For the first time in many years, Senya donned the standard attire of a Shinigami.
The black uniform fit neatly against his frame, plain yet solemn—an outfit he had long since stopped wearing.
Because today, he was about to do something irreversible.
"Young Master."
Yukimura's voice was low, heavy, carrying a pleading undertone that made it tremble at the edges.
"This old servant begs you… please reconsider."
Senya did not pause.
He calmly smoothed the final crease from his uniform, his movements steady and decisive, as though nothing in this world could sway him.
Yukimura shuffled forward half a step, his frail body blocking the path ahead. His withered hands twisted together nervously before his chest.
"If you leave now, you will sever all your roots."
"The protection of the Shiba Clan… the glory of the family… it will have nothing more to do with you."
"You will truly be alone—walking a solitary road, with only your shadow as company."
His voice quavered, thick with emotion, and his cloudy eyes brimmed with pain.
Only then did Senya stop.
He raised his head and looked at Yukimura. His dark eyes were deep and unfathomable, their depths concealed like still water beneath ice.
His voice was calm—too calm—cold and restrained, like a frozen lake unable to thaw.
"Yukimura, you don't understand."
Inside his mind, the System's latest mission hung like an execution order.
[Mission A: The System has identified the Branch Family Head as Shiba Isshin. Obtain the position of Family Head within seven days. Failure will result in a deduction of 1000 Source Quality.]
[Mission B: Re-establish a Family with a minimum of two members within seven days. Failure will result in a deduction of 1000 Source Quality.]
[Mission Reward (upon completion of A or B): Uchiha Kekkei Genkai]
Seven days.
Where was he supposed to find Shiba Isshin—that irresponsible elder who had vanished for years without a trace?
There had never been a real choice.
In the end, Senya chose Mission B.
He would build his own Family.
As for the second member…
He already had a plan.
"This old servant may not understand your grand ambitions," Yukimura said suddenly, his voice rising, heavy with desperate sorrow.
"But I have served three generations of Branch Family Heads. I know how deep—and how treacherous—the waters of Seireitei truly are."
"Even the Main Family, one of the Five Great Noble Houses, is being suppressed at every turn."
He swallowed hard. A flicker of fear surfaced in his aged eyes.
Lowering his voice to a whisper, he spoke words that carried enormous weight.
"It is because of the Soul King."
"The Soul King…" Senya repeated softly.
A faint, chilling curve flashed across his lips—gone so quickly it was impossible to tell whether it was a smile or something colder.
As a transmigrator, he knew the truth all too well.
The Shiba Clan's downfall was no accident.
Their ancestor had opposed the forced sealing of the Soul King, insisting that the sins of the Shinigami should be revealed and judged by the world.
That single stance had placed the Shiba Clan at odds with the other four Great Noble Houses.
And Central 46 had gladly exploited that fracture—slowly eroding the Shiba Clan's authority, reclaiming power piece by piece.
Thus, a world where only the Shiba Clan suffered came into being.
Senya looked away from Yukimura.
His gaze fell upon the wicker box beside him.
Inside lay the original owner's Zanpakutō.
A simple Japanese katana.
All Zanpakutō began as identical Asauchi—only after achieving Shikai did they take on their unique forms.
But because the original owner lacked talent, this blade had never progressed beyond its initial state.
Senya's fingertips brushed lightly along the cold steel.
Whether he was savoring a memory or mourning wasted potential, even he could not say.
He lifted the blade and fastened the pitch-black Zanpakutō to his waist.
"Uncle Yukimura."
His voice remained calm, yet it carried a resolve as unyielding as tempered ice—final and absolute.
"My decision is made."
He turned away.
The plain Shinigami uniform outlined a slender yet upright figure, straight as a drawn blade.
Without another glance at the old servant, Senya walked toward the door, his dark hair trailing silently through the morning light.
"Young Master—!"
Yukimura stumbled forward, reaching out.
But all he saw was Senya's figure turning the corner—never once looking back.
The old man's hand hovered helplessly in the empty air… before falling, powerless.
Shiba Clan — Main Family Residence
The main hall was vast and majestic.
Towering pillars upheld a ceiling steeped in centuries of history, while the black Falling Heaven Collapse Vortex Crest gleamed faintly under the morning sun—an echo of former glory.
Yet beneath the splendor lingered an unmistakable sense of decline.
Even the finest incense could not fully dispel the emptiness in the air.
Seated upon the main throne was Shiba Kaien.
Clad in luxurious black robes, he sat upright, his posture tall and straight like a pine tree weathering the years.
A gentle smile rested on his face, giving him an approachable air—but a closer look revealed faint fatigue gathered between his brows.
The burden of the clan weighed heavily upon him.
Beside him stood his younger sister, Shiba Kūkaku.
Dressed in fiery red, like a blazing flame, she crossed her arms tightly. Her sharp brows were drawn together, and her hawk-like gaze was locked onto the lone figure below the dais.
Shiba Senya.
Senya lowered his head and bowed.
His movements were flawless, respectful—yet distant.
"Branch Family member, Shiba Senya, pays respects to Lord Kaien and Lady Kūkaku."
His voice echoed clearly through the silent hall.
"I have come to formally request severance from all lineage records, responsibilities, and bonds of both the Shiba Main Family and Branch Family."
"I intend to establish a new Family independently."
"Establish a new Family?!"
Kūkaku's voice exploded like thunder.
She stepped forward, fiery braids lifting as her Spiritual Pressure surged violently, the air in the hall seeming to ignite.
"Shiba Senya!"
She glared at him, each word grinding out like sparks from steel.
"Yes, the Shiba Clan is declining! Yes, those arrogant fools in Seireitei look down on us!"
"But the Shiba bones are not broken! The Shiba soul has not scattered!"
"It is not your place—as a mere Branch Family member—to kick us while we're down and commit such a treasonous act!"
She pointed sharply at the clan crest above.
"Look at it! Shiba blood flows in your veins! What you're doing today is no different from severing ties with your ancestors!"
"'Establishing a new Family'? You're trying to climb higher by stepping on the remains of the Shiba Clan!"
Her Spiritual Pressure crashed forward like a tsunami.
Yet Senya did not move.
He slowly raised his head, his dark eyes meeting her blazing glare without flinching.
A shadow flickered deep within his pupils.
"Lady Kūkaku."
His voice was cold, but strangely sharp—cutting cleanly through the chaos.
"My ambition is to rebuild a foundation, not trample the past."
"The name Shiba has become shackles to me."
"Shackles?! What fine 'shackles' indeed!"
Kūkaku trembled with rage, her hand slamming onto the hilt of her massive Zanpakutō. The guard struck the sheath with a sharp metallic clang.
"Kūkaku."
Kaien finally spoke.
His voice was gentle, unraised—yet it acted like an anchor, instantly suppressing the turbulent Spiritual Pressure in the hall.
He placed a firm hand over his sister's wrist.
Kūkaku turned toward him, eyes blazing with resentment, but beneath Kaien's calm, resolute gaze, her shoulders slowly eased.
She snorted sharply and turned away, chest still heaving.
Kaien looked back at Senya.
His gaze was deep, probing—seeking the reason behind this resolve.
"Senya," he said evenly.
"Tell me."
"What is it that you truly seek?"
Silence fell.
Even Kūkaku held her breath.
Senya's fingers curled slightly at his side, brushing against the cold pommel of his Zanpakutō.
After a long moment, he lifted his gaze and met Kaien's eyes.
His voice was soft.
"I just want to live."