Heron Teahouse.
Takasugi sat across a low table, cradling a teacup.
Steam rose in wisps, curling into faint mist.
A reunion after years apart, though they were never particularly close, naturally brought a flood of things to say.
Makoto sat quietly, listening as Takasugi recounted perilous encounters in Hueco Mundo, the struggles of the expeditionary force, and the slow accumulation of merits that led him to this day.
But as the initial warmth of reminiscing faded, a trace of deliberation in Takasugi's tone became impossible to miss.
Finally, Makoto cut in, getting to the point. "So, Takasugi-kun, you didn't just come to catch up, did you? There's something else."
Takasugi gave a wry smile, setting down his cup. "Can't hide anything from you, Makoto-sama."
"In truth, I'm here to plead for those senpai arrested outside the Hakuto Gate today."
"Senpai?"
Makoto tilted his head, puzzled.
Ryoma Kuruyashiki, behind him, leaned forward, whispering, "Captain, he means the ones our division rounded up this morning."
"The forced retirees?"
Makoto's memory clicked, and he turned back to Takasugi. "Got friends among them, Captain Takasugi?"
Unconsciously, his address shifted from the familiar 'Takasugi-kun' to a more formal, a subtle step back.
Though the Soul Society had long since dismantled the formal 'noble' class and established a robust legal system over centuries, the overwhelming strength of individual Shinigami, and the primacy of the strong, meant it remained a deeply rooted favor-driven society.
In his long years, Makoto had witnessed plenty of absurd spectacles. Occasionally, even he had to play the game of 'reasonableness' to fit in.
After all, a captain-class powerhouse like Takasugi was worth more than an ordinary Shinigami.
The Soul Society in peacetime needed people like him to maintain order.
But favors, like any resource, came at a cost once spent.
Takasugi noticed the shift but sighed, pressing on. "My apologies, Makoto-sama."
"I'm asking… for all of them."
Ryoma's gaze sharpened, glaring at Takasugi.
He'd spent the entire morning subduing those retirees himself, taking care to avoid fatalities, a grueling effort.
This request was pushing it.
Takasugi quickly added, "But rest assured, I'll make sure they don't cause trouble again after this."
Makoto's hand, nearing his lips with the teacup, paused, then slowly returned to the table.
He wasn't ruffled by the request.
Or rather, three hundred years was an eternity for a mortal, and the countless experiences he'd lived through had honed even his carefree nature into one of patience.
"Captain Takasugi."
Makoto's voice paused briefly. "You know what those people were doing, gathering outside the Hakuto Gate, don't you?"
"Yes."
Takasugi's lips tightened, his head dipping slightly. "The Gotei 13 Shinigami Statutory Service and Retirement Regulations, which you personally revised, Makoto-sama, clearly state that officers and soldiers of Tier-6 Reiatsu and below must adhere to specified service durations and retirement timelines, with strict compliance to compensation requirements."
"They… refused to comply."
Makoto smiled. "Since you're aware, Captain Takasugi, why come to me with an impossible request?"
"Even as the 9th Division captain, I have rules I must follow."
"…"
"But-"
Takasugi's calm broke, his voice rising with sudden fervor, fists clenching as if to emphasize his point. "Makoto-sama!"
"Those are our Genji School man!"
"Many of them followed the Captain-Commander from the Rukongai to the Seireitei, heroes of their time."
"Dismissing former nobles or academy types is one thing."
"Why, why must our Genji School comrades be swept out too?!"
His voice bordered on accusation, his eyes locked on his former superior. "The Genji School is your foundation, your support!"
"How can you treat them like this…?"
Despite his heated words, Makoto sat unmoved, his expression unreadable.
He merely gazed at the man before him.
Under that steady stare, Takasugi's voice faltered, gradually fading.
Makoto's smile faded, and he lifted his teacup, gently blowing on the tea leaves floating upright, stirring faint ripples.
He took a sip.
His tone was flat, almost detached. "When they broke the rules I set, did they think of being my 'foundation,' as you put it, Captain Takasugi?"
Takasugi froze.
Still, he pressed, "Then why… isn't a single former noble or academy member on that list?"
"Are those former nobles more important to you than us, the old guard of the Genji School?!"
"Pfft-"
Makoto let out a low chuckle.
Looking at the young man's defiant expression, he asked abruptly, "What's more important to me, the Genji School or the former nobles?"
Takasugi blinked. "The Genji School?"
"Think again."
"The former nobles?"
"Think again."
"…"
Takasugi felt toyed with, his hands pressing into his knees, staring intently.
Makoto set down his cup and stood.
As he passed Takasugi, he paused, speaking softly. "Neither the Genji School nor the former nobles matter to me."
"What matters is a Soul Society without nobles."
Takasugi turned, stunned, but Makoto was already striding out of the teahouse.
He waved over his shoulder. "Don't forget to pay, Captain Takasugi."
