Emerging from the Technology Development Bureau, Kensei stretched.
Now that the artificial Soul King headache was delegated, he needed to consider where to obtain more Soul King fragments.
The known fragments: Rangiku held the Soul King's fingertip; Brother Ukitake possessed the right arm; the left arm and heart resided with the Wandenreich.
Why had the Soul King's feet never appeared?
Kensei maliciously speculated about the Soul King's anatomy as he arrived at the 13th Division gates.
"I'm here for Brother Ukitake."
Kensei waved at the duty officer and strode inward.
"Sir..." The officer hesitated, then reminded, "Captain Ukitake and Captain Kyōraku were summoned to the First Division by the Captain-Commander. Urgent business, it seems."
Kensei paused. What urgent business could Old Man Yama have?
Had the old man realized that with such an excellent disciple as Kensei, mediocre hangers-on like Kyōraku were dispensable—and was now, in Ukitake's presence, cleansing the discipleship?
"Old Man Yama! Spare him!"
Kensei vanished from the 13th Division, reappearing outside the First Division study door.
He peered through the crack, scouting the situation—avoid walking in on something inappropriate.
Within, Yamamoto stood stern-faced, pressure radiating despite his inscrutable expression.
Kyōraku knelt below like a scolded student, his ever-present straw hat discarded.
Jūshirō Ukitake sat nearby at a low table, pale as always, occasionally coughing, resignedly holding a teacup as he watched.
"Shunsui."
Yamamoto's measured words carried immense weight; Kyōraku's head dropped further.
"Since taking Kensei as disciple, your captaincy has grown more and more lax."
Kensei raised an eyebrow. Mentioning him before Kyōraku—was Yamamoto playing imperial mind games, fostering rivalry to protect his throne?
"Daily you drink and carouse, wandering idly. How can you model proper conduct for subordinates?"
Something sparked Yamamoto's rare anger: "Increasingly clear—the Seireitei's threat lies not without, but within—specifically in this Gotei 13!"
"With captains so unserious, their subordinates imitate. Who will protect the Seireitei? Rely solely on me and Kensei?"
Kyōraku shrank, muttering: "Even without little junior brother, I never cared much for division affairs..."
Though quiet, Shinigami hearing was excellent—excepting certain exceptions.
Kensei nearly laughed aloud outside. Uncle Kyōraku had guts, openly defying Old Man Yama.
Ukitake coughed violently—perhaps genuinely, perhaps masking the scene.
Sensing something, Ukitake glanced toward the door, spotting Kensei's peeking eye.
He paused, amused, then discreetly waved his junior brother inside.
Seeing no imagined "loving disciple" drama, Kensei boldly entered.
Yamamoto paused his lecture—praising Kensei in front of the others would inflate his ego.
Kyōraku glimpsed Kensei, silently begging rescue. Receiving a reassuring glance, he relaxed, adjusting his kneeling position.
In diverting Old Man Yama's fire, Kyōraku acknowledged Kensei's superiority.
"What now? More trouble?"
Yamamoto snorted, sharp gaze locked on Kensei. This brat never brought good news.
Ignoring Yamamoto, Kensei approached Ukitake with a subtle smile: "Brother Ukitake, I need a small favor."
"You've contributed much to Soul Society. Of course I'll help."
Ukitake mildly awaited.
"Brother Ukitake... lend me your head."
Silence freezes the study.
Shunsui Kyōraku stared astonished at his junior brother's boldness. He'd wanted distraction, but this?
Ukitake remained calm—clearly a joke, though serious intent lay beneath.
Yamamoto's veins visibly pulsed. He slowly grasped his staff.
"Kensei Kenzuru. This teacher has clearly been too lax."
His terrifying calm gaze fixed on Kensei like a dead man.
"Today, this old man will correct your reckless, unrestrained speech."
Seeing genuine anger, Kensei dodged behind Ukitake—human shield.
Ukitake coughed, intervening: "Teacher, Kensei must have reasons he couldn't state directly."
He signaled urgently; Kensei nodded rapidly: "Yes, yes! Brother Ukitake understands. Old Man Yama, despite your age, still so impulsive!"
Yamamoto's grip tightened. "Explain. Or you won't leave the First Division alive."
Kensei rapidly summarized, then earnestly: "My main goal: find ways to cure Brother Ukitake."
Ukitake smiled wryly at this excuse: "Though I'd help, Mimihagi-sama's intentions are unclear. Currently impossible."
Coughing, he advised: "But junior brother, avoid such jokes before teacher."
"Uncle Kyōraku put me up to it—distract Old Man Yama."
Kensei unhesitatingly betrayed Kyōraku. He had only one good senior brother—Ukitake. Kyōraku? Who?
"Hey! Junior Brother Little!"
Kyōraku's protests died as Yamamoto's gaze fell. "My life is over," he thought, dragged elsewhere for one-sided discipline.
"Surprised you know of the Soul King. Teacher told you?"
"No—Tsunayashiro records, plus the Monk's explanations."
Ukitake nodded. Zero Division knowing about his right arm wasn't surprising, especially given Yamamoto's stories.
"Not easy for you, brother."
Kensei sighed. He'd held little hope, but regret lingered.
Ukitake would continue to suffer—Yamamoto's sole normal disciple.
"Years of habit."
Ukitake was grateful to Mimihagi; without it, he'd have died young. Occasional vomiting blood was bearable.
Accepting failure, Kensei prepared to leave—then Kūkon hummed at his waist.