Reishi Research Institute

First Division

The door to the Captain-Commander's office was tightly shut.

Chojiro Sasakibe stood outside the door. He had already changed his Reishi outer garment, and his posture was impeccable, his back straight and his waist upright.

A woman appeared at the corner of the corridor in a Shunpo. She was covered in blood, the cuffs and hem of her black Reishi Garment soaked dark red, while her specially made white haori had been almost entirely dyed crimson.

Her hair should have been neatly pinned up, but it had now completely fallen apart, hanging messily over her shoulders and beside her face. Several loose strands were stuck to her forehead by blood. There was a shallow wound on her forehead, and the blood had already dried.

Her crown was gone.

The finely crafted golden crown she wore whenever she appeared in public, a symbol of her status, had either been left amid the ruins of the attacked research institute or shattered in battle.

Senjumaru Shutara.

Sasakibe recognized her.

The Soul Society's only known researcher always appeared at every Seireitei gathering with an arrogant, detached air. She never attended Central 46 meetings, never answered the Captain-Commander's summons, and never gave anyone any face.

Sasakibe's impression of her had always been limited to one thing: a woman not to be provoked.

Just as he was about to say, "The Captain-Commander must be informed," Yamamoto's voice came from behind the door.

"Shutara. What a rare visitor."

The voice was not loud, but it carried through the door with Yamamoto's distinctive calm. Sasakibe stepped aside from the entrance. Senjumaru Shutara did not look at him and simply pushed open the door.

The office was filled with the scent of ink and old paper, mixed with a trace of dampness after rain.

Yamamoto sat behind his desk, already changed into a fresh Reishi Garment.

Senjumaru stood in the doorway without taking another step. Covered in blood, hair in disarray, crown nowhere to be seen, she looked like a refugee who had just escaped a battlefield. Yet her eyes fixed on Yamamoto, filled with the indignation of someone deeply offended.

"Have these Quincy lost their minds?! Why did they attack my research institute too?!" Senjumaru's voice was sharp.

Her institute had stood in some corner of Rukongai's Thirtieth District, far from the front lines. It should have been safe. Yet the Quincy had not spared it. Before retreating, they had destroyed it like a pack of boars crashing into a porcelain shop, smashing everything to pieces. Those records, those materials, those precious samples she had spent decades gathering—all gone.

Yamamoto was unmoved by her fury. He sat in his chair, hands folded over his thighs, looking at Senjumaru's face. His tone was as calm as if discussing pleasant weather. "The Quincy King has already been driven back by me."

Senjumaru's anger struck a wall.

Yamamoto's calm was not an act, nor the result of deliberate restraint. He was truly calm. When he said the words "driven back," there was no boasting or pride in his voice. He was merely stating a fact that had already happened.

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

Yamamoto nodded. "Quite a few nobles in the Seireitei have been wiped out. There is vacant land."

It was a suggestion, but there seemed to be no room for discussion in Yamamoto's tone. There was vacant land in the Seireitei. She could use it. The matter was settled.

Senjumaru understood the implication and frowned. "I will not join the Seireitei."

Her voice was heavy. Senjumaru stared at Yamamoto, her chin slightly raised. Even without her crown, with her hair a mess and her body covered in blood, she still retained the arrogance and defiance that came from 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 stance, and it had never changed.

Yamamoto did not answer that. He looked at Senjumaru, his gaze steady and deep, like the surface of an ancient well whose depth and current could not be seen. "You should join the Gotei 13. Two captains have fallen. You could..."

Senjumaru had fully expected Yamamoto to say that. Her brows pressed low, and her gaze stabbed into his face like two blades as she cut off his next words. "Why should I become a captain?"

Yamamoto remained composed. "You will agree."

No reason, no explanation, no plea.

Just those five words. Senjumaru fell silent. She glared at Yamamoto, and Yamamoto looked back at her.

This was not the first time. Just a few days ago, Yamamoto had come to find her. She had said she would consider it, and then nothing more had come of it.

Now, her research institute had been destroyed and all her materials were gone. She could start over in Rukongai, but restoring everything to its former state on her own would take an extremely long time. The Seireitei had secure walls, Reishi barriers, and the Gotei 13's defenses. Things she had once disdained, she now needed.

Yamamoto continued, his tone softer than before. "I will provide funding and subordinates. You will not need to manage anything. You only need to hold the title of captain. All matters can be handed to the lieutenant."

This was not treatment a captain should receive. It was merely an empty title, a hollow shell.

Yamamoto was telling her plainly: she did not need to fulfill a captain's duties, attend captain meetings, or lead missions. She did not need to do anything. She only needed to put her name on a division roster and use the title "Gotei 13 captain" to receive funding, claim land, and rebuild her research institute. Everything else—paperwork, training, patrols, battle—could all be thrown to the lieutenant.

Senjumaru still said nothing. The fury in her eyes slowly receded. Not because her anger had faded, but because she was thinking. Her chest still rose and fell, and her breathing had not fully steadied, but the eyes she used to glare at Yamamoto were no longer as sharp as before.

She did not say yes. She did not say, "I agree." She did not nod. She gave no clear indication at all.

Yamamoto said nothing more. He knew what kind of person Senjumaru Shutara was. She would never lower her head, never yield, never personally say the words, "I join."

