Rukongai was, in many ways, the perfect place. Far from Seireitei, free of scrutiny. Shin could have gone there freely, and if anything were to happen out there, by the time the Gotei 13 learned of it, it would already be too late.
And yet, after careful thought, Shin didn't go.
He couldn't just throw everything aside. He had to consider the consequences of his actions.
The Gotei 13 would never allow it. The Captain-Commander had already made his stance painfully clear.
It was near sundown when Unohana returned—just in time to see Shin stepping out of his office.
"Captain."
He gave a shallow bow in greeting.
By this hour, most of the Fourth Division members had already left. Even Isane was gone.
Unohana's gaze lingered on Shin for a while before she spoke, "I truly didn't misjudge you."
Shin's expression remained composed. "What do you mean by that, Captain?"
"Nothing."
She had known he wouldn't come. Just as she had said before—Shin was not a pure man.
If it had been Zaraki, if he had sensed what her message meant, he would have acted without hesitation. Shin, however, had chosen restraint.
But why had she gone herself…?
Her own thoughts were growing turbulent again. Perhaps they had never been calm to begin with. The serene, gentle Fourth Division captain—that was never really her.
And this boy… how much does he truly know about me?
"Captain," Shin said softly again.
Unohana's gaze was like still water as she looked at him.
Usually, Shin was the first to leave after work. But tonight, he had waited—had lingered until he felt her spiritual pressure returning. Only then did he emerge.
"What you want," he said slowly, "is not the same as what I want."
Unohana's eyes flickered, but she only answered, "Is that so?"
"I've said it before, Captain. Please don't mistake me for someone like you."
Unohana said nothing. She stared at him for a long time, then sighed faintly. "I see. What a shame."
Shin chuckled lightly. "Because I didn't do what you wanted? That's a disappointment to you?"
She didn't respond.
He went on, "It's not just because of the Captain-Commander. If what you want from me is death, Captain—I wouldn't raise my sword against you."
Unohana averted her gaze and walked past him toward her office.
Shin watched her retreating figure and the slow closing of the door.
Then he left the division.
The following week passed with no formal word from the First Division. The matter of Shin's appointment as the next Tenth Division captain seemed to have stalled.
Shin wasn't in any hurry. At this point, whether it was a week, a month, or a year—it no longer made much difference.
Shiba Kaien dropped by again with time to spare, and the two sat drinking at a small tavern.
Between rounds, Kaien asked, "Hey, back when the position opened up, why didn't you compete for a captaincy?"
Shin lifted his cup, grinning. "Didn't I already tell you?"
"You're dodging, you bastard. Still doesn't sound like the truth."
"What kind of truth are you hoping to hear?"
Kaien shrugged. "If you had a real reason and you're willing to share, I'm all ears."
Shin regarded him for a moment, then shook his head.
"Why bother worrying about how others see things?"
"You punk," Kaien laughed, then added, "Honestly, if you'd challenged me for the Third Division, I'm not sure I'd have beaten you."
"You and I were never going to be rivals," Shin replied.
They clinked their cups.
Kaien then asked, "So… you seriously haven't mastered Bankai yet?"
"I haven't."
His zanpakutō had reached over 50% resonance—well past the halfway point—but Shin still hadn't touched the threshold of Bankai.
Normally, any soul reaper with spiritual pressure at the level of Third-Class Reiatsu should have at least begun to approach it.
But Shin wasn't normal. And unlike Ichigo Kurosaki in the original timeline, he had never once glimpsed a personification of his blade. His zanpakutō was nothing but two simple swords—sources of power, nothing more.
"I do wonder, though," Kaien mused. "What kind of Bankai would you have?"
"What else could it be?" Shin laughed. "It's a Kaidō-type zanpakutō. The Bankai probably heals too."
Kaien nodded thoughtfully.
"A shame, really."
"What's a shame?"
"If your sword weren't Kaidō-based, I bet you'd be even stronger."
Shin flashed a grin. "You think I'm not strong enough already?"
Kaien clicked his tongue and said nothing.
After a few more drinks, Shin suddenly drew his asauchi from his waist. He stared down at the plain blade, then let out a deep sigh.
"…The hell are you doing?" Kaien blinked.
"Nothing." Shin smiled. "I just feel like I'm not much of a swordsman anymore. My blade hasn't improved in a long time."
Kaien looked at him strangely.
Shin murmured, "I'm not pure anymore."
"…You're drunk, aren't you?" Kaien snorted.
Shin turned to him. "Aren't you curious how my swordsmanship got this good?"
"Nope. Sounds like you're just showing off."
But Shin continued, as if he hadn't heard. "I had this really long dream once. In the dream, I was a master swordsman. Unrivaled. I defeated countless challengers."
"Uh-huh," Kaien said flatly.
"In the dream, all I cared about was the blade. Pushing further. Becoming stronger. My talent was unmatched, and my effort turned it into domination."
Kaien rolled his eyes. "You're—"
"I know you don't believe me," Shin interrupted, grinning wide.
"…"
"Sometimes I wonder if I've lost my mind. I still train. I still fight. But my sword hasn't grown sharper in a long time."
Kaien had been ready to fire back with some snide comment, but stopped when he saw Shin's distant look.
Shin quietly slid his blade back into the sheath and raised his cup again.
"Well… I'm still strong enough, I guess. If I got any stronger, I'd probably run out of people to fight."
Kaien twitched. He very nearly tossed his drink in the bastard's face.
Shin finished his cup in silence, then looked into its empty bottom.
Unohana Retsu—once the first Kenpachi, one of the greatest swordswomen the Soul Society had ever known. When he'd heard she had gone to Rukongai, he hadn't felt a shred of desire to challenge her.
All he'd thought about was system rewards. About risks. About outcomes.
He wasn't pure.
Shin didn't even know when he'd stopped being.