"Hasumi Ren, you do not need to participate in combat for this mission. Your duty is to treat the wounded and ensure the team's medical logistics."
"Those guys from the Eleventh Division fight like their lives don't matter. All you need to do is try your best to heal them, nothing more."
"If you encounter any danger you cannot handle, prioritize your own safety. Do you understand?"
Looking at Unohana's slightly serious expression, Hasumi Ren softly agreed, then asked.
"Captain, what is the disposition of that Kiganjo Kenpachi?"
He asked casually, but he keenly caught a very faint trace of emotion flashing through Unohana's eyes.
That emotion vanished so quickly that one might think it was an illusion.
"There is no need to interact with him too much."
Unohana said flatly.
"Just do what you are supposed to do."
She didn't say much else, but Ren could hear the underlying disdain hidden behind her words.
Clearly, Unohana did not think highly of this smug, newly appointed Kenpachi.
Then, she raised her eyes and looked at the white-haired boy in front of her.
The boy was looking down in thought, his profile sharply outlined by the sunlight streaming through the window.
His spiritual pressure wasn't particularly strong, hovering around the sixth class of spiritual power. In the Gotei 13, that was merely the level of an ordinary seated officer.
But his sword...
Unohana recalled the moment on the training grounds behind the mountain when his blade had sliced through her sleeve.
Precise, calm, and decisive.
No wasted movements, no flashy techniques.
This was swordsmanship meant for killing.
If only his spiritual pressure could be a bit stronger, and his swordsmanship a bit more refined...
A sudden thought crossed Unohana's mind.
What would it be like if Hasumi Ren became the Captain of the Eleventh Division?
As soon as this thought appeared, she suppressed it herself.
It was too early.
Ren's current spiritual pressure was too low, so low that it barely missed the standard for a lieutenant.
No matter how brilliant his swordsmanship was, the gap in spiritual pressure could not be bridged by skill alone.
Facing a captain-class opponent fighting at full strength, he might not even be able to block a single strike.
It would likely take some time before he truly matured.
But for some reason, once this thought was born, it planted a seed in her heart.
"Captain?"
Ren's voice interrupted her thoughts.
Unohana snapped back to reality, blinking her eyes as her expression returned to normal.
"Alright, aside from that, there is nothing else."
"Go on. Rest well today, and set out first thing tomorrow morning."
"Yes."
Ren stood up, bowed to Unohana, and turned to leave the captain's office.
The door gently clicked shut behind him.
Unohana sat alone at the tea table, staring at the door without moving for a long time.
After a long while, she finally withdrew her gaze, picked up her lukewarm tea, and took a sip.
"Kenpachi, huh..."
She muttered softly to herself, her voice so low that only she could hear it.
And deep within those calm eyes, a certain expectation was quietly brewing.
Early the next morning, just as the sky began to lighten, Ren had already finished packing.
He changed into his Fourth Division uniform, slung a medical pack over his back, fastened his Zanpakuto to his waist, and stepped out of the barracks, treading upon the morning dew.
The streets of the Seireitei were still quiet, with only the occasional patrol squad hurrying by.
Ren led the members of the relief squad northward, soon arriving at the North Gate of the Seireitei.
A group of figures was already waiting there.
Aizen Sosuke stood tall and straight, wearing his usual gentle smile.
Seeing Ren, he gave a slight nod.
"Good morning, Hasumi Ren."
"Lieutenant Aizen," Ren approached, returning the nod. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
"It's no trouble. I just arrived myself," Aizen said with a smile.
"Captain Unohana sent me a message yesterday, saying you would be accompanying us as the Fourth Division's representative. It is quite surprising; I didn't expect you to already be the Fourth Seat."
"I heard your Kaido is of an exceptionally high standard. That was somewhat unexpected, but it certainly puts my mind at ease."
His tone was sincere, and his eyes were gentle. Anyone looking at him would think he was a trustworthy senior.
Ren maintained a humble expression on the surface, while quietly raising his mental defenses.
"You flatter me, Lieutenant Aizen. I will naturally do my best for this mission."
Aizen nodded, his gaze lingering on him for a moment.
"Your spiritual pressure is a bit stronger than the last time we met. It seems you've made significant progress during your time in the Fourth Division," Aizen remarked with a sigh of admiration.
While the two were chatting, a chaotic flurry of footsteps echoed from the distance.
Ren looked toward the sound and saw a group of Eleventh Division members walking their way.
The man leading them was towering, his chest and belly exposed. He had thick hair and a bushy beard, and he carried a broad-bladed Zanpakuto resting on his shoulder.
His gaze was arrogant, his stride swaggering, and his entire being exuded a reckless, overbearing aura.
It was none other than the current Captain of the Eleventh Division, Kiganjo Kenpachi.
The Eleventh Division members following behind him all looked like fierce, vicious thugs, walking with a hooligan-like swagger.
"Yo, Aizen. You're here pretty early."
Kiganjo approached and offered a casual greeting.
Then, his gaze swept over Ren, pausing on him for a second before his brows furrowed.
"This is the leader the Fourth Division sent? Some little brat I've never even seen before?"
"Where's your lieutenant?"
Aizen's expression remained unchanged as he took the initiative to speak up on Ren's behalf.
"Captain Kiganjo, this is the Fourth Division's Fourth Seat, Hasumi Ren. He is the medical officer in charge, personally appointed by Captain Unohana. His abilities are definitely not lacking."
"Fourth Seat?" