In the blink of an eye, more than ten days had passed since the all-out assault on the Wandenreich—a battle that had shocked all of Seireitei and nearly wiped out the combat divisions.
Thanks to the tireless efforts of the Shinigami across each squad, the post-war cleanup was finally nearing completion.
Masatsuki Aozaki, who had displayed overwhelming power during the battle, naturally had no interest in handling such trivial aftermath.
He went straight back to the Aozaki estate, clinging affectionately to his wives like glue.
After all, they’d been apart for a month. He had dues to make up, or those won would never let him off the hook.
So, for the past ten days, Masatsuki had been working overti—with no breaks, not even ti to rest.
However, that peaceful life didn’t last long.
One afternoon, as usual, Masatsuki had just stepped out of the Aozaki residence, pondering which wall would be best to climb over into the Shiba Clan’s backyard, when—
A mber of the Inner Court Troop suddenly flash-stepped in front of him.
"Captain Aozaki, the Captain-Commander has issued an order—please report to the 1st Division imdiately!"
Masatsuki blinked in surprise, then asked,
"When did this happen?"
Being stopped right at his doorstep?
No way the old man sent soone to fetch him the mont he got ho, right?
Seriously, that geezer holed up in the basent all day—how would he even notice sothing like this?
"A quarter of an hour ago," the trooper replied swiftly. "I couldn’t find you in the 11th Division and was about to head to the Noble District when I saw you co out."
"Good timing. Otherwise, I’d be getting another earful."
Masatsuki nodded.
A quarter of an hour wasn’t too bad—he hadn’t kept them waiting long.
...
"Act on your own discretion!?"
Yamamoto’s thunderous voice exploded through the 1st Division barracks, shaking the air as if it could rattle all of Seireitei.
Shinigami passing by were startled at first, but quickly brushed it off and went about their business as usual.
Since Masatsuki Aozaki had beco Yamamoto’s disciple, outbursts like this had beco routine. Even the later-joined Kenpachi Zaraki had experienced similar "lessons."
Everyone had long gotten used to it—nobody found it surprising anymore.
Inside the Captain-Commander’s office, Yamamoto glared at Masatsuki, eyes wide with fury, beard trembling as he roared,
"Say that again—what authority did the Soul King give you!?"
It wasn’t that he hadn’t heard—it was just too unbelievable.
"Acting on your own discretion?"
He wasn’t so ignorant fool—he knew exactly what those words ant. After all these years of self-discipline and cultivation, he could understand just fine.
And that’s why he knew—this authority was far too excessive.
With the Soul King residing in the heavens, far from Seireitei, who would be able to rein this brat in from now on?
Masatsuki grinned and replied cheerfully,
"Act on my own discretion! Ever heard of ’act first, report later’ or ’royal prerogative’?"
"They’re basically the sa thing—a special privilege, you know, a privilege!"
He shook his head smugly, eyes gleaming with excitent.
"Put simply, in Seireitei, I can do whatever I want. So you’d better be nice to , old man!"
Masatsuki wore an arrogant grin, clearly no longer placing any respect for Yamamoto, the Captain-Commander.
"Not to ntion acting without reporting first—even helping every beautiful girl in the Soul Society beco an adult at once still falls under my discretionary authority."
Yamamoto’s face flushed bright red the mont he heard Masatsuki Aozaki’s words. With a loud slam, he brought his hand down on the table, making the teacup jump and spill its contents onto the floor.
"I’ve never heard of such authority! This is absolute nonsense! Has the Soul King gone mad? Or has he lived so long that he’s gone senile!?"
"Careful, old man. He might be listening,"
Masatsuki teased with a smirk.
"...Ahem, I didn’t say anything,"
Yamamoto quickly tried to cover his slip.
Masatsuki raised an eyebrow, muttering to himself—this old man was really shaless.
Still, rembering that Yamamoto had recently suffered serious injuries—and that Retsu had advised him to rest and recover—Masatsuki decided not to push his buttons any further.
Yamamoto lifted a cup of hot tea, took a slow sip, and after calming himself, began to speak.
"His Majesty the Soul King granted you the right to act at your discretion as a sign of his deep trust. But you must never abuse that power. Do you understand the true weight of what it ans?"
"Relax, old man. I get what you’re saying. We’ve been master and disciple for years—out of respect for that bond, I promise I won’t act recklessly... at least not before you kick the bucket."
Masatsuki waved his hand dismissively, as if offering reassurance.
...
Yamamoto’s eye twitched.
This disciple of his was getting more and more out of line. That was clearly a curse. The brat was begging for a beating.
But thinking it over, if he did try to hit him, he’d probably end up hurting himself instead. Maybe letting it slide this once wasn’t the worst idea.
After a mont of silence, Yamamoto shook his head lightly.
"I’ve already heard about what happened at the Soul King Palace. It’s good that nothing went wrong—but that’s not the only reason I called you here today."
Masatsuki frowned impatiently.
"Then what is it? You’re getting more long-winded with age, old man. Can’t you just get to the point?"
Yamamoto didn’t react to the disrespect.
He poured a cup of tea and gently pushed it toward Masatsuki, then asked in a low voice,
"What do you know about the Quincy?"
Masatsuki answered confidently,
"Everything—inside and out."
Yamamoto shot him a glare.
"Speak human language!"
Masatsuki shrugged helplessly.
"I know everything I’m supposed to know... and everything I’m not."
"Well, that figures. Unohana must’ve told you everything."
Though their way of thinking rarely aligned, Yamamoto nodded in reluctant approval.
Then he asked,
"So, what do you know about the Quincy in the World of the Living?"
Masatsuki thought for a mont before replying,
"They’ve been at war with the Soul Society for hundreds of years. From the mont they et, it’s always a fight to the death. The bloodshed only stopped a little over a century ago."
"Do you believe the Quincy in the World of the Living... could be connected to this incident?"
Yamamoto narrowed his eyes, his tone thick with suspicion.
"You an... you suspect they’re involved with the Wandenreich?"
Masatsuki’s expression sharpened.
Yamamoto continued.
"Before this war, I sent a unit to the World of the Living to try negotiating with the Quincy there."
"But I didn’t expect them to be so brazen."
"Not only did they refuse to cooperate—they even dared to attack us unprovoked."
His voice sank, simring with restrained fury.
"Many of our squad mbers were injured. Even now, several of them are still lying in Fourth Division’s infirmary."
Though Yamamoto spoke calmly, his anger was unmistakable.
"Therefore, I’ve decided to leave this matter in the hands of your 11th Division."
He slowly opened his eyes, the pressure radiating from him like a volcano on the verge of eruption, suffocating the air around them.
"Whether they’re linked to the Wandenreich or not... they must pay the price!"
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