Of course, he was also deeply intrigued by some of Uehara Shiroha's unusual ideas. The man had a way of thinking that was completely different from others, often coming up with strange yet effective strategies.
This only fueled Urahara Kisuke's curiosity about the ever-mysterious Uehara Shiroha. He wanted to figure out not only his true intentions but also the full extent of his abilities.
Shihōin Yoruichi raised an eyebrow, her arms crossed as she leaned lazily against the doorframe. "I used to think that guy was a nuisance," she admitted with a smirk. "But now? He's proven himself. Not to mention, he's been looking after Yushiro all these years. I can't exactly complain about that."
Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she glanced at Urahara and asked, "By the way, have you finished making that latest piece of equipment he requested?"
Urahara Kisuke sighed, rubbing the dark circles under his eyes. "Almost..." His voice carried a hint of exhaustion.
These days, he felt like he was working as a craftsman under endless demand. Between Uehara Shiroha and Yoruichi, it was as if he had two relentless creditors constantly chasing him down for results.
They always had new requests, and he had less and less time to relax. Even the simple pleasure of drinking tea in peace had become a luxury. He had been working late into the night for days, and the strain was starting to show.
But, considering one of them possessed terrifying abilities while the other was his longtime friend, he knew better than to complain too much. He simply couldn't afford to offend either of them.
Shihōin Yoruichi stretched lazily and then flopped onto the nearby couch. "See? No need to stress too much. With that guy around, we're definitely not going to lose. We just need to make sure he has the equipment he wants."
She spoke with unwavering confidence. After all, she had spent enough time sparring with Uehara Shiroha to understand just how absurd his growth was. His progress was nothing short of monstrous. Combined with his strange and powerful abilities, he had already surpassed the limits of what she once thought possible.
She had no doubt—when the time came, she would be following him to beat Aizen into the ground.
Urahara Kisuke let out another sigh, shaking his head with a wry smile. "I've thought about this before," he admitted, rubbing his temples. "But that man is unpredictable. He doesn't operate by normal logic."
He leaned forward slightly, his tone becoming more serious. "That's why we can't just rely on him blindly. We still need a proper strategy in place."
From what Urahara had observed, Uehara Shiroha always emphasized that their partnership was a transaction—nothing more, nothing less. They provided the equipment and technology, while he provided valuable intelligence. It was a fair exchange, but nothing beyond that.
In the end, dealing with Aizen would still be their responsibility. No matter how much they wished for Uehara Shiroha to take a more direct stance, they had to prepare for the worst-case scenario.
Of course, if Uehara Shiroha ever decided to fully side with them, it would make things significantly easier. Many problems could be solved with just his presence.
But... would things really go that smoothly?
Meanwhile, in the grand office of the Court Army's Captain-Commander, Uehara Shiroha was reclining comfortably in his chair as Ise Nanao skillfully massaged his shoulders.
Over the years, her massage skills had reached an expert level, refined through countless hours of practice. However, the only one privileged enough to enjoy this special treatment was Uehara Shiroha himself.
Smiling as he enjoyed the soothing pressure of her hands, Uehara Shiroha chuckled. "You seem quite happy. Has your workload gotten easier recently?"
Ise Nanao nodded, her expression bright. "All thanks to you, Comannder," she replied with admiration in her voice.
The workload for the Court Army had only increased as their influence expanded, with more trivial tasks piling up day by day. As someone who took her work extremely seriously, Ise Nanao often found herself buried under endless paperwork. But thanks to Uehara Shiroha's "advice," she had been able to lighten her burden significantly.
A few days ago, Uehara Shiroha had personally marked several names on a list, telling her that these individuals were "highly reusable."
Of course, in his unique way, "reuse" meant assigning them all the exhausting and unpleasant tasks—regardless of how difficult, tedious, or thankless the work was. His words were clear: "Don't treat these people as human beings. The more work, the better. The more exhausted they get, the better."
At first, Ise Nanao had been taken aback. She had hesitated and even asked if these individuals had somehow offended him.
To her surprise, Uehara Shiroha had merely smiled and explained that these people were undercover agents—spies planted by the noble families.
That revelation had shocked her. Her first instinct was to suggest removing them immediately. After all, how could traitors possibly be trusted to perform critical tasks?
But Uehara Shiroha had a different perspective.
And, as it turned out, he had been right.
To her astonishment, these so-called spies worked harder than anyone else. They were competent, efficient, and capable of doing the work of ten people. Suddenly, her workload had been reduced significantly, and the daily operations of the army had never been smoother.
