Chapter 199: Rotation
Since Sosuke Aizen's assassination, more incidents had erupted inside Seireitei, one after another, as if someone had decided to tear open every seam that once kept order stitched together.
The most obvious was the intrusion of the travelers. Their sudden entry had exposed just how fragile Seireitei's internal defenses really were. The barrier system, which was supposed to be overseen by the Technology Development Bureau, had failed at critical points, yet the bureau's director was locked away in his own research, showing no intention of taking responsibility. With the defensive network unstable and repairs dragging, the captains had no choice but to personally lead their divisions, supervise the reconstruction, and keep the frightened ranks from collapsing.
Even then, the problems only multiplied.
During one of those inspections, the Third Division captain, Gin Ichimaru, vanished.
Not long after, Rangiku Matsumoto, the Tenth Division lieutenant, disappeared as well.
It was the kind of explosive news that should have ripped Seireitei in half, the kind that would normally force the Central Forty Six to slam its doors open and demand answers.
Instead, the chambers remained shut.
No summons. No directives. No judgment.
To the nobles, their political system mattered more than any Shinigami. Shinigami were tools, supplemental and replaceable. If one broke, another could be raised. They had as many Bankai reserves as they could hoard, and they believed that stockpile made them untouchable.
That attitude, however, only poisoned morale further.
Lower ranked Shinigami began to slack off openly, the resentment no longer bothering to hide behind polite bows. The Seireitei, already shattered by the Ryoka's rampage, was being rebuilt brick by brick, yet it felt like someone was tossing those bricks into the air like ants carrying crumbs in a storm.
Everyone looked busy.
Nothing progressed.
Captain Commander Yamamoto, the true axis of the Gotei 13, did not raise his voice. He did not rage. He did not panic. He remained seated in the First Division, silent as stone, as if he could crush chaos simply by refusing to acknowledge it.
To many, the last time Soul Society had felt this unstable was the Shinigami disappearance case.
Back then, at least the story had been clear enough for people to argue about. Kisuke Urahara, then captain of the Twelfth Division and head of the Research and Development Bureau, had been blamed. Tessai, the former Kido Corps commander, had been dragged into the verdict. An execution order had been declared, and Yoruichi Shihouin, one of the four great noble families, had abandoned her position entirely to calm the waves.
This time, the scale was larger. It involved external travelers. It involved captain level forces being removed from the board. It involved the Central Forty Six sealing itself away while blood soaked the foundations of their authority.
It shattered unspoken rules in the Shinigami world, rules that had survived for centuries because everyone pretended they were unbreakable.
Yet even the most well informed lower nobles could not explain what was happening.
Mayuri Kurotsuchi's blockade.
The Central Forty Six shutting its doors.
The four great noble families falling silent.
Captains and key personnel disappearing one after another.
All of it layered into a single, suffocating uncertainty.
This was not like earlier crises, where people could at least separate what was unrelated from what might be connected.
Now, no one knew anything.
Everyone was trapped inside their own little cocoon of information, aware only of what they were allowed to see, blind to the wider picture. In the past, that structure had been praised as efficient, responsible, a model for Seireitei's machine.
Now it was sabotage.
Even when people sensed something was wrong, many could not report it. They hesitated, waited, watched, convinced someone above would handle it.
And so the entire Seireitei waited.
Whether it was the attackers, the defenders, or even some hidden traitor like the one Aizen had described, everyone was waiting for someone to shine through the fog, someone to break the deadlock by force of presence alone.
At the very center of the storm, inside the Shiba dojo, the man who had shaken Soul Society was squatting on the floor, shoulder to shoulder with his newest friend, staring at a clay doll that was tap dancing.
Kurosaki Ichigo and Shiba Ganju stared at each other, eyes wide, then back at the doll as it wobbled, kicked, and spun in place with a barrel shaped waist that looked far too proud of itself.
"Ah," Ichigo said, coughing once, trying to sound professional. "It's a little different from the initial plan, but it still counts as completed."
The clay figure continued its tiny dance, shifting, smoothing, and slowly taking on a more human shape, as if it wanted applause.
Ichigo's expression remained serious, though his eyes looked tired in a way Ganju found deeply satisfying.
As a key figure for spreading chakra, Ichigo had to admit something painful.
Everyone had their own specialty.
If someone asked him to fight, to show off, to smash through obstacles and stare down monsters, he could do that. He had even believed he had enough charisma to teach chakra smoothly, so he had confidently claimed he could handle everything related to transmission.
Reality had corrected him like a slap.
Three days had passed. Everyone who saw Ichigo walk out of the portal either screamed and fainted or scrambled away like their souls were on fire. Anyone who tried to contact the Shinigami had quietly disappeared, dealt with by Aizen's unseen hand. And among the wandering spirits, almost no one, to be blunt, no one, actually wanted to learn chakra.
