Shinigami: Medicine Can't Save The Soul Reaper Society

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Makoto.

Makoto glanced at his hand, which he had just raised to shake, and silently withdrew it.

For a doctor, such occurrences were nothing unusual.

Shortly after, Makoto grew weary of the seemingly endless prologue of incantations between Byakuya and the slowly awakening Hisana, centered around the topic of reproduction. Quietly, he slipped away from Rukongai and returned to Seireitei.

Once an obscure figure upon first joining the Gotei 13, Makoto now walked through Seireitei, greeted by the occasional nods and salutations from passing Shinigami.

After fifty years of unrelenting effort, Makoto had established a reputation that allowed him to move freely across Seireitei, recognized by nearly everyone. Gone were the days when most Shinigami, though familiar with the name of the Fourth Division's vice-captain, had no idea what Makoto actually looked like.

Makoto returned each greeting with a gentle nod and a warm response. However, he could not help but feel helpless at the peculiar remarks he occasionally received.

"Vice-Captain Senju, take care of yourself! By the looks of it, you're due for another sick leave this month, aren't you?"

"Doctor Senju, why don't you let me give you a massage sometime? You never know—it might help!"

"Vice-Captain Senju, if your health isn't great, you should really consider getting married soon…"

Where had these ridiculous rumors started?

Makoto deeply resented the baseless gossip about his supposed "poor health." Yet, when faced with the undeniable reality of his periodic sick leaves, he found his protests powerless.

To make matters worse, as the process of completing his Perfect Spirit Body progressed, the strain on his still-human heart increased. His pale complexion only served to reinforce his appearance as a frail yet strikingly handsome man.

For Makoto, this was an unavoidable stage in his transformation. His current state was akin to fitting a Lamborghini body with a tractor's engine—undeniably awkward.

As for why he hadn't started with his heart's transformation, the answer was simple: it would have been far too dangerous. No tractor engine could handle the relentless output of a state-of-the-art Lamborghini engine. Any minor physical exertion could lead to literal blood vessel rupture or catastrophic organ failure, potentially turning him into a blood-soaked corpse in an instant.

Furthermore, even if he completed the transformation of his organs aside from the heart, a normal heart wouldn't be able to support their operation. Each part of the spiritual particles-based body was intricately interdependent.

Fortunately, Makoto had drawn on his extensive research and mastery of spiritual particles control to optimize his "tractor parts," preventing his body from falling apart mid-transformation.

Thus, over the past fifty years, Makoto had completed the transformation of his skeleton, muscles, skin, and other external structures. These days, his focus had shifted to accumulating spiritual energy in preparation for a final push to transform his remaining organs, including his brain.

The rise in spiritual energy and changes in spiritual pressure were hard to conceal. As a result, many captain-level Shinigami now regarded him as possessing captain-level spiritual pressure. Were it not for Unohana intervening several times, Makoto would have already been summoned to take the captaincy of either the Second or Third Division, both of which remained vacant.

---

Upon returning to the familiar Unohana quarters where he had resided for over fifty years, Makoto pushed open the courtyard door. A gentle voice, as though expecting his arrival, greeted him.

"You're back, Makoto?"

Makoto followed the voice to see Unohana seated gracefully under a pavilion, sipping tea.

"I'm back, Unohana-sensei," he replied, sitting directly across from her. His demeanor, once respectful and cautious as her disciple, now carried a hint of boldness.

Betray his master? Never. That said, teasing his master had become a regular source of amusement for Makoto. After all, even if he refrained from teasing her, Unohana's occasional craving for battle would inevitably turn him into a traning dummy.

Resigned to this fate, Makoto had simply embraced it, allowing himself more freedom in her presence.

Unohana's gentle eyes showed no trace of irritation at his casual attitude. Instead, she poured him a cup of tea and pushed a plate of snacks towards him. "Try these. I experimented with some new recipes today."

Makoto's eyes lit up as he eagerly sampled each treat. The snacks, in addition to being visually appealing, were sweet, soft, and flavorful—a perfect complement to the light tea. Unknowingly, Makoto finished every last bite.

Seeing the empty plates, Unohana's soft eyes curved into a slight smile. She silently noted the order and frequency of his bites, already considering how to refine her recipes to better suit his preferences.

After refilling his tea, she spoke again. "I received some news today. It seems the Soul Society might expedite the timeline for deploying an expeditionary force to Hueco Mundo."

"What? An expeditionary force?" Makoto paused, surprised.

"Yes," Unohana nodded. "To prevent an overabundance of Menos Grande from disrupting the balance between the Soul Society and the Human World, the Soul Society periodically sends an expeditionary force to Hueco Mundo's Forest of Menos to cull Gillians and any Adjuchas with potential to evolve into Vasto Lorde."

"Recently, however, the Shinigami Technological Development Bureau completed basic surveillance of Hueco Mundo and discovered a significant anomaly. This has prompted an emergency captain's meeting tomorrow to discuss the matter. The scale of the operation is likely to surpass previous expeditions."

Makoto frowned. "What kind of anomaly?"

Unohana's tone turned serious. "The number of Adjuchas in Hueco Mundo is five times higher than previously estimated…"

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