You Are the Senior

"Relax your shoulders."

"Your body shouldn't be too tense."

"Imagine you're stepping on fragile eggs..."

"Distribute your weight evenly across your feet, maintaining proper posture without distorting your movement, while still feeling a subtle constraint."

"Mastering the correct demeanor and walking with the grace befitting a noble—this too is an essential part of training."

"Arima-san, you still seem a bit unfamiliar with this aspect."

A middle-aged woman, dressed impeccably, knelt on the veranda with her hands folded in front of her, smiling as she observed the panting Seiya.

"But that's alright. Given your lack of prior experience, it's only natural that grasping its essence all at once would be difficult."

So?

"As long as you continue training diligently, you'll adapt in time."

No, no…

Shouldn't she be saying something like, "You're already doing great despite everything"?

It was just walking, yet because the weight distribution was different from usual and he was still unaccustomed to it, Seiya found himself moving with noticeable awkwardness.

If possible, he would have taken a break already…

But after over a month of training here, he understood his instructor well.

She was a woman who appeared gentle but was absolutely uncompromising.

She likely had some familial ties to the Kuchiki clan, though Seiya wasn't certain of the specifics.

One thing was clear: noble education was on another level.

The moment you woke up, training began.

From dining etiquette to speech cadence, from accessory placement to the nuances of facial expressions…

There was too much to learn.

Every day began with someone instructing him on how to conduct himself.

At one point, Seiya even suspected that nobles had special rules for using the restroom.

Perhaps they simply chose not to tell him, so as not to scare off newcomers?

Regardless, this strange and restrictive experience had thoroughly exhausted him.

Nobles were far too particular.

Even a hundred years from now, he was certain he would never forget this torment.

As he inwardly complained about all these things, beside him, Kuchiki Byakuya was carefully practicing what they called the "noble's stride," moving back and forth across the room with precision.

Seiya glanced at him—his training robes were completely drenched in sweat.

The curve of his back was sharply defined beneath the soaked fabric.

He was, quite literally, "drenched in sweat."

"Kuchiki-sama's dedication is commendable. Arima-san, please take him as your example."

It wasn't an outright harsh comment.

But simply hearing it made Seiya feel even more exhausted.

So this is what nobles call 'aura'… Winning without even fighting, huh?

Sighing internally, Seiya slowly sat up.

Because he was still a beginner, he was allowed to take short breaks when he felt uncomfortable.

This gave him the chance to observe Byakuya's movements from an outsider's perspective.

—This guy.

He was really giving it his all.

It wasn't mere formality—Seiya could tell Byakuya was genuinely invested in this training.

Since he had been struggling through the same process, he understood just how tedious it was.

And yet, this guy still pushes through.

Guess that's what it means to be a true noble heir.

"Alright, Arima-san, let's continue—"

The woman seemed about to call him back, but before she could, a soft chime rang from the nearby clock.

She hesitated briefly, then lifted her head and turned to Byakuya.

"Kuchiki-sama, today's etiquette training is concluded."

With a thud, Byakuya collapsed onto the floor like a felled tree.

He panted heavily, completely exhausted—just like Seiya had been moments ago.

"Then, gentlemen, I look forward to our session tomorrow."

Byakuya didn't even have the strength to respond.

Seiya could only offer a strained smile and reply politely, "Uh… thank you. But… could we perhaps take a rest day sometime?"

The woman packed up her materials, still smiling warmly.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible."

Gah!

A whole month of intense training, and still no break?!

Completely resigned, Seiya flopped down onto the tatami mat.

He listened as the instructor's footsteps faded into the distance, then took about ten seconds to regulate his breathing.

Finally, he struggled to his feet and shuffled over to Byakuya.

"How are you holding up?"

"…Exhausted."

But there was no time to rest.

For Byakuya, this level of hardship wasn't enough to justify taking a break.

If he wanted to inherit the Kuchiki clan, he had to push forward.

With a determined grunt, Byakuya rolled over, brushed his damp hair from his forehead, and looked at Seiya seriously.

"Arima-kun, could I ask you to spar with me again today?"

They weren't close enough to call each other friends.

But after a month of training together, a subtle understanding had formed between them.

Seiya knew exactly what Byakuya meant.

Here we go again.

He grimaced.

"But dinner is soon, right? Shouldn't we wash up first?"

Etiquette training always ended in the late afternoon, just before sunset.

Byakuya, you're taking this way too seriously.

Even I'm starting to feel guilty about slacking off.

But seeing Byakuya's unwavering determination, Seiya could only sigh.

"Fine. I'll spar with you for a bit."

After a brief pause, he raised a finger to his lips.

"But not for too long. I'm starving."

Byakuya wiped his face with a towel and smiled.

"Understood! I won't take up too much of your time!"

"No, don't say that…"

"Why not?"

"Because that's exactly how you end up stealing someone else's time."

Ignoring the banter, Seiya reached out and pulled Byakuya to his feet.

The two of them washed up in the courtyard, then instinctively untied their hair.

It wasn't planned—just an automatic habit.

After all, with the training ahead, letting their hair hang loose would be impractical.

As Seiya retied his ponytail, he glanced at the setting sun and stretched.

"Seriously though, it's been a whole week. You don't want to take a break?"

It had all started just last week.

For some reason, Byakuya had suddenly insisted on sparring with Seiya.

At first, Seiya wasn't interested.

After all, he had nothing to gain from it.

Byakuya's Shunpo isn't as refined as Yoruichi's.

His skills in the other three arts aren't at a captain's level yet.

In fact, forget Byakuya—

Even if Kuchiki Ginrei himself came to spar, unless he intended to fight seriously, Seiya wouldn't feel any pressure at all.

But Byakuya was stubborn.

Seiya later found out the reason—Ginrei had let something slip in casual conversation:

"Arima Seiya's strength far surpasses yours."

It wasn't jealousy.

But as the next heir of the Kuchiki clan, being told outright that someone else was better than him…

It had clearly stung.

Seiya, fed up with Byakuya's persistence, had eventually agreed to spar.

And sure enough, under Ginrei's watchful eye, Byakuya had been thoroughly beaten.

After all, Seiya had already perfected all four combat disciplines.

Compared to Byakuya, who was still in training, they weren't even on the same level.

Seiya rolled his neck and sighed.

"One last time—are you sure you want to keep going today?"

Byakuya's response was immediate.

"Learning from those stronger than oneself is part of Ginrei-dono's teachings. But of course, if it's inconvenient for you, Arima-kun, I won't force it."

Then, he smirked.

"And today, Ginrei-dono isn't here. So… we can push dinner back a little."

Hah?

Seiya gave him a flat look.

"That's abusing your status. If anyone finds out, you'll be scolded."

"Only if you tell them."

Seiya sighed again.

"Fine. Let's do this."

With that, he took the wooden sword Byakuya offered and stepped back, his breath steadying.

His playful expression faded.

Seiya shifted into a relaxed yet intimidating stance.

"Come at me."

In that moment, Seiya realized—

I'm the senior now, huh?

Time really flies.

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Powerstones?

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