After a brief silence, Yanagawa raised his head.
There was no flustered sense of being overwhelmed by favor in his eyes, nor the excitement of ambition, only a settled, calm, and extremely clear gaze.
“I can accept the invitation from the Zero Division.”
He spoke, his voice steady.
Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto raised his eyebrows slightly, while Ichibē Hyōsube waited quietly for the rest.
Both of them heard the pivot beneath that calm tone.
Sure enough, Yanagawa’s tone shifted like a stream flowing around a reef, naturally and firmly turning to another direction:
“However, I have one condition.”
He paused for an imperceptible moment, his gaze sweeping over the two figures who stood at the pinnacle of Soul Society, and slowly uttered the following words:
“If that is not possible, then I must decline this invitation from the Zero Division.”
“Oh?”
For the first time, a trace of surprise was mixed into Ichibē Hyōsube’s grand voice.
Faced with an invitation from the Zero Division, he had never seen anyone so calmly propose a “condition.”
Captain-Commander Yamamoto’s hand, which was resting on his cane, also tightened slightly.
“Let’s hear it.”
Ichibē Hyōsube said.
Within those pupils, the speed of the swirling nebulae seemed to subtly increase by half, showing that he was listening intently and weighing the request.
Yanagawa spoke word for word, with absolute clarity:
“I need to remain stationed in Seireitei.
Unless necessary, I hope to live here most of the time, rather than residing within the Soul King Palace.”
The reason was so direct it bordered on frankness.
Ichibē Hyōsube fell silent.
His massive body seemed to solidify into an ancient stone statue, with only the dark prayer beads around his neck occasionally tapping against each other due to extremely subtle movements, emitting a deep, muffled sound.
After surprise came deep contemplation.
Such a request was truly unheard of.
Residing in the Soul King Palace as a member of the Zero Division was an honor, an identity, and an inevitability internalized by duty and rules.
Yet this person treated this “special honor” as a “confinement.”
Was it arrogance and ignorance, or an extraordinary clarity and persistence regarding his own path?
He recalled the vague will of the Soul King, which had not specified a method or limited the form, but merely pointed to “this person.”
Rules…
The rules of the Soul King Palace were certainly important, but the will of the Soul King was the highest and most fundamental rule.
The Soul King wanted “this person,” so perhaps the form in which they “possessed” this person could be flexible.
Time flowed slowly in the silence, with every breath seeming to be drawn out.
Captain-Commander Yamamoto seemed to be in a meditative state, but the calm, abyss-like spiritual pressure around him subtly revealed that his inner state was by no means as calm as his exterior.
He was also waiting, waiting for a result that might overturn his thousand years of understanding.
Finally, Ichibē Hyōsube nodded slowly.
“Very well.”
Two words, earth-shattering.
Ichibē Hyōsube continued, his voice returning to that grand tone of stating rules:
“You may remain stationed in Seireitei, but your status, communication, and corresponding rights and responsibilities as a member of the Zero Division will not be reduced because of this.
You must immediately respond to summons from the Soul King Palace or matters involving major affairs of the three worlds.
In normal times, you must maintain contact with the Soul King Palace through specific methods.”
Yanagawa nodded and agreed.
Accepting with conditions meant he would also bear the corresponding obligations; he had been prepared for this.
Ichibē Hyōsube took one last look at him.
“Specific details will be arranged later.
The induction ceremony must still take place at the Soul King Palace.
I will come to pick you up in a few days.”
His figure began to fade, like ink spreading on paper, and his presence rapidly dissipated.
Before his voice had even faded, the burly monk’s figure had completely merged into the void, as if he had never arrived.
Only the echo of his agreement and that unprecedented special permission remained heavily in the air.
Not until Ichibē Hyōsube’s presence had completely vanished did Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto slowly lift his eyelids, his gaze toward Yanagawa becoming extremely complex.
Shock, scrutiny, and an indescribable sense of emotion all ultimately turned into a barely audible sigh mixed with deep astonishment.
“He actually…
agreed.”
His low voice sounded, as if talking to himself, or perhaps speaking to Yanagawa:
“Lord Ichibē would actually agree to such a request…
It seems the Soul King’s regard for you far exceeds my estimations.”
He paused and took a step forward with his cane:
“Since that is the case, until the induction ceremony is completed, you shall remain with the Kido Corps, and everything shall continue as usual.”
Yanagawa said no more and walked out of the First Division barracks.
“Hey—!
Yanagawa?!”
A slightly hoarse but spirited and surprised shout came, interrupting Yanagawa’s thoughts.
He looked toward the sound and saw a tall man with iconic red hair spiked up and brown facial tattoos under his right eye walking toward him.
It was Abarai Renji.
He was wearing the Shinigami uniform, and his whole being radiated a kind of wild, untamed vitality.
“Renji?”
Yanagawa stopped, a look of slight surprise on his face, which then turned into a genuine smile.
At Shin’ō Academy, Renji was one of the few friends he had who shared a similar temperament and could chat with him.
Although after graduation one chose the Kido Corps, which was seen as a place for “retirement,” and the other joined the Gotei 13, their paths were different, but that camaraderie from their school days had not completely faded.
“Haha, it really is you!”
Renji strode over, his large, fan-like hand slapping Yanagawa’s shoulder with force, carrying the unique roughness of the Eleventh Division.
“Coming out of the First Division?
Rare!
Did the Captain-Commander summon you?
Don’t tell me you slacker were caught goofing off in the Kido Corps?”
He grinned, his tone teasing.
Yanagawa effortlessly dissipated the force on his shoulder and smiled.
“It was just some business.
What about you, Renji?
