"Three gold Kan!"
"N-No way!"
The tall, slender girl's pupils shrank slightly. Her body wavered almost imperceptibly, and her crow-black, silky long hair slid down her back, fluttering in the breeze as if showing the unrest in her heart.
But after just one deep breath, she calmed down again and revealed a faint smile, "Iori, you earned this much… that really is unexpected."
"My foolish onee-san~ If you want to surpass me, then envy me, be jealous of me, and turn that into motivation to improve. Try to surpass me, Yuki!"
The slightly shorter, handsome boy looked at his forcibly composed older sister and broke into a smug grin.
The warm spring sunlight of April shone on his fair face. His eyes were clear, his cheeks gentle, and there was that sharp, refreshing aura unique to boys his age. A lively brilliance shone between his brows. Even though he was saying lines full of chuunibyou energy, it somehow hit just right and didn't make people feel annoyed.
The girl raised an eyebrow, but her flawless smile didn't crack at all, "I've always thought Iori-kun was amazing. As your older sister, I'm happy if anything, how could I possibly be jealous?"
"...", The smile on Aizen Iori's face slowly faded.
Experience told him that whenever the person in front of him switched from calling him "my adorable little brother" to "Iori-kun," it meant her emotions were anything but calm.
Jokes were jokes, he didn't dare actually push her too far.
Behind that perfect smile was an existence even more terrifying than a Shura King.
Yuki, someone with eyes like autumn water and refined features that made people forget everything else upon seeing her. Though born a commoner, she carried the quiet elegance of a noble girl.
Judging by her appearance, she was probably seventeen or eighteen. But her tall figure and serene, graceful demeanor made her look exceptionally mature among her peers. Her gentle words and smile were especially heart-stirring.
The only regret was her height, it rivaled that of many men. In the twenty-first century, she'd have a perfectly proportioned model's body. But this was Japan, and moreover Japan of roughly the seventeenth or eighteenth century.
Here, small, doll-faced girls were more popular. Yuki's type certainly had its charm, but it wasn't considered the most ideal.
Not that she cared.
In the girl's heart, outsiders' opinions didn't matter. Her worth wasn't decided by the words of ignorant fools. The regretful gazes of thousands upon thousands of people meant far less to her than a single sentence from her own stupid little brother.
'Big sis, you're so weak (lol), just like a trash mob! Ah~ trash mob~ trash mob~'
'Even more infuriating!'
Even though Iori hadn't said it out loud, she felt she'd already read that meaning from his eyes.
'Heh heh, it seems the dignity of the eldest sister has been underestimated~'
"You must have gone to quite a few places to earn this much. You worked hard."
The black-haired, straight-haired girl suddenly moved, flashing behind Iori in an instant. Her two fists pressed in from either side against his head.
"I'll give you a massage. You said it yourself, this helps relieve fatigue and is also good for protecting eyesight."
Ignoring Iori's shock and resistance, she began massaging him very seriously, and for fear the strength wasn't enough, she slowly increased the pressure, like some kind of torture device.
Mm, still not enough. She had to add more force. After all, her little brother was tough.
"Stop, this feels a bit… I was wrong, it's really starting, ngh! Yamero! It hurts, it hurts, it hurts… Is this really how eye exercises are done? This isn't how I taught you!"
Damn it, she even used shunpo-level technique!
Completely at her mercy, Iori felt like drills were spinning nonstop on both sides of his head. When he tried to break free, something behind him blocked him, and his skin clearly sensed an extremely elastic touch.
"!!"
Iori froze. Yuki's movements paused for a moment, and that smile appeared on her face again.
"You seem a little restless. Are you dissatisfied with my technique?"
"N-No! I wouldn't dare!" Iori clenched his teeth.
'As expected of the exclusive interrogation technique only big sisters could use!'
"Hm? Yuki, Iori, what's going on here?"
Perhaps because Iori had been yelling too loudly, their commotion drew attention. The lattice door behind them slid open, and an elderly woman stepped out, leaning on a cane. She wore a light brown kimono, smiled with squinted eyes, had a head full of frosty white hair, yet looked vigorous and full of spirit.
"You two, fighting again? You're not children anymore. As siblings, you should love each other."
"Uh, Grandma…"
"Cough, Grandma, don't worry. I was just giving him a massage."
The two quickly separated and stood obediently to greet the old woman. Yuki casually made up an excuse, her lying skills still crude, but already taking shape.
Once they quieted down, the atmosphere and aura changed immediately.
The siblings, one eighteen, one fourteen, the former gentle and elegant, the latter carefree and cheerful, were both wearing light blue-green kimonos appropriate for shop clerks. Though the clothes were simple, their demeanor was completely unlike that of service workers.
As the younger brother, Iori's features were still a bit immature. The two didn't really look alike and didn't seem very much like "siblings."
Yuki was usually refined and courteous, steady and reliable in temperament (only Iori knew she also had a straightforward side befitting her age). Many juniors admired her, and overall she was seen as a popular big-sister figure.
Aizen Iori, on the other hand, was the complete opposite.
For some reason, his relationships with girls his age were so-so, yet quite a few female teachers at the academy looked at him differently…
Unfortunately, he wasn't into onee-sans or mature women, which really was troublesome...
Of course, he also liked big sisters' black stockings and uniform outfits, the fully developed curves of their bodies were enchanting, and that condescending look of disdain was downright addictive…
But if he had a choice, he'd rather experience the "from childhood to adulthood" route, personally participating in the growth process and taking on an indispensable role.
