Chapter 275: First, Put Your Clothes On
Whoosh!!
A figure suddenly appeared in the empty courtyard.
Suì-Fēng frowned slightly, looking around.
No one.
Strange... she had followed the trail all the way here, it shouldn't be wrong?
Since this morning, she had been searching for Satoru and Yoruichi.
Two hours had already passed.
Where exactly had those two disappeared to?
As captains of the Soul Society, instead of properly handling work at home, they're always running wild outside... Do they have any professional dedication at all??
The more she thought about it, the angrier she became.
Her blood pressure was rising.
Come to think of it, recently it seemed more and more divisions were trending toward captains not working, dumping all responsibilities on their subordinates.
Among them, the Second Division, Fifth Division, Eighth Division, and Eleventh Division were particularly representative examples.
As the Third Seat of the Second Division, former direct guard of the Corps Commander, and current scumbag guard, she felt it necessary to step up and put an end to this corrupt trend!
With strong determination, Suì-Fēng arrived under a large tree, sat down in the shade, and decided to rest for a while.
...This wasn't laziness—she was merely following the example of a certain scumbag by balancing work and rest to maintain peak physical condition.
She definitely hadn't been influenced by him.
Listening to the rustling leaves overhead and feeling the gentle breeze against her face, Suì-Fēng completely relaxed.
She looked into the distance.
Under another tree, two little black cats were playing together.
One chased while the other ran, occasionally tumbling together and getting covered in dirt.
Suì-Fēng's lips curved into a smile.
What a perfect scene of afternoon tranquility.
Seeing these two black cats reminded her of Lady Yoruichi.
Every time she saw Lady Yoruichi transform into a black cat, she couldn't help wanting to pet her.
Unfortunately, unlike a certain shameless scumbag, she would never dare commit such disrespectful acts.
Speaking of which... that scumbag had also secretly learned Lady Yoruichi's Cat Transformation Technique.
Could these two black cats actually be those two?
The moment this thought crossed her mind, Suì-Fēng couldn't help but laugh at herself.
Impossible.
No matter how irresponsible those two might be, they would never degrade themselves to playing around in cat form.
Getting covered in dirt—how unsanitary.
Smiling, she raised her hand and beckoned to the two cats.
Then she saw both cats subconsciously raise their paws and wave back at her.
Suì-Fēng: "..."
The two cats: "..."
The black cats suddenly realized their mistake and turned to flee.
But after just two steps, Suì-Fēng caught up with a Flash Step, grabbing each by the scruff of their necks.
The two kittens dangled in the air, limbs flailing helplessly, their large eyes filled with pitiful confusion.
"Lady Yoruichi, Scumbag-sama, shall I catch some fish and treat you to fresh fish entrails?"
Suì-Fēng's voice was icy as she stared at the cats in her hands.
The two kittens immediately wilted, their ears drooping in unison.
POOF!!
Under Suì-Fēng's astonished gaze, white smoke simultaneously erupted from both cats.
When the smoke cleared, two figures were revealed.
One had a high purple ponytail, tanned skin, a tall stature, and already noticeable feminine development.
The other had a lean, muscular build with perfect proportions, as if he'd just stepped out of a martial arts film.
Yoruichi and Satoru.
Together, they bowed deeply to Suì-Fēng. "We sincerely apologize, Suì-Fēng! We will reflect seriously on our actions!"
Their attitude was earnest, their bowing angles exquisite—a true display of artisan spirit.
Even citizens who had consumed radioactive water and fish would inevitably forgive such a perfect apology with a smile.
But Suì-Fēng's expression grew even colder.
"Before apologizing, would you two please put some clothes on?"
...
...
In the room, Satoru and Yoruichi—now properly dressed—knelt on the floor listening to Suì-Fēng's report.
After hearing it, both showed surprised expressions.
"Ōmaeda-bro is resigning?"
"Is Ōmaeda having health problems?"
Suì-Fēng shook her head lightly.
"Vice-Captain Ōmaeda is in excellent health. He could continue working for another hundred years without issue."
"But that would only be a necessary course of action if there were no successor, or if the successor hadn't yet matured enough."
"Vice-Captain Ōmaeda believes his successor has matured quite well, so he wishes to retire early and enjoy life."
"From what I've heard, Vice-Captain Ōmaeda seems to be planning a trip to the living world, intending to travel through every country there..."
Hearing Suì-Fēng's words, Satoru couldn't help feeling like he'd been screwed over by a cat.
