August 997, Year 8 of the Seireitei Calendar.
The second day of the intruder alert.
With no sightings of the ryoka and the standing order focused on maintaining the spiritual shield’s integrity, the tension within the Thirteen Court Guard Squads had eased a fraction.
The Seireitei remained on high alert.
Any unconventional entry from Rukongai would still trigger the alarms.
Just like Suì-Fēng and Ichiryu, who now had to use the official gates like everyone else.
They made for the White Gate, the passage to the West District.
The giant gatekeeper snapped to attention at their approach and demanded their warrant.
Even though Suì-Fēng had shown it yesterday.
As captain of the 2nd Division and Commander-in-Chief of the Onmitsukidō—the unit closest to the nobility—Suì-Fēng’s access was a formality.
She surpassed even the 6th Division in that regard.
The 6th was the “noble’s division,” traditionally led by a high-born captain, currently Kuchiki Byakuya of the Four Great Noble Houses.
Its duties were largely ceremonial, an honor guard.
The aristocracy rarely called upon it for anything truly unsavory.
The Onmitsukidō handled the real work.
For Suì-Fēng, a warrant was trivial.
Ichiryu had applied for his own through Central 46.
He hadn’t tried anything clever.
The gatekeeper inspected the documents and let them pass.
“These gatekeepers are really something,” Ichiryu mused once they were through the massive, carried gate.
Their boss, Jidanbō, stood over ten meters tall.
A purified soul couldn’t reach such size naturally.
These giants were products of artificial modification.
“Big and useless,” Suì-Fēng scoffed.
She was right.
Modified for intimidation, their growth was stunted, far inferior to a normal Shinigami.
They weren’t on the Gotei 13 roster.
That was why Jidanbō, suspected of letting the intruders through, wasn’t being pursued.
Without an order from Central 46, the Gotei 13 wouldn’t move against another department’s members.
Especially in recent years—someone had made a habit of finding fault with every division.
“There are advantages, though!” Ichiryu changed the subject.
Suì-Fēng glanced at him.
Captain Suì-Fēng’s large eyes are quite beautiful.
Mine are too small.”
“Search thoroughly.” She vanished in a flash of Shunpo, headed for the areas beyond the 40th District of West Rukongai.
Ichiryu decided to search meticulously.
He started with the shopping district “Runlin’an” in West Rukongai’s 1st District.
What if the intruders had gone out for hot pot?
As the premier district of West Rukongai, Runlin’an boasted the best environment on the outskirts.
In quieter times, off-duty Shinigami relaxed here.
Commoner-born Shinigami usually came from either the very front or the very back of Rukongai—the former because they were well-fed and could maintain their spiritual pressure, the latter through less savory methods of survival.
Now, with the Seireitei under martial law, Ichiryu was the only one walking the streets in Shinigami garb.
He’d resolved to conduct a proper search today, in places other than “that Shiba house.” He wore his division insignia and rank feathers.
The “division flower” on his armband marked him as 2nd Division, the rank insignia as a vice-captain-level officer.
The haori was non-standard.
In the Gotei 13, those were typically for captains.
There was no “2nd Division Vice-Captain’s Haori.” But Ichiryu wasn’t part of the standard roster.
His position as “Commander of the Inspection Corps” carried equivalent rank and its own haori.
The overall effect was distinctly untouchable.
Any lurking intruders or Shiba family members would likely steer clear.
Ichiryu ambled over to a melon vendor and picked one out to quench his thirst.
In the Seireitei, he never paid.
Here, after the stall owner offered it for free, Ichiryu left money on the counter.
He searched a well-reviewed hot pot place, had lunch, then checked Runlin’an’s famous hot spring inn.
He found no trace of the intruders.
Dusk approached.
Ichiryu emerged from the hot springs and stretched.
“Going back empty-handed might not look great.
Better bring the captain a nice big yellow croaker.
She likes those.”
Who could blame a vice-captain for remembering his captain’s favorite fish while on duty?
Under the setting sun, he made his way to the Runlin’an seafood market.
No one fished.
Yet there was a seafood market, and seafood to sell.
The market was known to overcharge, but Ichiryu trusted his Shinigami uniform to secure a fair price.
He spotted a fine-looking large yellow croaker hanging in front of a shop.
“Shopkeeper, how much for this—”
A black shadow flashed past.
The fish vanished.
“Ah!
Wait—” the seafood vendor cried out, distressed.
The “black shadow” was already gone, disappearing in a blur.
It was a black cat, a disproportionately large yellow croaker clamped in its jaws.
The shopkeeper looked on the verge of tears.
“Sir, you saw it, that was the last one—”
The customer in front of him also vanished, speeding off in the opposite direction from the cat.
Ichiryu raced toward the White Gate with the fastest Shunpo he could currently display, taking the most direct route.
A black mark spread up his arm under his sleeve.
It had been a long time since he’d felt this fast.
He was pushing slightly beyond his publicly maintained limits.
But even so…
As he passed an alley, he was intercepted.
A black cat stood there, holding a yellow croaker far too large for its size.
Really.
Ichiryu sighed inwardly.
A “Flash Master,” indeed.
In that form, and with a fish in its mouth, it could still catch up?
He raised his right hand high, fingertip aimed at the sky.
The black mark had spread to his fingertip.
“Hadō #77: Tenran!”