"As long as I remain a captain, I will continue protecting the Shiba Clan."
Kazuma offered the best condition he could think of. He genuinely had no better bargaining chip available.
The Shiba Clan had long since lost its former influence within the Gotei 13.
They'd even been driven out of the Seireitei and forced to settle in the chaotic, lawless districts of the Rukongai.
Surely having a powerful, highly influential captain publicly promise to support them would be an attractive offer.
Kūkaku froze for a moment before delight spread across her face.
Her original demand had actually been far more modest.
She'd only intended to ask Kazuma to rescue the Shiba Clan at least three times if they ever faced a life-or-death crisis.
She'd never imagined he would make such a generous promise and offer the clan his permanent protection.
For the declining Shiba Clan, this was an enormous opportunity.
"Excellent! Captain Kazuma is truly a straightforward man."
Kūkaku hurriedly sealed the agreement before he could change his mind.
"Then it's settled. You're not allowed to go back on your word!"
The Shiba Clan had gained an immensely powerful backer almost for free. Naturally she was eager to lock in the deal.
Seeing how delighted and impatient Kūkaku looked, Kazuma immediately began regretting his offer.
Had he known she'd accept so quickly, he should have promised something smaller and negotiated first.
Unfortunately, the words had already left his mouth.
Backing out now would damage his reputation and authority.
He might not care much about either of those things, but he still had some pride.
"So the Shiba Clan really does possess the technology to build a Tenchūren."
Since Kūkaku had agreed so readily, she clearly had access to one.
Only a Tenchūren could pass through the spiritual barriers surrounding the Soul King Palace.
"We don't merely possess the technology."
Kūkaku grinned.
"The Shiba Clan has an actual Tenchūren, passed down through the family for generations."
Then she shrugged casually.
"Of course, no one has used it in an extremely long time, so I can't guarantee it's still safe."
She made no attempt to hide the potential risk.
The Tenchūren had gone untouched since the Shiba Clan's earliest ancestors last used it.
All these years, it had simply rested inside the family's secret grounds.
Who could guarantee time hadn't damaged it?
For all they knew, it might already be nothing more than a gigantic pile of scrap metal.
"You mean even you can't guarantee that thing will run safely?"
Kazuma stared at her.
"Didn't you just say the Shiba Clan still has the technology to build one? Why don't we simply construct a new Tenchūren? Surely that would be more reliable than some ancient relic."
Kūkaku's blunt admission had left him speechless.
He had no intention of gambling his life on a rusting antique.
"You think building a new Tenchūren is that easy?"
Kūkaku planted her hands on her hips and began lecturing him.
"Setting everything else aside, gathering the required materials alone would be a nightmare. Some of them are so rare they exist only in legends."
"And even if we somehow got everything, the construction process is unbelievably complicated. One small mistake could ruin the entire project."
Kazuma had clearly underestimated the difficulty.
Kūkaku rattled off a long list of exotic materials, most of which he'd never even heard of.
"If you're not in a hurry, I can slowly search for them," she added. "As for whether I'll ever find them all, that depends entirely on luck."
That final remark completely crushed Kazuma's hopes of producing a new Tenchūren.
"Relax. The old one shouldn't break that easily."
Kūkaku kept trying to talk him out of his unrealistic expectations.
"It's a treasure passed down through generations of the Shiba Clan. Time alone wouldn't destroy it that easily, especially when no one has been tampering with it."
"It should still be fairly reliable."
She gave him a pointed look.
"Besides, even if I built you a new Tenchūren, would you actually trust it enough to use it?"
Kūkaku had made her position perfectly clear.
There was only one Tenchūren.
He could use it or forget the whole plan.
"Fine…"
Kazuma had no other choice and reluctantly accepted the only available option.
If he waited long enough for events to unfold naturally, Squad Zero would eventually descend into Soul Society on their own.
Kazuma could afford to wait.
Renji's Zanpakutō couldn't.
With the agreement settled, Kūkaku wasted no more time.
She immediately led Kazuma toward the Shiba Clan's secret grounds.
Her steps were quick and light as she guided him through the estate.
Before long, they arrived before a towering cliff within the clan's territory.
Kūkaku raised her head, closed her eyes, and began chanting.
The incantation sounded ancient and mysterious, its flowing syllables echoing through the silent valley as though they'd crossed the boundaries of time.
As her voice continued, a massive rift slowly appeared across the seemingly solid cliff.
The opening widened until it was large enough for several people to enter.
Kūkaku stepped through first, and Kazuma followed close behind.
Once they'd completely entered the strange space, the opening silently closed behind them as though it had never existed.
An enormous chamber stretched out before them.
Yet despite its vast size, only one object truly drew the eye.
A colossal pillar rose from the floor toward the distant ceiling, so enormous it seemed to hold up the heavens themselves.