However, she was still a bit puzzled. "Are those people really undercover agents?" she muttered thoughtfully. "If they have no loyalty to us, why are they working so hard?"
Uehara Shiroha smirked, tilting his head slightly. "Because if they lose their jobs, they lose their heads."
His voice was light, almost playful, yet it carried an undeniable weight.
He had no intention of wasting valuable resources. Anyone capable enough to infiltrate the Court Army as a spy was not useless. As long as they weren't entrusted with confidential matters, they could still be put to good use.
"All the non-confidential work should be assigned to them," Uehara Shiroha continued. "If they can't even handle a little suffering, what's the point of being undercover?"
In his eyes, the Court Army had no place for incompetence. Even if the legendary Great Sage himself were to apply for a position, he'd have to prove his worth by jumping through a ring of fire first.
Let alone mere spies.
Shinigami, as a whole, were far too straightforward. Their understanding of deception and manipulation was lacking. It was no wonder they had been so easily played by Aizen.
After listening to Uehara Shiroha's explanation, Ise Nanao suddenly came to a realization. Straightening her posture, she nodded with determination. "Captain-Commander, I understand. I won't let them sit idle."
Unbeknownst to the spies embedded within the Court Army, Uehara Shiroha's casual words had sealed their miserable fate.
While their colleagues enjoyed a relaxed and comfortable work environment, these unfortunate individuals found themselves drowning in an endless sea of labor. From dawn till dusk, and from dusk till dawn, they toiled away with no reprieve. If the human world's 996 work culture [working from 9 AM to 9 PM, six days a week] was considered harsh, then what they were experiencing could only be described as "007"—endless work, no sleep, and no breaks.
Yet, despite the sheer exhaustion they faced daily, they had no choice but to endure. If they wanted to maintain their cover and remain within the ranks of the Court Army, they had to prove their worth through sheer effort.
Ironically, the very intelligence they were supposed to gather became impossible to obtain. Their superiors constantly hounded them for results, but how could they possibly find time to conduct espionage when every minute of their existence was consumed by ceaseless labor?
Every second spent within the Court Army was sheer torment. The weight of their predicament pressed down on them like an inescapable curse, making them feel as if they were trapped in a living hell.
But they couldn't give up.
And so, with these individuals working themselves to the bone, the Court Army's overall efficiency skyrocketed. The organization's development reached new heights, and to an outsider, its internal atmosphere appeared harmonious and well-structured. Everything seemed to be thriving, yet few realized the price paid by those unfortunate enough to be under Uehara Shiroha's "special" management.
Half a year later, in the Soul Society's Central Square, an art exhibition was in full swing.
This was the first event of its kind to ever take place in the Soul Society, and the response had been overwhelmingly positive. Shinigami with a love for art had gathered from all over, eagerly purchasing tickets to visit the exhibition halls.
The entire area bustled with excitement. Shinigami came and went, their curiosity piqued by the rare opportunity to witness creative expression within the normally rigid and battle-focused Soul Society.
This unprecedented event had been proposed by none other than Uehara Shiroha. The Woman Shinigami Associationn took the lead in organizing it, with additional support from other hobbyist groups, such as the Flower Arrangement Society and the Calligraphy Association. Their combined efforts had ensured the event's grand success, attracting an impressive number of visitors.
At the moment, Uehara Shiroha and Kyōraku Shunsui were strolling leisurely through the exhibition, taking in the lively atmosphere.
Looking at the long queues forming in front of several exhibition halls, Kyōraku chuckled and nudged Uehara playfully. "Your works are so popular, it's practically a personal exhibition at this point."
Indeed, the halls were filled with pieces Uehara Shiroha had accumulated over the years—paintings, sculptures, musical compositions, and even some bizarre experimental pieces that defied conventional categorization.
Some of these works could be appreciated by the masses, while others leaned toward a more avant-garde style, incomprehensible to most. Despite this, Captain Aizen, a well-known master of calligraphy, had given high praise to Uehara Shiroha's artistic ability. His endorsement only fueled the public's curiosity, making his works even more sought after.
As a result, these exhibition halls were packed to the brim. Even with steep ticket prices, the enthusiasm of Uehara Shiroha's admirers—particularly female shinigami—was unstoppable. They were willing to spend generously just to see his creations, further proving how popular he had become within the Soul Society.
Uehara Shiroha, however, remained unimpressed. With a smug expression, he scoffed, "It's not that my skill level is too high—it's just that everyone else here is rubbish."
To him, these so-called "masterpieces" were nothing more than casual doodles, hastily created to fulfill daily tasks. Yet, in the eyes of the Soul Society, even his careless scribbles were seen as works of genius.
