The Shinigami King grew tired of his play, so he asked an old soul to change it.
Otherwise known as what happens when an eccentric, morally questionable, teeny tiny overpowered old soul is gifted an Evil™ sword and thrown in a couple thousand years...
"Mmmm... no?" I tilted my head. "The academy was started after I became a shinigami."
Tōshirō's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Oh. I thought it was older."
"Uhhh, you're not wrong. Hey wanna play tag?"
Another explosion went off.
"How about you stop the explosions instead?" he said.
"I can't. They aren't happening purely for my entertainment," I said with a shrug.
He was incredulous. "Uh-huh. What are they for, then?"
"To make life miserable for someone else," I said cheerfully. "Namely—a new captain. Their first day is to patrol this area."
Tōshirō's brow furrowed as he frowned in concern. "Won't you get in trouble?"
"I'll be fine," I assured him.
"Rirī, I'm serious. Upsetting a captain can't be good for you. What if you get hurt?"
"Aww, are you worried about me?" I cooed.
I couldn't see the lower half of his face because he kept the scarf tugged up, but I noticed the tips of his ears had turned red. He muttered, "Shut up."
Another explosion.
"It's fi-ine," I insisted. "Come on, we should get out of here before the explosions hit the fireworks shop."
"Rirī, tell me that's a joke."
"It's a joke," I lied.
He made an exasperated noise.
(◕▾◕✿)
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