After a brief silence, Yanagawa lifted his head.
His eyes held neither the flustered dread of being overwhelmed by favor nor the smug excitement of high ambition—only an utmost, tranquil clarity.
“I can accept Squad Zero’s invitation,” he said, his voice steady.
Captain-Commander Yamamoto’s brow twitched ever so slightly, while Ichibē Hyōsube silently waited for what came next.
Both had caught the unspoken turn lurking beneath that even tone.
Sure enough, Yanagawa shifted gears.
“However, I have one condition.”
His gaze swept over the two beings standing at the pinnacle of the Soul Society as he slowly let out his next words:
“If you cannot grant it, then I will have no choice but to decline.”
“Oh?” A hint of surprise colored Ichibē Hyōsube’s voice.
In all his years extending invitations to Squad Zero, he had never seen a Soul Reaper dare to present “conditions” with such utter calm.
Yamamoto’s grip on his walking cane tightened almost imperceptibly.
“Let us hear it,” Ichibē said, his sagacious eyes locked onto Yanagawa.
Yanagawa spoke with ease:
“I must remain stationed in the Seireitei.
Unless absolutely necessary, I wish to spend the majority of my time living down here rather than residing in the Soul King Palace.”
Ichibē fell silent.
Such a request was truly unheard of.
For a member of Squad Zero, residing in the Soul King Palace was an honor, a status, and an intrinsic duty.
Yet this man treated that “distinction” like a cage.
Was it arrogant ignorance, or an extraordinary devotion to his own path?
He recalled the Soul King’s vague will.
It had neither specified a method nor defined a form; it had simply singled out “this person.”
Rules…
The rules of the Soul King Palace were important, of course, but the Soul King’s will was the supreme and fundamental rule above all.
What the Soul King wanted was *this person*.
In that case, the form in which they “possessed” him could perhaps be flexible.
Time trickled past in the silence, every breath stretched taut.
Captain-Commander Yamamoto stood as still as a meditating monk, but the abyss-like spiritual pressure rolling off him revealed that his inner mind was far from placid.
He, too, was waiting—waiting for an outcome that might upend a millennium of established truth.
At last, Ichibē gave a slow nod.
“Very well.”
Two simple words that shattered the heavens.
Ichibē continued:
“You may remain stationed in the Seireitei.
However, your identity, communications, and corresponding authority and duties as a member of Squad Zero will not diminish because of this.
You will be required to maintain regular contact with the Soul King Palace through specific channels.”
Yanagawa nodded in agreement.
A conditional acceptance meant shouldering the corresponding obligations, something he had prepared for from the start.
Ichibē cast him one final glance.
“The specific details will be arranged in due time.
The induction ceremony must still take place within the Soul King Palace.
When the time comes, I shall come fetch you.”
His figure began to fade like ink bleeding into water, his presence dissipating rapidly.
Before his words had even settled, the hulking monk had vanished entirely into the void, as though he had never stepped foot into the room.
Only the echo of his agreement and that unprecedented dispensation hung heavy in the air.
Only after Ichibē’s spiritual pressure had faded away completely did Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto slowly raise his eyes.
His gaze toward Yanagawa was fraught with profound complexity.
“He actually…
agreed,” Yamamoto muttered in a low voice, speaking as much to himself as to Yanagawa.
“For Lord Hyōsube to accept such a demand…
The Soul King’s regard for you far exceeds my estimations.”
Pausing, he took a step forward, leaning on his cane.
“Since this is how it stands, you shall remain with the Kidō Corps until the induction ceremony is completed.
Proceed as normal.”
Yanagawa said nothing more and took his leave, stepping out of the Squad 1 barracks.
“Hey!
Yanagawa?!”
A hearty shout cut through his train of thought.
Turning toward the voice, he saw a tall man sporting an iconic shock of spiky red hair striding toward him.
It was none other than Renji Abarai.
Dressed in the standard black shihakushō, Renji exuded an untamed, feral energy.
“Renji?” Yanagawa stopped, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before softening into a genuine smile.
Back at the Shin’ō Spiritual Arts Academy, Renji had been one of the few classmates he could actually talk to.
Even though graduation had seen one choose the Kidō Corps—widely viewed as a place to cruise into retirement—and the other enter the Gotei 13, their divergent paths hadn’t dulled their camaraderie.
“Haha, it really is you!” Renji closed the distance in a few bounding steps and clapped a heavy hand down on Yanagawa’s shoulder.
“Coming out of Squad 1?
Don’t see that every day!
Summoned by the Captain-Commander?
Don’t tell me you got caught slacking off in the Kidō Corps!”
He grinned teasingly.
Yanagawa effortlessly deflected the force on his shoulder with a subtle shift and smiled.
“Just some routine business.
But look at you, Renji.
Seems like you’re thriving in Squad 11.”
He looked his friend over.
Compared to their academy days, Renji carried a sharper, fiercer edge honed by endless battle.
He had clearly undergone plenty of “tempering” under Kenpachi Zaraki, that battle-crazed beast of a captain.
“You bet!” Renji puffed out his chest, bursting with unabashed pride.