After so many years under the Soul King's system, people had become numb.
You show up looking like a high school delinquent and tell them there is a new power that can overthrow Soul Society, and they are supposed to thank you? Chakra? Never heard of it.
People did not believe what they had never heard of, and Ichigo's appearance did him no favors. His face was young, his posture was sharp, his gaze looked like it belonged to someone who had already fought too much. Wandering spirits looked at him as if he were something unclean, something that should not exist in their quiet misery.
Ichigo had worked hard at first.
Then he realized hard work was not the same as results.
So after days of getting nowhere, he had come up with what he thought was a genius plan.
If he did not know anyone here, then he would find someone local.
And if he needed someone stubborn enough to try anything out of spite, then Shiba Ganju was practically a gift.
They had hit it off immediately, calling each other idiots within minutes. It was almost comforting.
Learning chakra should not be too difficult, right?
With that pragmatic spirit, Ichigo had explained chakra's versatility to Ganju as seriously as if he were lecturing in a classroom.
Then Ganju responded with a wave of talent that made Ichigo's head spin.
Their initial plan had been to create a hot dancer. What they had now was neither hot nor a dancer, but the dancing part remained, and the clay doll was undeniably dancing with enthusiasm.
Ichigo decided to blame the rest on his lack of refinement. He accepted the result as proof of potential, then turned to Ganju with a determined look.
"See?" Ichigo said. "Pretty amazing, right? You can basically create anything with this power. Even life itself. I was shocked too at first, but after using it these past few days, I've realized it's really useful. So learn it, pass it on to others. When they learn it, they can share their experience and techniques back to you. That's a good thing no matter how you look at it."
Ganju's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"…Is this thing called chakra really that powerful?"
"Of course it's amazing," Ichigo snapped. "Would I lie to you?"
"But," Ganju said, raising a finger, "and I mean but, it doesn't look reliable. Turning abilities into something else, isn't that what evil powers do in novels? Stuff like that always comes with a catch. It doesn't feel dependable."
Ichigo opened his mouth, ready to loudly denounce this as discrimination against chakra.
Then he froze.
Because he could not fully refute it.
The training he had received in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber had drilled chakra's underlying logic into him until it felt like instinct. Lower chakra obeyed higher chakra. The hierarchy was built into the system itself.
From a certain angle, Ganju's suspicion was fair. A corrupted version of that logic could become chains. People could become puppets.
Yes, extraordinary talent could climb from the bottom to the top, one step at a time, until they could overthrow whoever stood above them. But realistically, from Ichigo's perspective, the odds of that kind of climb were only plausible if someone was born with a level of talent close to the Soul King.
And yet chakra was still different.
Chakra was a power from outside this world, something that existed beyond the Soul King's division and control. No matter how tightly the system gripped everything else, it could not truly control an outer universe.
Try to explain that directly, though, and you sounded like a lunatic.
Ichigo stared at Ganju, stuck, searching for words.
Then, just as Ichigo was about to give up, Ganju brushed the dust off his hands, looked him in the eye, and extended his palm with unexpected seriousness.
"Even so, I'll still use it," Ganju said. "Ichigo, give me chakra."
Ichigo blinked.
"…Huh?"
"Didn't you say it's different from Shinigami power?" Ganju's voice was steady now. "That it lets us cultivate something that can stand against them? That's enough."
Ganju stood up.
The carefree mask he wore most days slipped just enough to show something older underneath.
"I've hated anything related to death since I was a kid," he said. "My sister does too. The Shinigami never bring good news. Not about my older brother, not about my uncle, not about my family. So I'm not learning this because I want to be some hero. I'm learning it because I hate them."
He clenched his fist once, hard.
"If it's not spiritual pressure, and it can still be useful, and it can let my sister rest even a little, then I'll use it."
Ichigo's expression softened.
"…Is that so."
"So yeah, I hate Kido, I hate spirit power," Ganju continued, then shrugged. "But living in Seireitei and Rukongai means you learn what you must, even if you despise it. You prepare, because the world doesn't care about your feelings. My sister and I are like that. The more we hate it, the more we have to learn it."
Then he grinned, the seriousness cracking open into something bright.
"And your chakra is a great tool."
He slapped Ichigo's shoulder, hard enough to sting.
"I'm willing to do anything that annoys the Shinigami. If there's no problem, I'll teach my brothers too. And the main thing is, I don't think you'd harm me. So it's a good thing. If it's a good thing, I'll let everyone in the village learn it. You're clearly enthusiastic about spreading it anyway. If you can guarantee it's used for good, I don't care."
Ichigo stared at him, then let out a breath he did not realize he was holding.
"Really… that's great," Ichigo said quietly. "I can teach as many people as I want."
He reached out.
