What's Wrong With Me Being Playful?

"What the... punching someone in the nose without a word? How barbaric." Shunsui Kyoraku held a wet handkerchief to his nose, muttering under his breath, "Just wait until I prepare a 'gift' for you!"

An hour ago, Lin Nan had sent him into dreamland with a single punch. When he woke up, he found himself lying alone in the middle of the foyer, a handkerchief stuffed into his bleeding nose to stop the flow.

As for Lin Nan, he was currently strolling around as if nothing had happened. In this past hour, he had toured almost every corner of the Gen Private School.

The first courtyard was the area for receiving guests and holding meetings. All the decorations were arranged with care, reflecting the host's respect for his visitors.

The second courtyard was the core of the martial arts hall. Two rows of weapon racks stood on either side, holding various bamboo swords, wooden swords, and wooden spears. The rooms here fully displayed the essence of a proper dojo; the neatly folded training uniforms, wooden clogs, and the bold, dignified calligraphy on the walls all highlighted the master's own spirit.

"Yamamoto's calligraphy is quite solemn; he really is a meticulous man," Lin Nan thought to himself as he looked at the three characters for [Genryūsai] on the wall.

Behind this room was a small, ordinary courtyard with a pond surrounding a somewhat thin willow tree. Across from the willow, one could see a room with its door tightly shut. Beside it were the kitchen and a storage room.

"It seems that must be Yamamoto's residence, and also where a young Shunsui Kyoraku discovered the portrait of Genryūsai's Bankai." The environment before him gradually overlapped with the scenes from the original work in his memory. Lin Nan nodded thoughtfully and turned to walk in another direction.

He had no intention of entering Yamamoto's room. Based on his years of reading novels and manga, experts as strong as Yamamoto could usually detect if an outsider had entered their private quarters.

Time ticked by, and the sky gradually darkened.

"Kyoraku still isn't awake?" Lin Nan rubbed his hungry stomach, puzzled. "He's been lying there for over an hour, hasn't he? Is this future Captain-Commander really that frail? Useless. I guess I'll have to go easier on him next time..."

He recalled the force of his punch earlier; it hadn't been that strong. Ever since he woke up from his coma, he felt his physical reactions and strength had slightly declined, a mystery he couldn't quite solve.

Maybe it's because my body hasn't fully recovered?

This had already become apparent during his sparring with the 8th Division members. Although he still had an advantage against ordinary Shinigami, his performance was a significant drop compared to when he fought Unohana.

However, thanks to having 1 point of proficiency, Lin Nan's mastery of hand-to-hand combat was progressing rapidly. During the four days of intensive training Katori had put him through, she had expressed shock at his learning speed more than once.

In short, although his physical fitness hadn't recovered, his technique made up for it. Overall, Lin Nan was still confident in his current combat strength.

He hesitated for a moment, then decided to head back to the kitchen to try his luck and see if there was anything to eat, planning to bring some food for Kyoraku as well.

Even though Kyoraku was much more of a jerk right now than in the original setting, the original timeline was still a long way off, and people always change.

From the perspective of making friends, the future Kyoraku was a decent person, so Lin Nan didn't want to make things too awkward this early on.

Well, that cannon punch earlier could just be considered a "greeting gift"—who told him to be so annoying that he couldn't help but hit him?

In the deepening night, Lin Nan relied on his memory to reach the rearmost courtyard. He rummaged through the kitchen; while he didn't find ready-made food, he did find some cleaned ingredients.

He sighed softly; it seemed he would have to cook a meal himself. By the dim light of the kitchen oil lamp, Lin Nan found flour and some vegetables. After a moment of consideration, he decided to make oil-splashed noodles. Compared to other methods, boiling noodles and then pouring hot oil over seasonings was the quickest way.

Thanks to his years of living alone after starting work, Lin Nan was quite the expert at satisfying his own taste buds, and he handled the task with ease.

After spending a few days in the 8th Division and having a few full meals, Lin Nan never wanted to go hungry again. He hadn't had a proper meal since entering the Rukon District; while he wasn't exactly starving to death, once you've tasted real food, you never want to experience the feeling of hunger again.

The noodles were boiled, drained, and placed in a bowl, topped with vegetables, minced green onions, and ginger, and neatly arranged with red chili peppers. He poured the sizzling hot oil over the bowl, and with a sharp hiss, a rich, fragrant aroma instantly filled his nostrils.

Lin Nan added a dash of vinegar and soy sauce, sniffed the aroma, and nodded with satisfaction.

"Kyoraku! Shunsui Kyoraku! It's dark, time to wake up! Eat your fill so you can go back to sleep!" He poured the remaining oil into another bowl of noodles and called out loudly.

