The Reishi Research Institute

First Division.

The Commander-in-Chief's office door was shut tight.

Chojiro Sasakibe stood outside. He had changed his Reishi Garment, and stood straight-backed and rigid.

A woman appeared around the corner of the corridor with Shunpo. She was covered in blood. Dark red had soaked the cuffs and hem of her black Reishi Garment, and her custom white haori was almost entirely stained red.

Her hair should have been pinned up neatly, but it had come completely undone. It hung in disarray over her shoulders and beside her face, with a few blood-matted strands stuck to her forehead. A shallow cut marked her brow; the blood had already dried.

Her crown was gone.

The finely crafted golden crown she wore to every public appearance, the one that proclaimed her status, had either been left in the ruins of the attacked institute or shattered in battle.

Senjumaru Shutara.

Sasakibe recognized her.

The only researcher currently known in Soul Society always appeared at Seireitei gatherings with an air of aloof arrogance. She never attended Central 46 meetings, never answered the Commander-in-Chief's summons, and never deferred to anyone.

Sasakibe's impression of her could be summed up as "a woman you didn't want to cross."

He was about to say that he needed to announce her arrival when Yamamoto's voice came from inside.

"Shutara. What a rare visitor."

His voice was quiet through the door, carrying Yamamoto's distinctive steadiness. Sasakibe stepped aside, and Senjumaru Shutara pushed the door open without looking at him.

The office smelled of ink and old paper, mixed with a trace of damp air after rain.

Yamamoto sat behind his desk. He had changed his Reishi Garment.

Shutara stopped in the doorway. Covered in blood, her hair disheveled and her crown missing, she looked like a refugee fresh from the battlefield. She fixed Yamamoto with an affronted glare.

"What has gotten into those Quincy? Why did they have to attack my institute?" Shutara's voice was shrill.

Her institute had stood in a corner of Rukongai's Thirtieth District, far from the front lines. It should have been safe. But the Quincy had not spared it. Before retreating, they had destroyed it like wild boars rampaging through a porcelain shop. The records, the materials, the precious samples she had spent decades collecting—all were gone.

Her anger did not rattle Yamamoto. He sat with his hands folded on his lap, looking at her as calmly as if he were commenting on the weather. "I've driven off the King of the Quincy."

Shutara's anger hit a wall.

Yamamoto was not putting on an act or deliberately suppressing his emotions. He was genuinely calm. When he said "driven off," there was no boast or pride in his voice. He was simply stating something that had happened.

She drew a deep breath and changed her tone. It became harder, colder, more like her usual self. "I need somewhere safe to rebuild my institute."

Yamamoto nodded. "Several noble families in Seireitei have been wiped out. There's vacant land."

It was a proposal, but his tone left little room for discussion. There was land in Seireitei. She could use it. That settled the matter.

Shutara caught his meaning and frowned. "I will not join Seireitei."

Her voice was firm. She stared at Yamamoto with her chin slightly raised. Even without her crown, with her hair a mess and blood all over her, she retained the arrogance and defiance rooted deep in her bones. She was Senjumaru Shutara. She belonged to no division, obeyed no one's orders, and did only what she wanted. That had always been her position, and it had never changed.

Yamamoto did not answer that. He regarded her with a steady, fathomless gaze, like the surface of an ancient well. "You should join the Gotei 13. Two captains have fallen. You could—"

Shutara had expected him to say it. Her brows lowered, and her gaze stabbed into his face like a pair of knives as she cut him off. "Why should I become a captain?"

Yamamoto remained steady. "You'll agree."

No reason. No explanation. No plea.

Just those two words. Shutara fell silent. She glared at Yamamoto, and he looked back at her.

This was not the first time. Yamamoto had come to see her only a few days earlier. She had said she would think about it, and that had been the end of that.

Now her institute had been destroyed, and all her materials were gone. She could start over elsewhere in Rukongai, but restoring everything on her own would take a very long time. Seireitei had secure walls, Reishi barriers, and the protection of the Gotei 13. She had once dismissed all of it. Now she needed it.

Yamamoto continued, his tone softer than before. "I'll provide funding and subordinates. You won't have to handle division affairs. Just hold the title of captain and leave everything to your lieutenant."

That was no ordinary captain's arrangement. It was a title without the duties, an empty shell.

Yamamoto was telling her plainly: she would not need to fulfill a captain's responsibilities, attend captains' meetings, or lead missions. She would not have to do anything. She only needed her name on the division roster. With the title of "Gotei 13 captain," she could obtain funds and land to rebuild her institute. Everything else—paperwork, training, patrols, fighting—could go to her lieutenant.

Shutara still said nothing. The fury in her eyes slowly receded, not because she had calmed down, but because she was thinking. Her chest still rose and fell, and her breathing had yet to settle, but her gaze was no longer as sharp as before.

She did not say yes. She did not say she accepted. She did not nod or give any clear answer.

Yamamoto said no more. He knew what Senjumaru Shutara was like. She would never bow her head, never yield, never say aloud that she was joining.