“Serving under Captain Zaraki means there’s a good fight every single day.
It’s way more thrilling than chanting incantations out of some stuffy Kidō textbook at the academy!”
Then, turning his gaze back to Yanagawa, he asked with his usual bluntness:
“Seriously though, Yanagawa, your grades weren’t half bad back then.
Why the hell did you choose the Kidō Corps?
Patching barriers and Senkaimon day in and day out—where’s the fun in that?”
“To each their own,” Yanagawa answered mildly, offering no further explanation.
He knew Renji’s straightforward personality well enough to know the man could never appreciate the quiet fascination of unraveling the underlying principles of Kidō or the fundamental nature of spiritual power.
Scratching his bright red hair, Renji chuckled sheepishly, perhaps realizing he had been a bit too blunt, and changed the subject.
“Ah, whatever, as long as you’re happy.
Oh, right—have you heard anything about Izuru and Momo lately?”
Yanagawa nodded.
Izuru Kira and Momo Hinamori had been their classmates as well.
Izuru had joined Squad 3 and was already a seated officer; Momo, meanwhile, had gone to Squad 5 and also earned a seat.
“They seem to be doing well.
Both have established a solid footing in their squads.”
“Tch, just seated officers,” Renji scoffed, though without malice; if anything, his eyes held a quiet respect for how hard everyone was working.
“Izuru is so proper and straight-laced, so Squad 3 suits him fine.
As for Momo…”
He paused, his voice softening unconsciously.
“She’s doing well in Squad 5.
Captain Aizen takes good care of her.
It just feels like she overthinks things these days.
She isn’t as boisterous as she used to be back in the Rukongai.”
The conversation naturally drifted toward the one person they both cared deeply about, who now lived in an entirely different world.
“…About Rukia,” Renji murmured, his voice dropping as a tangled mix of nostalgia, distance, and wistfulness flashed across his eyes.
“The Kuchiki Clan held some sort of private ceremony recently, and I caught a glimpse of her from afar.
She was wearing the Kuchiki kimono, walking silently beside that iceberg Captain Kuchiki.
So quiet…
completely different from who she used to be.”
He meant Rukia Kuchiki, the childhood companion who had survived alongside him in the Rukongai and their fellow classmate at the academy.
Now, adopted into the Kuchiki Clan—one of the Four Noble Families—she was the adoptive sister of Squad 6 Captain Byakuya Kuchiki.
Her status was night and day compared to the past.
“I see.
It was only to be expected,” Yanagawa replied calmly.
He understood the suffocating rules and social distance of the noble world far better than Renji did.
Rukia’s choice—or perhaps fate’s orchestration—had set her upon a separate path.
“The Kuchiki Clan has strict rules.
Now that she is part of it, change was inevitable.
At the very least, she should want for nothing.”
“‘Want for nothing’…” Renji repeated softly with a conflicted expression, ultimately letting out a heavy sigh.
“Yeah.
Captain Kuchiki looks cold as ice, but he wouldn’t mistreat her.”
Shaking his head as if to cast away the inexplicable gloom, he slapped Yanagawa on the back again.
“Enough of that!
Come on, it’s rare for us to run into each other—let’s go grab a drink!
I know a spot nearby with some seriously strong shochu!
You haven’t gone totally soft in the Kidō Corps and quit drinking, have you?”
Seeing Renji instantly regain his high spirits, Yanagawa smiled.
“All right,” he agreed.
Renji’s thick brows twitched, his curiosity reignited.
“Coming out of Squad 1, saying you had ‘routine business’…
Hey, Yanagawa, you’re not getting promoted, are you?
The Grand Kidō Chief position has been vacant for ages.
Did the Captain-Commander take a liking to you?” His imagination was running wild.
Yanagawa couldn’t help but chuckle as he shook his head.
“No.
I’m not really at liberty to say, but you should find out in a few days.”
“Playing it all mysterious, huh…” Renji grumbled, but didn’t press further.
The Gotei 13 was full of bizarre classified assignments; it was only natural for the Kidō Corps to have their own secrets.
“Fine, fine.
You Kidō geeks always have a million complicated things going on.
Forget it, let’s drink!
Today, I’m going to show you that the Kidō Corps can’t hold a candle to Squad 11 when it comes to drinking!”
With that, he slung an arm around Yanagawa’s shoulders without waiting for an answer and dragged him along.
Yanagawa let himself be led forward with helpless amusement, listening to Renji ramble about which Squad 11 idiot had challenged Captain Zaraki recently and gotten pummeled into the dirt.
The alienation and crushing pressure he had felt back at Squad 1—emanating from the apex of the world—seemed to dissipate considerably.
*Rukia…
The Kuchiki Clan…* Yanagawa took a sip of the shochu Renji had recommended.
He thought of the girl who had always tried so hard to appear strong despite her soft heart, now bound by the rigid etiquette of nobility and the frosty aura of Byakuya Kuchiki.
“Hey, Yanagawa!
Snap out of it and drink!” Renji’s booming voice snapped him out of his reverie as a cup brimming with liquor was slammed onto the table before him.