BLEACH: UNOHANA RETSU IS MY WIFE

"Well, since all the captains are here, I won't waste any more words. The regular meeting of the Gotei 13 captains is about to begin…"

As the Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13, Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni stood solemnly before the first-generation captains, opening yet another official meeting.

In front of Yamamoto, all captains appeared attentive—at least on the surface. They feigned focus and discipline, giving due face to the iron-willed commander. Compared to later generations—like the time of Kurosaki Ichigo's Soul Society invasion—this original lineup, known for being the most powerful and ruthless, exuded a sharper air of obedience.

Yet despite the formal atmosphere, there was always that certain hairspray-wielding captain whose fashion sense—and disruptive attitude—kept the 13th Division in perpetual chaos. Naturally, each captain harbored their own thoughts, some more rebellious than others.

Yamamoto, still in his prime, was known for his unyielding will. He cared little for pleasantries or politics—if someone stepped out of line, he'd act without hesitation.

However, even though the captains showed respect outwardly, who could say what they truly thought behind closed doors?

Take Araki, for instance—a direct disciple of Yamamoto himself. At this moment, he wasn't exactly... paying attention.

"Sigh..."

Though his eyes were fixed forward, Araki was deep in thought, sighing inwardly.

"What is this lineup even supposed to be?!"

He stared in silent anguish at the captains of the odd-numbered divisions—from 3rd Division's Captain to the 13th Division's Captain. Not one of them, in his view, passed the vibe check. It was a collection of visual chaos.

Among them, the only one Araki deemed "passable" was the captain of the 5th Division:

Obana Danjiro—with his short brown ponytail, firm features, and muscle-packed figure—had a dignified, rugged charm. He was the former standout among the odd-numbered squads… until Araki showed up.

Then there was Yan, 3rd Division. Araki didn't call him a weirdo because of his face—it was the style choices that unsettled him.

Yan had a pale complexion, tight short light-green hair slicked back like some 1980s idol, and wore yellow sunglasses like Kizaru from One Piece, plus a green sash like Zoro, tied bizarrely over his shihakusho.

"What is that fashion sense supposed to be?!" Araki screamed inwardly.

In sheer terms of fashion audacity, Araki had to admit, Yan was in a league of his own. Still, compared to the monstrous aesthetic crimes of the 7th, 9th, and 13th Division captains, Yan seemed practically normal.

"I really should've been placed in an even-numbered squad… I'm too handsome to be among these creatures of the night."

That lonely realization haunted Araki.

He felt like a glowing protagonist surrounded by extras pulled from horror manga. His good looks only made the others appear more grotesque.

"Sometimes… being this handsome is a curse."

Resolving himself, Araki decided: he needed a transfer.

His gaze subtly shifted toward the 12th Division Captain, Zenjoji Yuki—a grotesque outlier among the otherwise presentable even-numbered squad captains.

If only he and Zenjoji could trade places! Araki would fit right in with the graceful captains, and Zenjoji would blend better among the beast parade of odd-numbered divisions.

With that thought, Araki secretly decided to ask old man Yamamoto about a squad reassignment after the meeting.

Just then...

"Now, let us hear from the new captain of the 11th Division—Captain Araki—please introduce yourself."

Yamamoto's voice rang out, dragging Araki from his thoughts. Startled, he strode forward to stand beside his master.

"Eh?! Uh... Sure, I'll just say a few words."

Wearing his trademark lazy smile, Araki faced the room full of monsters, eccentrics, and oddballs.

"As you can see, due to various... reasons, I am now the new captain of the 11th Division. From today on, we'll be colleagues. If you have questions, you're welcome to visit me anytime. I'm a very kind person, after all."

He shot a glance toward Kanoko Hatori, signaling he was only kind depending on the person.

"In truth, I only arrived in the Soul Society about two weeks ago. So if I make any mistakes in protocol or duty, please forgive me!"

"Oh—and if I'm not in the barracks, feel free to look for our vice-captain, Unohana Retsu."

"Frankly speaking, while I may hold the captain's title, the 11th Division is basically run by Unohana-san. So for actual problems... just go to her."

The crowd fell silent.

Araki's tone was polite and breezy, but the implication was clear—he didn't care for day-to-day responsibilities.

"That's about all I have to say. If I think of anything else, I'll call another meeting~"

As Araki casually stepped back into place, murmurs erupted.

"...What does he mean, 'call another meeting'? Does he think he's the new Head-Captain?" muttered Executive Nobu Tsuna, 7th Division.

"Captain Yamamoto isn't even correcting him. That's the suspicious part." whispered Hisamoto Iyotetsu, the sharp-eyed 9th Division captain, pushing up his glasses.

"Seems like Araki has more of Yamamoto's favor than we realized…"

Even Yan, ever the fashionista, sensed a shift in the room.

But just then, Yamamoto—normally stern and expressionless—did something rare.

He smiled.

