"Clan Head, Shihoin-dono has arrived."
Fugaku was in the midst of reviewing financial ledgers when the messenger arrived. Over the past ten days, managing provisions for over a thousand souls had required massive purchasing expeditions throughout the district. It was both practical necessity and strategic reconnaissance—each transaction an opportunity to gather intelligence about this alien world.
The money Yanagi had left them was already half-depleted.
Seeing the scale of expenditure, Fugaku had taken personal oversight, searching for any possible economies. At the messenger's report, he didn't hesitate.
"Yakumi," he called to a nearby subordinate. "Fetch the two elders and Shisui. Have all the clan members we've identified as having potential gather in the main courtyard."
"At once."
Fugaku rushed toward the gate, where the two elders and Shisui—interrupted mid-training session—were already converging. The four waited only briefly before two carriages rolled into view from the distance.
The moment the vehicles stopped, all four dropped into respectful postures.
"We pay our respects to Shinigami-dono."
The carriage curtains parted. A tall figure emerged—broad-shouldered, clad in black, a katana suspended at his waist. His eyebrows were unusually thick, his face austere and impassive.
Shihoin Yanagi.
After dismissing them with a gesture, Yanagi's gaze swept across their faces, taking inventory. He gave an approving nod to himself.
After ten days in the Soul Society, the Uchiha had recovered considerably. Gone was the desperate, barely-suppressed panic that had marked their arrival. In its place was something else—something that resonated with Yanagi's memories of the clan from the manga and novels of his past life.
They looked like proper Uchiha now.
"It appears you've adjusted well to life here," Yanagi observed.
"We are eternally grateful for your concern, Shinigami-dono," Fugaku immediately stepped forward, speaking for the entire clan. "Our gratitude cannot be adequately expressed. We exist only through your boundless mercy. The Uchiha pledge absolute loyalty to you."
The three behind him nodded in fervent agreement.
Yanagi shook his head lightly. "It was merely a gesture. Nothing so grand."
"What is a mere gesture to you, Shinigami-dono, is an eternal debt to us," Fugaku insisted, his voice thick with sincerity. "We would have been nothing but scattered souls, drifting into oblivion. Instead, you gave us rebirth. Such kindness can never be repaid. The Uchiha will serve you unto death itself."
Listening to them heap praise upon him in successive waves, Yanagi caught himself thinking that he sounded like some benevolent god-king holding court. Yet watching their genuine gratitude settle across their features, he found his mood genuinely improving.
The Uchiha are being quite reasonable here. So why did they nearly tear the Leaf Village apart during their time there? The upper brass of that village must be utterly incompetent at governance.
Yanagi gestured toward the second carriage. "I've brought weapons and supplies from the house. Get them unloaded."
"Yes, Shinigami-dono!"
Setsuna quickly motioned to the Uchiha stationed throughout the compound. They swarmed the carriage, efficiently unloading crates and bundled packages.
Yanagi meanwhile led the four deeper into the estate, conversing as they walked. "These past ten days—how well have you adapted? What's your assessment of the Soul Society?"
"Everything has proceeded smoothly, Shinigami-dono," Fugaku replied. "The customs, the environment, even the climate—remarkably similar to the shinobi world. Within these ten days, our people have acclimated thoroughly. Many have admitted they sometimes forget they're dead at all."
He offered a wry chuckle at the end.
His assessment was accurate. The Uchiha, many of whom had been shinobi, possessed exceptional adaptability. They'd accepted their post-death existence with practical efficiency.
More importantly, intelligence-gathering was etched into their very DNA. Through carefully orchestrated market interactions and strategic conversations, they'd mapped out the Soul Society with impressive thoroughness.
The Soul Society. The Seireitei. Rukongai. The Soul King. The nobility. Hollows. And most critically—Shinigami.
The Thirteen Court Guard Squads.
Aside from truly classified information, Fugaku and his people had penetrated most public knowledge. They'd learned that "Shinigami" wasn't the all-powerful death deity of legend, but rather a profession—akin to samurai or shinobi in structure and function.
They'd also discovered that those at the apex of Shinigami hierarchy were the Thirteen Court Guard Squad Captains. Each possessed power beyond the comprehension of ordinary beings. Some could reshape reality itself, obliterate mountains, command forces of incomprehensible magnitude.
Even accounting for the Uchiha's legendary strength in life, such beings operated on an entirely different plane of existence.
Naturally, the clan had focused considerable intelligence efforts on their new master.
While direct information about individual Shinigami was difficult to come by in Rukongai, certain widely-known facts were accessible.
Such as the name Shihoin.
One of the Four Great Noble Clans standing at the very apex of the Soul Society. Legendary descendants of those who walked alongside the Soul King during creation itself. So elevated that even the legendary Thirteen Court Guard Squads stood as their protectors.
The Uchiha had found this revelation... manageable.
After all, nobility always traced its lineage to exalted origins. The Uchiha themselves were direct descendants of the Sage of Six Paths in their own world.
Understanding that their master came from such distinguished family was entirely reasonable.
Upon learning that Shinigami were formidable people rather than incomprehensible gods, Fugaku and the elders had genuinely exhaled with relief.
There was a meaningful difference between serving an entity beyond imagination and serving someone of immense but comprehensible power. For the Uchiha, that distinction shifted the psychological burden from crushing to merely substantial.
Yet despite this recalibration, their loyalty to Yanagi hadn't wavered in the slightest. If anything, they felt closer to him now—more at ease in his presence.
When Yanagi's party reached the deepest courtyard, what greeted them brought him up short.
The space was filled with people arranged in orderly ranks. At the sight of Yanagi entering, every single one dropped to a knee in unison.
"We pay our respects to the Shinigami-dono!"
Over a hundred voices crashed together like a wave, the sound physically tangible.
Yanagi took in the scene—they were clearly arranged as if for formal review. He gestured for them to rise while turning to Fugaku with a raised eyebrow. "And these are...?"
Shisui stepped forward immediately. "Shinigami-dono, these are the individuals we've identified as experiencing hunger."
Yanagi's head snapped back toward the assembled group. His eyes widened fractionally—genuine shock registering across his features as he studied their faces.
Each expression was unreadable. Each presence radiated a controlled intensity. Many were surprisingly young—some barely adolescents.
He turned back to Shisui, his brow furrowing. "All of these people...?"
"Confirmed, Shinigami-dono."
Yanagi felt something like vertigo grip him.
Hunger indicated potential. The capacity to become Shinigami. And before him stood at least a hundred individuals.
In a clan that numbered around fourteen hundred souls, that meant roughly one in fourteen possessed the aptitude.
The probability was astronomically high. Historically unprecedented, to his knowledge.
He'd done preliminary calculations years ago. Each of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads maintained roughly two hundred active personnel. The Seireitei itself, accounting for nobility, their retinues, and the occasional prodigy from Rukongai, probably totaled no more than five thousand souls.
Compare that to the Soul Society's total population—millions of accumulated spirits—and Shinigami represented perhaps one in fifty thousand. One in a hundred thousand if you excluded those born into noble families.
It was almost obscene rarity.
Which explained why his adoptive grandfather had treated him like treasure upon discovering his potential. The old man had invested considerable time teaching him language, swordsmanship, tea ceremony—skills unnecessary for ordinary spirits.
And yet the Uchiha clan demonstrated a conversion rate of roughly one in seven?
Did this clan carry some form of divine blessing? Were they simply destined to be exceptional across all planes of existence?
But Yanagi's shock wasn't finished.
Shisui drew a deep breath, preparing to deliver more. "Shinigami-dono, during these past days, we've discovered something else. We were waiting to report it to you directly."