The girl on the podium radiated youthful energy. The boy below looked dazed.
In Akira Kisaragi's mind, Yoruichi Shihoin was supposed to be a sultry, mature knockout. But hearing her introduce herself snapped him into a weird sense of time warp.
Her personality, though? Still bold, with a knack for pranks and messing with people—nobody did it better.
"Yoruichi Shihoin? As in the Shihoin family?" a student gasped.
Plenty of nobles were in the class, and they knew the weight of that name. The Shihoin clan—one of the Five Great Families—was as high as it got, towering over most nobles and factions in the Soul Society.
Sosuke Aizen's gaze flickered, his usual warm smile fading just a touch.
But when he glanced at Akira, he froze. The guy was sitting ramrod straight, eyes locked ahead like the perfect student—except his stare was aimed way off-target.
"What're you looking at?" Aizen whispered, curious.
Akira shot him a sidelong grin. "What do you think? The best view in the world."
Aizen's face stiffened. He didn't bite.
He was starting to realize he and Akira were rarely on the same wavelength. While everyone else reeled from Yoruichi's status, this guy was already ogling her figure.
Hard to judge that one.
Up front, Yoruichi's eyes scanned the room. As the Shihoin heir, her skills were top-notch—she caught Akira's bold stare instantly. Her lips curled, flashing a sharp little canine that glinted dangerously in the light.
"Let's start from my left," she said.
Akira glanced over and realized—he and Aizen were dead last in line.
The test kicked off.
Yoruichi, in a sleek black outfit hugging her subtle curves, hadn't yet grown into the jaw-dropping charm she'd have a century later. Still, she was plenty captivating.
But her status kept the students in check. Nobody dared sneak a glance, terrified Nobutsume Omaeda might catch them.
"Ready?" Yoruichi asked.
"Y-Yeah, ready…"
She smirked, then vanished like a ghost, her slender fingers brushing the kid's chest like she was playing a harp. No force, no threat—just a touch.
Until the next second, when a shockwave hit.
The clash of flesh roared like thunder. The poor student's face flushed crimson, like all his blood had rushed to his head. A brief stall, then—boom—he shot backward like a cannonball, slamming into the classroom wall and sticking there like a painting.
Beatdown by mural. Instant KO.
Akira's eyes went wide. Holy crap! Yoruichi's this brutal already?
"Shaky stance, limp arms," Yoruichi critiqued. "Not even basic awareness. Nobutsume, your students are getting worse."
Nobutsume Omaeda broke into a cold sweat, managing a nervous laugh. No way he'd argue back.
Nobody knew Yoruichi's strength better than him. Forget reiatsu—her raw skill outclassed even his.
Talent gap.
"Next!" Yoruichi called, clearly having fun. Knowing her, she probably was just playing.
After that first victim, the students lined up to get wrecked. Most went down in one hit. A few prodigies lasted two.
Pure technique, no reiatsu involved.
By the time bodies littered the floor, Yoruichi's eyes landed on Aizen and Akira.
"Next," she said, grinning wide.
Aizen hesitated, then stepped up calmly.
Same drill: "Ready?" Yoruichi asked. Aizen nodded, and she struck.
Then—shock.
Akira's jaw dropped, disbelief flashing in his eyes.
Invincible Aizen, down?!
Just like the others, one hit, no contest. Flat on the ground.
It flipped Akira's whole view of the world. Nobody else might get it, but he knew—Aizen's genius was unmatched in the Soul Society. Not even the Five Great Families could top him. That was a fact.
Yet there he was, sprawled out, barely breathing, looking half-dead.
Your acting's so good, does your family know?
"Another rookie," Yoruichi said, barely glancing at Aizen before locking onto Akira. A predatory vibe rolled off her.
"You're the last one."
Her gaze was like a cat toying with a mouse, her sharp canine glinting with menace.
She beckoned. "C'mon, kid. Show me your Hakuda skills!"
Akira forced a weak smile.
Sure, his talent was decent now, but turning potential into power took time—time he didn't have.
Nobutsume barked, "Move it, Kisaragi! No slimy tricks to dodge this!"
Akira steadied himself, stepping forward with grim resolve.
It's just a beating, right? He'd taken plenty before. Follow Aizen's lead—tank one hit, then flop.
Easy.
But as he faced Yoruichi's playful, dangerous stare, his Danger Instinct screamed like a siren. Every nerve lit up.
Oh crap—she's not holding back!
His pupils shrank, senses maxed out, body snapping into fight mode on reflex.
No warning, no prep. Yoruichi's fingers danced like she was plucking strings, then curled into a fist. Her light step forward unleashed a punch—air splitting with a shrill screech, shockwaves rippling, aimed straight for Akira's face.