After a brief silence, Yanagawa raised his head.
There was no awe in his eyes, nor any excitement—only a calm so deeply settled it bordered on absolute clarity.
“The Royal Guard’s invitation… I can accept it,” he said evenly.
At those words, Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto slightly lifted the corner of his eyes, while Ichibē Hyōsube remained still, waiting.
Both had already sensed the turn hidden beneath that steady tone.
And sure enough—
Like a stream bending around a stone, Yanagawa’s voice shifted naturally yet firmly.
“However, I have one condition.”
He paused for the briefest moment, his gaze passing over the two figures who stood at the very pinnacle of Soul Society, before continuing:
“If it cannot be met… then I will have to decline the Royal Guard’s invitation.”
“Oh?”
For the first time, a hint of surprise entered Ichibē’s vast, resonant voice.
Never before had he seen someone respond to the Royal Guard’s invitation so calmly—and with conditions.
Even Yamamoto’s grip on his staff tightened slightly.
“Let’s hear it,” Ichibē said.
Within his dual pupils, the swirling depths seemed to accelerate ever so subtly as he focused, weighing the words to come.
Yanagawa spoke clearly, each word deliberate:
“I wish to remain stationed in the Seireitei.
Unless necessary, I want to continue living here most of the time… rather than residing in the Royal Palace.”
The reasoning was straightforward, almost disarmingly so.
Ichibē fell silent.
His massive figure seemed to settle like an ancient statue, unmoving.
Only the faint clinking of the large beads around his neck betrayed the subtle motion of thought.
After the initial surprise came deep consideration.
Such a request was unprecedented.
For members of the Royal Guard, residing in the Royal Palace was not only an honor—it was identity, duty, and an unspoken rule.
Yet this man treated that “honor” as if it were a constraint.
Was it arrogance born of ignorance?
Or was it the clarity of someone utterly certain of his own path?
Ichibē recalled the vague will of the Soul King—it had not specified a method, nor imposed any form.
It had simply pointed to one thing:
This person.
Rules… the rules of the Royal Palace were important.
But the Soul King’s will stood above all, it was the most fundamental rule of all.
If what the Soul King desired was this person, then perhaps the form in which that desire was fulfilled… could be flexible.
Silence stretched.
Each passing moment felt elongated.
Yamamoto stood as still as a mountain, yet the profound spiritual pressure around him hinted that his thoughts were anything but calm.
He, too, was waiting—for a result that might overturn centuries of understanding.
At last, Ichibē slowly nodded.
“Very well.”
Two simple words.
Yet they struck like thunder.
Ichibē continued, his voice returning to its grand, declarative tone:
“You may remain in the Seireitei.
However, your status, duties, and authority as a member of the Royal Guard will not be diminished.”
“When the Royal Palace calls—or when matters concerning the balance of the three worlds arise—you must respond immediately.”
“Under normal circumstances, you will maintain contact with the Royal Palace through designated means.”
Yanagawa nodded.
A conditional acceptance meant corresponding responsibilities—something he had already anticipated.
Ichibē gave him one final look.
“The specifics will be arranged later.
Your induction ceremony must still take place at the Royal Palace.”
“In a few days… I will return to bring you there.”
As he spoke, his figure began to fade—like ink dispersing across paper.
His presence rapidly diminished.
Before his words had fully settled, the towering monk had already vanished into nothingness, as if he had never been there at all.
Only the echo of his agreement—and that unprecedented concession—remained behind.
Only after Ichibē’s presence completely disappeared did Yamamoto slowly raise his gaze again.
The look he gave Yanagawa was complex beyond words.
Shock.
Scrutiny.
And a trace of something like quiet reflection.
In the end, it all condensed into a low murmur, almost a sigh.
“To think… he actually agreed.”
His voice was deep, as though speaking both to himself and to Yanagawa.
“For Lord Ichibē to accept such a condition… it seems the Soul King values you far more highly than I had anticipated.”
He paused, then stepped forward with his staff.
“In that case, until your induction is complete, you will return to the Kido Corps.
