Shinigami: Medicine Can't Save The Soul Reaper Society

The details of the battle a thousand years ago…

Makoto had managed to coax them out of Unohana by feigning a bit of childish curiosity. His persistent pestering had finally worn her down, and she'd shared everything—down to the smallest detail.

To put it simply… from Unohana's perspective, that battle had been an exhilarating, almost euphoric experience.

The members of the Sternritter, led by the Quincy King Yhwach, had proven to be remarkably resilient. Their bodies were sturdy enough to withstand her blade—at least, for a time.

However, even Unohana hadn't been able to comprehend why Captain-Commander Yamamoto had chosen to let Yhwach and the remaining Quincy escape at the last moment. The decision had left her puzzled ever since.

Of course, compared to the elusive Yhwach, who had vanished into the unknown, Makoto's current concern was far more immediate—Aizen Sōsuke.

The more normal Aizen acted, the more Makoto's instincts screamed danger.

With that thought, the drowsiness he'd felt earlier vanished. His feet, seemingly of their own accord, led him along the familiar pathways of the Expeditionary Force camp until he found himself standing before the tent of the Eighth Division's Vice-Captain—Ise Nanao.

"Vice-Captain Ise, may I come in?" he asked softly.

There was a brief pause before a calm voice responded from within.

"Vice-Captain Senju? Come in, it's no trouble."

With permission granted, Makoto lifted the flap and stepped inside without hesitation.

The interior was markedly different from his own tent, which was cluttered with medical supplies and equipment. Here, towering stacks of books lined the space, creating a quiet, intellectual atmosphere.

Nanao sat cross-legged amid the organized chaos. Upon seeing him, she adjusted her glasses with her usual composed expression, closed the book she'd been reading, and wordlessly gestured for him to sit.

Despite her stoic demeanor, Makoto's sharp eyes caught the faint tremble in her hand as she extended the cushion toward him.

From Captain Kyōraku Shunsui's perspective, Makoto and Nanao likely had little connection beyond professional interactions. After all, Nanao was almost always at Kyōraku's side.

But the captain had overlooked one crucial detail.

Over the past fifty years, Nanao had quietly risen to the position of Vice-President of the Women's Shinigami Association—an organization originally known as the "Capture-Makoto Association."

Founded and chaired by Unohana herself, the association's name left little doubt about its members' motivations.

During their time in Hueco Mundo, Makoto had gradually noticed that beneath Nanao's icy, no-nonsense exterior lay a subtle, almost imperceptible shift whenever they interacted.

That cold, intellectual mask she wore didn't crack easily, but Makoto couldn't shake the sense of familiarity he felt when he looked closer.

No, don't overthink it, he told himself. It's just admiration and respect. Nothing more.

Still, when he'd approached her for more information about the Kido barriers surrounding the Expeditionary Force camp, her response had been less a straightforward refusal and more… ambiguous.

Neither fully cooperative nor dismissive—a reaction Makoto found intriguing.

As he settled onto the cushion, Nanao gave her glasses a habitual nudge and asked in a cool, even tone:

"Vice-Captain Senju, what brings you here so late at night? Do you have… a request?"

Request?

Makoto hesitated for a moment, thrown off by the slight shift in meaning. Nanao often used words that, while correct, didn't entirely fit the context of their conversations.

"Nothing urgent," he said with a faint smile. "I was passing by and thought I'd drop in to say hello."

Nanao nodded briskly. Her tone turned noticeably more formal, almost dismissive.

"If that's the case, you should return to rest, Vice-Captain Senju. Lingering too long might… cause misunderstandings."

Makoto chuckled softly, trying to adjust to her peculiar conversational style.

"Actually," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "there is something I wanted to discuss. Seeing you here reminded me that there's something we should probably handle tonight."

Nanao lowered the book she'd just picked up, her expression unchanged.

"Please elaborate, Vice-Captain Senju. I'll assist however I can."

"Thank you. I'd appreciate it," Makoto replied sincerely. "I've had a nagging sense of unease about the Kido barriers surrounding the camp. I know you maintain them meticulously, but I'd feel better if we double-checked the perimeter together tonight."

Nanao's eyes narrowed slightly behind her glasses.

"I inspect the barriers thoroughly three times a day," she said matter-of-factly. "There have been no anomalies."

She pushed her glasses into place again, her cool gaze meeting his.

Makoto braced himself, expecting her to refuse outright this time.

Instead, she surprised him.

"However," she continued, her voice softening by a fraction, "if this matter weighs on your mind, I see no harm in a fourth inspection. If I've overlooked something, please guide me, Vice-Captain Senju."

To an outsider, her words might have sounded like thinly veiled sarcasm. But Makoto knew better. Her tone was devoid of malice.

Before he could respond, Nanao stood and, with practiced efficiency, removed her outer robe.

Under Makoto's stunned gaze, she changed into her black shihakushō, meticulously fastened her Vice-Captain's armband, and secured her hair into a tight bun.

The transformation was immediate. Where a scholarly woman had sat moments before, now stood a disciplined, battle-ready officer.

"Shall we?" she asked, turning toward the tent's entrance.

"Thank you, Vice-Captain Ise. I truly appreciate it," Makoto said, inclining his head.

"No thanks necessary. This is my duty," Nanao replied flatly. With that, she stepped outside, taking the lead.

Makoto followed her into the night.

---

As they patrolled the perimeter, Nanao moved with practiced precision. Her command of Kido was exceptional, despite her lack of a Zanpakutō spirit.

In fact, her Kido expertise surpassed that of many captain-level Shinigami. The only limitation was her relatively low spiritual pressure, which made casting high-level spells taxing.

But her skill in barrier construction was undeniable.

Makoto trailed behind her, observing her work with interest.

The shimmering threads of spiritual particles woven into the defensive barriers extended high above the camp, forming a protective dome. Each segment was reinforced with overlapping layers of Bakudō, ensuring stability even under assault.

Despite himself, Makoto found the complexity impressive.

Even if he didn't fully grasp the intricacies, the sheer artistry was obvious.

Nanao's voice broke his reverie. "Something wrong?"

Makoto shook his head. "No… just admiring your work. The structure's incredible."

For an instant, Nanao's steps faltered. Then she adjusted her glasses again and resumed walking, her voice softer than before.

"It's only the result of practice and discipline," she murmured.

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