Whether it was artistic composition, lifestyle, or entertainment, he was decades ahead of everyone in this world. Compared to him, the noble families and the shinigami of the Soul Society were utterly primitive. They simply couldn't measure up.
"Seeking a worthy rival in this field is truly a lonely endeavor," Uehara mused, sighing dramatically. "It's like standing alone in a snowstorm, untouched by the cold."
Nearby, Ichimaru Gin was busy scribbling furiously on a whiteboard in one of the exhibition halls. His sharp, fox-like smile stretched across his face as he wrote:
"Only Captain Tōsen can appreciate your paintings."
Kyōraku Shunsui, noticing this, couldn't help but chuckle. "Captain Ichimaru is as blunt as ever."
Shiroha followed Kyōraku's gaze and smirked. "I suppose he's bored now that no one pranks him anymore. He used to cause all sorts of mischief near the Third Division, teasing unsuspecting passersby."
Gin was a known troublemaker. If he wasn't messing with people, he was either plotting something mischievous or amusing himself in bizarre ways. No wonder he wasn't particularly well-liked. Still, despite his antics, most shinigami in the exhibition were in good spirits, marveling at the artworks and praising their creativity.
The event was a rare sight in the Soul Society—one that combined high artistic merit with an unexpected sense of camaraderie. It was an unusual yet entertaining spectacle.
As Gin noticed the two approaching, he grinned and greeted them with a casual nod. His ever-narrowed eyes gleamed mischievously as he said, "It's a shame Captain Rōjūrō isn't here to witness this exhibition. He would've loved the atmosphere."
His voice carried an exaggerated tone of regret, as if he truly mourned the absence of the former Third Division Captain, Rōjūrō "Rose" Ōtoribashi. To an uninformed observer, it might have seemed like Gin was reminiscing fondly about an old friend.
In reality, he simply enjoyed provoking reactions.
Uehara Shiroha glanced at the comments left on the whiteboard and let out a chuckle. "That's true. Rose's music would go perfectly with the paintings in this exhibition."
A blind man who loves to gaze at paintings, and a deaf man who enjoys music—wasn't that a flawless match?
Rose, or Rōjūrō Ōtoribashi, had once been one of the most famous artists in the Soul Society before his fall to Hollowfication. His Bankai, Kinsara Butōdan, could create breathtakingly lifelike musical performances. Its melodies were so captivating that even the deaf had once claimed to be moved by its beauty.
It was no surprise that in the future, the Sternritter "Hero" Mask De Masculine would give both Rōjūrō and Kensei Muguruma his infamous thumbs-up.
One was a man of his word—never going back on a statement once made.
The other? A performer who explained his own Bankai's weaknesses and even guided others on how to counter it.
Both were truly open-minded individuals.
Real men.
After that, Ichimaru Gin took the opportunity to promote his old boss's exhibition to the two of them, flashing his usual sly grin.
"There are some of Captain Aizen's calligraphy works up ahead," he said, gesturing toward one of the exhibition halls. "You should go take a look. They say that when Captain Aizen teaches calligraphy, there's barely enough space for people to stand."
He tilted his head slightly, his grin widening. "I wonder who's more popular—Shiroha-kun or Aizen-taichou?"
Uehara Shiroha didn't even hesitate. "I can't say who's more popular," he replied with a smirk, "but I can say for sure that you're the most unpopular one."
Before Gin could react, Uehara continued nonchalantly, "That's actually a good thing. If you die in the line of duty, we can turn your funeral into a celebration. I'll even make sure Captain Tōsen personally carries your coffin and sends you off to Hell in style."
"..."
Ichimaru Gin's grin twitched slightly, and for the first time, he was at a loss for words. He let out a dry laugh. "Well, I guess I'll be counting on you, Shiroha-kun."
With that, he nodded toward Kyōraku Shunsui and swiftly made his exit, clearly aware that he had no chance of out-talking Uehara Shiroha. After all, people who enjoyed watching the fun often didn't like becoming the fun.
Kyōraku Shunsui, who had been watching the exchange like an amused spectator, burst out laughing. "Hahaha! You two have such a great relationship," he chuckled. "It's like watching a comedy duo in action."
Uehara Shiroha crossed his arms and spoke with confidence. "Of course. We were classmates for a year, and we barely communicated back then. How could we not have a good relationship?"
Gin was a simple person at heart, despite his deceptive exterior. In fact, the Soul Society was filled with individuals like him—people driven by clear, singular motives. Uehara Shiroha didn't particularly like or dislike them. They simply existed in his world, nothing more.