Continue as usual.”
…
Yanagawa left the First Division headquarters.
“Hey—!
Yanagawa?!”
A rough yet energetic voice called out, interrupting his thoughts.
Turning toward the sound, he saw a tall man approaching with long strides—his signature crimson hair tied high, and distinctive markings beneath his eyes.
It was Renji Abarai.
Dressed in his Shihakushō, he radiated a wild, untamed vitality.
“Renji?” Yanagawa stopped, a hint of surprise crossing his face before softening into a genuine smile.
Back at the Shin’ō Academy, Renji had been one of the few people he could truly get along with.
Though their paths had diverged, one entering the “quiet” Kido Corps, the other joining the Gotei 13—their bond had not entirely faded.
“Hah!
Knew it was you!” Renji strode over and slapped Yanagawa’s shoulder with a forceful, broad-palmed smack—full of the rough energy typical of the Eleventh Division.
“Coming out of the First Division?
That’s rare!
Don’t tell me the Captain-Commander caught you slacking off in the Kido Corps?”
He grinned teasingly.
Yanagawa subtly dispersed the force from his shoulder and smiled.
“Just some business.
What about you?
Looks like you’re thriving in the Eleventh Division.”
He gave Renji a quick once-over.
Compared to their academy days, Renji’s presence had sharpened.
There was a battle-hardened edge to him now—clear evidence of training under Kenpachi Zaraki.
“You bet!” Renji puffed out his chest proudly.
“With Captain Zaraki, there’s always a fight to be had.
Way better than chanting Kidō spells in class all day!”
Then he glanced at Yanagawa again, blunt as ever.
“But seriously, your grades weren’t bad back then.
Why’d you end up in the Kido Corps?
Fixing barriers and Senkaimon all day sounds boring as hell.”
“Everyone chooses their own path,” Yanagawa replied calmly.
Renji scratched his bright red hair, realizing he might’ve been a bit too direct, and laughed awkwardly.
“Yeah, yeah… fair enough.
Oh right—have you heard about Kira and Hinamori?”
Yanagawa nodded.
Izuru Kira had joined the Third Division and was now an officer.
Momo Hinamori was in the Fifth Division, also holding a seated position.
“They seem to be doing well, both have found their footing.”
“Tch, just officers,” Renji said, though there was no real disdain, only a sense of shared struggle.
“Kira fits the Third Division.
As for Hinamori…”
His tone softened slightly.
“She’s doing fine in the Fifth Division.
Captain Sōsuke Aizen looks after her.
Though… she overthinks things these days.
Not like how she used to be back in the Rukongai.”
The conversation naturally shifted to someone they both cared about.
“…Rukia,” Renji’s voice lowered, his expression growing more complicated.
“I saw her from a distance recently—something going on with the Kuchiki family.
She was wearing formal robes, standing beside that ice-cold Captain…”
He meant Rukia Kuchiki, their childhood companion from the Rukongai.
Now adopted into one of the Four Great Noble Houses, and the adopted sister of Byakuya Kuchiki, her status was worlds apart from before.
“Not surprising,” Yanagawa said calmly.
“The Kuchiki household is strict.
Change is inevitable.
At the very least… she should be well cared for.”
“…Yeah,” Renji muttered, his expression conflicted.
“Captain Kuchiki might seem cold, but he wouldn’t mistreat her.”
He shook his head, as if trying to dispel the lingering unease, then clapped Yanagawa’s shoulder again.
“Enough of that!
Come on, let’s grab a drink!
I know a place in West Rukongai with some strong stuff.
Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft in the Kido Corps!”
Yanagawa chuckled.
“Alright.”
Later, with a cup of strong liquor in hand, Yanagawa took a sip.
The burn ran from his throat down into his stomach.
Rukia… the Kuchiki family…
He thought of the girl who always tried to appear strong, yet was soft at heart—now bound by noble etiquette and the cold presence of Byakuya.
“Hey!
Yanagawa, what’re you spacing out for?
Drink!”
Renji’s loud voice snapped him back, slamming a full cup down in front of him.
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