Renji's reaction wasn't what Rukia had expected.
Or rather—it wasn't what she'd hoped for.
He clapped a hand firmly on her shoulder, beaming. "If you go to the Kuchiki family, you'll be a noble! You'll be living the high life in no time—endless riches, all the finest food nobles eat, man, I can't even imagine it! Rukia, I'm so jealous, seriously—hah!"
"…"
He didn't seem to notice the shift in her expression. Or maybe he did, and simply chose to ignore it—because he believed this was what was best for her.
They were both orphans. They'd never known stability in the Rukongai. Only here, at the Shin'ō Academy, had that begun to change. And now she was being offered something neither of them had ever dared dream of—a family.
He was a little jealous. That part was real.
To Renji, Rukia was a strong person at heart—but one who still carried a deep-seated insecurity, born from where they came from.
"Rukia… you don't think this is a good thing?" he asked, his smile finally dimming when she didn't react the way he expected.
Rukia reached up and gently removed his hand from her shoulder.
"…Yeah. It's a good thing. The president said the same," she said softly.
"Rukia…"
She smiled, though the expression was complicated. "Thank you, Renji."
Thank him? For what—suggesting she accept the offer?
Her sudden gratitude made Renji feel strangely uneasy. But he didn't know how to ask why.
Was he missing something?
What was Rukia truly feeling inside?
—
That evening, Rukia stopped by the Student Council office, but Shin wasn't there. After checking with Hisagi Shūhei, she went to the kendō training hall.
Use of the hall outside of class required a special permit—but the Student Council had privileges.
She opened the door and found the room almost entirely empty—except for a single figure seated cross-legged in the center.
A visible barrier of spirit particles shimmered around him, blurring his outline and making him seem almost ethereal.
Motionless.
It was like everything around him had frozen.
He's cultivating…
Rukia quietly closed the door behind her, then stood to the side in silence, watching.
She couldn't tell what kind of training he was doing, but the focus he radiated made it impossible for her to interrupt.
The president always worked so hard. Beyond running the Council, he was always pushing himself in his training.
She watched quietly.
Then—his voice suddenly broke through the stillness.
"You came for something?"
The image shattered like glass. One moment he'd been seated, the next he was standing upright.
Rukia hadn't looked away—but somehow, she'd missed the transition entirely.
Startled, she bowed quickly. "I'm sorry, President! I didn't mean to disturb you!"
Shin walked over to her, holding a practice zanpakutō casually in one hand. She could still feel the lingering pulse of his spiritual pressure, dense and heavy, much different than before—as if what she'd seen earlier was an illusion.
He chuckled. "Yeah, you disturbed me."
Rukia flinched and bowed again. "I'm really sorry, I—"
With a sigh, Shin stepped closer and roughly ruffled her hair.
"You're way too serious about everything," he said, exasperated. "When are you going to loosen up enough to joke with me, huh?"
Rukia clutched at her now-messy hair and gave him a pout.
"President… I've made my decision."
He raised a brow. "About the Kuchiki thing?"
"…Yes."
Her voice was quiet but firm. "I've decided to accept."
Shin smiled faintly. "That's good. I didn't expect you to come around this quickly. I guess I should start calling you Kuchiki Rukia now."
Rukia squirmed uncomfortably. "Please, just call me Rukia, President…"
She hadn't anticipated such a calm, offhand reaction from him. Not that she'd expected a big dramatic moment—but something more than this. Like Renji, maybe. Or even a solemn nod. Anything other than… this.
She felt oddly disappointed. And yet, also… relieved.
Maybe this was how she should be too—calm, composed, matter-of-fact.
Kuchiki Rukia…
She clenched her fists, her heart tight with a mix of tension and uncertainty.
Shin, meanwhile, was still mildly surprised.
He remembered that in the original timeline, Rukia's adoption by the Kuchiki clan had resulted in her immediate graduation from the Academy and placement into the 13 Court Guard Squads. But the last time the Kuchiki emissaries came, they had specifically said she would continue her studies.
Did my actions shift the outcome again?
Not that it mattered too much.
He twirled the practice sword in his hand. "I've got a little free time. Want me to help you train?"
Rukia blinked, stunned—then lit up with joy. "Really? You mean it, President?"
"Go grab a practice blade from the storage room."
"Yes, sir!"
She took off at a run, all hesitation and anxiety forgotten for the moment. Being trained by Shin was rare; this would be only the second or third time ever.
—
Three days later.
The Kuchiki family returned to the Academy, as promised.
This time, Byakuya was not among them. The same elder led the group into the Student Council office, where Rukia stood nervously beside Shin.
"Miss Rukia," the elder began, "we hope to receive your favorable answer."
Rukia clenched her hands tightly and stepped forward.
"I've made up my mind," she said. "I accept."
The elder smiled—unsurprised, unsurprisingly. He had likely never doubted she would say yes. The three days had merely been a formality, a grace period to prepare her mentally.
"Excellent, Miss Rukia. Please come with us today. Lord Byakuya and the clan head are waiting for you. We've already arranged for you to be granted a month's leave from the Academy."
"A month?" Rukia blinked. "I thought I could still continue studying here…"
"You can, indeed," the elder replied smoothly. "However, a formal adoption ceremony must be held. This month is for you to become accustomed to life within the Kuchiki estate. You needn't worry about falling behind—private tutors will be assigned to you. And you'll no longer reside in the Academy dorms. A personal escort will bring you to class each day."
Rukia felt overwhelmed by how elaborate it all was.
She came from the furthest reaches of Rukongai. How could someone like her ever fit into this world of nobles and ceremony? It was obvious they planned to teach her everything necessary over the coming month.
She was sharp enough to see through appearances.
The elder's courteous smile didn't hide his true attitude.
"President…"
Shin gave her shoulder a reassuring pat.
"Go on. It's okay."
The elder spared Shin a single glance but said nothing.
Only silence. Polished smiles. Cold propriety.
Rukia straightened her back, took a breath, and stepped forward.