BLEACH : THE NINTH KENPACHI

So far, the matter concerning the Quincy has been brought to a close.

After hundreds of years of dormancy, the faction of Quincy that had only just begun to recover and reestablish their strength was promptly dismantled by the Soul Society.

Most of the Quincy perished during this suppression.

To survive, the remaining Quincy were forced to relocate to a designated area under Soul Society's directive, where they now live under tight surveillance—guarded by the Gotei 13.

The mandate is clear: should the Soul Society determine they pose any threat to the balance of the three realms, those remaining Quincy will be eliminated without hesitation.

Yet, are the Quincy truly willing to accept a fate of confinement and culling?

In an unknown land—

A man, draped in a white cloak that obscured most of his body, gazed upon a lone Quincy before him. His voice was low, yet deliberate.

"Are you truly content living like livestock under the Shinigami's blade?" he asked. "Do you not crave vengeance?"

The Quincy clenched his fists, hatred clouding his eyes.

"They massacred us… all of us. My family, my comrades, my teacher. How could I not want revenge? I'd wipe them out if I had the power!"

The mysterious figure's voice sharpened.

"Then come. Join us."

The Quincy narrowed his eyes. "Who are you people?"

"We are—the Wandenreich. The Invisible Empire."

The fall of the Quincy appeared resolved on the surface.

Captain-Commander Yamamoto had called a captain's meeting following the operation.

But the fact that the mission was entrusted solely to a handful of captains, rather than the entire Gotei 13, revealed his thoughts—he did not consider this operation to be of dire strategic weight.

It made sense.

The truly powerful Quincy—those of the old bloodline—had already been wiped out in the war nearly 1,000 years ago.

What remained were stragglers. Fragmented bloodlines. Quincy of the modern world, with neither training nor the spiritual dominance of their forebears.

Their numbers, while not insignificant, were a pale shadow of the past.

Their power? At best, they could match a lower-seat officer. One or two might equal a lieutenant. But none held the might to challenge a true captain.

Against such diminished opposition, the 11th Division alone was sufficient to carry out the annihilation.

Other divisions participated, yes—but more as a formality, supporting with logistics or reconnaissance.

The fighting fell squarely on the 11th.

Gosuke Shigure, Captain of the 11th Division, did not linger long in the Human World after the mission.

Though the world had moved into a new era, it still bore resemblance to the Soul Society in certain ways—spiritually stagnant, and, frankly, mundane.

No skyscrapers. No gigai culture. No Karakura.

With the mission complete and the orders from Soul Society received, he and his squad returned swiftly through the Senkaimon, stepping once more into the dense spiritual atmosphere of the Seireitei.

As he breathed in the air, Gosuke felt a peculiar emotion.

It wasn't that the reiryoku was richer here—or that it was somehow sweeter—but something more primal. A sense of gravity.

In the Human World, a Shinigami truly seemed like a god, walking on the wind, flying at will.

Here, in the Soul Society, that freedom vanished. Even a captain felt the pull of the earth, forced to tread the ground like any other soul.

Flying? A luxury few possessed without relying on their Zanpakutō's unique powers.

After a moment of quiet reflection—

The 11th Division threw a celebration.

They called it a "victory reception," a feast in honor of their full return.

Unlike many of their counterparts who had ventured into Hueco Mundo and never returned, the 11th Division had suffered no casualties.

That alone was cause for revelry.

"To the safe return of every squad member—cheers!" shouted Gosuke Shigure, raising his sake bowl high.

Laughter roared across the hall as the seated squad members mirrored his toast.

Even though many felt the battle had been too one-sided to be satisfying, their joy at surviving and drinking together was uncontainable.

After all, what kind of warrior didn't enjoy a hearty drink?

As sake flowed freely and boisterous chants filled the compound, a playful complaint interrupted Gosuke Shigure's thoughts.

"Gosuke, that's just rude. A reception, and not even an invitation for me? You know I love a good drink," came a familiar voice.

Gosuke turned. Standing there with his signature straw hat tilted lazily, was none other than Kyoraku Shunsui, Captain of the 8th Division.

Gosuke grinned.

"Ah, the leader of the 'leisure division' himself. Well, you're not part of the 11th, are you? But if you're willing to give up your position and become my vice-captain, I'll be sure to invite you to every single reception."

Kyoraku rubbed his chin, eyes twinkling with false seriousness.

"Tempting. But I've been with the 8th for so long—I'm rather fond of it."

Gosuke rolled his eyes. "You mean you're fond of the ladies in the 8th."

Kyoraku laughed unabashedly.

"Well, the 11th has its fair share of fierce women, but they're a little too… fiery for my taste. I prefer the gentle breeze over the raging storm."

Gosuke gave him a knowing look. Kyoraku had always been shameless when it came to such talk.

The 8th Division had long been known for its intelligence and monitoring duties, and while their combat strength wasn't as brash as the 11th, their effectiveness and inner harmony were never in question.

With sake in hand, Kyoraku poured himself a bowl and joined the gathering, lounging comfortably beside his fellow captain.

After a long sip, his tone shifted slightly.

"Say, Gosuke. Since you took over the 11th Division, the vice-captain's seat has been empty. Have you thought about who you want to fill that position?"

Gosuke nodded slowly.

"I did offer it to a few of my officers… but none of them were interested. Said being a vice-captain means paperwork and administration. They'd rather keep fighting."

Kyoraku chuckled.

"Of course they did. That's classic 11th Division."

In other divisions, a vice-captain seat was seen as an honor. Most officers would jump at the chance.

But in the 11th?

Too many viewed it as a burden. A warrior's path didn't involve forms or schedules.

Gosuke took another drink before adding,

"Still, I have someone in mind…"