Tsunayashiro Fuka stood at the front of the line with that infuriating, self-satisfied smirk. Haruto's fingers itched to deck him, but with half of Seireitei queued up behind him, he swallowed it down. For the sake of the work.
"Name," Haruto said, voice cold.
"Chief of Staff, no need to be so stiff!" Fuka replied cheerfully. "There are plenty waiting—let's just get right to the test."
Fuka placed his hand on the spiritual pressure gauge. The needle swung and settled—fifth class.
He beamed. He'd already had people spying on the results. Most applicants weren't even qualified. Only a handful could join outright, the rest bound for training at Yuanzi Hall. Fifth-class meant vice-captain level—rare enough to give him confidence.
Sure, you needed third-class or better for captaincy, but how many such people existed? Even with that new commoner, Yanagi Junrei, there were maybe four in the entire Gotei 13. Fuka could wait.
Four days and three nights later, Haruto felt like a walking corpse. No breaks. Testing hundreds upon hundreds of applicants. Eighty hours straight. Even a capitalist would weep.
When he finally stood, his bones popped, his joints cracked, and his head swam. Somehow, his reiatsu felt… slightly higher. Maybe it was exhaustion.
After all that, the tally: 151 official members, 314 students bound for training before they saw a battlefield.
Back in his quarters, Haruto collapsed onto his bed. I signed up to slack off. Why am I dying like this?
While Haruto slept, trouble brewed in the Central Forty-Six Chambers.
A staffer entered, pale.
"Elders, something terrible has happened!"
The Great Sage waved him off. "Compose yourself. Even if the sky falls, remain calm. Is this about the Gotei 13 again?"
The man shook his head. "No, sir. Remember your order to search Rukongai for someone strong enough to rival Yamamoto Shigekuni? We may have found her."
The elders nearly leapt from their seats. Finally—someone to offset that suffocating pressure!
"But," the staffer added, "everyone we sent… was killed."
The Great Sage stiffened. "Everyone?"
"Yes. Even the guard commander's younger brother—fifth-class spiritual power—was killed with a single strike. The rest… slaughtered. The killer is a woman. She told the survivors to wash their necks. She's coming."
A silence fell.
"…Name?" the Great Sage asked.
"She called herself… Unohana Yachiryu."
Meanwhile, Haruto dreamt of fishing—until the massive fish he'd hooked opened its mouth and swallowed him whole. He woke groggy, lured by the smell of food.
Outside, a new mess hall had appeared, bustling with fresh recruits. At the serving line, Sasakibe Chōjirō and Hanazuki Rei worked the kitchen.
"Brother Yamabuki, you're awake!" Chōjirō said, rushing over.
"Less talk, more meat," Haruto replied, bowl out. "How long was I out?"
"A whole day and night," Rei answered.
The hall, he learned, had been built by crews sent from the Five Great Noble Houses—fast work, in a city made of spirit particles. Dorms would be next.
"You still care about your brother," Haruto said warmly as Rei piled meat into his bowl.
"Hanazuki, that's favoritism!" came Shihōin Chihiro's voice as she reached in with her chopsticks to steal some.
"You bastards… while I was working myself to death, what exactly were you doing?" Haruto growled.
Chihiro's gaze slid away. "Something very important. You'll see soon."
After the meal, Chihiro led him to Yamamoto's office. She grinned at the Captain-Commander.
"Show him, Captain."
Yamamoto pulled a wooden box from beneath his bed and opened it.
Inside—
Mahjong tiles.
Haruto stared.
"So while I was killing myself testing recruits… you were all playing mahjong?!"
He threw his arms up. "I quit! I quit!"