The emergency Captain appointments took less than three months to finalize.
Central 46 was so terrified by the empty seats that they fast-tracked promotions at record speed.
In the First Division hall, the two long rows of white coats finally looked somewhat full again.
Standing across from Kazuma were the new faces:
Sōsuke Aizen wore the pristine white haori of the Fifth Division, a warm, polite smile permanently fixed behind his glasses.
Beside him, young Gin Ichimaru squinted his narrow eyes like a silver snake, already wearing the captain’s coat of the Third Division.
Kaname Tōsen, with his blindfold and solemn expression, took command of the Ninth Division, preaching about pure justice.
And Mayuri Kurotsuchi stood as the new Captain of the Twelfth Division, his face painted like a terrifying black-and-gold demon mask, surrounded by ticking spirit gadgets.
Yamamoto struck his cane against the floor.
CLANG!
“With these appointments, the core military structure of the Gotei 13 is restored,” Yamamoto announced sternly.
“All divisions are to resume normal functions.
Let none forget the tragedy of the past months.”
The assembly bowed in unison.
Kazuma, leaning against the timber pillar in the back row, suppressed a massive yawn behind his straw hat.
He scanned the newly promoted Captains with cool, calculating eyes.
‘Aizen running his secret cult in the Fifth.
Gin playing the double agent in the Third.
Tōsen preaching justice in the Ninth.
Mayuri turning the Twelfth into a butcher shop.’ Kazuma chuckled silently under his breath.
‘Half the leadership of this military is actively treasonous or completely insane.
This place is an absolute circus.’
“Captain Kazuma,” Aizen spoke in a gentle, warm tone.
“It is an honor to serve alongside a veteran of your standing.
The Fifth Division looks forward to cooperating with the Tenth.”
Kazuma tilted his hat up just enough to reveal a sleepy grin.
“Don’t worry about cooperation, Captain Aizen,” Kazuma said smoothly.
“As long as your division’s training drills don’t make loud banging noises near my bedroom wall, we will get along wonderfully.”
Aizen’s eyes flickered behind his glasses.
For a fraction of a second, the gentle scholar vanished, replaced by the calculating gaze of a master chess player who knew Kazuma was deliberately playing dumb.
“Of course,” Aizen smiled softly.
“Peace is paramount.”
With a polite nod, Aizen walked away down the corridor with Gin trailing behind him like a quiet ghost.
***
An hour later, Kazuma returned to his office in the Tenth Division barracks.
He slid the screen door open, ready to collapse onto the tatami mats for an afternoon snooze—only to stop dead in his tracks.
Sitting squarely on his desk were three massive, towering mountains of paper.
“What is this?” Kazuma asked, staring at the white mountains like they were hostile enemy Hollows.
His Third Seat walked in, carrying another heavy wooden tray piled with scrolls.
“The monthly administrative backlog, Captain!” the Third Seat said proudly.
“Now that we have complete division autonomy, the First Division stopped processing our requisition forms!
We have to manually verify the squad budget, stamp every patrol log, approve spiritual weapon maintenance, and balance the payroll accounts!”
Kazuma stared at the paper mountains with hollow, dead eyes.
“The Vice-Captain, sir!” the Third Seat answered with a bright smile.
“The Captains set the strategy, while the Vice-Captains do all the daily clerical labor.
But since the Tenth Division doesn’t have a Vice-Captain…”
The Third Seat placed the new tray onto the desk with a loud THUD, making the piles shake.
“…it all belongs to you, Captain!”
Kazuma stood frozen in silence.
He had outmaneuvered Yamamoto.
He had dodged Aizen’s death squad.
He had secured total independence from Central 46.
And yet, defeated by payroll ledgers.
‘Unacceptable,’ Kazuma thought, a cold, ruthless resolve hardening in his heart.
‘I did not become a Captain to calculate tax deductions for unseated Shinigami.’
He turned toward the open window, looking out toward the vast, sprawling horizon of the Rukongai.
“Third Seat,” Kazuma commanded.
“Yes, Captain?”
“Cancel my afternoon schedule.
I am embarking on a high-priority, long-range tactical talent search.”
“A talent search?” The Third Seat blinked, starry-eyed.
“Are you looking for a powerful warrior to bolster our combat vanguard?!”
“No,” Kazuma said solemnly, pulling his straw hat down and stepping out onto the roof tiles.
“I am going to find an unfortunate soul who loves doing paperwork.”