As he scanned the crowd, he noticed the beaming faces of shinigami enjoying the exhibition. Others, however, hesitated to approach him, unsure of how to act around someone of his status.
Kyōraku, ever observant, chuckled. "Brother Shiroha, I have to hand it to you. Most people wouldn't come up with an idea like this, but look how much fun everyone's having! Even the stubborn old man Yamamoto values this exhibition."
Normally, Captain-Commander Yamamoto wasn't one to support trendy activities. In fact, he often showed resistance to anything considered too modern. But now, hanging in the center of Central Square was a massive banner that read:
"The First Art Exhibition of Seireitei."
And the most shocking part? The large characters were personally written by the Captain-Commander himself.
Uehara Shiroha smirked. "There's no such thing as love without reason." He made a playful gesture, as if counting money. "You have to pay for it. The ticket revenue from this exhibition will be split—30% to 70%."
Kyōraku Shunsui's eyes widened. "Wait a second, why is the Gotei 13 only getting 70%?"
"When did I say the Gotei 13 gets 70%?" Uehara Shiroha shrugged. "It's the opposite—70% goes to the Court Army, and 30% to the Gotei 13."
Kyōraku blinked. "The Gotei 13 provided the funds, the manpower, and the effort, and in the end, they only get 30%?"
"That's right," Uehara said matter-of-factly. "Do you know how many people would kill to get even that 30%? Of that amount, 20% is an honor fee for Old Man Yamamoto, and the remaining 10% is for public use."
Seireitei was brimming with business opportunities—money flowed like water, and shinigami were everywhere. Nobles, in particular, were the easiest targets when it came to making a fortune.
Every idea Uehara Shiroha came up with was a golden idea.
And just like that, with a single exhibition, his personal treasury had seen a significant boost in wealth.
He had barely lifted a finger—simply spoken a few words and provided the venue—yet he had effortlessly secured a fortune.
Kyōraku Shunsui stared at him for a moment before breaking into laughter. "As expected of you!" He gave Uehara a thumbs-up, thoroughly impressed.
In the back of his mind, he was already calculating how he could siphon a bit of that honor fee from Captain-Commander Yamamoto.
Twenty percent of the earnings? That was no small amount—enough to buy a lot of high-quality sake.
As for trying to swindle money from Uehara Shiroha? He quickly dismissed the thought. That man was far too difficult to fool, and besides, his niece was in charge of managing the funds. Cheating her was a risk he wasn't willing to take.
As the exhibition continued, Uehara Shiroha and Kyōraku Shunsui continued chatting, enjoying the lively atmosphere.
At one point, Uehara took a closer look at Kyōraku, studying his expression carefully. Then, as if casually mentioning it, he asked, "Brother Kyōraku, is something on your mind?"
Normally, after an event like this, Kyōraku would be itching to head to the red-light district for some leisure. However, tonight, he seemed oddly uninterested. And it wasn't just because of his usual complaints about back pain.
Kyōraku sighed, his usual carefree demeanor dimming slightly. He didn't bother hiding it. "It's about Ukitake. He's been blaming himself over what happened to Shiba Kaien."
A shadow crossed his face as he spoke. "You know, he had high hopes for Vice-Captain Shiba. He even had the captain's feather ornaments prepared for him. No one expected Kaien to—"
He trailed off.
Two months ago, Shiba Kaien and Shiba Miyako had died during a battle with Hollows.
It was a devastating loss.
Aside from the events of the Night of the Thousand Hollows, it had been nearly a hundred years since the Gotei 13 lost a vice-captain or captain-level shinigami in combat. And to make matters worse, Kaien had not only been a rising star in the Gotei 13—he was also the head of the Shiba Clan.
His death sent shockwaves through Seireitei.
For many, it was a moment of disbelief and mourning. But for Ukitake Jūshirō, it was personal.
First, he had lost Ginjo Kūgo. And now, Shiba Kaien.
His old friend had been enduring one painful loss after another, and his spirit was visibly weighed down by grief.
Kyōraku, who had known him for centuries, couldn't help but worry.
Uehara Shiroha thought for a moment before offering a suggestion. "This exhibition will be running for several more days. Have Captain Ukitake come take a look. It might help."
Though some of the artworks were highly abstract, many had a childlike innocence to them—playful, vibrant, and full of life.
Art had the power to heal, and sometimes, even the most burdened hearts could find solace in its simplicity.
After all, Rukia always looked full of energy after admiring Chappy drawings.
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