The sky was just beginning to lighten.
Haru dragged himself out from under his warm covers, thoroughly annoyed.
The Seireitei was practically a sweatshop!
Who started work this early?
He washed up, got dressed, and slicked his hair back to look like a respectable adult.
Today’s agenda: head to the First Division barracks to officially register his identity and his Zanpakutō.
Right now, he was technically an unregistered Soul Reaper.
Finishing this paperwork meant he was officially joining the grand family of the Gotei 13.
A true cause for celebration.
As the old saying goes, there are three great unfilial sins, and the absolute worst is lacking a secure government job.
After today, he would finally be a man of official status.
After buying a few meat-stuffed steamed buns from a street vendor, he took a leisurely stroll over to Squad 1.
As expected of the Head Captain’s lair, the compound was solemn, majestic, and undeniably imposing.
Even though it was still early, plenty of Soul Reapers were already queued up to handle administrative matters.
Everyone stood in orderly lines.
No one dared speak above a whisper.
At the end of the line, a guard spotted Haru from a distance and waved him over.
Glancing at the Zanpakutō on Haru’s waist and his dashing, high-quality robes, the guard asked, “Noble?
What’s your business here?”
“I’m here for Soul Reaper registration, Zanpakutō cataloging, and to process my official employment approval for the Shin’ō Academy.”
The guard nodded.
“Go on in, then.”
Haru inhaled sharply.
Was noble privilege really this broken?
“I don’t have to wait in line?”
“Nope.
Go right in,” the guard replied.
“But enjoy it while it lasts.
Once you’re officially registered as a Soul Reaper, you lose this VIP treatment.”
That single sentence instantly extinguished Haru’s fiery excitement.
Following the signs, he made his way to the administrative wing.
It truly was the First Division—the absolute heart of authority in the Seireitei.
Every single person carried themselves with immense dignity.
The squad members walking past kept their voices hushed to a bare minimum, acting as if they were terrified of disturbing the Head Captain’s work.
Haru figured it made perfect sense.
Given Old Man Yamamoto’s monstrous strength, if he actually wanted to listen in, he could probably hear these guys fart from across the compound.
“Name.”
“Haru Shimizu.”
“Zanpakutō ability.”
Haru paused, then offered a polite smile.
“Emotional manipulation.”
The clerk writing down his information stopped dead.
He looked up and muttered something to a colleague.
The two began whispering frantically.
“What category does that even fall under?
Kidō?
Or is it a sub-branch of illusion?”
Unable to agree, the clerk pointed at Haru.
“Wait right here.”
He scrambled out of the room.
A few minutes later, he returned with a highly distinguished man sporting a pencil mustache and an undeniable British gentleman vibe.
“Lieutenant Sasakibe, this is the man.”
Chōjirō Sasakibe, Lieutenant of the First Division.
Haru vaguely remembered him—the minor character who eventually got one-shot by that blonde Quincy.
After exchanging pleasantries, Sasakibe led him to a private dojo.
“Could you demonstrate your Zanpakutō’s ability for me?” Sasakibe asked politely.
“We need to verify its exact effects.”
“Of course, Lieutenant Sasakibe.
But let me explain it first,” Haru said, his eyes flashing as he delivered his rehearsed pitch.
“My Zanpakutō influences emotions.
It can amplify positive feelings or trigger negative ones.
However, to truly show you, I need some volunteers…”
Sasakibe nodded understandingly.
He waved over the two squad members who had tagged along to watch.
“You two.
Stand in the center.”
The two men grimaced, clearly reluctant to be human guinea pigs.
Before Sasakibe could order them, Haru smoothly intervened.
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing dangerous.
Honestly, it’s a pretty weak Zanpakutō.
Besides, Lieutenant Sasakibe is far too powerful; if I tried to use my ability on him, it probably wouldn’t leave a single scratch.”
Sasakibe nodded, privately appreciating the young man’s tact.
He took a few steps back, standing beneath a cherry blossom tree at the edge of the dojo, leaving the two reluctant test subjects in the center of the floor.
Haru took two steps forward, drawing his Zanpakutō from its sheath.
He ran his left hand lightly across the flat of the blade.
“Sow chaos into all things—Paradox.”
A faint ripple of purple light flashed across the steel.
And…
that was it?
The two test subjects’ eyes widened.
