The nobles' internal conflict had dragged on for months. Now, under the sweep of the special unit led by Kōga Kuchiki, it was finally nearing its end.
On a remote street in the Seireitei, the last few rebels still resisting fell to the ground. Their spiritual pressure slowly faded.
Kōga Kuchiki stood among the bodies and slowly sheathed his Zanpakutō.
The click of the blade sliding back into its scabbard sounded especially clear in the silent street.
He looked down at his hand.
His palm was slightly red from gripping the hilt for too long. There were a few small cuts between his thumb and index finger, but they were nothing serious.
During this period, he had barely rested.
During the day, he led his unit to eliminate enemies. At night, he gathered intelligence and planned routes for the next day.
He had killed many people who deserved it.
He had also killed some who perhaps did not.
But that no longer mattered.
What mattered was the result.
The conflict was over.
Under his command, it had ended in the fastest and cleanest way possible.
Kōga Kuchiki raised his head and looked toward the Sixth Division barracks.
Even if he still had not earned his father-in-law's acknowledgment, this achievement was real.
Head Captain Yamamoto had personally said there would be a reward once everything was over. And right now, the Gotei 13 happened to have an open Captain's seat.
The Tenth Division.
If he could become the Captain of the Tenth Division, then he would stand among the Captains, just like his father-in-law. He would wear the Captain's haori.
At that point, his father-in-law would have no choice but to acknowledge him.
"Just wait, Father," Kōga muttered.
"I'll make you praise me yet."
He turned, ready to call his subordinates and leave.
But the moment he turned, several flashes of sword light shot in from the side.
Fast. Precise. Ruthless.
Puchi. Puchi. Puchi.
The three young subordinates standing behind him were cut across the back at the same time.
They did not even have time to turn around. They let out short groans and collapsed forward.
Blood quickly spread across the stone road.
Kōga Kuchiki's hand instantly tightened around his sword hilt.
On the rooftops on both sides, in the alley shadows, and even in corners that had been empty a moment ago, figures began to appear.
Dozens of them.
They wore Shinigami robes, but no division insignia. Their faces were covered, leaving only their eyes exposed.
They moved together and landed without a sound.
They were clearly trained.
In a few breaths, they spread out and formed a circle around Kōga Kuchiki.
Every sword point was aimed at him.
Kōga Kuchiki rested his right hand on the hilt. His thumb pressed against the guard, and he lowered his stance slightly.
He scanned them one by one.
Their builds looked familiar. So did the way some of them held their swords.
He had seen these people before.
Not on the battlefield.
At gatherings in the Seireitei.
Were they retainers of the Noble Council? Private soldiers from the higher-ranking noble houses?
Before he could speak, the man at the front spoke first.
His voice was deliberately lowered, but the malice in it was obvious.
"Kōga Kuchiki, you will die in this conflict. There is no other end waiting for you!"
Another man spoke, his voice full of mockery.
"Did you really think that writing a novel and gaining a little fame made you one of the nobility?"
"Nobility is not something you become just because of that. You don't deserve it."
"Filthy blood dreaming of becoming one of the great nobles. What a joke."
Kōga Kuchiki understood at once.
Among the high nobles, there were people who had failed to seize that open place among the great houses.
His achievements were too large, and his reputation was rising too fast.
As long as he remained standing, that vacant Captain's seat would still be something they had to fight him for.
So they came to kill him.
"I see," Kōga Kuchiki said.
He released the hilt and let his arms fall naturally to his sides. His posture looked relaxed.
"You're the dogs those old men sent."
He scanned the circle again.
The spiritual pressure of the forty-three men varied in strength. The strongest were only around the level of a mid-ranked seated officer. The weakest were not even comparable to the best graduates from the Academy.
Just this much?
The corner of Kōga's mouth lifted slightly.
They were looking down on him far too much.
Kōga Kuchiki gripped his hilt again. His fingers tightened.
His mouth opened slightly.
The release command was about to leave his lips.
Clink!
The sound of a sake bottle shattering suddenly rang out.
It was sharp and loud enough to cut straight through the tension.
Everyone turned at once.
At the far end of the street, someone stood there.
The man was tall and straight. His Shinigami uniform was neat.
His face was cold, his eyes distant, and his whole presence gave off the feeling of someone who wanted nothing to do with anyone.
Mirai, the Fifth Seat of the Ninth Division.
He stood there without moving. One hand was still raised from the throw.
The broken sake bottle had clearly come from him.
"Mirai?" Kōga stared for a moment. "Leave now! These people are all enemies!"
The masked men exchanged glances.
"We can't let him leave! Kill him too!"
"He's seen us!"
"Move!"
The men closest to Mirai immediately changed direction and rushed him.
Their blades flashed in the sunset.
Mirai did not move.
Lately, he had actually been living pretty comfortably.
Most of the nobles' fighting had stayed inside the Seireitei, while the Rukongai had remained calm. His patrol assignment there had felt more like a vacation than real work.
Unfortunately, that easy life did not last.
A few days ago, Captain Kensei suddenly changed the assignment and sent him back to patrol inside the Seireitei.
At the time, Mirai had protested.
"Isn't that the Tenth Division's job? They're the ones handling patrol and security. Why are we taking over someone else's work?"
Kensei's answer had been simple.
"The former Tenth Division Captain, Jishi Watari, stepped down years ago. Right now they're being held together by a Lieutenant. The division is a mess. Why do you think the Seireitei has been this chaotic?"
The meaning was obvious.
If the Tenth Division had a proper Captain in place, Kōga Kuchiki would not have been able to make this much noise, no matter how much power he had gained.
For days now, fighting had broken out everywhere in the Seireitei. If there had been a Captain managing things, someone would have stepped in long ago.
"But that still sounds like work for a Captain," Mirai had argued. "Why send me? I'm just a Fifth Seat."
Kensei had simply turned his back.
"Go patrol. If something happens, fire a flare-type Kidō into the sky."
Then he used Shunpo and vanished before Mirai could keep arguing.
Mirai had no choice but to accept it.
To be fair, the patrols over the last few days had gone better than he expected.
Kōga Kuchiki had moved quickly. The conflict was already close to ending.
The only issue was that Kōga killed too many people and left almost no one alive.
He really was ruthless.
Mirai had originally planned to wander around, wait for the trouble to die down, and then submit a request to be sent back to the Rukongai.
He had not expected that not long after starting his patrol, he would hear noise from this street.
So he came over to take a look.
And here he was.
Right in time to see Kōga Kuchiki surrounded.
As several masked men rushed toward him, Mirai let out a sigh.
What a pain.
Why did they have to make trouble inside his patrol area?
Couldn't they have picked the next street over?
Was it because the next street was too close to the Second Division, so they did not dare stir up trouble there?
And the street on the other side was too close to the Noble Quarter, so they did not dare go there either.
So they specifically chose this one.
Wasn't this just bullying an honest man?
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