Chapter 50: Captains' Meeting
Narrator POV
Hours later…
The sun was already dipping behind the horizon when they finally reached a small rural settlement. Thanks to Yoruichi's intervention, they were allowed to rest inside a traditional house—even if there was still no sign of Kūkaku.
Akira dropped onto the floor with a sigh, folding his arms behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling.
—The good thing is… her house is easy to find. —he commented sarcastically, shooting Yoruichi a look. She purposely ignored him.
—Hey, don't look at me like that. She probably moved again while we were searching. Wouldn't be the first time.
Ichigo set Zangetsu against the wall, rolling his shoulders as fatigue settled in. "She really moves that much? Must be someone pretty important if she doesn't want to be found easily…"
Silence hovered for a moment as everyone made themselves comfortable. Despite exhaustion, the atmosphere felt calmer… the quiet before the storm.
Akira narrowed his eyes, brow lifting slightly as he stared toward the door.
—Do you hear that? Sounds like a stampede…
Before anyone could respond, the door shattered under a tremendous impact. A figure burst into the room like a cannonball, forcing everyone to jump back in shock.
"A boar?!" Orihime exclaimed, eyes wide.
A massive boar, adorned with a pink bow on its head, skidded to a stop at the threshold. It snorted loudly—clearly more pet than threat. But what followed was even more surprising.
???: "Ah! Old Bonnie threw me again… she's in a playful mood today." said a deep, relaxed voice as a man pushed himself up with a groan.
He was tall and muscular, with chin-length black hair, a partially missing eyebrow, and a confident expression. He wore a sleeveless vest, a scarf, goggles, and carried himself with an attitude that screamed "I don't care about anything."
???: "Ganju! What the hell are you doing barging in like that?!". Yelled the elderly man who had offered them shelter, furious at the destroyed door.
—Relax, old man. I heard there was a Shinigami wandering around here. What, I can't stay informed about what's happening on our turf?. —Ganju replied mockingly—his eyes landing on Ichigo's black Shihakushō. —Well, well… so you're the famous Shinigami everyone's been talking about, huh?.
Ichigo frowned at the newcomer's challenging stare, while Akira crossed his arms, quietly entertained.
Akira watched them like two strays sizing each other up before fighting over territory. He shrugged, exhaling once. He leaned back once more, arms behind his head in complete calm.
—(Kid problems… Ichigo can handle Ganju. Probably.)
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Seireitei — Gotei 13 Assembly Hall
A heavy silence dominated the chamber. The doors were shut, the windows sealed, and within the heart of the Seireitei, the captains of all thirteen divisions stood gathered.
Their eyes were serious. Their presence weighed like iron. Word had spread like wildfire through the Soul Society: Captain Gin Ichimaru had been defeated.
Not by another captain. But by a Ryoka—one of the intruders. Lower-ranked officers murmured in panic through the halls. But among captains there was no fear—only distrust. Doubt. Curiosity.
They had all felt the surge of spiritual pressure near the west gate. A high-level clash. And yet… Gin had let them escape.
Captain Kuchiki's face remained marble—unchanged, unreadable. Komamura silently stared forward, as though analyzing invisible tactics. Zaraki grinned… excitement in his eyes.
Then the door opened quietly, letting in a figure who walked with a light step and a smile carved across his face.
—Oh! Everyone gathered here? Just for me? How sweet… —Gin tilted his head slightly, smiling like a child who had arrived late to a surprise party.
No one responded.
In the room thick with tension, the only smile that remained was Gin's. The pressure grew heavier. Some captains stared coldly. Others suspiciously. A few… with genuine intrigue.
But still, no one spoke. They all knew Gin never did anything without a hidden motive. And now—more than ever—everyone wanted to know what exactly he was planning.
???: Enough. The voice was firm—like a military command. It echoed through the chamber with undeniable authority. —Normally I would have called this meeting at dawn, but after what happened today… immediate answers are required. You'd better have a good excuse for letting the Ryoka escape.
The speaker was an elderly man—imposing despite his age. His bald head shone under the dim light, wrinkles carved deep by centuries, and his piercing red eyes burned like flames.
Long eyebrows and a sweeping mustache framed his stern expression. His white beard reached his waist, tied with a purple band. Though his posture was bent with age—his presence demanded absolute respect.
This was Captain-Commander Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto, supreme leader of the Gotei 13. His power was a living legend; his words, unquestionable.
Every captain remained silent… until one finally spoke.
Gin Ichimaru, with his eternal closed-eyed smile, scratched the back of his head, feigning discomfort.
—Well… what can I say? The Ryoka turned out to be stronger than he looked. Other than that… I don't really have a good excuse for the destruction.
His tone was casual as ever—without a trace of remorse. The atmosphere tightened further. Another voice cut through like a blade.
???: "Please. Even if the enemy had some power, you should have eliminated him easily. Or are you not a captain?"