They looked at each other, then stared at Haru’s drawn blade.
For a few seconds, they held it in.
Then, they completely lost it.
One of them burst into hysterical laughter, doubling over and clutching his stomach.
“What kind of ability is this?!
Am I as strong as Lieutenant Sasakibe too?!
Hahaha!
I’m dying!
I’m going to write an article about this for the Seireitei Communication!
Think of the royalties!
Hahaha!”
Beneath the cherry tree, Sasakibe frowned.
He could see the ability taking effect, but he hadn’t felt even the slightest fluctuation of Spiritual Pressure.
‘Is it an illusion?’ he wondered.
The other test subject, meanwhile, was also fighting a losing battle.
But he wasn’t trying to hold back laughter—he was suppressing pure, unadulterated rage.
“What is this garbage?!” he suddenly roared.
“You’re wasting my damn time!”
He didn’t just curse at Haru; his fury violently spilled over onto the innocent lieutenant standing nearby.
“Why the hell did I even join Squad 1?!
I’ve been doing desk work for two hundred years under a Lieutenant with zero ambition!
And what’s with the cape?!
What kind of self-respecting Soul Reaper wears a cape?!”
Sasakibe’s eye twitched.
He was not thrilled about being publicly humiliated in front of a rookie.
“That is enough.
Release your Zanpakutō,” Sasakibe ordered sharply.
“Right away, Lieutenant,” Haru said, smoothly sheathing his sword.
Thankfully, he didn’t need any favors from this man, so he just offered an awkward chuckle and let it go.
In the center of the dojo, one man was still screaming profanities while the other rolled on the floor in tears.
“…Their symptoms might take a minute to wear off,” Haru offered weakly.
“Understood.
Follow me.” Sasakibe turned on his heel, completely ignoring the two absolute embarrassments behind him.
To his credit, Sasakibe remained perfectly professional.
He registered Haru’s information and personally escorted him to the First Division’s front gates.
“As expected of the English gentleman,” Haru muttered to himself as he strolled away.
“He actually held his temper after all that.
Though, that guy is definitely getting fired tomorrow.
Wait, did British fashion even exist back then?”
After seeing Haru off, Sasakibe navigated the winding corridors of the barracks until he reached the absolute deepest chamber.
He knocked softly on the wooden sliding door.
Upon hearing a gruff acknowledgment, he bowed, removed his sandals, and stepped inside.
A heavily muscled, elderly man sat on the veranda, his eyes closed as he quietly sipped his tea.
Long white eyebrows trailed down past his jaw, giving him a deceptively peaceful, grandfatherly appearance.
The character for “One” was boldly emblazoned inside the black diamond on his white haori.
Behind him on the wall hung a large calligraphy scroll bearing a single word: Tranquility.
“What is it, Chōjirō?” Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto asked, his voice slow and heavy, his back turned to his lieutenant.
“Head Captain, I have discovered a rather fascinating Zanpakutō,” Sasakibe bowed.
“I believe it could prove incredibly useful given the current political climate.”
“Oh?
Speak.” Yamamoto’s eyes cracked open, his gaze entirely calm.
As the supreme commander of the Gotei 13, Yamamoto had seen it all.
Since the organization’s founding, Captains had come and gone, rotating through the ranks like a revolving door.
Yet, the position of Head Captain remained completely unshakable.
It was no exaggeration to say that the person capable of replacing Yamamoto hadn’t even been born yet.
“Initial assessment: it is a Zanpakutō capable of emotional manipulation,” Sasakibe reported.
“During the moment of release, there was absolutely no fluctuation in Spiritual Pressure.
It is entirely untraceable.”
“That sounds exceptionally dangerous,” Yamamoto said slowly after a brief silence.
“According to the Soul Reaper, it has no effect on targets whose Reiatsu is higher than his own.
I was present during his Shikai release and felt no emotional disturbance whatsoever,” Sasakibe continued.
Yamamoto nodded, his assessment brief and decisive.
“Controllable, then.”
“Yes, sir.
It is an ability perfectly suited for navigating the current unrest.” Sasakibe lowered his head, hesitating for a fraction of a second before adding, “However…
his identity is somewhat complicated.”
“Which noble house does he belong to?”
Sasakibe’s expression turned incredibly awkward.
He took a breath before speaking.
“Head Captain…