The great doors of the First Division creaked open with a weight that matched the tension inside. Within the dim, paper-walled office of the Head Captain, Yamamoto Genryūsai stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze fixed on the slow-burning incense that coiled smoke into the air like unanswered questions.
Across from him, Ukitake and Shunsui sat in silence. The air was heavy with expectation and uncertainty.
"The report," Yamamoto said at last, "from the Tsunayashiro estate."
Ukitake passed the scroll forward without a word. Yamamoto unrolled it, his weathered fingers scanning the kanji that danced between truth and lies.
"A coordinated attack," he murmured, voice low. "Executed by Aizen Sōsuke and Lan Akira. Espionage. Aggression. Treason."
"They claim it was unprovoked," Shunsui said, the tilt of his straw hat failing to hide the sharpness in his voice. "That the two broke into the estate with lethal intent. But..."
"But the timeline doesn't add up," Ukitake finished. "The response was too fast. As if they were waiting for them."
Yamamoto's brow furrowed. "Are you saying the report is falsified?"
"I'm saying it's... crafted," Shunsui replied. "Too neat. Too fast. There are gaps, subtle ones, but enough to leave doubt. And if there's doubt..."
"Then the truth has been edited," Ukitake said. "Or buried."
Yamamoto said nothing. He stepped to the window, overlooking the mist-veiled gardens of the First Division. "They destroyed one of the Tsunayashiro family's internal archives. Yet no casualties. No public injuries. No civilians involved. It reeks of containment—not chaos."
A long pause followed. Then Yamamoto spoke again, softly. "Their power continues to grow."
"That's what scares the nobles," Shunsui said. "They want to snuff the flame before it becomes a wildfire."
"But the boys didn't light this fire," Ukitake said firmly. "They're following the smoke. The real arsonists sit in the estates."
Yamamoto didn't turn around. "And if they're wrong? If they seek vengeance, not truth?"
Neither Captain responded immediately.
A low chime sounded through the room—one of the surveillance Kidō lines had been activated.
"Captain Urahara of the Twelfth," a voice echoed. "Relay from the Department of Research and Development."
The orb shimmered, and Urahara's silhouette appeared in the haze.
"Head Captain," he greeted, his tone unusually grave. "I'm sending over a trace report from the noble estate incident. A residual energy reading picked up by one of our unregistered sensors."
Yamamoto raised an eyebrow. "Unregistered?"
Urahara smiled faintly. "Old prototype. Buried, forgotten. But still functional."
A new scroll materialized through the communication seal. Yamamoto opened it, eyes scanning faster now.
Two spiritual signatures.
One was unmistakable: Lan Akira. Light and darkness coiled in fractal patterns, his essence unstable but controlled.
The second was something far rarer—an echo of Kyōka Suigetsu's presence. A shimmer in perception itself.
"Neither matched the Kidō used to seal the vault," Urahara added. "That Kidō was noble-crafted. Centuries old. Probably only known by three or four clans."
"And yet the brothers bypassed it?" Yamamoto asked.
"They didn't bypass it," Urahara said. "They countered it. With something that predates even our current classifications."
He paused, letting the implication linger.
"They weren't attacking, Genryūsai-dono," Urahara finished. "They were digging."
When the projection faded, Yamamoto remained still, eyes burning behind heavy lids.
"They've found something," he said quietly.
"And they're trying to survive," Ukitake said.
"But the nobility has declared them criminals," Shunsui reminded. "That means the law—"
"—is now a weapon," Ukitake interrupted.
Yamamoto finally turned, face etched with centuries of burden.
"If I side with them openly, I fracture the Court. If I ignore the nobles' request, I risk civil discord. If I do nothing…"
"They will die," Ukitake said bluntly.
Yamamoto nodded once. "Then we walk the knife's edge. I will authorize continued surveillance, but not pursuit. I want their movements tracked—nothing more. And if they are caught… no executions. Bring them in alive."
"And if the nobles resist that order?" Shunsui asked.
The flame of Ryūjin Jakka flickered at Yamamoto's side.
"Then let them test the strength of the flame."
Meanwhile —
In a backroom of Urahara's shop, Kisuke sipped his tea as he stared at the flickering trace report again.
"Zhuoyin, hmm…" he murmured, tapping the data feed. "Light and dark... no ordinary Zanpakutō. And Kyōka Suigetsu's field signature layered on top?"
He smiled, but there was no humor in it.
"Whatever you two are chasing, you're not just poking the beast anymore. You're crawling into its mouth."
He leaned back, eyes gleaming beneath the shadow of his hat.
"Which means I'll need to prepare."