If the greatest advantage of the Katanagari-gumi was that it didn't have to follow the orders of Yamamoto Genryūsai, answering only to the Tsunayashiro family, then its greatest disadvantage was the exact same thing.
The Katanagari-gumi, while nominally accountable to the noble clans at large, was in truth a private military force directly under Tsunayashiro control. But with the Gotei 13 still functioning and the Tsunayashiro family already possessing a small army of hand-raised, lapdog Shinigami, the freshly instated Grand Swordhunter, Higashi Shuuichi, found himself with absolutely nothing to do.
Major issues? That was Gotei business. Minor stuff? The Tsunayashiro lapdogs handled it—pathetic weaklings, in Shuuichi's eyes. Most couldn't even activate their Shikai.
Tsunayashiro Kamihara's vision for the Katanagari-gumi was crystal clear: a strategic deterrent.
A nuclear warhead, pointed squarely at Yamamoto's head.
For leverage. For bargaining. To shift the power balance during negotiations over noble interests.
Shuuichi got it. He really did. He even had a name for it:
Spiritual WMD.
And in fairness, he was exactly that. His ability to suppress Zanpakutō releases was a death sentence for most of Soul Society.
But not everyone was Yamamoto, Unohana, Aizen, or Zaraki.
Frankly, even someone like Kyōraku Shunsui would have a hard time against him now.
Still, there was a price.
Two weeks in, and he hadn't recruited a single member.
Not because the Gotei was blocking him—Tsunayashiro Kamihara himself forbade him from recruiting out of Shin'ō Academy, the only functioning Shinigami training institute... founded by Yamamoto.
The logic?
"We went through hell to mold the perfect anti-Yamamoto weapon in you, and now you want to recruit from his school? What's the point then? If you staff your squad with his disciples, how do we know they won't turn on you when it counts?"
On paper, fine. In reality? Utter bullshit.
Shuuichi had wanted to slap Kamihara across the face—both sides, one after the other.
Yes, ideological control mattered. But everyone in Soul Society was a Shin'ō graduate.
Even Shuuichi himself!
If he couldn't recruit from Shin'ō, and the noble families were too possessive to lend their own people...
Where the hell was he supposed to find members?
Magic?
"Figure it out," Kamihara had said. "Not my problem."
One word. That was his whole answer.
After failing to select a single satisfactory recruit—even with the full personnel dossier Kyōraku had discreetly passed along via Ise Nanao—Shuuichi was frustrated. More than frustrated. Demoralized.
Out of all the bosses he'd ever served under, Kamihara was hands-down the most impossible.
And so, he left the Katanagari compound.
"Shuuichi-dono! Is it true? You're back—and a Captain?!"
At the 12th Division barracks, Yojima Oushi, now Vice-Captain, came sprinting to the gate with a look of ecstatic disbelief.
"Yeah, picked up the title for fun," Shuuichi grinned. "But it's not quite 'Captain'—we go with Grand Swordhunter now. Makes it clear we're not Gotei."
He observed Oushi carefully.
His reiatsu was dense. Far denser than ten years ago.
Which meant Oushi had followed the twenty-year training plan Shuuichi had left him to the letter—supplemented, no doubt, by the black-ops tech that Mayuri had customized for him.
Shuuichi judged that even if Oushi hadn't achieved Bankai yet, he was absolutely Captain-class now.
"Understood, Shuuichi-dono! Oh—by the way, perfect timing! Thanks to the Fullbringers you sent with Sayako ten years ago, our experimental 'Modified Soul' program is ready for Phase One testing!"
Oushi was practically vibrating with pride.
This had been his great test—his personal mission from Shuuichi.
Not knowing the truth of Shuuichi's disappearance, he had blamed himself. Believed Shuuichi had vanished out of disappointment.
But now—on the verge of success—Shuuichi had returned.
It had to be fate.
He led Shuuichi deep into the newly rebuilt underground lab, now modified by Mayuri himself.
