About a month had passed since that Zanzen session.
The Genji School, having suffered a sudden attack, had finally cleared the remaining voids and rifts from its core territories. The wandering souls evacuated to safer regions had been brought back, and the school had regained some semblance of stability.
However, the lost lives—both of the deceased Shinigami and the ordinary souls—could never be restored.
Most of these souls lacked spiritual power, surviving on nothing but water. They couldn't even reproduce—they were fundamentally different from Shinigami.
The only way to replenish their numbers was to wait for new souls to arrive from the human world.
Even now, a month after the disaster, a shadow of hatred loomed over the Genji School.
Everyone knew the sudden attack was linked to the envoy from the Tsunayashiro clan.
Such emotions couldn't be suppressed—only guided.
But for Genryū's forces, suppression wasn't necessary anyway.
Their goal was clear.
...
Instructor Meeting
As soon as the situation stabilized, Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni summoned all available instructors to headquarters.
The dojo, once nestled in a tranquil bamboo grove, was now half in ruins.
Under Genryūsai's orders, priority had been given to repairing critical facilities, leaving the scorched building untouched.
Chōjirō Sasakibe stood silently behind Genryūsai, his sharp eyes fixed on his leader's back.
Once all the instructors had gathered, Genryūsai spoke calmly:
"Sasakibe."
"Yes."
"Begin."
"..."
"According to the twelfth division's report, thirty-five major casualty zones have been confirmed across all Genji School territories. Confirmed Shinigami fatalities exceed 890, with additional injuries and missing personnel numbering..."
Most of the instructors paid little attention to the statistics.
While Old Man Yama's personal philosophy was about improving the lives of the wandering souls, the majority of Genryū's instructors were former street thugs. Expecting them to care about civilian suffering was asking too much.
In contrast, Tsunayashiro Senju and Shiba Yozuru—guest attendees—listened with grave expressions.
They understood the logistical blow this attack had dealt to the Genji School.
If the report was accurate, their original plan—to slowly push the nobles out of the Rukongai through attrition—was no longer viable.
Shinigami needed supplies too.
Mainly food.
And they ate a lot.
"Hey, old man."
Saitō Furōfushi sat with one knee raised, her other foot—clad in a tabi sock—tapping impatiently against the floor. She dug a finger into her ear irritably. "Just skip to the point already!"
"Half the guys here can't even count! Who's gonna understand all this?!"
Genryūsai's expression didn't change. He waited silently for Sasakibe to finish the report.
Only then did he sweep his gaze over the assembled instructors and state plainly:
"Given the current situation, we no longer have the luxury of slowly grinding down the Seireitei's forces."
"Our only option is to abandon the purge of the remaining nobles, concentrate our strength, and strike directly at the heart—then ascend to the Soul King's Palace and overthrow the Five Great Noble Clans."
"But."
"There is no retreat."
"This is my decision."
Genryūsai's voice was deep and steady, his eyes scanning the room for reactions.
"Any objections?"
Silence.
Fujimiya immediately understood the gravity of the situation.
After two years on the battlefield, he knew what a lack of supplies meant for an army—it was a death sentence, a point of no return.
If they couldn't swiftly breach the noble clans' territories and secure their resources, chaos and starvation would follow.
For a moment, even Fujimiya felt the weight of the decision pressing down on the room.
The instructors must have been burdened with an immense sense of responsibility and—
"Took you long enough!"
Shigyō no Takeo was the first to speak, shattering Fujimiya's expectations.
"Huh?"
Fujimiya blinked.
This wasn't the reaction he'd anticipated.
"True." Ōka Danjirō yawned. "They're useless in a fight and slow as hell. Dunno why the old man even bothers training 'em."
"Indeed—this old man also supports charging straight into the Seireitei." Sakahone Saizō, his head resembling a honeycomb, chuckled.
"Exactly! Just swing your sword at the Seireitei, old man! Go Bankai! Problem solved!"
Saitō Furōfushi had no qualms about extreme measures. "This old woman's been sick of your dawdling for ages!"
"Yeah!"
"Right on."
As soon as Genryūsai finished speaking, nearly all the instructors nodded in agreement, leaving Fujimiya stunned.
Not just him.
Tsunayashiro Senju and Shiba Yozuru looked equally bewildered.
Since when was Genryū this... straightforward?
Then it hit him.
"Right."
"This is an assassination corps in its purest form."
The original Gotei 13 captains were all blood-soaked killers. Who cared about logistics or morality?
If they said they'd kill you, they'd kill you.
Genryū? Seireitei?
Only the useful were spared. The rest were dead weight.
Genryūsai sighed at the bloodthirsty crowd.
Getting these brutes to understand his carefully laid plans was harder than turning Fujimiya into a saint.
But...
Genryūsai glanced at Fujimiya.
The young man was staring at the instructors in confusion, seemingly shocked.
Good.
At least he had a decent upbringing in the human world.
Despite his... quirks, the boy was a worthy successor.
Just as Genryūsai was thinking this, a familiar voice rang out—childish yet trying its best to sound bold.
[Gentlemen, I love war!]
[Let us paint the streets red with blood!]
[First, we storm the Soul King's Palace and kick the old man off his throne!]
[Once we break into the Seireitei, I don't care about the rest—just leave the pretty ones for me!]
[Kill kill kill!]
The short speech instantly ignited the madmen's enthusiasm. Several joined in the cheering.
"Hah! Kid's got the right idea!"
"Yeah! To hell with the throne!"
"Kill! Kill 'em all! They're just nobles anyway!"
"Right, make Genryūsai the Soul King! Then we can finally get rid of him!"
"Kill kill kill!"
The room descended into chaos, with some even loudly discussing their plans.
Even the usually stern Sasakibe gave Fujimiya an approving look—Not bad, kid.
Fujimiya's eye twitched. He pretended not to hear anything.
Genryūsai buried his face in his hands.
He never should have expected anything better from this brat.
"Enough!"
The rowdy crowd instantly quieted under the greatest monster's roar.
Genryūsai slammed the table. "All of you, mobilize your squads! Secure three days' worth of rations! We march in five!"
"Yes!"
The instructors chorused.
Some things never changed.
...
Soon, the war machine of Genryū was in motion.
Shinigami poured toward the frontlines in squads and platoons.
The instructors and elite fighters spearheaded the assault.
Naturally, Fujimiya was among them.
From a vantage point, he surveyed the Seireitei's defensive formations and smirked.
Seeing Unohana-sensei looking bored—utterly disinterested in joining the fray—he turned and barked an order:
"Eleventh Division!"
"Draw your swords!"
"Objective: Break their lines."
A chorus of steel echoed behind him as the black-clad ranks readied their blades.
The slaughter had begun.