Bleach: Stirring Up a Storm

Kōe’s words sounded as if they were directed at Central 46, but everyone present understood that what he truly could not accept was the negligence and inaction of those—including Yamamoto—who allowed Central 46’s unreasonable judgments to stand.

Central 46 indeed had many problems. For instance, despite establishing strict rules, there was obvious discriminatory treatment in their actual implementation.

Another example was their supposed objectivity. They claimed not to judge a person’s character when handling an incident, yet they arbitrarily categorized everyone as being driven by self-interest.

In Rukia’s case, it was a clear instance of a punishment laced with personal agendas. Executing a regular squad member was unreasonable, but considering Rukia’s background with the Kuchiki clan, it wasn’t entirely suspicious to the uninformed.

To Byakuya, it was highly likely he interpreted this as a warning from Central 46 and the remaining two Great Noble Clans. Such occurrences were common throughout the Seireitei’s long history.

Because of this, the unreasonable actions stemming from Central 46 were too numerous to count. This was terrifying in itself, but what was truly terrifying were the other people who allowed these issues to accumulate over time.

Change carried risks, and the greater the change, the greater the risk. For Central 46, which maintained the stability of the Seireitei, any criticism or intent to alter it would invite speculation.

If they had never made a mistake, it would be fine, but time had proven that they could be wrong, and the mistakes they made were often severe.

As the representative of the Seireitei, Central 46 was already covered in scars. Though not fatal, the fact that it had received almost no treatment meant that the organization of the Seireitei itself was riddled with holes.

Would making it disappear be better for the Seireitei? Not necessarily. As an institution capable of restraining the majority of Shinigami, the existence of Central 46 prevented potential infighting to a certain extent.

Just like treating a patient, no matter how high their status or authority, they still needed medical care. It resolved potential problems within the Seireitei, but at the same time, there needed to be a way to resolve its own internal issues.

Therefore, Kōe spoke of replacing its members rather than abolishing Central 46 entirely. Setting aside its necessity as a buffer zone between nobles and commoners, nobles and Great Nobles, and even among the Great Nobles themselves, no one in the current Seireitei could utter the words ”abolish Central 46.” Yamamoto couldn’t, and Kōe certainly couldn’t either.

Similarly, even if some things could be said out loud now, harboring the thought that they would be realized immediately was far too naive and arrogant.

”Then how do you suggest I compensate you?” Yamamoto asked in a deep voice, pointing straight to Kōe’s true intentions.

An apology? No, he knew his disciple too well. To Kōe, attitude was important, but results were even more so. He was probably the only person in the entire Seireitei who would trade honor and merit like commodities.

Betrayed by the Seireitei? That might be true, but if he was still willing to stay at all costs under these circumstances, there had to be something else Kōe was seeking here.

A position above Central 46? Although it sounded somewhat like that, Yamamoto could still hear the difference. Whether through his actions or his words, what Kōe wanted more was to place restrictions on Central 46’s behavior.

At the same time, he himself should understand that even if restrictions on Central 46 were possible, success wouldn’t happen overnight. The immediate focus wasn’t on internal reforms within the Seireitei either.

All Kōe wanted was an entry point—a foothold that would allow him to act freely. This entry point was the compensation he demanded, or rather, his condition for continuing to protect the Seireitei.

”Since you’re being so direct, Master, I won’t hold back.” Kōe smiled faintly and held up a single finger. ”The position of Captain of Squad 5. I imagine you’re having quite a headache figuring out how to deal with those people, so by taking it, I’m actually taking a loss.”

”What else? Say it all at once.”

”Second, I want the authority to access all the records in the Great Spirit Book Gallery. Whatever Aizen plans to do next, the answers might be in there.” After Kōe finished speaking, he held up a third finger. ”Third, a brand-new organization merged into Squad 5. During the time we spend hunting Aizen, no one other than me is allowed to interfere with it.”

”What organization?” Yamamoto raised an eyebrow. The records in the Great Spirit Book Gallery were certainly important, but this third point had to be Kōe’s true objective.

”An organization that exists to protect people like us—people who have been betrayed.” As Kōe spoke, he pulled an envelope from his robes and slid it across the table toward Yamamoto. ”Also, people like Ichigo can no longer be handled using the old methods, right? Master.”

”I cannot give you an answer just yet.” Yamamoto seemed to see right through Kōe’s thoughts, not even touching the envelope on the table.

”I can wait,” Kōe replied. He and Yoruichi stood up together and bowed to Yamamoto. ”We will take our leave for now.”

Yamamoto did not reply, silently watching as Kōe and Yoruichi disappeared from the reception room. After a moment, his attention shifted back to the envelope on the table.

”Next, we just have to wait.” Leaving the Squad 1 barracks, Yoruichi let out a long breath. Saying he couldn’t give an answer wasn’t an immediate rejection of Kōe, which was essentially another form of a reply.

Through the establishment of this new organization, Kōe’s goal was to open an outward-facing window for the closed-off Seireitei, forcefully changing its past attitude of controlling the unknown. By using the external threat of Aizen, he wanted to force the Seireitei to learn how to cooperate and communicate, bringing a breath of fresh air into it.

However, such an action was incredibly dangerous. Unlike Urahara founding the Department of Research and Development to reform technological ideology from within, the window Kōe was opening was an absolute double-edged sword for the Seireitei’s current structure.

”Don’t make it sound so heavy.” Kōe smiled, seemingly very relaxed. ”We just have to wait for the good news. It won’t take too long.”

Old Man Yama hadn’t decisively supported him, but not decisively rejecting him was already a success.

In truth, everything had two sides; having both good and bad was the norm. In the past, these people were too wary of potential threats, never considering how to guide things toward a positive outcome. The fact that they were now willing to grapple with it was a massive step forward in itself.

”This is only the first step. You’re being way too relaxed.”

”With you representing the Shihouin clan, me representing Urahara and Hirako’s group, Byakuya’s intriguing behavior on Sōkyoku Hill, plus the attitudes of Shunsui and Ukitake... if Old Man Yama is willing to help me deliver that letter, we already have enough people standing on our side. Under these circumstances, cooperation—or rather, cooperating for a period of time—is the smart move.”

”Aside from me and Urahara, the others aren’t standing on our side one hundred percent.” Yoruichi couldn’t help but roll her eyes. If Kōe really managed to turn all those people above into firm allies, there probably wouldn’t be a single thing in Soul Society he couldn’t do.

”That’s enough. An unsteady attitude is dangerous in itself, and those two clans won’t fail to understand that.” Kōe snorted lightly, chuckling. ”They were never a monolith to begin with. We don’t even need to clash head-on; just a little pressure and they’ll probably fall to pieces.”

”If those two clans were really that stupid, I reckon the Seireitei would have been reduced to the Three Great Noble Clans a long time ago.”