen repeated Arata's harsh words from that time, and the expression, gestures, and tone were imitated to perfection.
"Hahahahaha... " Michiaki was slapping the hallway wall, laughing so hard he doubled over. "Ximen, that was spot on! I was right next to Saito-sensei when he said that, and you even nailed the angle he raised his eyebrow!"
Meizō blushed and was just about to retort when the office door suddenly opened.
Arata stood in the doorway holding a stack of documents, looking at them with a half-smile.
"Looks like you three are quite interested in my teaching comments?" He lightly tapped the top folder with his fingers. "Would you like to head to the dōjō right now so I can demonstrate them all to you again in detail?"
The three students froze instantly, and Ximen even instinctively took a fighting stance.
"N-no need, Saito-sensei!" Meizō bowed at a ninety-degree angle, almost hitting the doorframe with his head. "We'll go straight back to practicing seriously!"
Watching the three of them flee down the hallway in a panic, Arata just laughed and shook his head.
Just as he turned to go back into the office, he caught a glimpse of a dark silhouette slipping behind the corner. It definitely wasn't the color of school uniforms.
"Who's there?"
Arata instantly placed the documents on the windowsill and quickly ran to the corner.
At the end of the empty hallway, there was only a half-open window, and the curtains swayed gently in the breeze.
On the windowsill remained a half-smudged shoe print, and the pattern resembled footwear typically worn by nobles.
Arata ran his fingers along the window frame, and some silvery powder clung to his fingertips.
He brought it to his nose and sniffed, it was a special incense of a recognizable scent, the kind only high-ranking noble houses could afford.
"Surveillance…" he narrowed his eyes. It seemed the Kasumioji family was paying even more attention to this kendō tournament than he had thought.
————
That evening, after Arata had finished his lectures, he headed straight home with Rangiku.
The two of them walked side by side through the streets of Seireitei, the setting sun stretching their shadows into long outlines.
Rangiku was shaking a bottle of strawberry milk she had brought from the World of the Living, and from time to time she would lean in and whisper a joke into his ear, making them burn.
"Come to think of it, Renji almost tore the registration sheet today." Rangiku leaned in, as if remembering something, and sighed. "The kid, red-eyed, asked me why he's not allowed to compete in the official group."
Arata chuckled as soon as he heard that and reached out to remove a leaf that had landed on her shoulder. "Those two kids, Tōshirō and Kusaka, were just the same. When they heard the official group might get a chance to fight captains, their eyes practically popped out."
"Huh? Even calm Tōshirō bit at that?" Rangiku blinked in surprise, her gray eyes sparkling in the twilight. "But come to think of it, it makes sense. In the official division, the opponents are all elite shinigami from the Gotei 13."
"For geniuses like them, the greatest wish is probably to fight real masters."
At the corner, Arata suddenly stopped.
In the distance, on the roof of the 12th Division's Department of Technological Development, several hell butterflies circled around a spirit particle monitor, and the phosphorescent powder on their wings shimmered oddly in the setting sun.
"What is it?" Rangiku followed his gaze.
"Nothing." Arata looked away, took her hand, and continued walking. "I was just thinking… maybe I should consult the captain about changing the tournament rules."
"Otherwise, the thought of Renji and Tōshirō being limited only to the school group… kind of feels like we'd be missing out on a bunch of phenomenal fights."
"Really?" Rangiku suddenly jumped in front of him, her hair brushing his chin. "How do you plan to change them? Like, letting the champion of the school group also compete in the official group?"
Arata nodded, his fingertips unconsciously running along his chin. "I was thinking something along those lines. For example, introducing a progression system, where the top three from the school group can enter the official group and continue the tournament in a double-elimination format."
"That way, we maintain fairness, while also giving outstanding students from lower years a chance to shine."
"Perfect!" Rangiku shouted and jumped into his arms, nearly spilling her strawberry milk all over his shinigami uniform. "I'll send a message to Momoko right away so she can tell Renji the awesome news!"
"Don't rush." Arata grabbed the hand in which she held the communicator, with an expression of mild helplessness. "It's still just my idea. First, we need to convince Captain Yamamoto."
"And what's with the 'Momoko-chan'? Since when did you get so close with Hinamori and the others?"
"Hey, those kids come to my Kidō tutoring classes every day. When they're that persistent, you get used to it."
————
As soon as he opened the door, the sensor at the entrance turned on a warm yellow light.
Rangiku kicked off her wooden sandals and removed her socks, then ran barefoot into the living room. The hem of her wide shinigami kimono lifted as she moved, revealing pale white calves.
"I'm going to shower first~" she sang as she headed to the bathroom, then suddenly turned and gave him a seductive glance: "Arata, wanna join me?"
Arata's hand, just as he was placing shoes in the cabinet, suddenly trembled and he almost lost his balance. He quickly steadied himself against the wall. "You shower first. I have to make dinner."
"Okayyy~"
When he heard her turn on the water in the bathroom, Arata went to the kitchen and took out the ingredients he had prepared that morning from the fridge.
As the knife rhythmically hit the cutting board, his thoughts drifted back to today's mysterious observer.
Noble incense and silver powder on the windowsill…
The Kasumioji family had reacted even faster than he expected.
If the kendō tournament was truly connected to the Bakkōtō swords, then changing the rules could very likely throw their entire plan into disarray.
"Arata—" Rangiku's voice suddenly scented the air behind his neck along with steam from the bathroom. "Your steak is burning."
Only then did he snap back to reality and notice the edges of the meat in the pan had already begun to blacken.
Rangiku, wrapped only in a towel, came over to turn off the heat. Her wet blonde hair tickled his cheek.
"Thinking about the tournament?" She reached out and smoothed the wrinkle between his brows. "The captain will probably agree. After all, you're his favorite student~"
Arata turned and pinned her against the counter, his nose brushing her blushing ear.
"Compared to that… didn't you forget something?"
"Hmm? What?"
Rangiku blinked in confusion, but her towel deliberately slipped another half an inch.
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