"Don't call me Lord Yūshirō."
"From now on, you should call me Captain."
Yūshirō had never been the type to respond well to flattery; he only respected firmness. Yet the man before him, Kōmyōdai Jitan, was soft and pliant as jelly—his excessive servility left Yūshirō at a complete loss.
"As you command, Lord Yūshirō!"
Jitan dropped to one knee, bowing as though greeting a sovereign.
"I…"
Yūshirō felt a sharp ache in his temples just from hearing him. This man, Jitan, was without doubt the most exasperating person Yūshirō had ever met—no one else tested his patience like this.
"Hahaha…"
A clear laugh rang out. "From the looks of it, the two of you are getting along quite well! At this rate, you'll become good friends in no time."
It was Shihōin Yoruichi, watching the exchange with an amused grin.
"No, Sister, where exactly do you see that we're getting along?"
Yūshirō turned toward her, exasperated, waving his hand in protest.
"It's the keen intuition of an older sister."
Yoruichi puffed her chest and smirked proudly.
"…Heh. Let's go, Jitan."
Yūshirō chuckled softly and gestured for Jitan to follow.
"Yes, Lord Yūshirō!"
Jitan once again dropped to one knee, his eyes brimming with devotion, his whole demeanor radiating reverence.
"I told you—it's Captain!"
Correcting him yet again, Yūshirō strode toward the barracks of the Second Division.
"Yes, Lord Yūshirō!"
Jitan's lips curved into the faintest mischievous smile as he rose and followed closely behind.
"…"
Yūshirō said nothing more. He felt suffocated and chose silence.
"Goodbye, Yūshirō~"
Yoruichi waved playfully as her brother disappeared through the doors.
"Goodbye, Sister~"
Yūshirō didn't look back as he stepped out.
"Ugh—so sour."
After he left, Yoruichi plucked a green grape between her fingers, tossed it into her mouth, and shivered like a sleek black cat.
"Lord Yūshirō…"
Trailing behind, Jitan spoke his name reverently.
"Captain," Yūshirō corrected firmly.
"Yūsh—… Captain."
Jitan almost slipped, but caught himself at the last second.
"Mhm. That's better," Yūshirō said, satisfied with the title.
"Forgive my boldness, Captain… but tell me—are you truly from…" Jitan pointed toward the sky.
"Hm?"
Yūshirō frowned behind his eyepatch, confused by the question.
"Allow me to be direct: Lord Yūshirō, you… are not from this world, are you? Do you carry any memories that don't belong here?"
This was no longer a probe—it was practically an outright declaration. In Jitan's eyes, Yūshirō was like the Soul King himself: a being born of an older world, carrying its power, destined to maintain the balance of existence.
(That old world had once been static—no life, no death, no progress, no retreat. Even Hollows had been a natural part of the reishi cycle. But when Hollows began consuming humans, the cycle was broken. If left unchecked, all souls would be devoured into one vast Hollow, and the world would fall into absolute stillness. At that moment, the Soul King was born—using the power of annihilation to destroy Hollows and restart the cycle of reincarnation.)
"I don't know," Yūshirō replied with a wry smile. "I do have… fragments of memories, but I can't say whether they're real or just fantasies. After all, I spent hundreds of years alone in a small room. My mind might've created illusions to keep me sane. I vaguely remember a white figure speaking to me once… but the details are gone. Honestly, it's not important. What matters is—why are you asking me this?"
"It's nothing. Just curiosity."
Jitan smiled faintly, bowing his head.
"…As I thought," he whispered to himself. He was now certain—Yūshirō was the chosen one, the true King fated to rise. His earlier doubts melted away; their ancestors' betrayal of the Soul King had not been a mistake, but part of destiny itself. All of history had led to this: the birth of their King.
"Lord Yūshirō, what do you think of the current state of the Five Noble Houses?" Jitan asked.
"The Five Houses? I think things are fine the way they are."
"You're… really strange," Yūshirō muttered, looking him up and down before shaking his head and walking off.
"Fine the way they are? No… that won't do, great King!"
Jitan frowned deeply. Yūshirō's answer unsettled him.
"So this is our mission as nobles… to make our King ascend the throne."
Jitan remained standing there for half an hour, wrestling with his thoughts, until his expression cleared. He understood—it was a test. Only the worthy could stand beside the King; incompetents had no place at his side.
With that conviction, he strode toward the training grounds. For now, his task was simple: mop the sweat-soaked floors.
That evening, cloaked by twilight, Jitan left his quarters and slipped toward the Chamber of Forty-Six.
The guards straightened when they saw him. "Master Kōmyōdai—"
"Shh."
He silenced them with a gesture and walked straight inside, descending into the underground chamber.
"You've come," said a middle-aged man, hands folded behind his back.
"Patriarch." Jitan bowed.
"The boy from the Shihōin family…?" the Kōmyōdai head asked.
"I am certain now. I never truly doubted, but today confirmed it—Lord Yūshirō is destined to ascend. He will soon replace the false king and rule by his own will. And at his side will stand the Five Noble Houses."
His eyes burned with fervor as he spoke.
The patriarch fell silent, weighing his words. "He will ascend to the heavens, then…?"
"There is one problem," Jitan admitted. "Our great King seems to have no intention of taking the throne. He is content with the status quo."
"That's simple," the patriarch said with a smile. "It doesn't matter what he wants. If he has the power, we will create the conditions that force him to rise. Then he'll have no choice."
"No," Jitan countered. "Last time, we nobles chose in place of the King. We gained nothing. It proved we are only mortals—we cannot wield divine power. This time, it must be his choice."
"…"
The patriarch was silent for a long while, then nodded. "Very well. We will clear his path, but the final choice will be his."
Jitan bowed. "Then I will continue at his side, learning his view of the world… and together, we'll prepare the plan for his ascension."
The patriarch nodded in agreement.
From that day on, Jitan remained close to Yūshirō—fetching water, cleaning the training grounds, performing menial tasks. To him, even such chores were a blessing. Serving Yūshirō was the life he longed for.
Time flowed on. Countless Shinigami died and were replaced. Within noble circles, a scandal stirred faint ripples: a branch member of the Kōmyōdai family had brutally harmed both his wife and his comrades.
Before the Chamber of Forty-Six, a dark-skinned, blind man raged.
"Why?! Why treat her this way? What wrong did she commit? Why do you forgive criminals, yet punish the innocent? Is this your so-called justice?!"
"You're just a commoner, not even a Shinigami!" sneered one guard. "Do you realize that speaking such words is enough to have you cut into pieces?"
"That's right! Cause any more trouble, and we'll strike you down ourselves," another guard said, drawing his Zanpakutō.
"Please—just tell me. Why is there no fairness in this world?!" the blind man cried.
"Too much talk!" the guard snarled, swinging his blade.
Clang!
The strike was intercepted.
The guards froze, then immediately bowed deeply. "Sir!"
The blind man tilted his head, confused. He couldn't see, but he knew someone powerful had arrived.
"Do you feel the injustice burning in your heart?" a smooth, magnetic voice whispered directly into his mind.
"Who… who are you?" he asked.
"I am one who can no longer bear to watch—and who has come to uphold justice."
The voice continued, calm and persuasive.
"I met Miss Utagu once or twice. She was kind… but her sense of justice was too radiant. Among the Kōmyōdai, such light is intolerable. Inevitably, they extinguished it themselves."
The voice seeped deeper into the man's soul.
"You… seem to know much about the Kōmyōdai family. Will you tell me everything about them?" he asked.
"…Of course," the voice replied softly. "Because no one knows them better than I do."