A light rain fell over Soul Society.
A young man with short, dark green hair hurried out of Seireitei under an umbrella, coughing from time to time.
His name was Yushima Ōko, a researcher of the 12th Division in the Gotei 13.
Yes—just an ordinary researcher, not even a seated officer.
"Ōko, you're back!"
A familiar auntie on the street greeted him. Yushima replied with a distracted nod and quickened his pace.
He'd grown up on this very road in Rukongai. When he passed the Shin'ō Spiritual Arts Academy entrance exams and gained the right to become a Shinigami, he was cheerful, energetic; the neighbors took pride that their street had produced a Shinigami at last.
He never imagined his path as a Shinigami would end before it even truly began.
Every instructor at Shin'ō who taught him said his talent for Kidō (Demon Arts) was unparalleled—but his frail body could not sustain any formidable spellwork.
Let alone the other Shinigami disciplines.
Zan–ken–sō–ki—Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Hohō, Kidō—he had none to boast of.
Even during the most basic Jinzen (sword meditation) to commune with his zanpakutō, he could rarely last a few minutes before his body gave out.
(Communing with one's zanpakutō takes stamina, too.)
This miserable physical condition meant that, after graduation, Yushima Ōko was snubbed everywhere he went.
Almost everyone looked down on this "weakest" Shinigami who couldn't even best certain ordinary souls.
At last, for Ōko's safety, then–9th Division Captain Kensei Muguruma had him transferred to the 12th.
There, at long last, Yushima found value: assisting then–12th Division Captain Kisuke Urahara in developing the reigai (Spirit Body).
Not long after it was ready, Central 46 declared the reigai a forbidden technology.
Yushima had wanted to continue the research in secret and see if it might offer a way to fix his body.
But by rotten luck, his former captain Urahara Kisuke defected. Everything Urahara had ever touched was reclassified as top-secret.
Only the current 12th Division Captain, Kurotsuchi Mayuri, had access.
Yushima's hope was crushed.
"I'm probably the unluckiest Shinigami in the world, huh?"
He returned alone to his dim little room, didn't bother to light a lamp, and—as he always did—headed for his familiar corner to curl up and pass another night.
That's how it should have gone.
But tonight was different.
His left foot bumped something soft.
"What the…?"
He tensed on instinct, scuttled back, and lit the candle he hadn't touched in ages.
Soft light filled the room—and revealed a Shinigami who looked like he had more air going out than coming in.
"Who are you? Why are you in my house?"
Yushima asked, voice tight.
He didn't relax just because the man looked half-dead.
Even in this state, a Shinigami was probably more than he could handle.
"You don't recognize me?"
The Shinigami in the corner opened pale lips and spoke in a thread of a voice.
At the words, Yushima felt a spark of recognition. He had seen this man before.
Right—of course. Wasn't this the former 11th Division vice-captain, the one branded a co-defector with Urahara Kisuke—Higashino Shuuichi—who had fought five captain-class Shinigami alone and walked away?
What kind of monster had landed in his room???
Not recognizing him would've been better. Now that he had, Yushima stumbled back until he plastered himself to the far wall.
Never mind that Higashino looked down to his last breath—if someone told Yushima he'd die in the next second, he would still believe Higashino could take him along before he went.
Higashino, in the corner, watched the poor kid flatten himself and rolled his eyes inwardly.
Since when did he have this kind of reputation in Soul Society?
And why was someone like Yushima Ōko—who would one day be a terror in his own right—reacting like this to a battered has-been?
He'd even used his zanpakutō to drain most of the reishi from his body before Yushima got home, just to look weaker.
"Y-you're Higashino Shuuichi!"
Yushima stammered the words, shocked.
He really was the unluckiest Shinigami alive.
"No need to be so afraid. I'm badly wounded. It… may be a long time before I recover."
Higashino said weakly.
Anyone who knew him would never buy it. An immortal-regenerating Shinigami claiming he couldn't recover soon? That was just lying with his eyes open.
But at Yushima's level, he didn't even know the full abilities of some ordinary seated officers in his own division—let alone someone like Higashino.
"R-really?"
Higashino looked convincingly ragged.
And Yushima's thoughts began to race.
A man who could go five captains to one was lying in his room.
If he could get even a sliver of Higashino Shuuichi's help… wouldn't he, at last, take off?
In that instant, the law of Soul Society, the brand of "traitor"—all of it faded.
In the original tapestry of fate, Yushima Ōko was the kind who would endure any stigma to stop being despised—who would break bans to continue reigai research, and, when discovered, would split his very soul in two to keep going. A hardcore research fiend.
If he could defy a public ban, what was a single alleged traitor—especially one whose notoriety had cooled?
And since he no longer had access to reigai tech, the half-dead Higashino in his room looked like a drowning man's straw.
He had to seize it.
"Do I have any reason to lie to you?" Higashino watched the micro-twitch in Yushima's face and guessed the boy's thoughts were drifting exactly where he wanted.
Still, better to guide him—play the wounded quarry to the end. "All I want is to borrow your place to recuperate for a while."
"You can—on one condition."
Yushima fought to keep his voice even.
His disguise was full of holes—but Higashino humored him.
"You know who I am, and you dare to name terms?"
He let a pinch of reiatsu (spiritual pressure) seep out.
No fear of detection—he'd already set up a masking field around the building.
Under that pressure, sweat beaded Yushima's brow and he trembled uncontrollably—but he forced the words out, hard as he could make them:
"I know what you're thinking, but I'm a core researcher of the 12th Division—current Captain Kurotsuchi Mayuri's deputy. If you kill me here, you won't escape!"
He was no one's deputy. In truth, he was worse off under Mayuri than he had been under Urahara; Mayuri disliked Urahara's people, never mind that Urahara's legacy had helped him become captain.
Higashino knew all that, but it didn't stop him from playing along.
"What? You're Mayuri's deputy?"
He gave him a theatrically startled look—enough to ease Yushima's heart.
He'd gambled right—no matter how strong Higashino used to be, he wouldn't bet his life on a bluff now.
"So it'd be best if you didn't think of killing me. It wouldn't benefit you at all.
And my request is simple: help me get stronger. I'm done with this feeble body! I want to become strong! I want those who sneered at me to kneel and look up!
For you, Higashino-fukutaichō, that should be easy… right?"
He poured out his resentment in a rush—and tacked on "vice-captain" after Higashino's name to show good will.
He didn't know Higashino had been waiting for exactly this.
Because Higashino knew Ōko's problem inside out: the mismatch between his spiritual capacity and his physical vessel. The body buckled under the load.
The fix? Fight, over and over, build the body. Simple.
Yushima had never noticed because his basics were so poor he couldn't find peers to spar with; he was always outclassed, never improved.
But Higashino was different. With his Reishi constructs, he could set his own output to any level he liked—dial himself to be the exact right opponent. If he needed to "trim" that output… well, a light cut of his own blade would do.
And befriending Yushima Ōko wouldn't only help Higashino reach Kurotsuchi Mayuri in Seireitei whenever he needed—it mattered more that, in the course of fate, the kaizō-konpaku (Modified Soul) concept was proposed and perfected by a split persona born from Yushima himself—Inaba Kagerōza.
In this domain, Higashino trusted Yushima's talent could even outstrip Mayuri's.
He wasn't about to place his life entirely in a pure mad scientist's hands. If Mayuri planted a backdoor in his body, everything would be lost.
And so a pact between a would-be "golden-finger grandpa" and a "fake protagonist" was struck—each side convinced he'd made a killing.
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