Shinigami: Medicine Can’t Save The Soul Reaper Society.

A moment later, as Senju Makoto watched, Yamada Seinosuke left the courtyard with a slightly greenish complexion.

'Captain Unohana… I've followed you for centuries...'

'Why, when I was the one who first joined the Fourth Division, did you choose that freshly graduated brat, Senju Makoto, as your disciple?'

Yamada Seinosuke hadn't been this angry initially, but after thinking about Senju Makoto's seemingly innocent face and the words of comfort he had occasionally offered, Yamada Seinosuke couldn't help but feel increasingly agitated...

However, at least one thing was certain to Yamada Seinosuke—Senju Makoto was definitely not as gentle and harmless as he appeared on the surface. Behind that façade, he was nothing but a dark and scheming little brat!

Watching Yamada Seinosuke's seemingly disheveled back as he walked away, Senju Makoto waved him off with a gentle, reluctant smile on his face.

Afterward, Senju Makoto tidied up the room and, donning the badge and the dead man's uniform that Yamada Seinosuke had sent, prepared a pot of tea. Sitting on the corridor, he inhaled the fragrant aroma of the tea, gazing up at the night sky over Soul Society, contemplating the events of the day.

Despite a few twists and turns, he had successfully joined the Fourth Division. From now on, with his new position as a Fourth Division member, he had the perfect excuse to approach the injured and search for opportunities to plant the "Seeds of the Forest."

Moreover, to some extent, he had distanced himself from the battles between the Shinigami, avoiding any unnecessary exposure of his secrets during combat.

The only unexpected development had been being accepted as Unohana's disciple.

In that case, being a disciple of Unohana undoubtedly went against his previous strategy of staying low-key, which would inevitably attract the attention of the higher-ups in the Seireitei. Even Aizen Sosuke, whom he had always feared, might take notice.

Yet, in that situation, Senju Makoto had no grounds to refuse Unohana, given the persona he had been presenting all along.

'But perhaps this is better. With Unohana-sensei's protection, I might be safer, and I can further deepen my understanding of the way of healing and medical techniques...'

Senju Makoto murmured softly, a flash of something different crossing his usually gentle and innocent eyes.

One thing Senju Makoto hadn't lied to Unohana about was his genuine interest in the way of healing and medical techniques.

Unlike the physical body in the real world, the form that a soul adopts after entering Soul Society was, in Senju Makoto's eyes, truly extraordinary.

Although the basic element of the soul in Soul Society was spirit particles, the body that formed was, in every sense, flesh and blood, with special nodes like "locks," "spirit sleep," and "soul knots," resembling the meridian points in traditional Eastern medicine.

As for the essence of the way of healing, it was a technique for filling the soul body with spirit particles.

The medical practices in Soul Society weren't like Western medicine as Senju Makoto remembered, but more akin to traditional Chinese medicine, relying on various herbs and concoctions, or stimulating soul body meridian points to treat ailments.

Senju Makoto had to admit that compared to the brutal and crude battles between the Shinigami, the way of healing and medical techniques seemed like true art to him—a fresh and fascinating kind of art.

After placing his Zanpakuto, Shinro Basho, on the ground between his crossed legs, Senju Makoto slowly closed his eyes, entering a meditative state, focusing on his blade.

The next moment, as his vision darkened, he suddenly found himself in an impossibly bright world.

The clear blue sky, as calm as a still lake, stretched infinitely above him. Below, an expansive field of lush green grass stretched as far as the eye could see, and not far from Senju Makoto, there stood a sapling and a towering tree that appeared to have just been planted.

Senju Makoto scanned the area, seemingly looking for something. Then, he spoke aloud, "Stop hiding. Come out."

As soon as the words left his mouth, the grass at his feet began to rapidly grow, resembling vines. They wrapped around his legs, twisted around his back, and finally settled on his shoulders.

In the blink of an eye, the greenery flashed, and at the top of the vines, a small creature popped out, landing before Senju Makoto.

A tiny, delicate body with butterfly-like wings, smooth and fair skin concealed by a few green leaves, and large round eyes that locked onto Senju Makoto. Its face bore a bright and innocent smile, like a mythical little spirit.

"Teh~"

However, every time Senju Makoto saw this tiny Zanpakuto spirit, no larger than the size of his palm, he couldn't help but turn his head away, emitting an unintelligible sound.

"Waah waah waah~ Master, what do you mean by this?"

The little spirit, Shinro Basho, crossed its tiny arms, fluttered its wings, and in an instant appeared directly in front of Senju Makoto's face, pouting as it asked.

"Sigh~"

The only response from Senju Makoto was a deep sigh.

There was a time when he had dreamed of having a Zanpakuto spirit like Shūei-shiro (White Snow Sleeve), Benihime (Crimson Princess), or Katen Kyōkotsu (Flower Heaven, Wild Bones) — those powerful, elegant spirits.

With such a blade, during the day, he would hold his Zanpakuto, and at night, the Zanpakuto would hold him. That mutual dependence could be a source of warmth, a comfort in the otherwise cold Soul Society.

However, despite the fact that a Zanpakuto's spirit is formed from the Shinigami's own soul, and that the blade spirit's form mirrors their inner thoughts, it seemed that his blade spirit had taken a different shape entirely.

Take Urahara Kisuke and Kyōraku Shunsui, whose Zanpakuto spirits Benihime and Katen Kyōkotsu were both powerful women, reflecting their somewhat playful, mischievous natures. Similarly, Rukia Kuchiki's Zanpakuto, Shūei-shiro, reflected her desire to one day become as cold and authoritative as her older brother.

But why was it that his own spirit, mirroring his personality, had manifested as a tiny, palm-sized creature?

Was it perhaps a reflection of the "Thumbelina" from his past life, always by his side?

As these thoughts crossed his mind, Senju Makoto instinctively glanced at his right hand.

"Waah waah waah~"

Seeing his reaction, Shinro Basho seemed to come to a realization. The tiny spirit's body suddenly surged toward his forehead, and with a sharp impact, it collided with his head.

"Perverted, shameless master! No inappropriate thoughts allowed!!"

Boom!!

With a sharp sound, an explosive wave of energy erupted from Senju Makoto's forehead, sending him flying backward. He rolled across the grass for more than ten full circles before finally coming to a stop.

Soon, a sharp pain coursed through his forehead, sending signals to his nerves.

"Ah! Ouch! Damn Shinro Basho, what kind of Zanpakuto spirit ambushes its master without any warning?!"

"It's the master's behavior that was improper. This is the punishment you deserve!!" Shinro Basho stood triumphantly atop his forehead, her face flushed.

"What did I do wrong? You're the one who ambushed me and sent me rolling across the grass for ten circles…"

As he spoke, Senju Makoto's gaze became slightly dazed, looking up at the tiny spirit standing on his forehead, surrounded by greenery.

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