Tenth Division

When the news of the Onmitsukidō's establishment reached Central 46,

Central 46 held an unofficial meeting in private, not in the council chamber, but at the private residence of a senior councilor.

"What does the Shihōin Clan want!"

It was an elderly councilor who spoke, his hair and beard completely white. The hand pounding the table was trembling, not from anger, but from fear.

"The Onmitsukidō, with its five divisions—assassination, patrol and inspection, the Supervision Tower, search for the missing, and emergency communications! This isn't an army, this is an intelligence agency!"

No one retorted.

Everyone present had already looked over that circulating organizational structure.

The division of duties among the five branches was far too distinct—distinct enough to send a chill down one's spine. The Punishment Force handled assassinations, the Patrol Corps policed Soul Reapers, the Supervision Corps guarded the Maggot's Nest, the Feimou Corps searched for the missing, and the Inner Court Corps handled emergency communications. Individually, none of these functions seemed excessive, but combined together...

The Second Division was no longer the Second Division of the Gotei 13.

It was the eyes and hands of Seireitei. The eyes watched everyone from the shadows, and the hands could reach out anywhere from the dark.

"Shihōin Qianri!" another councilor spoke, his voice lowered and drawn out.

"How could Yamamoto ever agree to this?" someone asked.

"Yamamoto couldn't possibly not know what this means. He understands it better than any of us," shouted a councilor.

No one could answer.

A middle-aged councilor who had remained silent suddenly spoke up: "Have you ever considered that this wasn't demanded by the Shihōins, but granted by Yamamoto?"

Everyone looked at him.

"There was no need to give it to the Shihōin Clan either!" said a councilor.

"Who else could it be given to, besides the Shihōin Clan?" the middle-aged councilor interrupted him.

"The Tsunayashiros? The Kuchikis? The Shibas? At the very least, the Tsunayashiro Clan does not participate in conflicts on the surface. The Kuchiki Clan only guards its own plot of land, and the Shiba family... the Shiba family... Only Shihōin Qianri is in the Second Division, and only he is willing to take on this hot potato! Furthermore, he is quite willing to do so!"

The hall went quiet for a moment.

The elderly councilor picked up his teacup. His hand was still shaking, but his tone steadied somewhat: "Even so, with this, the Shihōin Clan now possesses..."

"The Shihōin Clan has always possessed this," the middle-aged councilor said.

"The Heaven-Bestowed Armament Division, Shunpo, Hakuda, the traditions of the Onmitsukidō—Yamamoto hasn't given the Shihōins anything new; he's simply laid out in the open what was once half-concealed."

Another silence followed.

Suddenly, an unspoken councilor in the corner let out a low voice: "No matter what Yamamoto is thinking,"

he said,

"the Onmitsukidō has been established anyway, and the Second Division's authority from now on will be greater than all the other divisions combined."

He paused, looking around at the people present.

"Is it a bad thing that the Shihōin Clan is monitoring the Soul Reapers?"

No one answered.

"For us, this is a good thing."

He continued, his voice dropping even lower: "The Gotei 13 has always been Yamamoto's personal domain. The Commander-in-Chief controls the captains, the captains control the squad members, and outsiders cannot wedge their hands in. Now, the Second Division's Patrol Corps can patrol and inspect within Seireitei, and the targets of their inspections are all Soul Reapers. That is to say, members of the Shihōin Clan can check the actions of any Soul Reaper at any place within Seireitei."

He stopped for a moment, letting that sentence hang in the air a bit longer.

"Perhaps we can... through the Shihōin Clan, know what the Gotei 13 is doing every day."

The elderly councilor set down his teacup, the bottom of the cup striking the table with a crisp snap.

"You mean—"

"I didn't mean anything."

He picked up the wine glass in front of him, took a sip, and said no more.

The words had already been spoken; there was no need to say any further.

The people present exchanged glances. Some frowned, some lowered their heads to drink tea, and some expressionlessly twirled the thumb ring on their hands.

