Scolding
Kurotsuchi Mayuri had long harbored the ambition of creating a soul entirely from scratch.
To surpass Urahara Kisuke, he needed to achieve the unimaginable.
For this purpose, he began the Nemuri Project. The first six attempts ended in failure, but the seventh was a success.
At the time, he was ecstatic, convinced he was on the verge of achieving his ultimate goal. He named the seventh creation Nemu and devoted himself fully to teaching her.
At first, Nemu fulfilled his expectations, absorbing all the knowledge he imparted.
But gradually, he realized something was wrong.
She behaved more like a humanoid machine than a human, devoid of the desires and will that defined a soul. If instructed, she would obey and memorize, but she never displayed initiative.
To confirm his suspicions, Mayuri subjected her to painful modification experiments—without anesthesia.
Nemu endured every trial without complaint.
Was this truly human?
Deeply disappointed, Mayuri concluded there was something defective in her body or mind. He began injecting chemicals, altering her structure again and again, but to no avail.
His failures only fueled his frustration. His temper worsened, and his treatment of Nemu grew increasingly harsh.
He had never imagined that something he had labored so hard to build could be altered by a clueless outsider.
"Shiraishi…" Mayuri muttered with disgust. That name now stirred the same revulsion in him as Urahara Kisuke.
He desperately wanted to capture the boy and uncover the cause of Nemu's change.
But Shiraishi was not easily found. Mayuri would need another method.
His thoughts were interrupted by Akon's voice outside the door.
"Captain Mayuri, Commander Yamamoto requests your presence at the First Division headquarters."
"I have experiments to run. Tell him I cannot go," Mayuri snapped.
Akon did not move.
"The Commander's orders were explicit. Even if you are physically impaired, you must appear."
"Tch." At the phrase physically impaired, Mayuri understood at once. His defeat at Shiraishi's hands had already been exposed. Yamamoto was deliberately humiliating him.
"Carry me to the First Division," he ordered at last.
He did not bother applying artificial skin to hide his condition. Pretending otherwise would only make him look petty. Better to appear before the First Division openly, even in this state.
---
The night sky held no stars. Only a half-shrouded moon hung above, bathing the red railings of the First Division barracks in pale light.
Yamamoto Genryūsai stood there, leaning on his rough wooden cane, his captain's haori rustling in the wind.
The hall was silent and heavy with authority.
Even the unruly Zaraki Kenpachi, impatience plain on his face, refrained from speaking.
Second Division Captain Soi Fon and Eighth Division Captain Shunsui Kyōraku stood as if before a strict teacher, backs straight, heads lowered, eyes fixed to the floor.
Yamamoto's prestige, earned over a millennium as Commander of the Gotei 13, was absolute.
The wooden doors creaked open. Mayuri entered, seated in his mechanical chair, a controller in his hand.
Yamamoto turned from the moonlight, tapping his cane against the floor.
"Give me your reports."
Zaraki was blunt.
"We never found Shiraishi. One hundred and three of my men were killed."
CRACK!
Yamamoto slammed his cane down, spiderweb cracks splitting the floor beneath it.
"Do you dare call that a report? Four divisions, four captains, and not one even saw the enemy! Mayuri—you alone knew Shiraishi's location, yet you withheld it from the rest, acted alone, and suffered defeat, losing even your lieutenant. You have disgraced the Gotei 13!"
Mayuri had no defense. His failure was undeniable.
Yamamoto's glare shifted to his favored student.
"Kyōraku! Speak."
Kyōraku tugged at the brim of his straw hat, sheepish.
The gesture only deepened Yamamoto's fury.
"You act ashamed now? Where was this seriousness before?"
Kyōraku forced a wry smile. "Our expedition was not entirely without results. We eliminated the Owari Clan, Shiraishi's allies."
"The Owari Clan?" Yamamoto's brow furrowed.
"Yes. Their leader was Oda Nobunaga—alive even after three hundred years."
"Oda Nobunaga…" Yamamoto repeated the name. His long memory struggled to retrieve it. Not from forgetfulness, but because in his centuries of war, he had incinerated millions with Ryūjin Jakka. Against such numbers, a single mortal name was easily lost.
"So that boy yet lives," Yamamoto muttered, then demanded, "Did you capture him?"
Kyōraku's smile faltered. "No. He escaped."
"Shameful!"
Yamamoto's reiatsu flared like wildfire, burning across the hall.
"Four divisions march, yet only minor enemies are slain while the true threat remains at large. And you dare return here with empty hands?"
Only Zaraki dared respond. "There's no helping it. We can't catch him."
Yamamoto turned back to Mayuri, eyes like embers.
"Tell me, then—what is the purpose of the immense funds I grant the Research and Development Bureau each year?"
Mayuri adjusted his tone calmly.
"I already have a plan. If reiatsu-tracking fails, then we will employ another sense—smell."
"Enough riddles. Speak plainly."
"We will reconstruct a hound corps. Modified hunting dogs, bred to track Shiraishi's scent. At least thirty thousand specimens will be required, alongside thirty million kan in research funds."
Yamamoto dismissed the cost without a thought.
"How long until results?"
"One to two months," Mayuri admitted reluctantly. He wanted nothing more than to seize Shiraishi tomorrow, but reality offered no such certainty.
Yamamoto deliberated, then gave his decision.
"Very well. You have your time. Until then, the Second, Eighth, and Eleventh Divisions are relieved of pursuit operations."
"Commander!" Soi Fon protested sharply. "Please allow us to continue the hunt."
"Silence! Have you not disgraced yourselves enough already?"
His cane struck the ground again, silencing all resistance.
"Surveillance of the Senkaimon shall remain. If Shiraishi appears, report to me at once. Do not engage. Do not alert the enemy. Dismissed."
Visit patreon.com/Akeyno to get 30+ chapters