In a crisis like this, even Masasuke could only vent his fury at Gyoukaku and Shuuichi.
He couldn't broadcast it. He had to smother it, keep the fallout minimal.
Like getting your teeth smashed and swallowing the shards.
He'd arrived late because he was personally directing the evacuation of all Bakkōtō wielders and every piece of forging equipment to the old Kasumiōji forebears' manor—the estate of the Kasumiōji clan's predecessor, the Kasuōji lineage.
He also had to placate the Kasuōji elders and make sure their lips stayed sealed.
Only on Kasuōji land would the Thirteen Court Guard Squads hesitate to trespass.
Handle it wrong, and the Gotei would be facing every noble house at once.
This way, even if the runaway Shinigami leaked the Bakkōtō secret, as long as the Gotei lacked hard proof—no culprit and contraband caught red-handed—they could do nothing to the Kasumiooji.
What Masasuke didn't know: last night, no one left that secret workshop alive.
The "missing" Shinigami had been broken down by Shuuichi's ability into reishi constructs, then tossed into Tōgen.
So Masasuke's final, frothing order—"Find the traitor and bring him back for a thousand cuts"—was, in fact, impossible.
"Oh? I guess that's not quite fair. I'm a traitor too. I just didn't run~"
Light as air, Shuuichi left the Kasumiooji, in very good spirits.
Destination: Second Division.
"Oh? You said Fourth Division's Vice-Captain, Shuuichi, came looking for me?"
Deep in the Maggot's Nest, Kisuke paused his… whatever-it-was research when Suì-Fēng delivered the report.
She looked fifteen, sixteen at most; her body hadn't fully matured. But from the dwindling Bee family head, she had formally inherited the name "Suì-Fēng," and she'd already mastered Shikai (Initial Release), taking a proper seat in Second Division.
"Yes. Shuuichi-dono said he had something to discuss!"
Her cheeks were still flushed, breath quick and shallow.
Clearly her Shunpo (Flash Step) wasn't yet polished; she'd sprinted the whole way.
"It's a rare task personally assigned by Shuuichi-dono. I have to finish it fastest, and best!"
"So noted. Have him wait in my lounge. I need to wrap something up and I'll be right over~"
Kisuke nodded warmly.
Shuuichi coming to him?
After Suì-Fēng hurried off, Kisuke shook his head, a quiet smile on his face.
He almost never left Second Division—always buried in this sunless pit. He'd only met Shuuichi once, twenty years ago. Why now?
Unless…
He thought of something, then dismissed it. If Shuuichi had discovered that little incident—Kisuke secretly extracting the special weapon Shuuichi carried—Shuuichi would've confronted him long ago.
"A Fourth Division vice-captain has you this tied in knots, Kisuke?"
Across from him, the blue-haired Shinigami who'd been working nonstop snorted, disdain curling his lip.
"He's not an ordinary vice-captain, Mayuri~"
Kisuke glanced at the excellent helper he'd found down here and smiled.
"Then are we continuing? If you won't, I will. Alone."
Arrogant as ever. Kisuke was used to it. He chuckled and went back to work.
"It's fine. Let him wait a bit~"
About an hour later, Shuuichi finally met the current Second Division Third Seat—also Captain of Onmitsukidō (Stealth Force) Third Division, the Detention Unit—in Kisuke's lounge.
"Long time no see, Third Seat Kisuke!"
Shuuichi had wanted something friendlier, but in this world they'd met only once. He let it go.
Kisuke was a homebody. He never went out.
"Vice-Captain Shuuichi, it has been a while. Last time we met you were Fourth Division Third Seat."
Pleasantries from Kisuke.
"Yeah. Twenty years in a blink~"
"Time really flies~"
"I hear you like tinkering alone with curious little gadgets?"
"Little toys. Nothing worth mentioning."
Back and forth, lively on the surface—empty under the hood.
Both waited for the other to make the first move.
With less pressure, Kisuke held out longest.
Shuuichi couldn't trade empty words forever. If Kisuke wouldn't break the seal, then fine—Shuuichi would play along and follow the "nothing happened" script.
"I did come to ask a favor."
"What is it? Speak freely, Vice-Captain."
Shuuichi pulled on a special glove, opened his case, and drew the blade he had "openly" taken last night—the Bakkōtō, Raika (Thunderfire).
"This sword—given your knowledge, and your Captain Yoruichi's house heritage—ever seen anything like it?"
He met Kisuke's eyes.
"Regrettably, I haven't."
Kisuke frowned, studied Raika closely, then gave a most regretful look.
Keep acting.
Shuuichi didn't buy a single frame of it.
But he wouldn't call it out. If Kisuke loved playing dumb, then fine—time to show the cost of wearing the pig mask.
"That's a shame. This blade has a storied origin, but for certain reasons I can't take it straight to Twelfth Division and hand it to Captain Mayuri for study.
I heard you have a talented prisoner in the Maggot's Nest—Kurotsuchi Mayuri. May I borrow him?"
"Mayuri, you say?"
The room froze—then Kisuke's smile thawed it. "Did Suì-Fēng tell you?"
Shuuichi didn't answer—just returned a meaningful smile.
There's a saying: raise bees for a thousand days, use bees for an hour. Suì-Fēng, time to take the heat!
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