After an entire night of grueling Jinzen meditation, the sky began to lighten, and Haru had absolutely nothing to show for it.
He let out a helpless sigh.
‘What a complete waste of time.’
Groaning softly, he hauled himself up and drew a bucket of well water to wash his face.
The freezing splash instantly shocked his numb nerves back to life.
“I’m alive!”
After quickly getting dressed, he used Shunpo to head to the rendezvous point he had agreed upon with Sōjun Kuchiki.
East Rukongai, District 30.
This area served as the exact borderline between manageable chaos and absolute lawlessness.
Beyond this point, anarchy completely replaced order as the only governing rule.
The Seireitei’s sphere of influence simply didn’t reach much further out.
“Yo!
Morning, Young Master Sōjun,” Haru greeted casually.
“Mr.
Shimizu, please, just call me Sōjun,” the handsome noble sighed helplessly.
He honestly felt this teacher was being far too formal.
“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Haru asked.
The two men stood side by side on a small grassy hill, their gazes piercing through the morning mist to survey the dilapidated slums across the river.
“A patrol squad was ambushed by rebels recently.
I followed the tracks and began an investigation,” Sōjun explained quietly.
“I suspect they have a hidden stronghold located somewhere in this district.
I asked you here today to accompany me on a scouting run.”
“Not to be blunt, Sōjun, but considering your massive VIP status, is the head of the Kuchiki clan seriously okay with you wandering out here all by yourself?” Haru asked, genuinely curious.
‘This guy is way too bold,’ he thought to himself.
‘No wonder he canonically dies in the line of duty.
He’s running around a warzone without a single bodyguard?’
“Haha, well, I have you with me, don’t I, Mr.
Shimizu?” Sōjun offered a bright, refreshing laugh, though it was quickly interrupted by a brief fit of coughing.
“I figured that since you have a background with the Executive Militia, you must be incredibly experienced in tracking and reconnaissance.
The Onmitsukidō can’t be deployed privately, and I didn’t want to put Yoruichi in a difficult position, so I had to trouble you.”
Sōjun was completely honest in laying out his reasoning.
“Besides, even if my constitution is a bit frail, I am still the Lieutenant of the Sixth Division.
How could I always hide behind the backs of my men?
Suppressing this rebellion is the duty of the Kuchiki clan.
As its heir, I simply cannot stand on the sidelines.”
Haru nodded silently.
This kind of noble character and willingness to bear responsibility made it incredibly easy to like the guy.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Haru said, his inner gossip flaring up, “are you married?”
Sōjun blinked in surprise, but a warm, incredibly gentle smile quickly spread across his face.
“Yes.
My son was actually just born last month.”
…
‘Good lord!’ Haru reeled internally.
‘The sole heir to a Great Noble clan, carrying the heavy burden of his family’s honor, and his first child was just born?!
The death flags are absolutely maxed out!’
Wait…
did that mean this guy was destined to die very, very soon?
Haru felt a headache coming on.
If Sōjun died while they were on a mission together, it would be a massive political nightmare to explain.
Besides, it was genuinely hard to dislike the guy.
Haru resolved to pull out all the stops to keep him alive if things went south.
‘Byakuya, oh Byakuya,’ Haru thought smugly.
‘You better kowtow to your Uncle Haru a hundred times and hand over half the Kuchiki fortune to repay me for saving your old man’s life.’
“Right, well…
I’ll just call you Sōjun then,” Haru said.
“And stop with the formal ‘Mr.
Shimizu’ stuff.
Just call me Haru.”
“Alright, Haru,” Sōjun nodded with a smile.
“Sōjun, seriously…
you didn’t plan on engaging in a life-or-death battle with the rebels today, right?”
Sōjun nodded.
“Right!
Then what are you doing?
How are we supposed to scout anything when you’re dressed like that?!” Haru gestured exasperatedly at the supposedly priceless Kenseikan in Sōjun’s hair and the gleaming white Ginpaku Kazahana no Sash wrapped elegantly around his neck.
“You didn’t even take off your Lieutenant’s badge!
You just ran all the way out here glowing like a beacon!”
Sōjun nodded again, his pale face flushing with a hint of embarrassment as he tried to defend himself.