But she would stay. She would find a plot of land in Seireitei and build a new institute. She would accept the funds and subordinates he offered. She would leave the tedious work she could not be bothered to look at to her lieutenant. She would not admit she was a Gotei 13 captain, but she would not deny it either.

That was Shutara. Seireitei needed her, and she needed Seireitei. Neither of them had to say it. The matter was settled.

Shutara slowly turned to leave. She had gotten the answer she wanted.

"The Fourth Division Captain's spirit body was severely injured, but her Reiatsu is stable and she has regained consciousness. The Tenth Division Captain's spirit body was severely injured, and his Reiatsu is faint. The Twelfth and Thirteenth Division Captains were killed," Yamamoto said.

"I'll go to the Twelfth Division," Shutara said with her back to him.

Yamamoto looked up at her. "I'll compile a list of the Upper Nobility families that were wiped out and identify available land as soon as possible. I'll also arrange for a Captain's Haori—"

"I'll weave my own Captain's Haori," Shutara cut in.

Yamamoto did not press the matter. "As you wish."

Shutara walked out.

She gave no salute, no farewell, no thanks. The door closed softly behind her, leaving Yamamoto alone in the office once more. He shut his eyes and continued sensing the Reiatsu throughout Seireitei, as though nothing had happened.

There were no clouds above Silbern.

Its sky remained forever at dawn.

It was a city of white ice and snow.

A Sternritter member strode down a corridor, his white uniform tinged blue-gray in the cold light. Several Holy Soldiers followed in step, their Reishi armaments making faint scraping sounds as they moved. He stopped before a massive black door. Beyond it lay the hall in the depths of Silbern, where the King of the Quincy slept.

"Captain."

The knight's voice echoed through the empty corridor, deliberately loud. "I need an audience with His Majesty."

Jugram Haschwalth stood before the door. In the cold light, his long golden hair looked silver-white. His blue eyes rested calmly on the newcomer.

He carried no shield. A longsword hung at his waist, and his white Quincy uniform bore not a single crease. Since Yhwach had entered his slumber, Haschwalth had remained nearby.

"His Majesty is resting," Haschwalth said quietly. In the cold, silent corridor, every word was as clear as if it had been carved into stone.

"I am in charge of all affairs concerning the Light Empire and Silbern."

The knight's brows drew together sharply, and his mouth turned down. His chest rose. "Captain! You're overstepping your authority!"

His voice burst through the corridor and rebounded from the walls, leaving a low hum behind.

The Holy Soldiers behind him said nothing, but their bodies made their position clear. Some straightened their backs. Others edged half a step forward. Still others gripped the hilts of the Reishi swords at their waists. Their silence was a statement in itself.

Haschwalth said nothing.

He merely watched the knight, his eyes undisturbed, like a winter lake whose ice hid everything beneath it. He offered no explanation, made no argument, and did not restate his authority. He simply waited for the knight to realize whom he was addressing.

The knight's face gradually flushed red with anger. The color spread from his neck across his face until even his ears were scarlet.

Haschwalth's silence seemed to confirm the knight's accusation. At the same time, a faint yet immensely powerful Reiatsu flowed steadily from him, pressing down on everyone present. Under that oppressive weight, the restless Holy Soldiers gradually fell still.

Footsteps came from the dark end of the corridor. They were quiet, but each one seemed to fall between heartbeats.

Lille Barro emerged slowly from the darkness like a ghost, his face as still as stagnant water. He was the captain of the Schutzstaffel and one of Yhwach's most trusted men.

"His Majesty granted Haschwalth that authority."

His voice was cold and steady rather than loud, but the weight of his words sent a chill through everyone present.

The knight who had been red-faced and angrily challenging Haschwalth went as pale as paper the instant he heard them.

Questioning Haschwalth was one thing; the knight might have survived that. But doubting Lille Barro, the captain of the Schutzstaffel standing before him, could ruin him utterly.

After all, Lille Barro had just confirmed Haschwalth's words himself.

That left only two possibilities: either everything Haschwalth had said was true, or... The knight shuddered before he could finish the thought. Cold sweat ran down his forehead.

The Holy Soldiers lowered their heads, no longer daring to speak or move. It was as though a bucket of icy water had been poured over them. The cold seemed to reach into their bones.

The corridor fell deathly silent, as if time had stopped. After a while, the knight slowly raised an arm and gave a small wave. At that signal, the Holy Soldiers behind him immediately moved.

They swiftly pulled thick stacks of documents from inside their uniforms. Each stack looked substantial and valuable, plainly containing important information.

"These are files on Reishi research we just seized from the Soul Reapers," the knight said in a low, grave voice.

He did not say where the files had come from, but everyone present knew. They had to be from the mysterious institute hidden deep in Rukongai.

The place had long been a mystery. It bore no obvious sign or marker, and few even knew its name. Only a handful of people knew it was dedicated to Reishi research and protected by an exceptionally strong Reishi barrier. It was, without a doubt, Senjumaru Shutara's base.

Haschwalth reached out and slowly accepted the heavy stack of documents.

He casually opened one and skimmed the densely packed text and diagrams. A moment later, he seemed to lose interest. He pointed to one side, signaling for the others to set the documents there.