"Absurd! Laughable!"
"We'd rather die than accept such outrageous demands!"
Kuchiki Ginrei sat at the table, staring at the neatly categorized list of demands before him. His already stern young face shifted from pale to livid, his voice rising to a roar as he rejected them outright.
"The lifeblood of the Seireitei hasn't been extinguished yet!"
"These terms are nothing short of humiliation!"
It wasn't just the Head of the Kuchiki who was incensed.
Even Tsunayashiro Mitsunobu and Kyōraku Takuya, seated on either side of Kuchiki Ginrei, could barely contain their fury as they read the demands, each one stabbing straight into the heart of the Seireitei nobility.
Just look at what he'd written!
Abolish noble titles, establish a new samurai class hierarchy, limit family quotas with periodic evaluations, and strip titles from those who fail to qualify.
Dissolve the Central 46, replacing it with a tripartite system of the Gotei 13, Central Cabinet, and Judicial Court, each overseeing the others, while the Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13 would hold both supervisory and exemption rights, effectively elevating the Gotei 13 half a rank above the rest.
Lift the entry bans on the outer Seireitei, revoke all noble privileges, abolish internal noble private punishnts, everything would fall under the Judicial Court's standards, with special cases requiring joint reports to all three branches…
One demand after another.
It stripped the nobles of every shred of dignity and power they'd once held.
Economy, justice, punishnt, servant numbers, private forces…
All are explicitly regulated by written laws.
Any changes would need to be proposed at an annual tri-branch conference.
Kyōraku Takuya scanned the interlocking clauses page by page, searching for a loophole to exploit.
But the more he read, the more his heart sank.
The Seireitei nobles had assud the Genji School were re bandits, ruffians incapable of governance, clueless about managing the Seireitei.
For the past month, their discussions had revolved around exploiting institutional flaws to claw back power. Though they squabbled over influence even on death's doorstep, that didn't an they were brainless.
Quite the opposite, their cunning had been spent entirely on each other, leading to their current predicant.
But now, all their assumptions had been shattered.
"Exactly."
Kyōraku Takuya set down the docunts, his tone stiff. "We will never agree."
Across the table, Makoto remained composed, his gentle deanor unwavering as he regarded the defeated nobles. "May I ask what you all want?"
Kyōraku Takuya slapped their counterproposal onto the table. It was a thin stack, unreliable at a glance, its vague details riddled with holes.
Compared to the thick pile in front of Makoto, it was already losing on presence alone.
But the nobles had no choice but to grit their teeth and push forward.
"This is our negotiation proposal."
Makoto reached for it, but Sasakibe stepped forward first, placing it before him.
He flipped through a few pages and nearly burst out laughing.
The very first line demanded, in bold strokes, "The masterminds of the Seireitei massacre, led by four captains, must be handed over to the Central 46 for trial, to uphold Soul Society's laws."
The handwriting was florid, the idea fantastical.
Makoto looked at Kuchiki Ginrei and the others, their faces stiff with resolve, and said mildly, "The nobles of the Seireitei, with your millennia of fortune and million-year legacy… lost to a decade of bloodshed from the Genji School."
"There's clearly a reason for that."
"You dare insult ?!" A hot-tempered old noble shot to his feet, looking ready to strike.
"How have I insulted you?" Makoto countered.
The old man faltered, stamring wordlessly.
Even his dull blade could answer that softball question.
[Idiot.]
[Because you told the truth.]
A wave of laughter erupted from the Genji School side, filling the hall with a buoyant air.
Only the Seireitei shinigami across the table turned ashen.
When the laughter died down, Makoto's expression hardened, his gaze cutting through the Seireitei crowd like a blade, his voice devoid of fluctuation. "I'm not afraid to tell you this."
"Had Hyōsube-sama not descended from the Soul King Palace to quell the flas of war in Soul Society, every one of you here would already be dead by our hands."
"Surely you all rember Genryūsai-sama's orders."
"All nobles in Seireitei are to be executed."
At that, the Seireitei nobles' faces grew even grimr. Kuchiki Ginrei instinctively glanced at the monk, but Ichibē Hyōsube remained seated, not even bothering to open his eyes.
Kuchiki Ginrei forced a rebuttal. "Do you think the five great noble families are powerless? If not for the need to maintain stability across the three worlds, leaving us no ti to muster forces, we would surely-"
"Surely what?" Makoto interjected. "Have more manpower than you did at the war's start?"
"…"
The nobles fell silent.
The battlefield's hierarchy had long been settled. Without Shinigami of the utmost caliber, the Seireitei couldn't even handle Yachiru Unohana, let alone Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto.
Any argunt on this point would only make them laughingstocks.
Makoto's gaze swept over them, his tone calm but firm. "I only want you nobles to understand one thing."
"What you couldn't win on the battlefield, you won't win at the negotiating table either."
"We of the Genji School only lost to Hyōsube-sama, and the Soul King Palace."
"But…"
"What are you Seireitei nobles worth?"
His brutally realistic words splashed over them like ice water, finally stirring a flicker of clarity in their minds.
Kyōraku Takuya lowered his head, brows furrowed, his heart heavy with sorrow.
Kuchiki Ginrei wanted to argue further, but eting Makoto's steady gaze, he suddenly felt it would only waste ti.
Ichibē Hyōsube glanced at the sharp-tongued young man. Though he knew this flattery was partly aid at him, the concise words cut straight to the core of the issue.
The balance of power between the Seireitei and the Genji School was no longer even.
This wasn't just about military might, it extended to administration and execution.
