Shinobu Kocho looked at him quietly, her eyes shimmering with a light that saw through everything.
Whenever Asuka lied, his gaze would subconsciously shift downward.
It was definitely not something as simple as running into some street thugs.
But she did not press the issue.
Since he didn't want to talk about it... since he wanted to shoulder these heavy burdens all by himself, she would just pretend not to know.
Regardless of what he had encountered, she would always stand behind Asuka and support him.
"I see..." Shinobu's eyes curved into crescents as she once again revealed that smile which put Asuka completely at ease. "Honestly, Mr. Asuka is still so quick to anger."
"Since you've already taught those thugs a lesson, let's just forget about all those unpleasant things."
She reached out with her uninjured left hand and gently tugged at Asuka's sleeve.
"Lady Amane's sukiyaki is ready, and Mr. Gyomei even specifically picked out the largest piece of Wagyu beef for you."
"If there's anything upsetting you, let's talk about it after you've filled your stomach."
Asuka looked at the pale, delicate hand pulling his sleeve, feeling the genuine warmth radiating from it.
All the violence, anger, confusion, and unease in his heart were completely smoothed away by this gentle power.
'As long as I still hold my sword, as long as I haven't fallen, I will never allow anyone to hurt her.'
"Yeah," Asuka replied, turning his hand to gently grasp Shinobu's. "It smells amazing. Let's go eat."
That night, everyone ate the sukiyaki in unusual quietness, yet it was permeated with a unique sense of warmth.
The following afternoon.
The sunlight in the Rukongai was uncharacteristically bright, filtering through the gaps in the leaves to cast dappled shadows across the wooden corridor.
The sliding doors of the Japanese-style room were wide open.
Asuka sat cross-legged on the tatami mats, his back perfectly straight.
In front of him sat a low table spread with pristine rice paper. Beside it rested freshly ground ink and several writing brushes of varying thickness.
Beside him was Shinobu Kocho, dressed in casual clothes, looking gentle and domestic.
She held a small wooden ruler she had found from who knows where, sitting upright and proper like a strict, responsible private tutor.
"Mr. Asuka, your grip is wrong again."
"Keep your back straight and suspend your wrist. The force should flow from your wrist to the tip of the brush, rather than gripping the pen shaft in a death grip."
Shinobu lightly tapped the back of Asuka's right hand—calloused from years of gripping a sword—with her small ruler, her tone carrying a hint of helpless reproach. "If you press down that hard, you're going to poke a hole right through the paper."
"...These flimsy little brushes are way harder to hold than a sword," Asuka complained, furrowing his brow slightly.
But complaints aside, he obediently followed Shinobu's instructions, slightly relaxing his grip and adjusting his posture.
"A sword is meant for destruction, while a brush is meant for creation and recording. Of course they're different."
Shinobu covered her mouth with a soft chuckle, leaning forward slightly to get closer to Asuka.
She placed her slender fingers over Asuka's large hand, guiding him to slowly move the brush tip across the rice paper.
At Shinobu's insistence, the literacy plan for the illiterate Asuka had been put back on the agenda.
"Before, we were crippled and blind. Now that we finally have healthy bodies, we naturally have to make up for our past lessons," she said with a smile.
"Besides, we're going to be dealing with quite a few old folks who have lived for hundreds or thousands of years... If you can't even write, they'll laugh at you."
Feeling the soft, cool touch on the back of his hand and catching the faint, lingering scent of Shinobu, ripples formed in Asuka's heart.
In a daze, he recalled the days of the past.
Back then, at Hayama, which was always filled with the scent of medicinal herbs, there had been a similarly bright and sunny afternoon.
She had been just as patient, teaching that wild boy who couldn't even write his own name how to read, hand in hand.
Time seemed to form a wondrous closed loop in this moment, crossing a century of time and the boundary between life and death, perfectly overlapping two completely different yet closely connected memories.
"This character here is read as 'Go', the 'Go' in Gotei 13. It represents the responsibility of guarding the peace of the Soul Society..."
As Shinobu's gentle voice rang in his ears, Asuka gathered his thoughts, forcing himself to focus his attention on the brush tip and the rice paper.
And so, the two of them—one teaching, one learning—enjoyed this rare tranquility and peace in the quiet afternoon.
However, this peace did not last long.
Knock, knock, knock.
A rhythmic, penetrating knocking sound suddenly echoed from outside the courtyard.
The knocking wasn't loud, but the instant it rang out...
Asuka, sitting in the Japanese-style room, immediately felt his spiritual perception react, instinctively putting him on high alert.
For some reason, he could sense that the person standing outside the door was absolutely not some ordinary Rukongai neighbor.
It was a restless, suppressed killing intent...
If not for the hyper-sensitivity of the Avenger Class abilities within his body, he likely wouldn't have been able to detect it at all.
"Who is it?"
Asuka tossed aside the writing brush, his right hand instantly dropping to the hilt of Kakudatsu at his waist, entering a combat state ready to strike with lethal force at a moment's notice.
'I just ran into that suicidal informant yesterday, and they're already knocking on my door today?'
Shinobu froze for a moment, instinctively reaching to draw her sword as well.
But soon, she sensed a familiar fluctuation of Spiritual Pressure. She hurriedly pressed down on Asuka's hand to stop him from drawing his blade, speaking quickly in a hushed voice. "Asuka! Don't be rash! Stow your hostility."
"It's Captain Unohana!"
"Unohana? The medical captain of the Fourth Division?"
He had heard Kaien Shiba and Shinobu mention that name before. Rumor had it that she was an incredibly gentle, highly skilled doctor and a genuinely good person.
'But no matter how you look at it, this person outside emitting such terrifying killing intent doesn't seem like a doctor who saves lives and heals the wounded!'
Before Asuka could think further, Shinobu had already stepped quickly out of the room and respectfully slid open the wooden gate.
"Captain Unohana, what brings you here?"
Outside the door stood a woman draped in the white captain's haori of the Fourth Division.
Her long black hair was woven into a thick braid that rested gently and elegantly over her chest.
She wore a kind smile on her face, as warm as a spring breeze, yet so unfathomable that no one could see its true depths.
It was none other than the Captain of the Fourth Division, Retsu Unohana.
"Pardon the intrusion, Fourth Seat Kocho."
Retsu Unohana's voice was as soft and light as a feather.
She gave a slight nod of greeting, but her gaze bypassed Shinobu's shoulder, landing squarely on Asuka, who was standing at the entrance of the room with his hand resting on his sword hilt.
In that instant, Asuka felt a chill run down his spine, as if he were being targeted by a wild beast.
Deep within those gentle, water-like eyes, a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood seemed to be churning.
A suffocating wave of battle lust and killing intent flashed by in an instant, so fast that Asuka almost thought it was an illusion.
'How could there be a doctor like this...'
"I apologize for the sudden visit. I hope I haven't disturbed your rest?" Unohana smiled, withdrawing her gaze and refocusing her attention on Shinobu.
"Of course not. It is our honor to have you here, Captain! Please, come in."
Shinobu quickly stepped aside, welcoming Unohana into the courtyard.
Although Asuka remained highly vigilant, at Shinobu's signaling glance, he silently stepped back and sat down cross-legged, observing the woman before him.
The Spiritual Pressure radiating from her body was perfectly concealed, practically flawless.
But it was precisely this extreme restraint that made Asuka feel an ultimate sense of oppression.
'There's no Spiritual Pressure leaking out, yet my internal perception is screaming warnings...'
'Just what kind of killing intent is this...'
He concluded in his mind.