But she would stay. She would find an empty plot in the Seireitei and build a new research institute. She would accept the funding and subordinates he offered. She would let her lieutenant handle the tedious affairs she could not be bothered to glance at. She would not admit she was a Gotei 13 captain, but neither would she deny it.

That was who she was. The Seireitei needed her, and she needed the Seireitei. Neither would say it outright, and so the matter was settled.

Senjumaru slowly turned to leave, because she had already received the answer she wanted.

"The Fourth Division captain's spirit body has been severely damaged, but her Reiatsu is stable, and she has awakened. The Tenth Division captain's spirit body has been severely damaged, and his Reiatsu is weak. The Twelfth Division captain and Thirteenth Division captain are dead." Yamamoto's voice sounded again.

"I will go to the Twelfth Division." Senjumaru had her back to him.

Yamamoto raised his head and looked at her retreating figure. "I will compile a list of Upper Nobility families that have been exterminated as quickly as possible and organize a list of usable land. A captain's haori will also be arranged as soon as possible..."

"I will weave my own captain's haori." Senjumaru cut him off before he could finish.

Yamamoto did not insist. "As you wish."

Senjumaru walked out the door.

There was no salute, no farewell, no thanks. The door made a faint sound as it closed behind her. Yamamoto was alone in the office once more. He closed his eyes and continued sensing the Reiatsu throughout the Seireitei, as if nothing had happened.

There were no clouds in Silbern's sky.

The sky there was always fixed at dawn.

It was a white city of ice and snow.

A Sternritter strode quickly through the corridor, his white uniform tinted bluish gray beneath the cold light. Several Holy Soldiers followed behind him in orderly steps, their Reishi weapons making faint scraping sounds as they moved. He stopped before a massive black door. Beyond it lay the deepest hall of Silbern, the place where the Quincy King slept.

"Grandmaster."

The knight's voice echoed through the empty corridor, deliberately loud. "I have business to discuss with His Majesty."

Jugram Haschwalth stood before the door, his golden hair reflecting silver-white in the cold light, his blue eyes calmly watching the visitor.

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

"His Majesty is resting." Jugram's voice was not loud, but every word in the cold, silent corridor was as clear as if carved into stone.

"All affairs of the Light Empire and Silbern are under my administration."

The knight's brows abruptly furrowed, and the corners of his mouth pulled downward in an obvious curve. His chest rose and fell once. "Grandmaster! You are overstepping your authority!"

His voice exploded through the corridor, its trailing echo bouncing off the walls and humming for several moments.

Though the Holy Soldiers behind him did not speak, their body language had already revealed their stance. Some straightened their backs, some shifted half a step forward, and some gripped the hilts of their Reishi swords. They said nothing, but their silence itself was a declaration.

Jugram said nothing.

He merely looked calmly at the knight. There was not a ripple in his eyes, like a winter lake whose ice hid everything beneath. He did not explain, argue, or reiterate his authority. He simply stood there and waited, waiting for the other man to realize whom he was speaking to.

The knight's face gradually turned red with fury, blood surging up like crashing waves from his neck to his ears until they were crimson.

Jugram's silence seemed to confirm the knight's accusation, yet at the same time, an indistinct but overwhelmingly powerful Reiatsu continued to spread from Jugram's body. It formed an unbearably heavy pressure that blanketed the entire area. Under that terrifying atmosphere, the restless Holy Soldiers gradually fell quiet.

Footsteps came from the darkness of the corridor. They were light, yet every step landed in the gap between heartbeats.

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

"It was His Majesty who granted Jugram the authority to preside."

His cold, steady voice was not loud, but the weight behind it was enough to make everyone present tremble.

The knight who had been red-faced and aggressively demanding answers turned pale as paper the moment he heard those words, as if struck by a bolt from the blue.

Questioning Jugram might have been something he could endure. But if he dared harbor even the slightest doubt toward Lille Barro, the captain of the Schutzstaffel standing before him, he would be doomed beyond redemption.

After all, Lille Barro had just repeated Jugram's words himself.

That left only two possibilities: either the matter was exactly as Jugram had stated, without the slightest falsehood, or... At that thought, the knight shuddered, cold sweat streaming down his forehead.

The Holy Soldiers all lowered their heads as well, not daring to make another sound or movement. It was as if they had suddenly been drenched from head to toe in a bucket of freezing water, chilled to the bone.

The corridor sank into deathly silence, as though time itself had frozen. After a while, the knight finally raised an arm and gave a light wave. At that simple gesture, the Holy Soldiers behind him immediately moved.

They swiftly and neatly pulled stack after stack of thick documents from within their clothing. Every document appeared heavy and valuable, clearly carrying important information and secrets.

"These are archives concerning Reishi research that we just seized from the Soul Reapers."

The knight spoke in a low, solemn voice. Though he did not explicitly say where the files had come from, everyone present knew perfectly well that they had originated from that mysterious research institute hidden deep in Rukongai.

That place had always been an enigma. It bore no obvious signs or markers, and even its name was unknown. Yet a select few knew that it was a facility dedicated to Reishi research, protected by exceptionally strict Reishi barriers. Without question, that institute was the base of the legendary Senjumaru Shutara.

Jugram reached out and slowly accepted the heavy roll of documents.

He casually opened a page, his gaze sweeping swiftly over the densely packed words and diagrams. After a moment, he seemed to lose interest in the document. He merely pointed to the side, indicating that the others could place the files there.