The Central 46 Chamber.
This hallowed room, the pinnacle of the five great noble families' authority, lay buried deeper than even the Central 46 Hall.
A labyrinth of sealed passages twisted downward, leading to this sanctum, the Soul Society's theoretical apex of legal decree.
Now, with two noble clan heads fallen in rapid succession and the Genji School warfront surging from District 37 to District 33 showing no sign of relenting, the crisis had escalated. Scores of landed nobles faced slaughter, their interests hemorrhaging.
Thus, the secret corridor to the chamber teemed with clan heads, large and small, their pampered, plump figures clad in finery. Ages varied, but their faces bore a singular, unshakable dread.
The Soul Society's nobility now pinned their hopes on the Tsunayashiro, tasked with overseeing the realm itself, to devise a viable solution in this dire hour.
Among them, a woman of the Ise Clan stood out, her expression the most frantic.
The Ise family had long handled divine rituals, curses, and soul burials, each generation's head serving as the sacred Miko. Now, this middle-aged matron clutched a golden kagura bell, her grip tight, her heart murmuring fervent prayers.
Yet the door before them remained stubbornly shut.
No hint of yielding.
Everyone knew the remaining leaders, spearheaded by Tsunayashiro Shōgo, were locked in deliberation, crafting a countermeasure.
Then, a faint footstep echoed from behind.
A petite figure, cloaked entirely in black, face masked in shadow.
"Executive Militia!"
"Is it a frontline report?"
"It's probably another defeat."
"I don't believe it! I refuse to!"
No noble dared obstruct this servant. They parted swiftly, clearing a path for the messenger.
Clang!
The chamber's doors swung open and shut.
Inside, Tsunayashiro Shōgo sat surrounded by five commanders, their maps detailing the shifting frontline.
"Our defenses have retreated to Atago River in West District 33. The Genji School forces have encircled our last contingent at the Uda Clan's stronghold. If they're overrun, our western flank collapses entirely…"
Shōgo, aged yet unyielding, met the dire news with steady eyes, calming the room.
"No matter. The frontline's received word of Shiba-sama's release."
"If the Shiba can muster their forces to stabilize the Dangai routes, the Uda need only hold a little longer. Then, leveraging the Garganta, we can launch our first counteroffensive…"
At that moment, the Executive Militia soldier shoved past the gathered lords, bursting into the center:
"Tsunayashiro-sama! Urgent report from Central 46!"
"Shiba-sama has defected!"
"But… the Executive Militia couldn't secure pursuit orders."
The childlike voice rang out, and silence swallowed the room.
Every mind blanked.
Their entire counteroffensive hinged on the Shiba's sudden reinforcement.
The commanders stared, dumbfounded, at the soldier.
For a moment, countless hands itched to seize his collar, to demand if he were a Genji School mole within the Executive Militia.
But they all knew.
That was impossible.
So…
One of the five supreme leaders, by law—
Had truly defected?
Shōgo seemed stunned.
He sat motionless, pen still poised over a map's node.
Now, it trembled faintly.
Yet this old man who'd steered the Soul Society's course for over a millennium, retained a leader's core rationality despite the seismic shock. His body quaked, jaw clenched, but he endured, barking swiftly.
"Tsunayashiro Masato, Tsunayashiro Ogata, Kuchiki Ginrei stay."
"Everyone else, out."
At the news, the Shiba and Shihōin affiliates exchanged glances, then sighed in relief, filing out swiftly under orders.
The vast chamber, now housing only four, grew cavernous.
Only before his most trusted did Shōgo unveil his raw emotion.
Bang!
His massive hand slammed the table, splintering it with web-like cracks. He roared:
"Yorita!"
"He's a Head of the Soul Society's Five Freat Noble Family!"
"A Family head!!"
"How dare he… how dare he betray us?!"
"Does that fool think jumping to the Genji School midstream will net him some reward?!"
"Idiot! Trash! Coward!"
Shōgo swept the table's contents to the floor, his voice an anguished howl.
"How does the Shiba keep birthing these brainless brutes?!"
"Chika Shihōin's no different!"
"Those dolts, what do they take the Executive Militia and Omnitsukido for?"
"Their personal toys?!"
"Do these people even grasp what the Tsunayashiro have sacrificed for the Soul Society?!"
"Fools! Utter fools!"
Outside, the crowd saw a throng ejected from the room and then heard the bellowing rage seeping through. A chill gripped their hearts.
All understood, that the soldier's report had driven them to the brink.
Some broke into sobs.
Yet amid this ferocious tirade, Tsunayashiro Masato, the eldest legitimate son and heir glanced at the trembling Kuchiki Ginrei, stepping forward gravely.
"Tsunayashiro-sama!"
"Kuchiki-sama is present, please mind your decorum!"
"We… haven't lost yet!"
But Shōgo ignored his heir, turning instead to his silent bastard son.
Tsunayashiro Ogata sighed deeply, his voice steady.
"Tsunayashiro-sama."
"It's come to this. Please enact that plan."
Only then did Tsunayashiro Shōgo halt his near-mad outburst.
No more sorrow, no more shouting.
He gazed quietly at his bastard son.
"…"
A pause, then a hoarse rasp.
"Ogata."
"The Tsunayashiro will remember your sacrifice."
"Father."
In this final moment, Ogata shifted his address, bowing slightly, calm, "The clan has given too much for this."
"If my actions fail to yield results…"
"Please relent and heed the King's command."
Shōgo offered no reply.
He only watched in silence.
"Sigh."
Words exhausted, as son and vassal, Ogata had fulfilled his duty.
Father and son locked eyes.
Shōgo slowly opened a wooden box at his side, sliding it forward.
At its center lay a pure white spirit blade.
Not Enrakyōten.
Yet both Ginrei and Masato instinctively stepped back.
Only Ogata reached for it.
As the eldest bastard son, this was the burden he'd bear.
---
"No one's actually pursuing?"
Makoto eyed Yorita striding out of the Seireitei, crossing that blank divide, then glanced puzzled at the Executive Militia arrayed opposite.
He trusted his own strength, but if that horde swarmed, even he'd be hard-pressed.
Yorita laughed carelessly, pulling a golden Shihōin token from his sleeve.
"Chika-nii lent me this before I left."
"The Executive Militia sees the token, not the man."
"And…"
He grinned suddenly, extending a hand to Makoto.
"Starting today, we're on the same side."
Makoto blinked the memory of plunging his Zanpakuto into this man's chest still fresh as yesterday.
This shift from foe to ally stirred a strange emotion.
Still, he clasped the hand.
A nameless thrill surged within, like validation, like walking the right path.
Sasakibe strode beside them, sparing the pair a glance but unmoved. Only Captain-Commander Yamamoto's praise held worth.
Yet as their hands met, a prompt flashed before Makoto's eyes.
---
[Bond Event: The Fury of the Leader]
[Your bond level with Tsunayashiro Shōgo has increased! ↑]
[Rewards: Reiatsu Rank +1, Talent Point +1]
[Acquired Bond Trait: Final Dawn]
[Reiatsu: Tier-5 Upper → Tier-4 Lower]
[Bond Trait - Final Dawn: When facing certain death, unleash unprecedented power, followed by a period of extreme weakness.]
[Note: Hell yeah! Time to go Super Saiyan, baby!!!]
***
Bonus Chapter:
100 Power Stones = 1 BC
300 Power Stones = 2 BC
500 Power Stones = 3 BC
700 Power Stones = 4 BC
1000 Power Stones = 5 BC
***
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