No one objected, nor did anyone voice approval.

Yet everyone was calculating the exact same thing in their hearts: how to strike up a line of connection with the Shihōin Clan.

The topic died a natural death amidst the silence.

Gradually, people began to chat about the enrollment situation at Shin'ō Academy, complaining that the pace of Hollow extermination in Rukongai was too slow, or expressing concern over when their own family's younger generations might attain a seated officer position. The matter of the Onmitsukidō was no longer brought up, as if that conversation from moments ago had never happened...

The Shiba family estate sat on the northern side of the outer ring of Seireitei, standing as the least pretentious among the Four Great Noble Clans.

Yamamoto gave no advance notice, standing alone before the gates of the Shiba residence.

The servant who opened the door blinked in shock: "C-Commander-in-Chief!"

Yamamoto exchanged no pleasantries, simply stating: "I'm looking for Chuanlu."

The servant trotted all the way inside to announce him while Yamamoto waited at the entrance.

When Shiba Chuanlu emerged from the backyard, his hands were still stained with soil; he had been tending to the flower beds in the yard.

"Ah, Old Man Yamamoto."

"Mhm."

The two stood at the doorway, neither showing any inclination to step inside first.

Yamamoto broke the silence: "Wang Tuchuan Yuxuji hasn't woken up."

Shiba Chuanlu nodded, aware of the situation. The Tenth Division captain had remained bedridden at Shin'ō Medical Institute ever since the invasion battle; the doctors stated they had no idea when he might wake, nor whether he could continue serving as captain upon recovery.

"The Tenth Division cannot be without a captain," Yamamoto said.

Shiba Chuanlu fell silent for a moment, wiping the soil clean from his hands. He looked into Yamamoto's eyes, already knowing what Yamamoto was about to say: "I'm not going."

"I know you aren't."

Shiba Chuanlu did not ask how he knew; that kind of Q&A was unnecessary between him and Yamamoto. As the head of the Shiba Clan, he could refuse on the grounds of clan affairs.

Yamamoto said, "Your cousin, Ichisegawa."

Shiba Chuanlu's eyebrows twitched.

Ichisegawa. Shiba Ichisegawa.

This name was hardly resounding within the Shiba family, and was even deliberately played down—not because of a lack of capability; quite the opposite, for he was entirely too strong. Among the "dual captain-class" figures of the Shiba family, one was Chuanlu as the head of the family, and the other was none other than Ichisegawa.

Yet Ichisegawa had never displayed his strength in formal noble settings, nor had he ever held any position within the Gotei 13. He merely remained within the Shiba family to handle routine clan affairs, occasionally fooling around in Rukongai, and was practically dismissed by the nobility of Seireitei.

Yet Yamamoto knew.

Yamamoto knew the name of every single captain-class combatant in Seireitei.

"He is indeed interested," Shiba Chuanlu said, a trace of imperceptible helplessness lacing his tone.

Yamamoto looked at him and waited.

Shiba Chuanlu hesitated, then stepped aside to clear the path at the entrance.

"Come in. He's in the backyard."

The backyard of the Shiba residence was even less pretentious than the front, featuring a few vegetable patches and a small pond stocked with koi carp. An old cherry tree stood beside the pond; its blooming season had long since passed, leaving behind only a canopy of green leaves. A single person sat beneath the cherry tree with a chessboard set up before him, playing against himself. Black and white stones intersected across the board, making it evident that the game had been underway for quite some time.

Shiba Ichisegawa was a few years younger than Chuanlu, and they bore a resemblance to one another. While Chuanlu's brows and eyes were sharp, Ichisegawa's features were soft, rendering him more akin to a scholar than a Soul Reaper. He wore a grey loungewear kimono, stepping on wooden clogs, with his hair tied loosely behind his head and a few stray strands draping by his ears. If not for the sword at his waist, no one would ever associate him with the words "captain-class."

Yamamoto walked over to the side of the chessboard and came to a halt.