Ryoma followed closely, his cold gaze brushing Takasugi before snapping away.
To his former 'classmate,' he didn't spare a word.
Only when they were far down the street, the teahouse out of sight, did Ryoma lower his voice, asking, "Captain."
"Why only purge the Genji School's old members?"
"That's not fair, is it?"
Makoto's steps halted, and he turned with a smile, beckoning Ryoma closer.
Ryoma leaned in, puzzled.
Then, quick as lightning, Makoto flicked his finger.
Thwack,
A sharp tap landed on his subordinate's forehead.
Makoto scoffed, his tone sharp. "That Takasugi's a fool, and you're just as bad."
"When did the Genji School veterans join the Gotei? And when were those former nobles in the Seireitei tamed?"
"Besides, it's been three hundred years."
His voice grew colder, a mocking edge creeping in. "At a time like this, someone dragging up the divide between the Genji School and former nobles, do you think they're up to anything good?"
"Just another bore."
"But…" Ryoma Kuruyashiki muttered, "among those old-timers, most of them support you, don't they, Captain?"
"Ryoma."
Makoto's face turned serious, his voice calm but unyielding, not looking back. "They don't support me because I'm from the Genji School."
"In the Soul Society, strength is everything."
"Without strength, even with some backing, sitting in the Captain-Commander's seat would be a joke."
"Don't let me hear such naive talk again."
Ryoma froze at the flat, detached tone, then straightened, replying firmly, "Yes, sir."
…
Takasugi remained seated, hands clutching the teacup, his mind replaying Makoto's near-mocking smile as he left.
Almost instinctively, a savage glint flashed across his scarred face.
Crack.
Spiderweb cracks splintered across the teacup.
Hot tea seeped through the fissures, wetting his palm.
Only then did Takasugi notice the odd sensation.
Frowning slightly, he drew a white cloth from his sleeve, wiping his damp hand clean.
At that moment, a tall figure appeared silently behind him.
"Didn't I tell you?"
"Makoto-sama will never join our side."
"All you're doing is stirring the nest, Captain Takasugi."
A calm male voice echoed from the shadows behind him.
Unrushed, composed.
Takasugi shed his earlier youthful defiance, his tone steady. "If there's even a sliver of hope, I'd pull that man to our side."
"Youngsters like you, who've never witnessed the 'pinnacle,' wouldn't understand."
"The awe of that man's presence."
The man behind him chuckled, faintly dismissive. "So, Captain Takasugi, do you still have the nerve to keep fighting?"
"Foolish question."
Takasugi's voice grew colder, his gaze fixed on the shattered teacup fragments. "We ran out of retreat long ago."
"Didn't we?"
As he spoke, he spread his pale, slender fingers.
He stared at his palm, where nail marks had torn shallow, bloody gashes.
In a blink, the wounds healed at an unnatural speed, as if never there.
…
1st Division Barracks.
Yamamoto sat quietly on the tatami.
Sasakibe stood before him, reporting the meeting's events, the captains' proposals, and their reactions.
"That's about it."
Finished, he gathered his documents, standing ready for Yamamoto's orders.
The old man, far from the secluded figure Sasakibe had described at the meeting, sat upright, eyes half-closed.
After a pause, Yamamoto asked, "What about Makoto's opinion?"
"On this promotion."
Sasakibe replied evenly, "Captain Makoto didn't speak at the meeting."
"…"
"I see."
Yamamoto's eyes opened, scanning the names on the desk before him, muttering, "So he hasn't noticed yet?"
"That kid's been slacking too long."
The old man grumbled irritably.
Sasakibe remained silent.
From his angle, he could see the names Yamamoto had written.
Chika Shihōin.
Ginrei Kuchiki.
Yorita Shiba.
Now captains of the 2nd, 7th, and 10th Divisions, respectively.
Though the noble class had largely lost its ancient prestige, they'd regrouped under these figures, leveraging talent and solid merits to secure officer and vice-captain roles in those divisions.
Among the four great noble houses, only the Tsunayashiro remained dormant, silent since the devastating war, likely due to their heavy losses.
Three hundred years could shift many tides.
The so-called 'five great noble houses,' once mere names, had slowly clawed back some of their old power.
Embers reigniting.
So, what was the Captain-Commander planning…?
Sasakibe studied the names, speculating silently.
But his gaze caught the final line, and his brow furrowed faintly.
Takasugi.
His train of thought derailed, replaced by confusion.
Yamamoto merely exhaled softly.
"Fine."
"Let him learn the hard way."
"Captain-Commander." Sasakibe ventured, puzzled, "Should I do anything?"
"Nothing."
Yamamoto's voice was faint. "Let them fight it out."
"Perfect."
"Let me see-"
The old man, eyes long narrowed, snapped them open.
His voice brimmed with lethal intent.
"...what gives them such confidence."
***
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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