"Haha, Captain Araki's introduction was excellent. Well then, does anyone else have any questions?"

That smile, that tone—it said everything.

It was a signal.

A declaration.

And in that moment, every captain in the room came to the same realization:

"So that's why Yamamoto insisted that everyone attend today's meeting. No absences allowed. No excuses accepted... He was introducing the 'prince.'"

In an instant, the expressions of all the captains of the 13 Divisions subtly changed as their eyes turned to Araki. Only then did they realize the true purpose behind Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni's sudden summons. The real reason the Captain-Commander had convened this captain's meeting… was to endorse his successor.

After all, these captains—members of the fearsome first generation of the Gotei 13—were once legendary villains who struck terror across the Soul Society. Don't be fooled by their well-behaved appearance in front of Yamamoto...

That was only because he was the most ruthless and overwhelming of them all. Compared to him, even the most bloodthirsty of them paled. If anyone else were to sit in the Captain-Commander's seat, the Soul Society would fall into chaos the very next day. No one else could keep these monsters in check.

For a moment, silence hung over the room.

Though none of the captains spoke, it was painfully obvious that they weren't fully convinced by Araki. They wouldn't voice their dissent—not with Yamamoto's spiritual pressure looming over them like a blazing inferno, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. Anyone daring enough to object would likely get flattened on the spot.

"Why is the atmosphere so weird? It's kind of... off…"

And yet, there's always one exception. Saitō Furuobushi, an older middle school girl at heart, had no idea what was going on or why the tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a zanpakutō.

"Can someone explain the mood here?!"

The other captains had long since given up trying to reason with her. Reading the room was clearly not part of her skillset.

Ahem...

With a light cough, Yamamoto Genryūsai finally broke the silence.

"Since there are no objections, this captain's meeting is now adjourned. Dismissed."

Thus ended Araki's first captains' meeting—an awkward, suffocating experience he'd rather not repeat.

"Alright, time to go! Let's go!"

As soon as the words left Yamamoto's mouth, the captains wasted no time leaving the oppressive atmosphere behind. They fled the First Division meeting hall as fast as decorum allowed.

"Huh?! What just happened?! Why did the meeting end so fast?"

Saitō stared around blankly. The whole event had been a blur—she hadn't understood a thing. The meeting had begun without explanation… and now it had ended just as mysteriously.

"Saitō, come on~ Time to go~"

Shikatori Bayunsai, with her baby face and overwhelming figure, sighed and tugged gently on Saitō's left arm.

"Wait, I still want to ask Araki something…"

Saitō frowned. She had planned to leave with Araki—even though Division 6 and Division 11 weren't on the same route. She was ready to go the extra mile (literally) just for the walk.

"Nope, let's go~ let's go~ Captain Araki looks like he has other business with Captain Yamamoto!"

"You don't need to rush over to him~"

Before she could wriggle free, Shihōin Chihiro appeared at her right side and seized her other arm.

"Ugh, damn you, Chihiro!"

She didn't even need to look. That smug voice was unmistakable.

"Alright~ we're off, then! Captain Araki, Captain Yamamoto, you two take your time~"

And just like that, Saitō was dragged out of the meeting room by the two grinning troublemakers.

Click.

The doors shut behind them.

Now, only Yamamoto Genryūsai and Araki remained in the vast, silent meeting hall.

"Why do you want to talk about 'the successor'?"

Yamamoto asked in a low voice, studying his student.

"Let's not talk about that just yet…"

Araki replied, shaking his head.

"Oh?"

Yamamoto was surprised. He had assumed Araki would bring up the succession in private to back down from it. If that had happened, Yamamoto was prepared to beat some ambition back into his wayward disciple.

He didn't fear Araki's ambition—he feared the lack of it. A mediocre Araki would be a disgrace. If he gave up on becoming stronger, Yamamoto would rise from Hell itself and chase him down with Ryūjin Jakka blazing.

"Old man Yama, have you heard of the Quincies?"

"Those bow-wielding guys seem to be getting restless again—led by their so-called Quincy Emperor."

No riddles, no pretense. Araki laid it out bluntly. He didn't need to fabricate intel—not with the trust that existed between them. Whatever Araki said, Yamamoto would take as fact.

Such was the unshakable bond between master and disciple.

"The Quincies are stirring?"

Yamamoto's eyes narrowed. In a flash, killing intent erupted from him like a tidal wave.

"Then we kill them.

Kill them until they understand their place.

How dare the Quincies cause trouble in the Soul Society?"

The moment he uttered "kill," the room's temperature plummeted. Moisture in the air crystallized into frost…

Then, as if ignited, it reversed—blazing spiritual pressure surged from Yamamoto's body, flooding the room with scorching heat.

"Heh…"

Araki smiled quietly in response.

Yes, for now… there was nothing to worry about.

Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni was still at the peak of his power—an apex predator standing unchallenged in the forest of monsters.