Ichisegawa raised his head, looking at Yamamoto without rising or offering a bow. He merely glanced at Yamamoto once before lowering his gaze to continue placing his stone.

"Is the old man here for the matter of the Tenth Division?"

"Yes."

Ichisegawa placed a white stone onto the chessboard, producing a crisp snap.

"I do have a question, however."

Ichisegawa raised his head, his gaze calm: "How many people are left in the Tenth Division right now?"

"Post-war statistics show squad member casualties at forty percent. The seated officer hierarchy remains intact, and the lieutenant is still present."

Ichisegawa nodded: "Yama-jii, I'll go."

Yamamoto nodded and used Shunpo to depart.

Shiba Chuanlu walked over and stood beside Ichisegawa.

"Decided?"

"Mhm."

"No regrets?"

Ichisegawa looked down at the chessboard, reaching out to pick up a black stone and place it upon an unexpected spot.

"Cousin, when you decided to become the head of the Shiba Clan back then, did you ever regret it?"

Shiba Chuanlu said nothing.

The next morning,

Tenth Division barracks.

Shiba Ichisegawa stood outside the main gates of the barracks, wearing a white captain's haori over his person.

The haori had been collected from the First Division yesterday afternoon. Chojiro Sasakibe had said nothing much when handing it over, simply having him sign the receipt according to procedure. Ichisegawa folded it up, brought it home, and tried it on once during the night. Yama-jii really has everything ready, doesn't he.

He stood there for a moment without stepping directly inside.

The white haori stood out enormously; it was difficult not to notice.

A squad member walked out from the gates carrying a basin of water, presumably preparing to wipe down the windows. Spotting Ichisegawa, the member nearly lost his grip on the basin, causing the water to slosh and spill a portion onto his footwear.

The squad member stared at that white haori, then looked up at Ichisegawa's face. He didn't recognize him, and his voice turned uncertain: "Who are you?"

Without answering the question, Ichisegawa lifted his foot and stepped into the courtyard.

He walked up to the main entrance of the squad quarters and halted. Several squad members had already gathered, standing under the corridor, by the windows, and in the corners of the yard, dozens of eyes falling upon him. Some wore expressions of confusion, some wariness, while others felt nothing at all, merely watching.

Ichisegawa spoke, his voice not loud, yet clearly audible to everyone in the courtyard.

"I am Shiba Ichisegawa. Starting today, I am the captain of the Tenth Division."

No one spoke.

The silence lingered for three to five seconds. Then someone voiced out—a man standing beneath the corridor, the fourth seat. His voice wasn't loud, but every word was uttered very slowly, as if he feared he might have misheard the reply: "What about Captain Wang Tuchuan?"

Ichisegawa looked toward him.

"Wang Tuchuan Yuxuji hasn't woken up yet."

His tone remained unchanged, stating it like a mere fact: "The doctors at Shin'ō Medical Institute say his Reiatsu is recovering, but when his consciousness will wake is unknown. The Tenth Division cannot remain without a captain, so I have come to take his place."

"Take his place?" The fourth seat repeated the term, not out of doubt, but in confirmation.

Ichisegawa said, "From now on, I am your cap—"

He phrased it too bluntly.

No one cheered, no one objected. Some lowered their heads to look at their shoes, some turned to gaze at the building materials piled in the yard, and some stood motionless under the corridor. The fourth seat could only nod.

"You, go fetch the division personnel roster, equipment inventory, and the recent patrol schedule, and bring them to the captain's office," Ichisegawa gestured toward the fourth seat.

"Understood." The fourth seat had no reason to refuse. A captain he didn't recognize had arrived, and he couldn't find any grounds for rebuttal, at most reporting to the First Division to confirm the information.

Then Ichisegawa simply began searching for the captain's office on his own accord.

Behind him, the murmurs of the squad members slowly rose like flowing water.

"Did he say Captain Wang Tuchuan hasn't woken up?"

"That white haori, he really is a captain..."

"He's here to replace Captain Wang Tuchuan..."