Uh, just to clarify, he wasn't a pervert. He was simply a former science student with a rigorous curiosity.
"A massage?"
"Yes. I'm a good sister who cares about her brother. How could I possibly be jealous of my own brother, let alone take the chance to get revenge?"
"It's clearly because you lost to me and got embarrassed..."
"Hah?!"
"Big sister is always thinking of taking care of me. I'm so touched I, Aizen Iori, am about to cry!"
"Mm, a teachable child~"
"All right, all right. As long as you're not fighting." The old woman rubbed her temples, clearly getting a headache from them.
"Since you've both entered the Shin'ō Academy, you should focus on your studies. Once you make something of yourselves, you can leave Rukongai and enter Seireitei… yet whenever you have free time, you come back to help me run the shop. Sigh… I don't want to become your burd..."
"Speaking of which, today I sold the new-style obi belts to those noble ladies and earned one and a half gold Kan," Yuki interrupted before Grandma could continue, saying proudly. "Normally, I'd have taken first place in sales again."
"Hmph, three gold Kan, wait until you beat that number before challenging me!" Iori crooked his mouth, looking every bit like an overbearing Dragon King returning to his throne.
"…Iori, you were just lucky this time!"
The black-haired beauty named Yuki smoothed the wrinkles in her clothes and quickly calmed herself.
"Next time, the sales champion will still be me."
Her words were full of confidence. Those pitch-black eyes, bright like stars, carried an inexplicable force that made people believe her.
At this time, her scheming side wasn't very apparent yet. She was just a girl competing stubbornly with her "younger brother", polite and gentle on the surface, but absolutely unwilling to admit defeat.
Still, it had to be said: her confidence came from real ability. Her outstanding talent was clearly leagues above her peers. Whether in height or intelligence, whether with words or fists, she had never lost to anyone.
So young, yet already showing the outline of a hexagonal warrior. In a fantasy novel, she'd definitely deserve the line: "Terrifying indeed, this child must not be allowed to live."
Unfortunately…
She chose the wrong opponent.
Yuki's talent was certainly top-tier across the three realms, but Iori just happened to "exist beyond the Three Realms, outside the Five Elements".
For some reason, as long as Iori's "art style" was strong enough, his power would increase unconditionally.
And in the world of Bleach, where style and coolness decide everything, Iori, with such an absurd buff, even facing cheat characters like Yhwach or Yamamoto, or even Ichigo with the protagonist halo over his head, what was there to fear?
Granted, Iori hadn't fully grown yet. Aside from good looks, neither his chuunibyou level nor his sheer presence was high enough to be considered a truly strong art style. But many plot characters were also still in their early stages, and that certain mixed-blood tough guy wasn't even in liquid form yet…
In short, everything was full of potential.
Even ignoring combat power and just comparing business skills, having been baptized by all kinds of schemes in his previous life, how could Iori lose to Yuki, a mere "ancient"?
'You're just selling a few belts to noble ladies. I'm secretly working with some lecher named Shunsui to publish erotic novels!'
'Do you know how much of a dimensionality-reduction strike it is to bring twenty-first-century fetishes and playstyles into the Soul Society over two hundred years ago?'
'The royalties were so high I didn't even dare bring the money home, okay?!'
Iori himself hadn't expected that the Japanese-style writing he'd honed in his past life by playing eroge and chasing anime would come in handy here… This money was way easier to earn than in his previous life.
That's right, Iori was a soul from another world.
When he first arrived, seeing his rough, simple clothes, along with the Japanese-style wooden houses and streets in the distance, his heart skipped a beat.
'This server IP is wrong!'
Back in his past life, while in university, he'd taken Japanese as an elective and joined a non-profit fan-translation group. Even though they skirted the edge of copyright law, they were at least doing good deeds. He'd received countless "hero"s and "good people are blessed" comments, how had he suddenly fallen so low?
Sure, his parents had died early, and his so-called "family" were nothing more than greedy goblins eyeing the compensation money. There wasn't much to miss from his previous life.
But when he thought about permanently saying goodbye to air conditioning, hotpot, games, and novels, he couldn't help falling into deep despair.
It took a few more days for him to realize that this wasn't an ordinary ancient world.
The Soul Society.
A plane within the world of the anime Bleach. As the name suggests, it's the afterlife, where the souls of the dead are guided through various means.
However, unlike a typical underworld, souls here have physical bodies. They can eat and drink, even marry, have families, grow old, get sick, and die. They look no different from living people.
Moreover, aside from souls with Shinigami potential who need extra nourishment, ordinary people basically won't feel hungry even if they don't eat.
From that angle, it's practically heaven.
'Like hell it is!'
'That's not how it works at all!'
This is still a world where the strong prey on the weak. Aside from Seireitei, the world's center, and a few relatively prosperous districts of Rukongai, the Soul Society is basically a huge rural area, or even a slum.
And the farther back a Rukongai district ranks, the worse the public security gets. Some areas are outright lawless zones.
When Iori first transmigrated here, he landed in a mid-to-low ranked Rukongai district. The security could only be described as barely acceptable, no one would rob you in broad daylight, at least. But the difficulty of survival for someone with no backing (especially having turned into a child) was obvious.
He truly endured a period of harsh struggle just to survive, until he was picked up by an old granny who ran a clothing shop.