At two in the morning, the emergency alarm bell of the First Division began to ring across the Seireitei.
CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
The sharp, heavy chimes tore through the peaceful night sky.
In the Gotei 13, that specific bell meant only one thing: Level One Wartime Mobilization.
In the Tenth Division barracks, Kazuma had just pulled his blanket up to his chin when his bedroom door was nearly kicked off its hinges.
“Captain!
Captain Kazuma, wake up!” his third seat yelled, out of breath and tying his sash in a panic.
“The Captain-Commander has called an emergency midnight assembly!
All Captains must report to the First Division Hall immediately!”
Kazuma stared at the ceiling with dead, lifeless eyes.
‘Two in the morning,’ Kazuma thought, feeling a profound surge of annoyance.
‘Aizen couldn’t even wait until regular office hours to hollowfy his coworkers.
Zero workplace etiquette.’
Kazuma dragged himself out of bed, threw his white Captain’s coat over his rumpled sleeping robe, and trudged down the dark streets toward the assembly hall.
***
Inside the First Division Headquarters, the atmosphere was suffocating.
Torches flickered along the timber walls, casting long, grim shadows.
Captain-Commander Yamamoto stood at the front, his face carved from dark granite, leaning heavily on his walking cane.
The Captains stood in line, tense and silent.
“Ninth Division Captain Kensei Muguruma and Vice-Captain Mashiro Kuna have stopped responding,” Yamamoto’s voice boomed like distant thunder.
“Ten minutes ago, the spiritual signatures of their entire advance party vanished from District 78.”
A sharp intake of breath echoed through the room.
“Vanished?” Captain Rose of the Third Division frowned.
“An entire division vanguard?”
“Their life signals are unstable,” Yamamoto declared, opening his blazing eye.
“We are facing an unprecedented spiritual anomaly.
I am assembling an elite strike team to enter District 78, locate Captain Muguruma, and neutralize the threat.”
Yamamoto’s stern gaze swept across the line of Captains.
Kazuma immediately took half a step backward, slouching his shoulders and letting out a wet, raspy cough into his sleeve.
“First,” Yamamoto pointed his cane toward the Fifth Division, “Captain Shinji Hirako.
You will lead the investigation.”
Shinji clicked his tongue, adjusting his tie.
“Fine, Old Man.”
“Captain Love Aikawa of the Seventh Division, and Captain Rōjūrō Ōtoribashi of the Third Division,” Yamamoto continued. Read this novel at novelping.com for the best experience.
“You will accompany him.
Furthermore, former Kido Grand Master Hachigen Ushōda has been dispatched to provide barrier support.”
The names dropped like heavy stones.
Kazuma stood quietly in the back row, his eyes half-closed beneath his messy hair, calculating the pieces in play.
‘Shinji, Love, Rose, Hachigen, Kensei…
five Captains and three Vice-Captains,’ Kazuma noted silently.
‘Aizen is bagging nearly half the military leadership of the Soul Society in one single night.
If I get put on this squad, I’ll have to dodge both Aizen’s Kyōka Suigetsu and the future Visored quarantine.’
As if sensing someone slacking off, Yamamoto’s single fiery eye locked straight onto Kazuma.
“Captain Kazuma,” Yamamoto barked.
The entire hall turned their eyes toward the back row.
Kazuma didn’t panic.
He slowly raised a trembling hand, clutching his stomach with a look of pure, theatrical agony.
“Captain-Commander, sir…” Kazuma whispered, his voice trembling like a dying candle.
“I would gladly march into the dark swamp of District 78 to defend the Soul Society…
but alas, a sudden and violent internal crisis has struck my spirit core.”
Yamamoto’s thick white eyebrows twitched.
“An internal crisis?”
“Food poisoning, sir,” Kazuma said solemnly.
“I consumed experimental street dumplings from the Rukongai market three hours ago.
The spiritual bacteria are currently waging a devastating war inside my lower intestines.
If I use Shunpō right now, the kinetic backlash could cause a catastrophic biological breach right here in the First Division barracks.”
Shunsui Kyōraku had to press his hat down over his face to hide his hysterical shaking.
Beside him, Captain Retsu Unohana of the Fourth Division gave Kazuma a gentle, terrifyingly sweet smile.
“Oh my.
Should I bring my bone-mending scalpels and perform an emergency stomach purge right now, Captain Kazuma?”
“Thank you, Captain Unohana, but my doctor recommended quiet bed rest and zero physical movement,” Kazuma replied without missing a beat, bowing slightly.
“However, I cannot leave the Seireitei defenseless!
While Captain Hirako enters the front lines, I gallantly volunteer the Tenth Division to guard the North Gate.
We will maintain absolute lockdown.
Not even a single fly will enter the noble district!”
Shinji rolled his eyes, sighing deeply.
“You really are a piece of work, Kazuma.”
The old man’s spiritual pressure flared slightly, but Kazuma’s posture was so convincingly pathetic and submissive that the Captain-Commander simply scoffed in disgust.
“Cowardly as always,” Yamamoto grunted, turning his back.
“Captain Kazuma, take your division and secure the North Gate perimeter.
If you fall asleep on duty, I will burn your squad barracks to ash.”
“Understood, sir!
For the glory of the Gotei 13!” Kazuma saluted with deep reverence.
***
Ten minutes later.
Shinji, Rose, and Love vanished into the night with high-speed Shunpō, rushing straight into Aizen’s awaiting Hollowfication trap.
Meanwhile, Kazuma was sitting comfortably on a soft cushion atop the high stone wall of the North Gate, wrapped tightly in his warm Anti-Yamamoto stealth blanket, holding a steaming cup of tea.
His seated officers were dutifully patrolling the base of the gate, convinced their Captain was overseeing high-level tactical defense.
A shadow flickered against the rooftop tile.
A black cat with golden eyes silently hopped onto the parapet beside Kazuma’s tea cup.
“You really managed to talk your way out of a frontline dispatch during a Level One emergency,” Yoruichi’s deep voice echoed from the cat’s mouth.
“Kisuke told me you were lazy, but this is impressive even for you.”
Kazuma took a slow sip of tea, staring out into the dark horizon where faint spiritual ripples were already starting to distort the clouds above District 78.
“Going into an unknown dark swamp in the middle of the night without data is suicide, Lady Yoruichi,” Kazuma said flatly, his lazy demeanor fading just enough to reveal the cold pragmatism beneath.
“Shinji and Kensei charged in with their swords out.
By sunrise, they won’t even be recognized as Shinigami.”
The black cat froze.
Her golden eyes narrowed sharply in the dark.
“What do you mean by that, Kazuma?” Yoruichi whispered.
“I mean Kisuke should check his laboratory radar,” Kazuma said, setting his empty tea cup down and closing his eyes.
“And if he decides to go play the hero tonight…
tell him to pack an overnight bag for the Human World.
He won’t be sleeping in his own bed tomorrow.”
Yoruichi stared at Kazuma for three long seconds, realizing with a sudden chill that the lazy Captain knew far more than he ever let on.
Without another word, the black cat leaped from the wall, sprinting toward the Twelfth Division at blinding speed.
Kazuma pulled the warm blanket over his head, leaning back against the stone tower.
‘Let Aizen have his fun,’ Kazuma thought, listening to the midnight wind.
‘By tomorrow, five Captain seats will be empty, Central 46 will be screaming in panic, and the Tenth Division will be the only squad left with zero dirt on its hands.’
Kazuma closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, letting the historic tragedy unfold exactly as planned.