"Fake Serious? You mean me?"
Yanagi stopped mid-stride and turned to face his fiancée as she caught up, her form leaving a faint afterimage in the air. His expression immediately became guarded.
What trouble is she brewing now?
"Yes, you! You're the fake serious one!" Yoruichi's figure blurred, appearing directly in front of him with a sharp whoosh. After weeks of living under the same roof, Yanagi had grown accustomed to her erratic energy. He'd learned to roll with most of her provocations.
"Fine. You're right. I'm fake serious." He held up a hand placatingly, his tone deliberately flat and dismissive. "Regardless, I have actual matters to attend to. Was there something important you needed, or are we just wasting time?"
Yoruichi's eyes narrowed as they fixed on the two yellowed ledgers cradled in Yanagi's arms. Her brow furrowed, and her expression darkened noticeably.
"Your 'actual matters' wouldn't happen to be seizing control of House Shihoin's finances and networks the moment my father hands them over, would they?"
The implication was clear—and bitter.
Once this pretentious son-in-law controlled the purse strings, every pleasure she wanted, every whim she indulged, would require his approval. For someone like Yoruichi, accustomed to absolute freedom, the thought was suffocating. She couldn't blame her father—the old man was dying, after all. So instead, her frustration crystallized into resentment toward the one who would actually enforce those restrictions.
Yanagi saw through her thoughts immediately. His gaze remained cool, unimpressed.
"This was your father's decision, not mine." His voice carried no defensiveness, only fact. "If your temperament were more reliable, the old man wouldn't have entrusted something this important to me. In fact, I wouldn't be in this house at all. And you wouldn't be spending your days facing down someone you despise."
"You—" Yoruichi's mouth opened to protest, but the words died in her throat. She couldn't find a counterargument. Not really. Deep down, she knew her nature was scattered. Undisciplined. The old patriarch hadn't chosen Yanagi arbitrarily.
Unable to find a weakness in his logic, Yoruichi shifted tactics entirely.
"Answer me something. After we're married, what are your intentions?" Her tone had shifted—less combative now, more probing.
Yanagi blinked, momentarily caught off-guard. "Intentions? What are you asking?"
"Don't play dumb. What's your plan? For us. For this marriage."
"My plan is straightforward." Yanagi's response was measured. "The old man's kindness toward me is immeasurable. Naturally, I intend to fulfill his expectations—support you as family head, ensure House Shihoin's standing and prosperity."
"That's not what I meant." Yoruichi glanced around, noting servants within earshot near the compound's edges. She pointed. "Come on. Somewhere private. We need to talk properly about this."
"The tea room. It's quiet."
They made their way to a small garden designed in the karesansui style—dry landscape, minimalist, peaceful. Yanagi executed the tea preparation with practiced, almost ritualistic precision, sliding a cup toward Yoruichi when finished.
Watching his fluid movements, Yoruichi's eyebrows rose slightly. "You actually know how to do this? And here I thought you were some street orphan from Rukongai."
She, the Shihoin clan head herself, had never bothered mastering the art.
"I grew up in Rukongai, yes," Yanagi replied calmly. "But my grandfather, who raised me, was nobility before he died. A minor lord's nephew, actually. He taught me these things."
"That old man who showed up at the engagement ceremony? The one reeking of battle-scarred stoicism?" Yoruichi vaguely remembered—a man in his fifties with a thick accent and an aura of weathered combat. "He was nobility? That's..."
"Not surprising when you know he was also a general," Yanagi continued. "He died in battle, protecting his own lord. It wasn't a dignified end."
His voice grew softer as he spoke of his adoptive grandfather, a faint warmth entering his eyes as they drifted to the Zanpakutō resting at his side. "He taught me more than just tea ceremony. He taught me swordsmanship. Many other things as well."
"So that's why you screech like a wounded animal every morning during your sword practice?" Yoruichi's expression soured slightly, irritation creeping into her tone. "That's something he taught you too?"
"It's called Enzan—a technique signature of the style." Yanagi turned to her with genuine confusion. "Do you dislike my sword practice?"
"Dislike? It's the single most infuriating thing in my entire existence!" Yoruichi's voice rose emphatically. She threw her hands up in exasperation. "I'm sleeping peacefully, dead to the world, and then—right before dawn—you start bellowing like some deranged spirit! How am I supposed to sleep through that? Those past few days I've been exhausted, bags under my eyes, barely functional during the day."