You seem to be thriving in the Eleventh Division.”
He looked at Renji.
Compared to his time at Shin’ō Academy, his friend before him had a more imposing aura, with a bit more sharpness between his brows honed by years of combat.
Clearly, he had undergone plenty of “tempering” under that battle maniac, Zaraki Kenpachi.
“You bet!”
Renji puffed out his chest, his tone filled with the unconcealed pride of the Eleventh Division.
“Following Captain Zaraki, there are endless fights every day.
It’s much more exciting than reciting incantations from Kido textbooks back at the academy!”
He changed the subject and looked at Yanagawa, asking with his usual bluntness:
“But seriously, Yanagawa, your grades weren’t bad back then.
Why did you decide to go to the Kido Corps?
Spending all day fixing barriers and the Senkaimon…
how boring.”
“To each their own.”
Yanagawa responded indifferently, without offering much explanation.
He knew Renji’s character—straightforward and direct.
It would be hard for him to understand his own interest in quietly studying the principles of Kido and the essence of spiritual power.
Renji scratched his striking red hair, seemingly realizing he had spoken a bit too bluntly.
He chuckled twice and changed the subject:
“Forget it, forget it.
As long as you’re happy.
By the way, you must have heard news about Kira Izuru and Hinamori Momo, right?”
Yanagawa nodded.
Kira Izuru and Hinamori Momo were also his classmates.
Kira Izuru had joined the Third Division and was now a seated officer; Hinamori Momo had gone to the Fifth Division and was also a seated officer.
“They both seem to be doing well and have established themselves within their respective divisions.”
“Tch, just seated officers.”
Renji curled his lip, but there was no disdain in his eyes; instead, there was a sense of camaraderie that “everyone has it tough.”
“That guy Kira Izuru is disciplined, so the Third Division suits him well.
Hinamori, she…”
He paused, his tone softening unconsciously.
“She’s doing fine in the Fifth Division, too.
Captain Aizen takes good care of her.
It’s just that I feel she thinks too much sometimes, not as boisterous as she used to be back in Rukongai.”
The conversation naturally drifted toward the person they both cared about, who was now in a different world.
“…Rukia, she,”
Renji’s voice lowered.
A complex emotion flashed in his eyes—longing, but also an indescribable sense of distance and melancholy.
“A while ago, the Kuchiki Clan seemed to have some internal ceremony.
I saw her from a distance once.
She was wearing the Kuchiki Clan’s kimono, following that iceberg, Captain Kuchiki, and was quiet.
She’s completely different from before.”
He was talking about Kuchiki Rukia, their partner with whom they had relied on each other for survival in Rukongai during their childhood, and their peer at Shin’ō Academy.
Now, she had been adopted by the Kuchiki Clan, one of the four great noble families, and had become the adopted sister of Sixth Division Captain Kuchiki Byakuya.
Her status was worlds apart from what it used to be.
“Hmm, as expected.”
Yanagawa’s tone remained calm.
He understood the rules and distances of the noble world even more deeply than Renji.
Rukia’s choice, or perhaps fate’s arrangement, had led her down a different path.
“The Kuchiki Clan has strict rules.
Since she is already there, some changes are inevitable.
At the very least, she should have a worry-free life.”
“Worry-free…”
Renji repeated the word, his expression somewhat complex.
Finally, he just let out a heavy sigh.
“Yeah, although Captain Kuchiki looks cold, he shouldn’t treat her badly.”
He shook his head, as if wanting to shake off that inexplicable irritation, and slapped Yanagawa hard again.
“Enough of this!
Let’s go, let’s go.
It’s rare to run into each other, let’s grab a drink!
I know a place in West Rukongai that has strong shochu!
You’re in the Kido Corps, don’t tell me you don’t even drink?”
Seeing Renji instantly regain his vitality, Yanagawa smiled as well.
“Alright.”
“Special business?”
Renji raised his thick eyebrows, his curiosity piqued again.
“Coming out of the First Division, and saying you have special business…
Hey, Yanagawa, you wouldn’t be getting promoted, would you?
The position of Grand Kido Chief of the Kido Corps has been vacant for a long time.
Could it be that the Captain-Commander has taken a liking to you?”
He speculated wildly.
Yanagawa laughed in spite of himself and shook his head.
“No, it’s not convenient to talk about the specifics, but you should know in a few days.”
“Still being all mysterious…”
Renji muttered, but didn’t pay much attention to it.
There were plenty of strange missions in the Gotei 13, so it was normal for the Kido Corps to have some secrets.
“Fine, fine.
You Kido guys always have so much going on.
Whatever, let’s go drink!
Today I’ll make you see that the drinking capacity of the Eleventh Division is not something the Kido Corps can compare to!”
As he spoke, he unceremoniously slung his arm around Yanagawa’s shoulder and started dragging him forward.
Yanagawa was helplessly dragged along for a few steps, listening to Renji chattering in his ear about which squad member had challenged Captain Zaraki again and gotten beaten to the ground.
The sense of distance and pressure from the pinnacle of the world that he had felt earlier in the First Division seemed to have been diluted quite a bit.
‘Rukia…
the Kuchiki Clan…’
Yanagawa took a sip of the shochu Renji had recommended, which was indeed quite strong.
The spicy sensation burned all the way from his throat to his stomach.
He thought of that girl who always tried to pretend to be strong but was actually soft-hearted, now bound by the complex etiquette of the nobility and the cold aura of Kuchiki Byakuya.
“Hey, Yanagawa, what are you spacing out for!
Drink up!”
Renji’s loud voice interrupted his thoughts, and a cup filled with strong liquor was slammed down in front of him.