Perhaps because no one had used it for so long, its surface was covered in rust, and thick vines had climbed across much of its body.
"That thing is huge."
Kazuma's eyes widened as he stared up at the enormous Tenchūren, his mouth falling slightly open in amazement.
He couldn't help comparing it to the giant magic staff the Monkey King carried in the old legends.
He'd never personally seen the mythical weapon, naturally, but countless stories and adaptations had given him a rough idea of its scale.
Clang…
Kazuma raised a hand and lightly knocked against the massive pillar.
A crisp metallic sound rang out, spreading through the chamber in rippling echoes that seemed to linger forever.
After a long moment, Kazuma reached a profound conclusion.
"Hmm. It's made of metal."
"Obviously!"
Kūkaku rolled her eyes.
"What else would it be made of, stone?"
She'd expected him to offer some brilliant observation.
Instead, he'd opened his mouth only to say something utterly pointless.
....
"This thing… can still be used, right?"
Kazuma frowned as he reached out and touched the rust-covered Tenchūren standing before him.
The massive structure looked as though it might fall apart at any moment, and he couldn't help feeling uneasy.
Years of neglect had left it in terrible condition.
A thick layer of rust covered its entire surface, hiding whatever shine it might once have had beneath a dull, decaying shell.
It was hard to imagine that something so battered could still function properly.
"Why wouldn't it work?"
Shiba Kūkaku dismissed his concern with a casual shrug.
"It's only a little rusty. Stop making such a fuss. The Tenchūren isn't some delicate machine that needs precise controls. Its only job is to protect the passengers while passing through the spiritual barriers."
Kazuma nodded.
Her explanation made sense, but the Tenchūren's current appearance still inspired very little confidence.
What if something went wrong halfway there?
"There's nothing to be afraid of," Kūkaku continued calmly. "The most important part of reaching the Soul King Palace isn't the Tenchūren itself. It's the Shiba Clan's unique Kidō."
"Only our special Kidō techniques can launch it toward the Soul King Palace. As long as the spell works properly, the Tenchūren can be a little worn down without causing any trouble."
Kazuma finally understood.
The Tenchūren was essentially an enormous rocket, while the Shiba Clan's Kidō served as the propulsion and guidance system needed to launch it into the sky.
As long as the two worked together, he could ride this gigantic rocket straight toward the Soul King Palace.
That realization eased much of his concern.
...
Before long, Kūkaku ordered her people to carefully move the ancient, rust-covered Tenchūren to the launch site of the Kūkaku Cannon.
A group of experienced craftsmen immediately surrounded it and began removing the rust with practiced efficiency.
Metal scraped against metal as flakes scattered through the air.
Little by little, the marks left by countless years vanished, revealing the Tenchūren's original surface beneath.
Its body was a flawless white, almost like polished jade, gleaming brilliantly beneath the sunlight.
Kūkaku then approached the pillar and ran her fingers carefully across its surface.
She paused from time to time, then moved more quickly, apparently searching for a hidden mechanism.
Everyone watched in silence.
Creak.
A concealed door slowly opened near the base of the Tenchūren.
Kazuma followed Kūkaku inside.
The interior was completely empty.
There were no seats, decorations, or controls — only smooth walls surrounding a bare chamber.
It was nothing more than a practical space meant to carry people, without even the slightest unnecessary ornamentation.
Kazuma looked around curiously, trying to find some trace of light.
There was none.
No matter where he looked, the interior stayed pitch-black.
Oddly enough, that reassured him.
If not even a sliver of light could get in, the Tenchūren was still perfectly sealed.
At the very least, he probably didn't need to worry about it falling apart during the launch.
"Captain Kazuma, are you absolutely certain you want to use this thing to reach the Soul King Palace?"
Kūkaku's expression turned complicated.
"It looks fine, but I can't guarantee its safety. If something goes wrong during the journey, don't blame me."
She genuinely feared Kazuma might suffer an accident.
If he died, his promise to protect the Shiba Clan would become completely meaningless.
Yet if she refused to let him use the potentially dangerous Tenchūren, the agreement that secured his protection would also fall apart.
The whole situation left her with a pounding headache.
"Relax."
Kazuma ended up comforting her instead.
"I'm the one riding inside it, and even I'm not afraid. Why are you so nervous?"
"Besides, we've already come this far. Backing out now isn't my style."
Using the Tenchūren was still better than trying to smash through the spiritual barriers with his own power.
Attempting the journey completely unprotected would be absurd.
Even an old and questionable method was better than no method at all.
"Fine. Since you've made up your mind, I'll have everyone begin the final preparations."
Kūkaku took a deep breath.
"But remember, if you change your mind at any point, tell me immediately. I'll stop the launch."
She turned and left to organize the necessary personnel and materials.
Kūkaku still had her concerns, but she chose to trust Kazuma.
If the man risking his life wasn't afraid, then what the hell was she worrying about?