But as they passed through Sublevel 9, something... off triggered Shuuichi's memory.
A gigai, modeled after Ichimaru Gin.
The image hit him like a brick.
So instead of discussing the Mod Soul program, his first words to Mayuri were:
"Mayuri. That gigai on Sublevel 9—the one that looks like Captain Ichimaru. Was that your doing?"
"Hm? More or less," Mayuri said casually, not sensing the storm brewing. "Why, does it interest you?"
He wasn't surprised Shuuichi had come. Honestly, he thought it had taken too long.
Between his powers, his title, and his noble patronage, Shuuichi could topple half of Soul Society solo. That kind of resource? Mayuri wanted in.
Especially after the Osaka incident ten years ago.
Thanks to that mess, while Mayuri gained over a dozen Fullbringers, the rest had fled west—into the Seinan Bureau's territory.
Mayuri couldn't chase them. Politics.
But Shuuichi could.
Without him, the Mod Soul project would either stall—or escalate into human testing. And that was risky. Not morally—Soul Society didn't care about humans. Just... logistics.
Mod Souls needed to be combat-capable. Fodder wasn't good enough.
"Was the young version of Yamamoto and myself from ten years ago also your handiwork?" Shuuichi asked suddenly—then immediately regretted it.
That terrifying young version of himself had enormous combat potential.
Too much.
But Mayuri shook his head.
"No. That was Miyazaki Sakai Masato—a rogue from the Seinan Bureau, former Captain of the 12th Division before Hikifune. Got caught doing illegal soul research, slaughtered a Gotei survey squad in one night, then fled west.
Ironically, Hikifune's research drew heavily from his notes."
"And the poor quality?"
"Oh, simple. His models were superior because they didn't rely on spiritual energy absorption. They lacked consciousness or independent souls but could fight endlessly due to preloaded reserves.
Mine? More faithful recreations. But the moment they fight, they burn out in three seconds. With Bankai? Less than one."
"Former 12th Division Captain..." Shuuichi muttered.
Made sense. Everyone knew Divisions 11 and 12 produced maniacs like a damn factory.
Shuuichi didn't blame Mayuri—if even he couldn't replicate the rogue's creations, it meant the problem wasn't technology...
But something else.
The Soul King's body parts, maybe?
That would explain the absurdity of young Yamamoto or young himself existing at that level.
Still, Shuuichi had no connection to this Miyazaki.
Yet.
One in the east, one in the west—nothing to do with each other... for now.
He'd verify one thing: as long as those copies weren't Mayuri's, it wasn't his problem—yet.
As for Miyazaki? He was now a potential threat. Shuuichi would need to lure Aizen along to confront him—just in case he pulled out some infinite-resonance cheat version of the original Gotei 13.
Even if Shuuichi could suppress Bankai, that wouldn't help if the old guard came swinging.
So, back to business.
The discussion shifted toward the current objective:
"How to continue Modified Soul research without Fullbringers."
Oushi had been listening, fascinated—until he started really listening.
"Wait... why are you two talking so casually about things like attacking Gotei patrols? You're both Captains!"
No guilt. No shame. No hesitation.
He suddenly felt ridiculous for thinking he was clever when he picked on those who once mocked him.
Listen to them:
"Typically, only one Shinigami is stationed per monitoring point in the Human World," Mayuri explained. "Within an hour, backup from three nearby stations can arrive—one seated officer minimum. If the threat escalates, the Vice-Captain—currently Shiba Kaien—is dispatched. But his shunpo's mediocre. If we strike somewhere remote, it'll take him at least an hour to get there."
"Good," Shuuichi said. "I'll go to Hueco Mundo, pick a few suitable Hollows, then open a black garganta back to the Human World. We'll get combat data from the skirmish too."
Oushi's worldview was shattering.
But when Shuuichi noticed and pulled him into the conversation?
He realized—he wasn't horrified.
He was inspired.
He was finally being included.
He was finally... part of the plan.
We all have a beautiful future, Oushi thought.
And he meant it.