The formalities of the Central 46 hearing had only just passed, but for Mohit, the work had only begun.
That night, with the moon casting silver veins across the darkened Seireitei sky, Captain Mohit sat in his dim office — silent, unmoving, save for the quiet motion of his ink brush writing one final line on a prepared scroll.
He rolled the scroll, sealed it with his personal insignia, and placed it to the side.
His eyes then moved to his lieutenant, Isshin Shiba, who stood at attention before him — but there was no trace of casual cheer in him tonight. Now, he stood like a man who bore both the weight of command and legacy.
Mohit's voice was calm but cold — a tone Isshin had come to understand signaled serious business.
"Isshin, now that you're head of the Shiba Clan… it's time to honor the deal."
Isshin blinked but didn't react.
"The joint venture between your clan and Ukitake's. The rehabilitation project for the lower Rukon districts. You remember the terms, don't you?"
A beat passed. Isshin nodded.
"I do, Taichō. I remember the exact words:
'If Ukitake stands behind your election, you will stand behind his vision.'"
"And now that you sit at the Shiba head seat," Mohit continued, "so does that responsibility."
Isshin exhaled slowly, the enormity sinking in. No longer just a symbolic noble. Now, every choice he made had consequences for his clan. For their coffers. For their legacy.
"I'll need to speak with Kukaku," Isshin said after a moment. "She controls the clan's finances now. Just give me one day, Captain."
Mohit gave a faint nod. "One day."
Scene: Shiba Estate – Financial Wing
The next day, in the western annex of the Shiba compound, Isshin entered a long room filled with scrolls, maps, account ledgers, and glowing Seireitei budget crystals.
Kukaku was seated at the far end, sleeves rolled up, spectacles on her nose, poring over a month's revenue. Her posture had changed — no longer the impulsive girl of the cannon-house, but a calculating political force with control over the clan's pulse.
She didn't look up.
"If you're here to ask for money, you're already late."
Isshin smirked faintly. "You're sharper than ever."
She tossed a scroll to him. "You want to talk numbers? Let's start."
Isshin laid out the project proposal: an alliance with the Ukitake Clan to rebuild the 64th to 70th Rukon districts. Areas known for high Hollow exposure, spiritual malnourishment, and civil disorder.
Ukitake's vision: deploy healing centers, construct safehouses, establish spirit training dojos, and introduce a new defense ring around the outer zones.
The deal:
The Ukitake Clan would provide the healing divisions and teachers.
The Shiba would provide the engineering, security, and physical infrastructure.
The benefit?
"If we do this right," Isshin said, "we'll restore the Shiba name in the eyes of civilians. No more just being the exiled cannon-house. We'll be the ones who protect the people — not just nobles."
Kukaku looked at him for a long time.
"And the cost?" she asked, flipping through a draft of the proposal.
She scribbled figures, adjusted margins. It was complex — dozens of contracts, fluctuating supply lines, and potential sabotage from opposing clans like Tsunayashiro or even Kuchiki, who might see this as a political threat.
But she was good at this.
Ten minutes passed in silence.
Then she looked up.
"It'll strain us — but it's doable. We'll have to pause two of our internal tech expansions and cut our Shiba courier subsidies for six months. But…"
She paused.
"The civilian loyalty we gain will be priceless. And Ukitake's clan doesn't bluff. If they're in, we'll have influence in Central 46 long-term."
Isshin grinned.
"So… you approve?"
Kukaku leaned back in her chair, folding her arms.
"On one condition. I oversee the allocation. Directly. And Mohit gets monthly reports — no secrecy."
Isshin nodded. "Agreed."
Scene: Ukitake Estate – Joint Meeting
The Ukitake manor was ancient, filled with gentle winds, paper lanterns, and the smell of medicinal herbs — but today, its main meeting room was lit with a rare political energy.
Isshin, dressed in formal robes with the Shiba crest stitched in silver, entered with Kukaku behind him. Mohit walked with them — not in front, not behind, but beside.
Captain Ukitake greeted them warmly. Despite his frail condition, his eyes were bright and full of vision.
"Welcome, Shiba Clan. It's good to see you not as soldiers — but as builders."
Isshin bowed deeply.
"We're ready to fulfill our end of the pact, Ukitake-taichō."
They sat. Mohit stood silently behind Isshin, arms folded, eyes never leaving the table.
Ukitake rolled out a massive district map.
"These zones have the highest Hollow incidents. And no noble clan, until now, has lifted a finger. We'll start with District 66 — the most spiritually unstable. We'll build a central soul convergence hub and two medical halls."
He passed scrolls to Kukaku.
"This is where your tech teams come in. I understand your clan's firework engineers can convert their spiritual blasts into stabilizers?"
Kukaku looked amused. "They were meant to blow up sky demons, not rebuild society. But… I can adapt."
They shared a small laugh. But Mohit broke the levity.
"The Tsunayashiro Clan will try to block this. They've fed for decades on the underprivileged — their influence is rooted in keeping them broken. You'll need political cover."
Ukitake nodded. "I've already arranged for Captain Shinji and Love to provide additional backing. Their outer district deployments can shield our projects."
Isshin looked at Mohit.
"Captain, why are you here in person? You don't need to babysit me anymore."
Mohit's voice was quiet. Cold.
"Because this… this was never about rebuilding buildings. It's about rebuilding the soul of the Soul Society."
Isshin went quiet.
Ukitake smiled.
"Then let's begin construction. Tomorrow."
Final Scene: Night at Squad 10
Later that night, Mohit stood in his private chambers at Squad 10. He looked out over the training grounds where once his squad had trained in silence, suppressed by duty.
Now they were free.
And now they had a cause.
