“Why are you—”
The captain of the chamber guard didn’t finish his sentence.
A pillar of golden reishi—no, a solid pillar of golden light—descended from above and struck him.
It obliterated the reishi that constituted his body completely.
All that talking earlier had just been Ichiryu confirming he had the right man.
Kuchiki Byakuya was notoriously disliked by the veteran nobles.
If this captain was trying to reach Byakuya through Ichiryu, he truly had no other options.
He couldn’t approach Byakuya directly.
The Inspection Corps, which Ichiryu commanded, routinely cooperated with the chamber guards.
Ichiryu was the only person this captain could contact.
Once confirmed, Ichiryu acted.
He stood on the watchtower, looking toward the Senzaikyū.
The only living person there now was his… partner.
“Was that an accident,” Ichiryu muttered, “or a deliberate test, Captain Aizen?”
Of course, Aizen Sōsuke probably considered himself Ichiryu’s boss.
Ichiryu had always been a kind person.
He hadn’t corrected him in all these years.
Outside the sealed entrance of the Senzaikyū, Ichiryu used his command talisman and a specialized Kidō.
He peeled back the layers of seals and stepped inside.
A chamber guard challenged him immediately.
“Vice-Captain Shihōin, why are you here?
Why wasn’t this visit reported in advance?”
As commander of the Inspection Corps, Ichiryu had clearance to enter.
He even assisted in security.
But he was still supposed to give notice, barring an extreme emergency.
Ichiryu ignored the man.
He walked straight past.
“Vice-Captain Shihōin, halt!”
“What is the Vice-Captain’s intention?”
“Shihōin Ichiryu, stop immediately!”
The surrounding guards barked reprimands.
They grew alert at his dissonant behavior.
What was more dissonant was this: only reprimands.
No actual obstruction.
The entire group simply followed him, continuing to scold.
The sound was normal.
The picture was very, very strange.
Ichiryu proceeded directly to the innermost meeting hall.
Central 46 was in session.
All forty sages and six judges were present.
Their heads turned toward him in unison.
The current family governor of the Shihōin clan glared.
“Ichiryu!
This is inexcusable rudeness!”
“Found him halfway, as expected…”
“Your people lack manners, Shihōin governor.”
“Has he spent too long in a barbaric place like the Gotei 13?”
The other sages and judges voiced their displeasure.
The chamber guards who had followed Ichiryu in stood behind him, hands on their sword hilts, poised to draw.
“Enough!
Shihōin Ichiryu!
We have decided to strip you of command over the Inspection Corps!”
“Indeed.
And regarding the proposed marriage between the Kasumiōji head, Rurichiyo, and a member of the Shihōin clan—you will cease your meddling.”
“Shihōin Ichiryu, we have questions about certain things my daughter has said recently.
You will withdraw.
Now.”
Ichiryu took a final look at them.
Four were members of the Shihōin clan: the current family governor and three family elders.
The four people ahead of him in the line of succession.
Then came Kumoi, Awataguchi, Kuchiki, Yagyū, Tsunayashiro…
The nobles of Soul Society were the true masters of the Seireitei.
These nobles were far from unified.
When the Thirteen Court Guard Squads were formed a thousand years ago, they were under the jurisdiction of the Ōin Council.
Their expansion since then had been a process of Central 46 steadily supplanting the Ōin Council within the power structure.
The Gotei 13 was the only one of the three major armed forces whose growth had accompanied that shift.
Even so, these aristocrats—especially the veteran ones—still considered the Ōin Council the upper class.
Central 46 was the middle class.
The Gotei 13 was the lowest class.
Flatterers.
Nothing but a blade too dirty for their own hands to touch.
For great nobles like the Kuchiki and Shihōin to have their family heads serve as captains was a rare move.
That was merely the nobles’ idea, of course.
It didn’t reflect reality.
In the current power structure of the Seireitei, Central 46 wielded no less real authority than the Ōin Council.
The Ōin Council now held decision-making power primarily over noble internal affairs.
When Shihōin Yoruichi defected, the main family had seized power from her younger brother, Yūshirō.
At first, the new head and the clan elders were deeply apprehensive.
They feared following the path of the Shiba clan—a clan that had proven, through its own decline, that even one of the Five Great Noble Houses could fall completely.
Ichiryu, a member of a branch family but a rising star, had proposed a plan.
Trade their seat on the Ōin Council.
Change tracks.
Fight for a seat in Central 46.
In the past, they would never have agreed to such self-demeaning behavior.
They wouldn’t have taken the suggestion of a branch family member seriously.
They hadn’t taken Ichiryu seriously at all.
But back then, the example of the Shiba clan was staring them in the face.
They understood it was better to swim downstream on their own terms—to at least retain their foundations and accumulate strength—than to be driven from the Seireitei after losing several powerful figures in succession.
Ichiryu’s plan succeeded.
For a hundred years, the Shihōin family had regained its confidence.
Some members had even begun to think about killing the donkey.
Now, looking at the assembled judges and sages, Ichiryu grinned.
He ignored them all.
He spoke directly to the empty air.
“Captain Aizen.
That was terribly careless, wasn’t it?
That chamber guard captain nearly spread the news just now.”
All sound in the room vanished.
The chamber guards behind Ichiryu faded away.
The sages and judges melted into the scene, becoming corpses slumped over tables and chairs, sprawled across the floor.
Blood was spattered everywhere.
Judging by the coagulation of the reishi that constituted the blood, they had been dead for some time.
This large crime scene had been meticulously preserved.
At the same time, Aizen — who had until recently worn glasses like Ichiryu, his face gentle and benevolent — sat on the front bench with his legs crossed in a frivolous pose.
His demeanor was entirely different from the one he showed the world.
He looked at Ichiryu with a smile.
“I did it on purpose,” Aizen said, his tone as friendly as ever.
“It makes things more interesting.
And it lets you know exactly what you’re doing.”
—Few words, two minutes, whatever you got.
On everything it makes a difference.
Don’t let this story go unnoticed like that.
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