More than a month had passed since that Jinzen session.
The Genji School, reeling from a sudden assault, had finally purged its core territories of breaches and Hollows. Once relocated to safety, the displaced Rukongai citizens were brought back to their homes, restoring a fragile semblance of vitality.
But the lives lost both citizens and Shinigami could not be reclaimed.
These Pluses most devoid of spiritual power and subsisting on little more than water, could not bear offspring. As individuals, they scarcely qualified as akin to Shinigami.
Their numbers could only grow as more souls perished in the living world and arrived here.
Though the school had weathered the storm in the past month, a shroud of 'hatred' seemed to hang over it.
Everyone could guess this calamity tied back to the Tsunayashiro envoy who'd appeared that fateful day.
Such potent emotion could only be channeled, not suppressed.
For the Genji School now, suppression hardly seemed necessary.
Their purpose was clear to all.
…
The captains' council convened.
As soon as stability returned, Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto summoned the scattered captains to headquarters with utmost haste.
The dojo, once nestled in serene bamboo groves, now stood as a charred half-ruin.
By the Captain-Commander's decree to prioritize critical repairs elsewhere, this blackened husk remained untouched, a relic of neglect.
Chōjirō Sasakibe stood silently behind Yamamoto, his eagle-sharp eyes fixed on the Captain-Commander's back, wordless.
Only when all the captains had gathered did Yamamoto pause, his voice even.
"Chōjirō."
"Yes."
"Begin."
"…"
"…Per the 12th Division's tally, this assault inflicted severe casualties across thirty-five key sites under the Genji School's domain. Confirmed Shinigami deaths total over eight hundred ninety, with injuries and missing persons numbering…"
The specifics drew little interest.
Most captains wore expressions of indifference.
Though Yamamoto's creed was to grant the Rukongai a semblance of human dignity, many of the captains hailed from the lawless depths of the Rukongai streets, former tyrants who found empathy for civilian plight a tall order.
In contrast, Chika Shihōin and Yorita Shiba seated as guest retainers listened with grave focus.
Only they grasped the logistical blow this raid had dealt the Genji School.
Per the report, their plan to outlast the Seireitei, expelling and eliminating every noble from the Rukon, was doomed to collapse.
Yes, even Shinigami relied on supply lines.
Chiefly for food.
And they ate more than most.
"Hey, old man!"
Saitō Furoufushi knelt on one knee, her tabi-clad foot tapping the wooden floor impatiently. She dug at her ear with a scowl, "Just give us the bottom line already!"
"Half the guys here can't even count who's gonna follow all that?!"
Yamamoto's expression remained unchanged, patiently awaiting Sasakibe's full recitation.
Only at its end did he sweep a calm gaze over the assembly.
"Given our current straits, we no longer have the luxury of dragging this out with the Seireitei."
"Our only course now is to abandon the purge of the remaining nobles, consolidate our strength, strike their heart in one fell swoop, the Soul King Palace, and topple the Five Great Noble Family's reign."
"However."
"There's no retreat."
"This is my resolve henceforth."
Yamamoto's voice rumbled deep and steady, his eyes tracking every reaction as he spoke.
"Any objections?"
The dojo fell silent.
Makoto caught the weight of those words instantly, Yamamoto was dead serious this time.
Two years of relentless warfare had taught him what a lack of supplies meant for an organized force, a death sentence, a desperate gamble.
If they couldn't swiftly breach the noble estates and their barriers, seizing scattered provisions, thousands of Shinigami faced chaos and starvation.
Even Makoto felt the gravity of the decision settle over him.
Faintly, he sensed the immense pressure and duty bearing down on the captains present...
"About damn time!"
Nobutsuna Shigyō's brash voice shattered his reverie.
"Huh?"
Makoto, with his grounded sensibilities, blinked in confusion.
This wasn't what he'd expected.
"Agreed." Danjirō Obana yawned irritation plain, "They're useless for killing or scavenging always dawdling. What's the point of the old man training so many?"
"Yep, yep. I'm all for storming the Seireitei straight off." Saizō Sakahone with his beehive forehead creasing chuckled under his breath.
"Right! Old man, just swing that blade at the Seireitei, pop your Bankai, and problem solved!" Saitō, ever reckless, griped, "I've been sick to death of this pussyfooting around!"
"Yeah, yeah!"
"Spot on."
As Yamamoto's words settled, nearly every captain nodded vigorously, leaving Makoto dumbfounded.
He wasn't alone.
Chika and Yorita exchanged equally baffled looks.
Was this how the Genji School operated, so blunt and brutal?
Then it clicked for Makoto.
"Of course."
"This is a pure killing machine."
The First Gotei 13 captains, each a bloodstained criminal to the core. Who gave a damn about others' lives or hunger?
Cross them, and your whole family was fair game!
Genji School? Seireitei?
Useful souls had worth; useless trash could rot.
Yamamoto surveyed his band of cutthroats, exhaling a weary sigh.
Getting these brutes to grasp his painstaking vision might be harder than turning Makoto into a moral paragon.
Still…
His gaze shifted to Makoto.
Makoto stared back at the captains visibly stunned.
Hm.
Looked like he'd had a decent upbringing in the living world.
As expected.
Despite some unsavory quirks, this kid was a worthy successor.
Just as Yamamoto mused this...
A familiar childish and cute voice rang out straining to sound bold and grand.
[My beloved captains, I adore war!]
[Join me in painting the rivers red with blood!]
[Let's storm the Soul King Palace and rip that old geezer off his perch!]
[Once we hit the Seireitei, I don't care about the rest, just save the pretty ones for me!]
[Let's fucking go!]
With those few words, the lunatics' fervor ignited, a chorus of shouts rising in echo.
"Well, damn, kid... you get it!"
"Right! Let's usurp that bastard's throne!"
"Kill! Kill 'em all! They're nobles anyway too good to waste!"
"Yeah, make Yamamoto the Soul King! Then we can ditch him!"
"Let's fucking go!"
In an instant, the scene erupted into a fervor bordering on absolute pandemonium, a veritable dance of demons, with voices rising in raucous plotting.
Even the ever-stoic Sasakibe shot Makoto a look that screamed, "Oh? You're in on this too?"
Makoto's mouth twitched as he feigned deafness.
Yamamoto slapped a weathered hand over his face.
He should've known better than to expect anything decent from that brat's mouth.
"Enough!"
The frenzied mob stilled as one before the mightiest demon of all.
Yamamoto roared, slamming the table, "All of you get back and muster your forces! Prepare rations for a three-day march, we move in five!"
"Yes, sir."
The captains chorused in unison.
That old trick still worked like a charm.
…
Soon, the Genji School's colossal war machine churned to life.
Shinigami streamed toward the frontlines in squads and units.
The captains and instructors, vanguards and elite, spearheaded the charge.
Naturally, Makoto stood among them.
Perched on a vantage point, he eyed the Seireitei Shinigami arrayed along their barrier, poised and waiting. A smirk curled his lips.
Glancing back, he saw Unohana stifling a yawn, utterly uninterested in joining the fray. He barked an order to his rear.
"11th Division!"
"Draw your blades!"
"My only command is to breach the line."
A ripple of metallic scrapes rang out from the dark, unyielding formation behind him.
The slaughter began.
***
Bonus Chapter:
100 Power Stones = 1 BC
300 Power Stones = 2 BC
500 Power Stones = 3 BC
700 Power Stones = 4 BC
1000 Power Stones = 5 BC
***
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