“As the heir to the Kuchiki clan, it is my duty to act openly and honorably.
How could I let others look down upon our house by sneaking around in the shadows?”
“If you just forgot to take them off, admit you forgot!
Stop making up philosophical excuses!
Take them off right now!”
Sōjun didn’t argue further and obediently removed his noble accessories.
Still, they were incredibly conspicuous.
Mostly because Haru himself was just too strikingly handsome.
Even in a standard Soul Reaper uniform, he shone like the brightest star in the night sky.
And since Sōjun wasn’t half-bad looking either, pulling off a truly stealthy operation was going to be notoriously difficult.
But Haru had already changed his mind anyway.
Covert ops?
If you killed every single enemy who saw you, wasn’t that the purest form of stealth?
As for lecturing Sōjun, that was just Haru’s occupational habit as a teacher acting up.
The two of them openly strolled through the Rukongai slums for the entire day.
At one point, Haru drew his Zanpakutō and literally scared two blind, idiotic thugs to death.
Aside from that, they found absolutely nothing.
“Haru…
didn’t you say we needed to be stealthy?” Sōjun had held it in all day, but he finally couldn’t help but ask.
“Stealth is a tactic meant for when you’re alone.
If you’re with me, why would we need to hide?”
“Haha,” Sōjun laughed gently.
“I suppose I still don’t know the true extent of your strength, Haru.”
“It’s alright.
But keeping you alive won’t be a problem.”
The two continued to chat idly as they walked.
Haru had never really understood the deal with these so-called rebels.
No one had ever fully explained their origins or their ultimate goal.
If they were supposedly a massive, powerful faction, the Seireitei itself was remaining suspiciously peaceful.
But if they were just weak thugs, they were somehow managing to continuously assassinate Soul Reapers operating outside the walls.
It didn’t make any sense.
Sōjun’s expression stiffened.
This was…
an incredibly awkward topic to explain.
However, since Haru was a noble himself—and practically family through his ties to the Shihōins—he would likely understand.
He wasn’t exactly an outsider.
“Haru, do you honestly believe those people possess the power to launch a full-scale rebellion?” Sōjun asked softly.
Haru followed his gaze, looking at the emaciated, sickly commoners huddled in the slums, and slowly shook his head.
Sōjun offered a helpless, bitter smile.
“So, when you strip it all away, this is fundamentally just a proxy war between the nobles.”
The Great Noble Clans—or more accurately, the four remaining Great Clans that maintained a façade of perfect harmony while fiercely undercutting each other in the shadows.
Every one of their secret political maneuvers was like a stone tossed into a lake, creating violent ripples that ultimately crashed down upon the innocent masses at the very bottom.
A casual decision or a fleeting whim from a high-ranking lord could trigger an apocalyptic disaster in the slums.
And all of it was carefully concealed beneath a gorgeous cloak of ‘dignity.’ The elites sitting at the pinnacle of the Soul Society preferred to conduct their ruthless, unavoidable power struggles behind closed doors, utilizing dirty tactics they would never dare acknowledge in public.
They meticulously maintained an illusion of peace and unity, while leaving behind a trail of unspeakable scars and suffering in their wake.
“I want to end this conflict as quickly as possible,” Sōjun murmured.
“If we don’t, the collateral damage will only continue to spread until it completely upends the very order of the Soul Society.”
Although Haru’s personal greatest ambition in life was to be a lazy, utterly decadent, pampered noble who did absolutely nothing all day, he genuinely admired people who held onto such noble convictions.
The sheer fact that Sōjun was willing to personally act as live bait to draw out the enemy earned Haru’s profound respect.
Normally, wouldn’t a commander just send a squad of redshirts out to die in an ambush before rolling in with the main force to clean up?
Haru suddenly remembered an interesting piece of trivia.
“Hey, Sōjun, I heard your brother-in-law is incredibly powerful.
Like, just mentioning his name makes the rebels piss themselves in terror.
Why didn’t you just ask him to help us clear this place out?”
Sōjun’s face instantly shifted into an expression of profound awkwardness.
He was scrambling to figure out how to explain the political mess surrounding Kōga Kuchiki when Haru casually elbowed him in the ribs.
“Heads up.
The fish took the bait.”