"Protection?"
"Me?"
Makoto stared at Katori, his face etched with surprise, as if puzzled by her words.
While Makoto didn't deny that the original Gotei 13 was a gathering of formidable talents, each captain who survived under Yamamoto's command wielding their own unique prowess, he had long since shed his fledgling naivety. Through countless life-and-death battles, Makoto had forged an unyielding resolve and courage, tempered in the crucible of survival. The will of his [Wall of Sighs] had solidified at an extraordinarily high level.
Without humility, the moment Makoto drew his blade, he was prepared to fall beneath another's.
Whether fighting Hollows, clashing with Seireitei nobles, or sparring with Unohana, Makoto never held back.
For someone like him, how could he possibly accept another's "protection"?
"Does Captain Katori mean to say you're stronger than me?" Makoto asked earnestly, his tone devoid of sarcasm, his gaze pure and sincere.
This was a side effect of a will honed to such a degree.
Yet…
It was precisely this gaze that proved so alluring.
Katori met his eyes, a glint flashing across her thick glasses. Her clear, student-like eyes narrowed, rippling with a silken allure. The corners of her lips curved into a suspicious arc.
Her gaze toward Makoto brimmed with barely contained malice and possessiveness.
Yet, beneath her trembling lips, her voice remained as soft and warm as ever, as if her body's reactions were irrelevant.
"…Isn't that obvious?"
The moment her words fell, a surge of clashing Reiatsu erupted from both, their spiritual pressures colliding in a spherical clash. The ambient Reishi in the air was sharply divided by their immense power, creating dense, shimmering flecks of light as if gravity itself had faltered.
The ground at the epicenter of their Reiatsu clash crumbled instantly, pulverized into dust under the violent collision. Even the sturdy stone tiles shattered into fine powder, swirling amidst the dust-laden air.
Cracks spiderwebbed outward from their feet in all directions, and massive stone fragments were hurled upward by the Reiatsu-charged gusts, clattering like a storm of earth and stone.
Nearby low-ranking Shinigami in the Seireitei suffered immediately. Those too close were pinned to the ground by the overwhelming Reiatsu, as if bound by dozens of times normal gravity. Muscles, bones, and organs strained under unimaginable force, forcing them to their knees.
Those farther away, or stronger low-ranking officers, stared at the scene unfolding in the Seireitei's depths with lingering fear.
Their gazes held a mix of awe and reverence, intertwined and amplified.
For Shinigami, the quantity and quality of Reiatsu were the purest form of "violence."
But…
"That's Vice Captain Makoto, right?"
"Hey, idiot! The notice just went up, he's a high officer right now!"
"What's the difference…?"
"That terrifying commotion was caused by Makoto-sama and Captain Katori!"
"Could it be… Makoto has reached 'captain-level' strength?"
"Show some respect, fool!"
The distant Shinigami officers whispered cautiously. Even those who knew Makoto from the Genji School instinctively added "-sama" to his name.
The fact that Makoto had left a scar on Unohana's body remained a closely guarded secret among the highest echelons. Most were unaware of the details, and thus, many couldn't gauge his true strength.
But in this moment, feeling the weight of this level of Reiatsu, they understood clearly.
This was… the disparity of raw power.
"Hey, hey!"
"Move aside! Make way for me!"
As Makoto and Katori faced off, a familiar voice cut through from the back of the crowd.
Both turned their gazes toward the sound.
Saitō, blade slung over her shoulder, shoved past the onlookers, striding boldly to the edge of their confrontation and glancing at them.
"Hmph."
The girl let out a soft huff.
Seemingly satisfied that Makoto, this fool, hadn't been bullied by that devious woman, she turned to leave as if nothing had happened, her purpose merely to check on him.
But before she could speak, the small, chipped blade at Makoto's waist suddenly spoke, its childish voice ringing out carelessly, echoing in both women's ears.
[Katori! Katori!]
[What "price" were you talking about for Makoto?]
[Using my ability once is exhausting, you know!]
[Come on, you don't want Makoto to be snatched up by that cute idiot Saitō, do you?]
[If you want to lock him in your basement, I can help with that!]
The moment the voice fell, the expressions of the three at the center of the crowd shifted subtly.
Saitō and Katori turned to Makoto simultaneously.
Makoto's eyes widened, his hand gripping his scabbard tightly, his face flushed near purple, utterly speechless.
You treacherous gremlin?!
Tonight, I'll dunk you in sake until you're pickled!
Katori's gaze lingered on him, her once-sickly smile now tinged with amusement. Pretending to negotiate, she leaned close to whisper in his ear, "Really, Makoto-kun?"
Her warm breath brushed his earlobe, gentler than a caress.
But that single action instantly enraged Saitō, who had been standing nearby. Her voice stretched into a furious yell, "Makoto!!"
Before Makoto could react, Saitō flashed forward with a Shunpo, closing the distance.
Makoto instinctively moved to a defensive stance, but then felt a tug at his scabbard, his hand suddenly empty.
He froze.
Saitō, clutching two pairs of tabi, turned and bolted.
These tabi are mine now!!
"Eh?"
"Saitō! Saitō?!"
Makoto stared, dumbfounded, as Saitō sprinted away. He glanced at Katori, who was stifling a laugh beside him, his face a mask of confusion.
That gave me a scare.
I thought she was going to steal my gremlin zanpakuto!
But…
Why take the tabi?
Makoto's mind reeled, utterly baffled.
...
