Shiki Mirai scratched his head irritably, striding away from the 9th Division Headquarters and following the riverside trail alongside Junlin'an toward the western edge of Seireitei.
His destination: the Forest of Swords — or more precisely, the 2nd Division barracks nestled beside it.
This isn't the time to be basking in the sun and counting sake money anymore.
After that whole "Most Beautiful Zanpakutō in the Soul Society" mess, he'd already attracted far too much attention. And now, somehow, people had started calling him the "Most Beautiful Nobleman" too?
They might as well roast me over a spit while they're at it!
Shiki was fully aware — he wasn't of noble birth.
Even as a 5th Seat in the 9th Division, the old-money nobles would only ever see him as a slightly more competent "high-class servant."
And now a commoner like him had been slapped with a title that practically screamed upper-class elite?
Even without thinking, he knew how many petty noble heirs would be fuming, feeling as if he'd "trespassed" into their domain.
Sure, with Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni keeping the peace, no one dared act out in the open…
But that didn't mean they wouldn't strike from the shadows.
Those noble families' privately-trained soldiers were no joke.
I need to publish a new story — fast.
Only by getting stronger can I deal with whatever backhanded tricks come my way.
But first…
I wonder if that guy finished the thing I asked for…
Lost in thought, he had already arrived at a grim, heavily guarded structure.
Towering walls. Concealed sentry points. Every detail radiated tension and discipline.
This was the headquarters of the 2nd Division — the branch responsible for Covert Ops.
The two guards at the gate had clearly heard the rumors. As soon as they spotted Shiki, their eyes locked onto him, scanning him from head to toe before muttering to each other:
"Tch, it's just 'cause he's pale and moody with that bookish look…"
"Right? What's the big deal? I think I look better than him."
Shiki couldn't care less about random non-fan opinions. He didn't even bother with his usual "Customer Service Smile" and strode past them expressionlessly.
The 2nd and 9th Divisions worked together often due to their respective responsibilities.
If the 2nd was the secret police — arresting, assassinating, interrogating — then the 9th was the jailhouse, the one locking up whoever the 2nd dragged in.
Naturally, their members were quite familiar with one another.
Shiki walked confidently through the compound, eyes drifting (seemingly casually) across the shadows beneath walls and eaves.
Of course. Even someone as "famous" as me gets watched around here.
He ignored the concealed eyes on him and followed a corridor deep into the compound, finally stopping before an old, unassuming door tucked in a corner that looked practically abandoned.
Knock knock knock.
A clatter erupted from inside, followed by the sound of something falling over.
A few seconds later — clunk! — the door slid open.
The man who appeared had hair like a bird's nest, deep under-eye bags, and a rumpled shihakushō stained with who-knows-what.
Urahara Kisuke.
"Ah! If it isn't Brother Shiki!" Kisuke greeted with a wide grin, instinctively gesturing to invite him in.
But after catching a glimpse of the disaster zone inside — piles of junk, scattered parts, and half-eaten snack bags — he awkwardly retracted his hand and laughed sheepishly.
Shiki's expression barely twitched. He cut straight to the chase.
"Kisuke, the thing I asked you to build. Is it ready?"
His tone sharpened.
"I paid forty thousand Kan for this. You swore up and down it'd be no problem. Don't tell me you still haven't finished it."
Kisuke's body visibly stiffened.
He turned his head slowly, avoiding eye contact like a guilty kid caught sneaking snacks.
"You didn't forget… did you?" Shiki's eyes grew cold. "It's been ten days. Remember what you promised?"
At this point, Urahara Kisuke was still just a no-name squad member in the 2nd Division.
Shiki had originally assumed Kisuke had chosen the 2nd to be close to Yoruichi.
Turned out — Kisuke hadn't even met her at the time.
He was placed in the 2nd purely because no other division had wanted him upon graduation, and the Academy had forcibly assigned him based on decent test scores.
A research genius forced to study assassination and torture…
It wasn't hard to imagine how miserable his days were.
It was Shiki who had stepped in — recommending him to Captain Shihōin and pushing for Kisuke to be allowed to focus on inventing interrogation gear and specialized support tools.
That had earned Kisuke this tiny "lab" space and gotten him off field assignments.
But it also meant the 2nd Division gave him barely any budget — the guy was broke.
And now… Shiki was seriously starting to wonder if his forty thousand Kan had gone into some bizarre side project for Kisuke's personal amusement.
"Relax, Brother Shiki! It's done! I swear it's done!"
Kisuke panicked under the pressure of Shiki's glare, frantically gesturing toward a corner of the room covered in a massive black tarp.
"It's right there! Exactly what you asked for — guaranteed to work!"
Shiki walked over to the tarp and yanked it off.
Underneath was… a machine.
An extremely Kisuke-style machine.
Basically a giant, rusty-looking iron barrel with only two lonely buttons on its surface — crude, functional, and as aesthetic as a brick.
"…If it's done, then why were you acting so cagey?"
Shiki frowned. He didn't care about looks — as long as it worked.
Kisuke hurried over and began his explanation:
"This is the Reishi Isolation Unit! Once activated, it creates a sealed field about the size of this room — absolutely no Reiryoku leaks out! Thunder, lightning, spirit explosions — nothing will be sensed from outside!"
Shiki nodded in satisfaction.
A room-sized field was more than enough.
"Great. I'm taking it."
He reached to move the heavy machine.
"W-Wait! Brother Shiki! Hold up!"
Kisuke jumped in front of him, a mortified look spreading across his face.
"Functionally, yes, it's perfect… but… um… this machine…"
He scratched his cheek awkwardly.
"…It can't be moved."
…