The criticism was sharp—unforgiving.
It came from a woman of agile build, razor-sharp gaze and firm posture. Straight black hair contrasted with two long braids tied with white bands, each ending in a heavy golden ring.
Her sleeveless, backless uniform revealed her affiliation with the Onmitsukidō—trained for silent, lethal efficiency.
She was Suì-Fēng, strict captain of Squad Two and commander of the covert ops corps.
Her stare locked onto Gin—zero sympathy. Inefficiency was simply weakness to her.
—Well… maybe next time you should go, little assassin. —Gin teased, baiting her—seeking even the slightest reaction.
But Suì-Fēng did not fall for petty bait.
—Given your embarrassing failure… perhaps I will. —she replied cold and precise, each word a stab like her Suzumebachi.
Gin's smile widened—he enjoyed the challenge.
Playing with blades was dangerous… but always thrilling.
A deep, thunderous laugh suddenly echoed.
—Hah… enough pointless talk!. —The voice boomed like a war drum. He lounged almost lazily—but his eyes gleamed with hunger.
His captain's haori hung loosely over one shoulder, and the small bells tied to his hair jingled with each movement.
—That guy you fought… he was strong, wasn't he?.
Gin's smile twisted—fondly recalling that final blow—at Zaraki Kenpachi's question.
—Oh, he was indeed. —His hand moved to his side—as if the impact still lingered. —I'll admit his last strike… still hurts a little. —He closed his eyes, smiling as though it were a compliment. —That Ryoka doesn't just hit hard—he has strange abilities… and his energy… wasn't Reiatsu. It was something completely different.
The words fell like needles into every ear present. Silence. Nervous. Heavy. Even the proudest captains understood the danger in those words:
A being capable of injuring a Captain… and leaving him in pain hours later?
Zaraki Kenpachi straightened up slowly, his eyes gleaming with pure excitement.
—Heh… now that sounds interesting.
A slender figure with a serene presence approached with calm steps. Her presence was quiet, yet so firm that everyone moved aside without her needing to say a word.
Her long black hair, braided with surgical precision, draped over her shoulder like a constant reminder of her discipline and elegance. Her blue eyes reflected a deep, almost unnatural tranquility — like a bottomless lake.
She moved with graceful and nearly soundless steps. Her expression carried a gentle, almost motherly calm. She wore the captain's uniform with dignity, one that concealed her impressive bust; though instead of the traditional sash, she tied an obi that hugged her silhouette with refined elegance.
???: May I take a look, Captain Gin? —she asked in her usual kind, almost maternal tone.
There was genuine concern in her voice, subtle yet unmistakable. It wasn't common for a Captain to remain in lingering pain after a battle.
—Of course, Captain Unohana. If you believe you can help… go ahead. —Gin replied, noticeably without his usual teasing tone. He knew when not to play games —and in front of Unohana… one simply didn't play.
He also knew that if anyone could understand what kind of damage he had suffered, it was her. After all, that final blow Akira delivered had been anything but normal—aside from the black lightning, Gin had felt as though the attack reached far deeper than his body alone.
She nodded softly, like a nurse preparing to treat a wounded child —though in truth, she was the most feared person in that room… for reasons most preferred not to revisit.
Gin loosened part of his uniform and pointed with two fingers to the exact spot where Akira had struck: the center of his abdomen. A place that should have recovered easily… yet hadn't.
Unohana rested her hand gently over the area, closed her eyes, and focused her spiritual energy. Silence fell over the room like a heavy slab. Even Yamamoto watched with full attention, allowing her medical instincts to take over without interruption.
A few seconds passed.
Then… Unohana's eyes opened slightly. A minimal gesture. But coming from her, it was as loud as a scream.
—This is… unusual. —Unohana's fingers slowly lifted from Gin's skin as she turned her gaze toward the other Captains—. The damage… did not only affect his physical body. —She paused, picking each word with surgical precision—. Somehow, that Ryoka managed to injure his soul as well.
A faint murmur rippled through the room.
—I have never felt anything like this. The energy he used pierced through the spiritual form… and damaged the very core of the soul. —She looked directly at Yamamoto, her expression still calm, but her tone firm—. This opponent is not a mere intruder. We must not underestimate him… under any circumstances. Damaging the spiritual body is one thing, but damaging the soul is entirely different.
The Commander's eyes narrowed with deep concern, and even the most impulsive among the Gotei 13 realized the situation had just taken a drastic turn.
Silence thickened like fog. To harm the soul… wasn't impossible, but extraordinarily rare. And to do it without a Zanpakutō, without spiritual technique, without ritual… with just fists?
That was something that simply shouldn't happen.
The expressions of several captains darkened. Even the most seasoned of them felt a chill run down their spine at the idea of someone who could strike directly at the core of what they were.
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End of Chapter.