The meeting regarding Kuchiki Rukia’s illegal transfer of Shinigami powers had just concluded.
“Shihōin Ichiryu!
What exactly are you trying to do?”
Ise Nanao, vice-captain of the Eighth Division, confronted him first.
A pang of anxiety rippled through the others present.
No one was surprised she had jumped out.
On the surface, the matter had nothing to do with the Eighth Division.
But everyone remembered.
Ten years ago, Ichiryu had publicly criticized Captain Kyōraku Shunsui for nepotism.
He cited “Ise Nanao is Kyōraku Shunsui’s niece” and “Ise Nanao does not possess a Zanpakutō.” He had insinuated that Kyōraku’s master-student relationship with the Captain-Commander hinted at “a captain cultivating personal influence.”
With the old “room team dispute” threatening to flare up again, Nanao had been forced to step down.
She only returned after proving herself—and her captain’s judgment—by turning the tide in a perilous special operation, nearly at the cost of her life.
It wasn’t just past grudges.
Nanao suspected Ichiryu’s real target this time was Captain Ukitake.
After all, Ukitake was also the Captain-Commander’s student.
Ichiryu merely adjusted his glasses.
“What am I doing?
If vice-captain Ise already knows, I’ll be sure to review it next time.
How is the sick leave for the captain of the Eighth Division going?”
Nanao was presiding in Kyōraku’s stead while Kyōraku himself was on leave.
She was taken aback, a flush of anger rising, but her habitual composure won out.
Getting entangled with Ichiryu now would gain her nothing.
She could hold back, but Abarai Renji could not.
He had just received a creatively edited summary of the meeting from Ichimaru Gin.
His hand gripped his sword hilt as he shouted, “Shihōin Ichiryu!
You bastard—”
“Hm?
What do you intend to do?” Ichiryu glanced at Renji’s hand, as if sensing no hostility.
His eyes held a clear provocation.
Go on.
Draw it.
See how fast I can have you sentenced to a century in the Senzaikyū.
A white haori with the character for “five” on its back — Captain Aizen — swept a hand in front of Renji, gripping his wrist firmly.
Everyone knew it was the noble and composed Captain Aizen, preventing Renji’s “breach of decorum” to deny Ichiryu any chance to escalate the situation.
“Vice-Captain Shihōin,” Aizen said, his tone gentle yet carrying an undercurrent of warning, “though the Soul Society is at peace, threats remain.
This is a time when we must work together.”
“Of course!
Who doesn’t know that I, Ichiryu, care deeply for the Soul Society, just like Captain Aizen!
Some people… simply lack the proper perspective.” Ichiryu smirked, giving Aizen a companionable pat on the shoulder.
“I believe the most dutiful Shinigami in the entire Gotei 13 are you and I!
Ha ha ha…”
Most captains were long immune to Ichiryu’s brand of cheer—seemingly bright, utterly false.
The man was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Aizen didn’t shy away, acting as if he took the nonsense at face value.
“You flatter me, Vice-Captain Shihōin.
While your dedication is commendable, Shinigami like myself, who are merely loyal to their duty, are hardly rare in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads.”
While Aizen occupied Ichiryu, the two vice-captains, Kira Izuru and Hisagi Shūhei, seized the moment to pull Renji back.
Kuchiki Byakuya hadn’t intervened personally.
He was currently locking eyes with Ichimaru Gin—the very one who had fed Renji that edited summary, with clearly malicious intent.
Byakuya had been warning him with a look when Renji charged forward.
Fortunately, Aizen had been there.
In the minds of most captains, Shihōin Ichiryu’s strength hovered at the level of “weaker than me, but stronger than my vice-captain.”
A century ago, Shihōin Ichiryu had sought to succeed Shihōin Yoruichi as captain.
He failed.
The Shihōin clan pointed to his reiatsu, which barely brushed the edge of captain-level but could never quite solidify.
Later, Ichiryu lost to Suì-Fēng in the captain proficiency test—though Suì-Fēng hadn’t even achieved Bankai back then.
It was a contest of basic combat, and Ichiryu’s performance was inferior.
Now, a hundred years later, his reiatsu hadn’t changed much.
He still hadn’t achieved Shikai.
To most captains, it was clear the man’s mind was on political maneuvering, and his potential had plateaued.
Renji had graduated from the Shinō Academy and joined the 11th Division over forty years ago.
His class had produced several prodigies, including a number of current vice-captains.
In a few decades, Renji would probably surpass Ichiryu.
But in a real fight now?
Renji wouldn’t be Ichiryu’s match one-on-one.
And everyone knew this wasn’t about a fair duel.
If Renji had drawn his blade, Ichiryu would have exploited the opening without hesitation.
Thank the Soul Society for dependable pillars like Captain Aizen within the Gotei 13.
After Ichiryu left, he turned thoughts of Aizen over in his mind.
Outwardly, he hummed a light tune, the picture of a carefree, cheerful man who bore no burdens.
Ōmaeda caught up to him, whispering nervously.
“Ichiryu, um… wasn’t that too aggressive?
Even if you criticize Captain Ukitake now, I don’t have the influence to actually control the 13th Division…”
Ōmaeda had initially resented Ichiryu for appearing out of nowhere and “recognizing their shared ancestry.” That move had essentially secured him the vice-captain’s post he would have been recommended for anyway.
But after that, he had been thoroughly groomed by Ichiryu.
He was now widely considered Ichiryu’s man.
The vice-captain’s position in the 13th Division had been vacant for years since Shiba Kaien’s death.
By tradition, if Ukitake himself didn’t approve a candidate, there was little anyone could do.
However, owing to the revived “room team dispute” and the “acting Shinigami rebellion” incident exposed around the same time, Ukitake had been compelled to accept the vice-captain Ichiryu recommended.
So it was true—Ōmaeda was Ichiryu’s man now.
And it was true that Ukitake was often bedridden, making Ōmaeda the division’s de facto leader.
But Ōmaeda also held a genuine fondness for the gentle Captain Ukitake.
He wasn’t keen on attacking the captain over some minor pretext just because Ichiryu willed it.
“It wasn’t me,” Ichiryu said.
Only three words.
Ōmaeda, already tense during these exchanges, jumped at the sound of his voice.
“It’s not that I’m unwilling!
Of course I listen to you, but… Huh?
What did you say, Ichiryu?”
“I said… what happened to Kuchiki Rukia has nothing to do with me.” Ichiryu looked at Ōmaeda with unusual seriousness.
“Is it so hard to believe?
Not every idiotic decree from Central 46 is my doing.
In fact, many in Central 46 have grown dissatisfied with me these past two years.
You know that, right?”
Ōmaeda froze.
He quickly shook his head, realizing his silence had seemed like suspicion.