Yanagi gave her a pointed, utterly unimpressed look. Black bags under the eyes? On your skin tone? That's... dubious.
He didn't voice it, but the skepticism was written across his face.
"Then go to bed earlier," he said flatly.
"But what's the fun in that?" Yoruichi responded with the certainty of someone who'd never questioned her own logic. "No all-nighters means no joy in life."
Yanagi had no patience for this particular argument—they could debate sleep schedules for three days straight and get nowhere. He moved on.
"Regardless. You said you wanted to discuss something private between us. What is it?"
Yoruichi's demeanor shifted. The playfulness faded, replaced by something more serious.
"It's simple, really." She leaned back slightly. "We maintain the appearance of civility in public. Beyond that? We stay out of each other's business entirely."
She continued, her voice taking on a more deliberate tone. "Look at how other noble families handle it. I'll play the dutiful fiancée in front of others—we can be cordial, respectful, whatever the occasion demands. But privately? You do your thing, I do mine. We ignore each other completely. Clear boundaries. Separate lives."
"As long as we don't let it reach Father's ears and scandalize House Shihoin's reputation, everything else is fair game. You understand?"
She paused, gauging his reaction. "Sound reasonable?"
Yanagi sat in silence for a long moment, considering her proposal. Then he shook his head.
"No."
"What?" Yoruichi's carefully constructed case crumbled in an instant.
"That's not acceptable," Yanagi said firmly. "The old man's purpose in bringing me here was to restrain you. If I simply allowed you to act as you please, completely unchecked, I'd be betraying his trust. I can't do that."
Yoruichi's face darkened, her hope extinguished like a snuffed candle. "You're going to be this rigid about it? There's absolutely no room for compromise?"
She leaned forward, her tone taking on a threatening edge. "Surely you don't want to disappoint your future father-in-law's expectations, do you?"
Yanagi's eyes widened slightly—genuine surprise flashing across his features before settling into exasperation.
"Let's set aside the uncomfortable way you phrased that," he said carefully. "But your father-in-law is your father. Your actual father. Using him as leverage for threats seems... rather unfilial, don't you think?"
"You're the one forcing my hand here!" Yoruichi's voice sharpened. "So? Can you compromise or not?"
Yanagi fell silent.
You're threatening me with your own father's disappointment. What exactly am I supposed to say to that?
After a long moment, watching the desperate hope kindle in Yoruichi's eyes, Yanagi slowly nodded.
"Fine."
Yoruichi's expression brightened immediately—but then Yanagi continued.
"However, I have conditions."
"Name them."
"You will not cross my lines. My principles. Nothing that would bring genuine shame on this family or jeopardize your position."
Yanagi had no intention of wearing a cuckold's horns after marriage.
Yoruichi slapped her chest confidently. "Of course! I'm not a child. I know where the boundaries are."
That remains to be seen, Yanagi thought, his expression remaining neutral while internally sighing heavily. Given what you do in the original timeline—running off, abandoning your duties, leaving your entire clan to suffer—I'm not confident you understand consequences at all.
He resolved silently to watch her far more closely going forward. Vigilance would be his constant companion.
"Then let's proceed according to today's agreement," Yoruichi said, her mood markedly improved. "We have an understanding."
The compact settled between them, Yanagi excused himself. He had work to do.
As he departed, Yoruichi watched his retreating figure with a dark thought crystallizing in her mind.
Just wait. When the time is right, I'll divorce you.
Sleeping past noon was worth any price. She'd simply have to find a way to evict this infuriating man from her life.
Meanwhile, Yanagi's acquisition of House Shihoin's financial control proved remarkably fortunate timing.
With the ledgers Shunsui had provided, Yanagi mapped out the clan's assets within ten days. He then systematically transferred enormous quantities of weapons, armor, and resources—far more than he needed for the Uchiha. House Shihoin's coffers ran deep. Impossibly deep. The scope of their wealth exceeded even his expectations for a Great Noble Clan.
He didn't hesitate to requisition what he needed.
The Uchiha, meanwhile, spent those same ten days gradually acclimating to the Soul Society. The initial shock of the new world was fading. Curiosity was beginning to replace fear.