Truly worthy of being the wealthiest man in Soul Society—his mindset is genuinely positive, and he certainly knows how to have fun.
With endless money to spend and his son all grown up, embarking on a world tour at this point is practically the perfect choice.
Given his current age and physical condition, traveling around the world wouldn't be difficult for him at all.
Damn, I'm fiercely envious.
The Ōmaeda family, being vassals of the Shihōin Clan, holds a status similar to minor nobility.
For Marenoshin to resign wouldn't be particularly difficult.
Even Yoruichi wouldn't be in a position to forcibly stop him.
The reason he reported and sought approval was partly to show respect to Yoruichi, and partly to request Satoru's permission to recall his son, Marechiyo.
In truth, Marenoshin hadn't seen his son for many years.
All these years, whenever he went to the Eleventh Division hoping to spend time with his son, he could never find him.
Either he was out on missions, or undergoing secret training.
If not for his familiarity with Satoru, he might have started suspecting his son was already dead, with the Eleventh Division secretly concealing the funeral.
After multiple inquiries, Marenoshin confirmed this matter had nothing to do with Satoru.
It was entirely his own bastard son deliberately avoiding him all along!
With this retirement, someone must take over the Ōmaeda family's responsibilities—let's see what excuses that brat can use to hide now!
...
...
Swish!
Satoru opened the wardrobe and pulled out a new Captain's Haori.
The previous one had been left behind in Hueco Mundo during a fight, forgotten and never retrieved.
Come to think of it, wasn't this about the tenth Haori he'd lost in Hueco Mundo for similar reasons?
He hoped no strange Hollows would pick them up...
Unconsciously, images of certain fanatical Eleventh Division members surfaced in Satoru's mind.
Some wanted to touch his black chess pieces, others to lick his sweat, and there were those who wished to be crushed to death in his embrace...
He rarely sparred with the lower-ranked members anymore. They should reflect on whose fault that was.
Watching Satoru finish dressing, Suì-Fēng following behind him gave a slight nod.
Without clothes, he resembled a violent beast with clearly defined muscles, but once dressed, none of that was visible.
Truly worthy of the scumbag lord, even his appearance was deceptive.
"Oh? Suì-Fēng, captivated by my refined and elegant image?"
"In recognition of your daily attentive service, I shall permit you to kiss the back of my hand!"
As Suì-Fēng watched Satoru, he suddenly turned around and spoke triumphantly.
Without hesitation, Suì-Fēng turned and walked away.
Soon after, the three met up with Marenoshin and proceeded together to the Eleventh Division.
Entering through the main gate amidst roaring shouts of "Big Bro!!", Satoru declared:
"Go, summon Marechiyo! Inform him that I shall inspect his training!"
"Yes! Big Bro!!"
The member Satoru addressed couldn't suppress an excited expression.
He turned and sprinted wildly toward the training grounds.
Whenever he encountered acquaintances along the way, he'd hastily shout: "I'm running an errand for Big Bro! Heehee!"
Hearing this, all who knew him burned with jealousy and rage, wishing they could replace him on the spot.
With familiar ease, Satoru approached the large fur-covered seat and plopped down.
"Come, come, no need for formalities! Everyone, take your seats!"
Marenoshin found a seat, feeling somewhat peculiar.
He couldn't shake the feeling that he hadn't just visited another division, but rather ascended some bandit mountain.
After seating, Shinigami soon brought alcohol, meat, and fruits.
The group settled in and began eating and drinking.
Initially, Marenoshin felt somewhat uncomfortable, but quickly adapted to the atmosphere.
Just as the revelry peaked, a figure suddenly arrived via Flash Step.
"Big Bro!"
The moment he appeared, the Shinigami addressed Satoru.
He wore a confident smile, standing tall with his chest out, radiating impressive bearing.
But the next moment, he froze abruptly.
Spotting the burly figure drinking with Satoru, a flicker of terror flashed through his eyes.
Sensing someone staring intensely at him, Marenoshin Ōmaeda looked over curiously.
This was a young Shinigami, appearing no older than twenty.
His hair was neatly kept, shaved on both sides, giving him a spirited look.
The youth stood tall, and from the collar of his Shinigami Uniform, one could tell his muscles were well-trained.
Unfortunately, he was too thin.
Standing over 180cm tall, he probably weighed around 150 pounds—practically skin and bones.
At that height, he should weigh at least 250 pounds to be considered normal.
Three hundred pounds would be truly beautiful.
Marenoshin sighed with emotion.