At this mont, he had to step in and set the frawork, or the talks would go nowhere.
"Using the Genji School proposal as the foundation, the Seireitei may propose reasonable andnts and requests for up to twenty percent of it."
"Hyōsube-sama?!"
"No, you can't! This would ruin all decorum!"
"If we agree to this, where will the Seireitei's dignity be, my lord?!"
Shouts and pleas erupted one after another. The Seireitei nobles, who had lorded over others for countless years, couldn't possibly accept such tyrannical terms.
But alas, there was always soone more overbearing than them.
"If you don't like it, then die."
The monk delivered his ultimatum without a shred of hesitation, his tone icy. "If you can't reach an agreent within a week, I'll leave."
If he truly cared about their lives, he could've stopped the war the mont it began.
"…"
In that instant, the Seireitei nobles froze.
You damn fucking baldy!
So you're not actually on our side?!
To put it bluntly, without exaggeration...
The sole source of confidence for the Seireitei's current ragtag band of old, weak, and crippled was the raw power of the monk before them.
If he left…
At that thought, everyone in the room snapped back to reality, abandoning their delusions.
Their intellect reclaid the high ground.
Finally, they could see themselves clearly.
From that mont, the negotiations returned to a proper course.
However, since Ichibe had at least left the Seireitei a sliver of dignity, twenty percent of the terms to negotiate, verbal sparring was inevitable.
With the most fundantal issue settled, both sides moved on to debate the finer details clause by clause, tirelessly pushing to maximize their respective interests.
It wasn't until the final term was set that the Seireitei delegation withdrew from the table like a loser.
Just as Makoto had said from the start.
What you couldn't win on the battlefield, you wouldn't win at the negotiating table.
In the end, the greatest concession the Seireitei retained was the hereditary nas of the five great noble families.
As for the lesser nobles, they beca sacrificial pawns, and rged into the newborn samurai class alongside all Genji School as equals.
That night, many old n who lost their family nas took their own lives in sha.
But no one cared.
...
"So that's how it is."
In a modest residence, Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto sat quietly at a desk, draped in his haori, listening to Sasakibe's ticulous report.
When the final day's outco was relayed, he let out a long breath, a faint smile creeping across his face.
"It seems everything was within Makoto's grasp."
"Those earlier days, I underestimated that monk's magnanimity."
Originally, Yamamoto had assud Ichibe would at least speak up for the Seireitei nobles.
He hadn't expected that once Makoto presented a clearly more detailed and effective proposal, Ichibe would unhesitatingly abandon those nobles, fallen so low they couldn't even manage their own trade.
At the sa ti, Yamamoto marveled at Makoto's courage and intellect.
To propose such stringent demands before Ichibe, without knowing his stance, took real guts.
Who would dare bet on whether Ichibe might turn hostile?
Or even wipe them all out?
"Makoto is an exceptional child." Sasakibe praised it as well.
He'd watched that kid climb from the basics of Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Hohō, and Kidō to where he stood now.
Yamamoto offered reassurance. "I granted him the sa status as you, don't take it to heart."
"He needs a fitting status."
Sasakibe imdiately dropped to one knee, his tone grave. "Genryūsai-sama, please don't sha ."
"…My apologies, I spoke out of turn."
Yamamoto chuckled, then lowered his head to review the finalized negotiation terms, exhaling slowly.
"Tomorrow is the day the final agreent is signed, yes?"
"Yes."
Yamamoto gazed out the window, waving a hand calmly. "You may leave."
"Yes."
With that, Sasakibe's figure vanished into the night like a shadow.
Yamamoto remained seated at the desk, his brush hovering midair, its ink-dipped tip touching the white paper and leaving a heavy black mark.
He didn't keep a diary, though he occasionally painted.
In monts of stirred emotion, he might pen a piece of calligraphy.
But so sentints weren't ant for others to see.
Yamamoto sat still, recalling the journey from setting his goal and founding the Genji School, to a millennium of teaching, nurturing talent, and reclaiming the Rukongai…
In the blink of an eye, a thousand years had slipped away.
In the end, after countless sacrifices and struggles, this was the result they'd achieved.
After his battle with Ichibē Hyōsube, only he could feel it.
That relentless montum that once surged in his chest, driving him fearlessly against any foe, was slowly fading.
He was no longer the invincible Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto.
After this defeat, he'd entrusted the latter half of his life to others' hands…
The Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13.
Yamamoto dipped his brush and wrote, the strokes bold and flowing.
[Guard Dog]
The old man gazed quietly at the words on the desk, feeling they were still missing sothing.
After a mont's thought, he added two smaller characters behind them.
[Lead Dog]
Looking at the finished piece, Yamamoto let out a low chuckle, his brows drooping, his expression subdued.
His ideals, his ambitions, his life.
All ca to a halt at this mont.
Recalling that final clash with Ichibē Hyōsube, when the monk had subtly held back, Yamamoto shook his head with a self-mocking smile.
"Let's just say…"
"I've already died."
He murmured as much.
The calligraphy on the desk ignited in a flicker of fla.
It turned to drifting ash.
Everyone assud the title of Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13 was the greatest honor of Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto's life, the culmination of his worldly achievents.
But no one knew.
From that day forward, Yamamoto never again spoke the words, "Make the nobles see commoners as human."
The day the peace talks concluded...
He regarded as one of the greatest shas of his life.
***
Bonus Chapter:
100 Power Stones = 1 BC
300 Power Stones = 2 BC
500 Power Stones = 3 BC
700 Power Stones = 4 BC
1000 Power Stones = 5 BC
***
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