No response. The vast Gen Private School seemed completely empty.

Just as the last drop of oil fell into the bowl, a small object came spinning out of the darkness, cutting through the air with a gust of wind, heading straight for Lin Nan's head!

Lin Nan raised an eyebrow and nimbly tilted his head, narrowly dodging the mysterious projectile.

Thud! The oil lamp behind him was knocked over, and the flame was instantly extinguished.

Lin Nan clicked his tongue: "So reckless with your attacks; what if you started a fire?"

In the darkness, Kyoraku's voice drifted over: "It doesn't matter. If the house burns down, I'll just have my family pay for it. How could I possibly eat after being beaten up like that without getting some payback?"

Lin Nan glanced up at the pitch-black ceiling and sneered: "That's fine. If you can't eat, I can just shove it down your throat for you."

The hazy moonlight spilled in from the doorway, and the mysterious object that had knocked over the lamp lay quietly at the edge of the shadows—it was a metal spinning top, its surface reflecting a faint luster.

Lin Nan put down the oil spoon and teased softly: "A grown man playing with a top? Isn't that a bit childish?" As he spoke, he picked up the chopsticks he had used to cook the noodles and moved a step to the side into the darkness to avoid revealing his position.

A soft chuckle came from the shadows. At the same time, the top on the ground suddenly began to jump; it bounced a few times and flew toward Lin Nan's position again, aiming straight for his face!

Seeing this, Lin Nan quickly tilted his head to avoid it and couldn't help but blurt out: "Damn, are you using an aim-bot?"

The next moment, Kyoraku's voice echoed eerily from behind him: "In the shadows, there isn't a game I can't win."

Hearing a sharp whistling sound cut through the air toward his right cheek, Lin Nan quickly crouched and rolled forward to dodge, followed immediately by the sound of bowls and dishes shattering behind him.

Shunsui Kyoraku couldn't help but exclaim: "You're fast at running away, but where's the momentum you had when you hit me? Or are you scared, and only capable of fleeing?"

Lin Nan's figure flashed to the doorway, standing in the bright moonlight, frowning at the pitch-black room: "There's nothing to be afraid of in a fight; I just didn't want to knock over the noodles I just made!"

Kyoraku's figure was half-revealed from the darkness. He held the top in his left palm and a short whip for spinning the top in his right hand:

"Then let's have a proper fight before worrying about food! As a recognized genius and the direct disciple of the Captain-Commander, I absolutely must avenge that punch! Whoever loses today doesn't get to eat!"

Lin Nan wore an incredulous expression: "Why! I made the noodles; if you don't let me eat, I'm just not going to eat? And can you stop being so 'chuunibyou' at your age? Picking a fight with a toy?"

"I like playing with it, so what? What are you going to do about it? I can beat you down with a toy just the same!"

Kyoraku gave a light flick with his left hand, and the top floated up, disappearing into the darkness nearby. At the same time, his figure blurred, and the whip in his right hand tore through the air, whistling straight toward Lin Nan's face.

His goal was clear: you made my nose bleed, so I'm going to make sure your face is marked too!

Lin Nan used his long chopsticks to block the whip's attack and tilted his head to dodge the top that flew back from behind. The two chased and fought, dodging and weaving through the kitchen, and in the blink of an eye, they were fighting out in the courtyard.

Lin Nan didn't fight back. Relying only on defense and evasion, he nimbly neutralized most of Kyoraku's attacks. Meanwhile, he was secretly pondering why Kyoraku was called a genius.

"He can use his spiritual pressure to simply manipulate small objects for attacks? I didn't see him whip the spinning top, yet it keeps flying back and forth to attack me..."

The bright moonlight cast heavy, dark shadows of the house and dense trees upon the ground. Between the mottled shadows, two figures intertwined and surged, the sounds of their combat ringing out incessantly.

As time ticked by, Kyoraku's offensive grew increasingly dense, especially that spinning top, which darted back and forth around the two of them at high speed. Although it posed no real threat to Lin Nan, he could no longer deflect it as easily as he had moments ago.

Lin Nan parried the incoming spinning top with his long chopsticks and came to a halt amidst the dappled moonlight. Holding a chopstick in each hand, he said in a deep voice, "You can manipulate objects by relying on spiritual pressure?"

Kyoraku retrieved the spinning top into his left hand, smiled faintly, and nodded in admiration. "As expected of someone Old Man Yama would take as a disciple; you certainly have some skill. However, you guessed wrong. I'll tell you once I've defeated you!"

As he spoke, the spinning top flew out instantly, vanishing into the shadows.

At the same time, Kyoraku leaped high into the air, his short whip whistling as it tore through the air, descending at a speed almost impossible to track!