These children in Seireitei... they're just too driven. Look what they've done to themselves?
He wondered whose child this was—how saddened his parents must be seeing him like this.
As he was thinking these thoughts, the young Shinigami suddenly looked as if he'd seen a ghost and turned to flee.
But before he could move, Satoru reached out from a distance and pressed down on his shoulder.
"Marechiyo, where are you going?"
"Your father Marenoshin came all this way to see you. How can you just turn and leave without even saying hello?"
Being restrained from a distance by Satoru, the young man looked like he was about to cry.
"Big brother, please don't stop me... I can't let my family see me like this!!"
"Nonsense, you're perfectly fine! You're much better than in the original... ahem, much better than when you first arrived!"
Listening to their conversation, Marenoshin suddenly felt something was off.
He quickly focused his gaze on the young Shinigami.
After staring for a few seconds, he suddenly gasped and revealed a shocked expression!
Though he didn't recognize him at first glance, after careful observation, he realized the young man's eyebrows, eyes, nose, and mouth looked exactly like his long-lost son!
He stood up excitedly: "Marechiyo?"
"...It's me, father."
Seeing there was no way to avoid it, Marechiyo reluctantly responded.
Marenoshin laughed heartily and rushed over.
"Good, good! Your father thought you had already... ahem, it's good that you're fine!"
"Oh, these muscles are really good! You've got some of your father's style!"
"But you're too thin! Way too thin! How can your body handle being this skinny?"
With tears in his eyes, Marenoshin patted him up and down.
Marechiyo couldn't help but roll his eyes.
He wanted to tell his father that normal people wouldn't consider him thin.
When he first joined the Eleventh Division, he had also shared the Ōmaeda family's unique aesthetic sense, thinking everyone in the division was too thin and should eat more fried cakes.
But over time, he gradually discovered that after slimming down, his body had become noticeably more agile than before.
When using various techniques, his movements could be executed more precisely.
Back home, he would never have voluntarily done such training.
But in the Eleventh Division, the overall atmosphere was like this—everyone trained daily, grew stronger, and sparred with each other.
In this environment, no one could remain completely unaffected.
As a result, though he had been a lazy, gluttonous young master when he first arrived, he had now become a warrior who trained daily and actively sought out sparring partners.
Recalling these past years, Marechiyo slightly lifted his thick lips.
Looking at his still-sad father, he opened his mouth to offer comfort but didn't know what to say.
Just then, a voice suddenly rang out—
"Fatso, since you're so worried, why not see for yourself what level your son has reached now?"
Marechiyo was startled and looked toward the source of the voice.
He saw a man with a vice-captain's armband, carrying a long sword on his shoulder, walking over step by step.
"Vice-Captain!"
Seeing this man, he instinctively straightened his posture.
Over the years, Vice-Captain Kenpachi Zaraki's presence had grown increasingly formidable. Though not comparable to the captain, he still commanded great respect from the division members.
Marenoshin also looked over.
Watching Zaraki approach, he couldn't help but grimace.
The sharp killing intent emanating from him was simply monstrous.
Though they were both vice-captains, in front of him, Marenoshin couldn't even muster the desire to fight.
What normal person would be crazy enough to challenge a lion or tiger?
This isn't an arena.
Just as he was about to offer a greeting, he saw his son suddenly step forward.
"Vice-Captain! You're absolutely right!"
He turned to face Marenoshin:
"Father, please allow me to demonstrate my progress over these years through action!"
Before Marenoshin could process this, the young man turned to Zaraki.
"Vice-Captain! Ōmaeda Marechiyo requests a sparring match! I humbly ask for your guidance!"
"Oh."
Zaraki grinned, revealing a row of white teeth. "Sure."
He hoisted his sword over his shoulder and strode directly toward the training ground.
Without hesitation, Marechiyo followed.
Watching his son's actions, Marenoshin finally realized something was wrong.
He rushed over and grabbed his son's sleeve. "Hey, hey, Marechiyo, have you gone mad? You want to fight that monster?"
Hearing this, Marechiyo smiled and looked at him.
"No, Father."
"The Vice-Captain isn't a monster—he's the Vice-Captain of our Eleventh Division!"
"Please watch carefully—my battle with the Vice-Captain!"
He placed his hand on the hilt at his waist and stepped onto the training ground.
Facing Zaraki, he took a deep breath and swiftly drew his blade—
"Ōmaeda Marechiyo of the Eleventh Division, I request your guidance!!"