Ganju met him halfway.
Their palms slapped together in a firm shake, and for a moment, Ichigo felt something he had not felt since arriving in Soul Society.
Not strategy.
Not duty.
Just simple trust.
Sometimes friendship was irrational. Some people knew each other for centuries and still kept a blade behind their smile. Others traded a few words and built a bond stronger than blood.
Ichigo understood that kind of connection. He had lived it with his friends, over and over again.
Words were fragile.
Actions were real.
And Ichigo wanted to make life better for more people, even if only a little, even if only by one step.
He believed Ganju felt the same.
Compared to Aizen's method of shoving someone into the Hyperbolic Time Chamber without warning and forcing special training, Ichigo was, ironically, better at teaching.
He explained chakra's traits, how it circulated, how it transformed, how it could be shaped. He spoke about patterns, about resonance, about the way natural energy could be used as a foundation if handled carefully.
Three days of steady influence had done more than Ichigo expected.
When Ganju touched chakra properly for the first time, sand and gravel rose from the ground around them, spinning in a slow orbit as if drawn by invisible hands.
Ichigo's eyes sharpened.
Rock affinity.
And not a weak one.
"That's your sensitivity," Ichigo said. "Earth. Rock. That's huge."
Ganju stared at the floating sand, then at his own hands, then laughed like he had found a new way to be annoying.
Then he stretched lazily, rolling his shoulders as if the world suddenly felt lighter.
"But speaking of which," Ganju said, "I don't think I need to worry about my sister anymore. I always thought one day I'd have to protect her, you know, as the little brother. Looks like that day will never come."
"Oh?" Ichigo waved away the still wriggling sandman and looked at him. "You mean Kukaku?"
Ganju's grin widened.
"Ichigo, you're just too young to understand."
He wagged a finger like he was delivering ancient wisdom.
"My sister is proud. When has she ever chatted with someone alone for that long? One day, sure. But several days? Do you think I don't know my sister's personality?"
Ichigo hesitated.
"…Huh?"
"Aizen," Ganju said, as if stating something obvious. "Yeah, that guy doesn't look like a good person. But I get the feeling he keeps his word. And if my sister has a close relationship with a man like that, I can relax a little."
Ichigo's face twisted.
"Ah… I think there's a slight difference between what he described and what you're imagining."
"What difference?" Ganju asked, genuinely confused. "What else do men and women talk about alone besides private things? The Shiba family doesn't have anything good to give to the Shinigami. Aizen betrayed the Shinigami, right? From our perspective, that's perfect."
He leaned closer, voice dropping like he was sharing a secret.
"My sister acts carefree, but she's petty and sensitive. If she lets him talk to her alone, that says a lot. I'm her brother. You think I can't tell when there's a chance?"
Ichigo stared at him.
What chance did you see?
For a split second, Ichigo wondered if trusting Ganju with chakra dissemination was a mistake.
Even basic intuition should have been enough to sense it. How could Aizen possibly develop anything romantic with Kukaku? Ichigo had spent months with Aizen in the spiritual realm, the real Aizen, without any mask. A man built from efficiency and control did not suddenly fall in love with a loud, rough edged woman because she was loud and rough edged.
Ichigo did not believe it.
Not even if someone put a sword to his throat.
He opened his mouth to argue.
A chilling voice answered first, sliding in from behind like cold water poured down the spine.
"Oh my," the voice said. "This is really interesting."
A faint, slick sound followed, and a figure in a white robe stepped into view, as if he had always been there and simply decided to be noticed now.
"The Shiba family really is something," the newcomer continued, smiling. "A dojo that looks like it has no concealment at all, and a woman who can make Captain Aizen develop ideas. Even nobles in decline still have principles, don't they? It's fascinating."
Ganju's face snapped toward him, fury immediate.
"Hey, who the hell are you, talking about my family like that"
"Wait," Ichigo said sharply, stopping Ganju with an arm. "Do not come closer."
The air changed.
Ichigo's posture shifted, and three small spheres floated behind him, spinning slowly, silently, each one carrying a weight that made the room feel narrower.
With that automatic protection in place, Ichigo stared at the man in white, eyes narrowing.
"…You're Gin Ichimaru."
Gin's smile widened, thin and snake like.
"Yes. It's me. You don't look too surprised."
He touched his chin, amusement curling in his expression.
"Kurosaki Ichigo, right? Captain Aizen has always been fond of you, openly and secretly. Hoping you'd do what he wants you to do."
Gin's eyes narrowed into slits.
"But I still have doubts about the true power you've mastered."
His smile turned colder.
"So, how about we test it?"
Gin's voice softened, as if he were speaking to a child.
"How about you try facing the captain, in his true Bankai?"
The three spheres behind Ichigo spun faster, and the space between them tightened like a wire pulled to the limit.
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