Meanwhile, Saitō clutched two pairs of tabi tightly, head lowered as she vaulted over the gate into her courtyard.
"Saitō-sama?" Akiko, her usual attendant, called out from a distance upon spotting her.
Saitō's voice sharpened abruptly. "Out! No one's allowed in!"
As she stormed into her room, Akiko caught a glimpse of Saitō's profile.
Hearing that familiar, commanding tone, Akiko froze briefly but quickly complied.
"Yes."
By the time she responded, Saitō had already barged into her quarters.
Clack! Clack!
Saitō kicked off her geta, letting them fly into the courtyard, and tossed the tabi aside. Her petite frame collapsed onto the tatami.
Her single eye stared at the ceiling, lost in thought, or perhaps thinking of nothing at all.
Anyone who saw her would've been startled.
For some reason, Saitō's cheeks blazed a vivid crimson, her entire being dazed, her skin feverishly hot.
She had thought her emotions had settled.
But when she got close to that idiot Makoto, she realized…
They hadn't settled at all!
"This is too weird!"
"This whole thing is just too weird!"
Saitō sprawled on the floor, her mind incessantly replaying the words Unohana had used to describe Makoto's Shikai.
Her focus, however, wasn't on critical details like "equal Reiatsu" or "fair duel."
Instead, it was…
"Completely bare, red and white! Bound by ropes! A silvery, deceptive tone!"
"Not just the body, but even the feet tied in a strange way!"
"And… different stances…"
Unohana's explanation at the 1st Division barracks had been so vivid that even a blockhead like Saitō memorized a slew of details in one go.
Those simple descriptions effortlessly painted an astonishingly vivid image in the hot-blooded girl's mind.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Saitō's cheeks grew redder, burning with embarrassment as if they might bleed. Clutching the tabi, she rubbed her forehead against the tatami, desperate to banish the bizarre images from her mind.
"Why didn't anyone tell me?!"
"Did Makoto… take my socks for that kind of thing?!"
The moment she imagined that scene, picturing herself in the scenario with her own little tabi on her feet, Saitō felt like she could die of shame.
The girl who always called herself "old self" was unexpectedly pure-hearted.
Thanks to Unohana's detailed explanation, Saitō, who had always been clueless…
Finally got it!
No wonder everyone gave Makoto such odd looks the first time they saw him with her socks.
But as she muttered to herself, she suddenly recalled something. She grabbed the tabi, eyeing them warily.
Like facing a formidable foe.
Saitō carefully placed the tabi on the tatami, then pinched and inspected them closely.
Their clean appearance suggested they'd been thoroughly washed, the fabric soft and spotless, with no strange marks.
Leaning closer, there was no odd smell either.
This didn't match the "peculiar habits" She'd painstakingly gathered from her squad's subordinates.
Saitō furrowed her brow, a thought dawning on her.
"Hm?"
---
Elsewhere, after the meeting adjourned.
Yamamoto didn't dwell on the matter of Unohana and Makoto.
In other words, their punishment was minor, meant only to temper their natures.
Compared to that trivial issue, the news of the Soul King's son demanded far greater attention.
However…
"If he's the Soul King's son, why was he born in the Living World?" Yamamoto murmured, his gaze scanning a detailed history of the Kuchiki family.
From start to finish, he found no events resembling this one.
Compared to a so-called Soul King's son, rebels like himself were countless and hardly rare.
Lost in thought, he turned to his aide. "Chōjirō, fetch the Soul King's scroll."
"Yes."
When Sasakibe returned, he held a seemingly small scroll.
But when Yamamoto unfurled it, the pages stretched wide and long.
He penned several lines, nodding slightly once the ink dried before rolling it up again.
Having reported the incident to higher authorities, Yamamoto addressed the remaining tasks. "Chōjirō, after the Kidō Corps seals the spatial rifts, don't let them rest. Order them to begin constructing underground shelters across the Seireitei, prioritize the area beneath the Shin'ō Academy. No slacking."
Sasakibe hesitated, frowning. "Genryūsai-sama, is the situation in the Living World… already that dire?"
Yamamoto shook his head calmly. "I don't know."
"But…"
"When it concerns the Soul King, it's best to err on the side of caution."
Sasakibe's expression turned grave.
So, even Yamamoto lacked certainty?
Once, Sasakibe believed Yamamoto was the pinnacle of this world's strength.
But in recent years, for some reason, the emergence of powerful figures made strength seem less rare, stirring a faint sense of dejection.
In times like these, even someone as resolute as Sasakibe couldn't help but envy Makoto's talent.
If I had Makoto's strength and gifts…
But in the end, he sighed.
Yamamoto caught Sasakibe's expression in his peripheral vision but, unlike usual, offered no guidance, merely watching in silence.
Some hurdles in this world could only be overcome alone.
---
"Ohh, ya-"
Ichibē Hyōsube reclined lazily on a chair in his detached palace hall, letting out a weary sigh.
"These past few centuries have been quite eventful."
He reached out, and an identical Soul King scroll flew into his hand.
But upon reading the first line, the fat monk's tired pupils vanished, his eyes turning pure white.
When he set the scroll down, he exhaled heavily, murmuring, "The 'wedge' has held for over a million years."
"It's about time to address its maintenance and renewal."
"Yhwach… is it?"
***
Bonus Chapter:
100 Power Stones = 1 BC
300 Power Stones = 2 BC
500 Power Stones = 3 BC
700 Power Stones = 4 BC
1000 Power Stones = 5 BC
***
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