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"Senjumaru… you truly surprise me."
Gosuke Shigure exhaled softly, his fingers brushing the fabric of the unique ShihakushĹŤ.
Although there were only two major abilities in the outfit that truly stood out, it was still an incredible feat. After all, crafting a garment that could store and manipulate spiritual energy—especially with such precision—was far beyond conventional Gotei 13 standards.
Even within the domain of the Twelfth Division or Urahara's lab, such a construct would have been nearly impossible.
But despite that, Gosuke knew these two capabilities alone were more than enough.
Battles between powerful beings are often determined by the smallest margins—a fraction more defense, a sliver more stamina, and that could spell the difference between victory and defeat.
Of course, all this applied only in evenly matched encounters.
If the difference in power resembled a canyon rather than a crack, then no suit or technique could bridge the gap.
Gosuke Shigure couldn't help but reflect on the nature of the world he now lived in.
If nothing else, this world was full of absurd matchups—overpowered combatants were a regular occurrence. In that sense, the effectiveness of the suit might not be as pivotal as one might hope.
Still, that didn't lessen its value in Gosuke's eyes.
It was a gift.
Senjumaru Shutara had given it to him personally—handcrafted with her own skill and perhaps her affection.
Even if that affection had once been directed at the "him" from his previous life, it still lingered.
And he was, fundamentally, the same soul.
To receive this death-combat uniform—crafted by Shutara Senjumaru of the Great Weave Guard herself—meant something far deeper than utility.
It carried memory, sentiment, and meaning.
After Gosuke Shigure had gradually uncovered the intricacies of the modified Shihakushō Senjumaru had given him…
The Twelfth Division's Research and Development Institute found itself short one member.
Fortunately, Shutara Senjumaru had kept a low profile in the division.
Few even knew she was there, and fewer still remembered her name.
She wasn't listed on any formal roster, and her work had mostly been independent.
Her sudden disappearance passed without much notice.
No ripple disturbed the surface.
No Shinigami investigated her absence, and the Twelfth Division resumed operations as normal.
But Gosuke Shigure suspected where she had gone.
He didn't know the exact circumstances, nor what had compelled her decision.
But if she left Seireitei… if she left the very world of the living and dead altogether… there was only one conceivable destination:
The Royal Palace—the Soul King's domain.
The Zero Division.
The elite guard of the Spirit King.
It made sense. Senjumaru had always seemed… otherworldly.
Her craftsmanship surpassed any technology within the Soul Society.
Gosuke had long believed she didn't belong in the Twelfth Division, or even Seireitei.
She belonged in the Royal Realm.
Many Shinigami revere the Soul King as the divine core of reality—supreme and absolute.
But those who truly know the truth understand: the Soul King is not a god, but a prisoner.
A wedge.
A being forcibly imprisoned within the palace—not by chains, but by fate—to hold the worlds together.
His continued existence stabilizes the boundaries between the realms.
In the end, it didn't matter who the Soul King was—only that someone served that role.
Time passed.
And Gosuke Shigure, without new chaos erupting, once again settled into relative peace.
During this lull, he officially promoted Zaraki to the position of Eleventh Division Vice-Captain.
Unlike the appointment of captains, which required approval from Central 46, vice-captain promotions were left to each division's captain to decide.
No external permission was needed.
And Gosuke's decision met no resistance.
Although Zaraki hadn't been with the Eleventh Division long, his raw might had already earned their respect.
The Eleventh Division didn't care about hierarchy or seniority.
What mattered was strength—unfiltered, undeniable strength.
And in that, Zaraki exceeded them all.
He embodied what the Eleventh stood for.
More than any veteran, he carried the spirit of the squad—a pure, insatiable love for battle.
In him, they saw not only a warrior, but a monster born to fight.
Some were shamed by the ease with which he surpassed them.
Others were inspired.
Still, admiration in the Eleventh Division wasn't built on sentiment.
It was earned by blood.
And Zaraki earned it.
Since joining, he had spent little time studying formal Shinigami doctrine—aside from his crash course under Unohana Retsu, who filled in the most necessary blanks.
Most of his time had been spent sparring.
And not casually.
He fought everyone.
And he beat everyone.
Every seated officer.
Every grunt.
Every swordsman.
Even those once considered undefeatable within their own ranks fell before him.
He didn't gain respect through words.
He seized it with overwhelming, undeniable dominance.
So when Gosuke Shigure appointed him as vice-captain, no one objected.
In fact, many whispered among themselves:
"If this monster fought Captain Shigure… who would win?"
But those were only private musings.
Zaraki, for all his wildness, showed a strange docility around the captain.
That alone intrigued many.
What had happened between them?
What had Zaraki seen or experienced that made him so uncharacteristically subdued before Gosuke?
None of the members could guess.
And none dared to ask.
After the appointment, Gosuke Shigure, now relieved of front-line combat duties, leaned fully into his idleness.
Every combat mission?
Delegated to Zaraki.
Even when a group of Menos Grande breached the Soul Society's outer barrier, Gosuke didn't stir.
Zaraki handled it.
He was injured, yes—but that was expected.
And Gosuke didn't intervene.
He understood something the others didn't.
As a reincarnated soul with foreknowledge, he knew Zaraki's true potential better than anyone.
Menos Grande?
Even a Vasto Lorde?
They were obstacles, not threats.
And they were necessary.
Zaraki's potential would awaken through combat.
Pain. Conflict. Blood.
That was his path.
The more he fought, the faster he would grow.
Gosuke knew that.
And so he stepped back.
Zaraki would rise—and he would do it through fire and steel.
Meanwhile, Gosuke busied himself with minimal team administration—paperwork and protocol.
The Eleventh Division didn't require much in that regard.
He was free to indulge.
He often met with Kyoraku Shunsui, drinking and reminiscing like old comrades under the midday sun.
In this period, Gosuke took time to explore the limited recreational options Seireitei had to offer.
It was… lacking.
Still caught in the past.
No modern technology.
No video games.
No advanced entertainment.
He could only dream of a day when the Soul Society advanced far enough to have such things—where Shinigami could duel with controllers instead of swords.
But that was just wishful thinking.
They didn't have those luxuries even in the world of the living—not to the extent he wanted.
And the Soul Society was always decades behind.
Then one day, an unexpected message arrived.
An invitation.
From ShihĹŤin KĹŤng-chan, the head of the noble ShihĹŤin family.
Captain of the Second Division.
Long ago, KĹŤng-chan had spoken of gathering with Gosuke and Kyoraku for a drink.
But the Quincy incident had delayed everything.
Now, at last, the invitation had come.
______
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