"Old… Teacher—he already knows?!"
Naraku jolted in alarm—so startled he even forgot to pull back the fist he'd just thrown.
Kyōraku Shunsui: "?"
What's going on?
I haven't even asked anything yet and you're already confessing?
"That really wasn't my fault, Kyōraku-senpai! You're the best at judging right from wrong."
Naraku hurried to defend himself. "The Maggot's Nest thing was completely legal and by-the-book. Even the Central 46 couldn't find a single flaw."
"Who knew Yoruichi would take the easy way out and just dump the later retirees into the Central Prison? I don't even know whose idea it was, but then she turned the Maggot's Nest into a research institute."
"The old Detention Unit basically became a research team."
Kyōraku: "..."
Just a few days ago, he'd heard from one of his seated officers that some "talent" at the Central Prison had basically emptied the Maggot's Nest and given those retirees somewhere to be useful again.
And now, in the blink of an eye, the institution that symbolized the Gotei 13's "nobility" in a certain sense had been outright abolished?
So where did that leave the Central 46's "face"?
"Wait—not that?"
Naraku frowned, thinking hard. "Then… was it because I stole one of the old man's roasted sweet potatoes and got caught? The Captain-Commander can't be that petty, right?"
"Or maybe…"
"Ahem."
Before Naraku could confess to more crimes, Kyōraku cut him off in time. With a stern face, he explained in detail what had happened: Ninth Division Captain Takeda Satoru had been attacked.
"That's great news!"
As the victim of Takeda's earlier actions, Naraku didn't even try to hide his dislike.
"A guy who dares attack fellow Shinigami without even checking the facts—give him a few more years and he'll probably try to cut down the Captain-Commander too."
Kyōraku sighed helplessly.
"I don't know whether he'd dare swing at Old Man, but I do know Old Man is about to swing at you."
"He told me to bring you to First Division."
Naraku's expression stiffened. He racked his brain for what he might have done recently to offend that narrow-minded old man.
After several rounds of digging through his memories, he came up with… nothing.
He'd spent these days training in the Central Prison. He'd barely even gone to Fourth Division. Where would he get the chance to commit crimes?
If he really had to stretch, did "accidentally killing a couple nobles during punishment" count?
But the Central Prison had an annual "death quota." A few weak-bodied prisoners dying was completely normal.
Even the Central 46 couldn't find fault with that.
With that thought, Naraku puffed out his chest and declared righteously:
"Hmph. I've got nothing to hide."
"Kyōraku-senpai—lead the way."
Kyōraku blinked, genuinely unsure whether this kid was truly innocent… or just bold to the point of stupidity.
...
...
First Division barracks, tearoom.
At the tea table, an old man and a young man stared each other down, their aura steadily rising.
Kyōraku sipped tea lazily, even taking the time to appreciate the calligraphy hanging on the wall.
He didn't know this new "junior" very well yet, but no one understood Yamamoto better than him.
The fact that Yamamoto hadn't immediately arrested Naraku the moment they walked in meant this was just an interrogation.
No real killing intent at all.
Tsk. Boring.
He'd been hoping for rivers of blood.
"Confess and you'll be treated leniently. Resist and you'll be punished severely."
Yamamoto's half-lidded eyes carried the weight of the Captain-Commander. Invisible pressure dropped onto Naraku like a mountain.
"Name your accomplice, and I'll argue for a lighter sentence."
Naraku's eyes flew wide.
"Teacher, don't frame me out of thin air!"
"What accomplice? I haven't even had time to buy celebration fireworks yet!"
Yamamoto sucked in a breath, anger creeping across his old face.
"I already had the Onmitsukidō investigate. In recent days, Takeda Satoru had no conflict with anyone besides you!"
Naraku refused to be outdone, slamming back loudly:
"Teacher—if you want to convict me, then have the Central 46 issue an arrest order."
"Or you can arrest me yourself. But bringing up baseless nonsense like this—are you trying to silence public opinion in Soul Society?!"
Seeing the two of them about to actually throw down, Kyōraku's eyes lit up. He quickly poured himself another cup of fragrant tea and waited eagerly for what came next.
As things stood, everything was still within "controllable" limits.
Old Man Yama didn't get angry often, but when he did, it was always about something that threatened Soul Society, the Gotei 13, or the broader balance.
A captain being attacked was absolutely something that would hit his nerve. Getting furious was only natural.
As for this Genryū junior, he'd seemed flaky at first glance, but there was a hard edge to him too.
Being smeared like this without proof? Of course he'd snap.
Now it was just a matter of which one of them lost patience first.
Too bad Ukitake wasn't here—Kyōraku could've started a betting pool on who would calm down first.
Come to think of it, Ukitake's "Haori Tea" really was top-tier…
"Hmph. You think I wouldn't dare lay hands on you?" Yamamoto narrowed his eyes.
Naraku didn't flinch. He stared right back and slapped the table as he stood.
"Ha! Like I'd be afraid of you?!"
Their argument escalated into a full-on "let's settle this with fists."
Naraku was the first to storm out, heading straight for Yamamoto's private dōjō, muttering about not "fighting for steamed buns but for pride" and swearing he'd make the old man pay in blood for slandering him.
Veins bulged on Yamamoto's forehead. Heat and Reiatsu coiled around him, the air itself distorting.
"If I don't teach you a lesson today, you'll become completely lawless!"
He rose from his seat and followed with heavy pressure rolling off him.
Kyōraku hurriedly stood as well, ready to follow and enjoy the show—
But as soon as he reached the doorway, a wave of scorching heat rolled back. Yamamoto's expressionless face suddenly appeared right in front of him.
Looking into those calm eyes, Kyōraku felt an ominous premonition bloom in his gut.
"Captain Kyōraku," Yamamoto said evenly, "I have urgent matters to handle. The files on the table are temporarily your responsibility. Don't forget to coordinate with the Central 46."
"?"
With that, Yamamoto turned and walked off toward the dōjō.
Kyōraku watched him go, mouth opening, closing—wanting to protest, but not daring.
In the end, pure survival instinct forced him to swallow every word.
…Sigh. Old Man has changed.