A knock came.
Isshin entered.
"The project begins at sunrise. Kukaku's already rerouting the engineers."
Mohit nodded.
"Then you're not just the head of a clan anymore. You're a cornerstone of Soul Society's future."
Isshin looked down.
"I hope I'm ready."
Mohit turned, his eyes sharp.
"You don't need to be ready. You need to move. And when the time comes… I'll be right behind you."
The candlelight flickered across Mohit's desk as the night breeze whispered through the slightly open windows. It was late. The kind of quiet that settled into Seireitei when politics paused and soldiers slept. But Mohit was not sleeping.
He had been thinking.
The Shiba clan had returned to prominence under Isshin's leadership. Kukaku had evolved from a fiery rebel to a competent strategist and financial advisor. Their joint projects with Ukitake's family had rekindled the Shiba legacy. But Mohit knew power in Soul Society was not only held through titles or sentiment. It had to be entrenched. Structured. Bound to something timeless.
And nothing outlives information.
So he drafted a plan.
A blueprint that, if accepted, would root the Shiba clan into the future: a private research division under their name, led by Urahara Kisuke himself. To build not just tools, but minds. Not just discoveries, but systems.
Mohit scribbled notes for an hour, calculated financial responsibilities, shared influence with the Shihoin , Kyoraku and ukitake houses to diffuse risk, and folded it all under the banner of Shiba .
But he wouldn't present it. No. That would seem like overreach.
Instead, he left it casually—intentionally—on top of his desk. A note atop the binder:
"Legacy isn't gifted. It's engineered."
Then he summoned Isshin.
"Isshin," Mohit said, slipping on his haori. "Handle the supply papers in my office. I'm off to the First Division."
"Sure, Captain," Isshin nodded.
The moment Mohit left, Isshin stepped into the room, expecting another dull afternoon of forms. But what he found stopped him cold.
He approached the scroll, unrolling it carefully. The words stared back at him:
"Proposal: Squad 12 Private Research Division — Under Shiba Oversight"
What followed were precise funding breakdowns, lists of prospective scientists, a phased land acquisition map in District 47, and a draft of inter-clan shares between the Shiba, Kyoraku, and Shihoin.
He read it all.
Twice.
The Phoenix Engine Project.
It was bold. Audacious.
And it would secure the Shiba name for generations.
Evening]
The light of the evening sun barely filtered through the shoji windows. The room was filled with parchment scrolls, ink pots, ledgers, and the scent of tea that had long gone cold. Kukaku Shiba sat cross-legged on a large tatami mat surrounded by stacks of clan paperwork—eyes half-lidded, exhausted but focused. She had become the core of Shiba administrative power, balancing political pressure, financial strain, and external diplomacy, while her brother continued sword training and frontline work with Squad 10.
The door slid open sharply.
Isshin:
(grinning)
"Kukaku! I've got something for you. Don't roll your eyes—it's not a prank."
Kukaku:
(glancing sideways, dryly)
"What is it this time? Another scroll? While you're out there flashing your sword and charming the clueless, I've been buried in these bloody ledgers. And now you bring me—what—a rough scroll? Seriously?"
Isshin:
(laughing, places the scroll down)
"Before you start another sermon, why don't you read what's inside before running that mouth?"
Kukaku sighs heavily, unties the twine, and unfurls the scroll across her lap. Her eyes skim the first few lines, only out of duty—but then, they narrow. Her hand pauses. She straightens. The casual disdain fades, replaced by sharp focus.
Kukaku (thinking):
"Infrastructure breakdown analysis… projected budget model… joint-venture clauses… sub-divisional research rights under noble representation? Wait—this isn't his handwriting… it's too clean, too structured."
Kukaku:
(raising an eyebrow)
"Did you write this? Be honest, Isshin. You barely survived writing your own nomination letter."
Isshin:
(grinning proudly)
"Of course not. This came from Captain Mohit. He left it on his desk. Said he had a 'meeting.' Then left me alone to 'do some paperwork'—I found this front and center."
Kukaku returns to the scroll. Her gaze lingers on the part about funding allocation between Shiba, Ukitake's clan, Yoruichi's Shihoin family, and the Kyoraku household.
Kukaku:
(frowning, serious now)
"This is solid work. It's thorough, down to how the site's security would be split between clan guards and Squad 12 volunteers. But…"
She sets the scroll down gently.
Kukaku (thinking):
"If this becomes reality, it'll change everything. The Shiba name will be tied to research, not just explosive tech and battlefield grit. We'll have a civilian support base, academic allies… and real, structural influence inside the Seireitei."
Kukaku:
"But there's a problem."
Isshin:
(shrugs)
"Always is."
Kukaku:
"The moment we propose a lab of this caliber under the Shiba banner, the other clans—especially Kyoraku and Shihoin—will raise eyebrows. Letting a declining noble family like ours be the face of such a power center? That's a big ask. Why would they hand over the spotlight?"
Isshin:
"That's why we need to think like Mohit."
Kukaku:
(smirks)
"Which means playing dirty, quietly."
She stands and walks to the window. Outside, Shiba youths were training under the watchful eyes of clan instructors. She remembered Mohit's warning—"Politics isn't won with strength. It's won in quiet rooms with quiet power."
Kukaku:
"We need leverage. First, we need to invite a representative from both the Kyoraku and Shihoin families to a 'neutral' strategy session. No commitments, just a proposal discussion."
Isshin:
"And who's sending those invites?"
Kukaku:
"You are. You're the clan head now. They'll respond better to that title."
Isshin:
(with slight discomfort)
"Still getting used to that."
Kukaku:
"Then you better get comfortable fast, because the next generation of the Shiba clan is riding on your signature."