The news spread throughout Seireitei before noon the next day.
The Eleventh Division's new captain, Murata-the man who could barely be bothered to give his name and had thrown Central 46's summons straight back at them-finally emerged after spending a full day and night in the captain's office.
The first thing he did was drive every squad member eating in the dining hall outside.
"Get out, all of you. This place is mine now."
Some were still holding their bowls, too stunned to react, when those beside them grabbed their arms and dragged them out. Bowls and plates clattered in a chaotic din as more than a dozen squad members were driven into the corridor, where they exchanged bewildered looks.
Some looked down at the chopsticks still clenched in their hands. Others muttered curses under their breath. But no one stepped forward.
Murata stood in the dining hall doorway, watching them retreat into the corridor, the corner of his mouth twisting into an exceedingly ugly smile.
He wore a white captain's haori that clearly did not fit him. The shoulder seam sat half an inch askew, and the hem trailed down to his ankles. His frame distorted the enormous Eleventh Division insignia on the back, but he seemed utterly unconcerned. He even turned once in the corridor, as though deliberately showing it off, before heading back inside.
"A captain ought to look like a captain."
He said it loudly, as though he deliberately wanted everyone in the corridor to hear.
What truly sent all of Seireitei into an uproar was what happened that afternoon.
After its summons was returned, Central 46 argued throughout the night before finally deciding to send another group.
Three Onmitsukidō squads, accompanied by two Punishment Force detachment leaders, arrived fully armed to take him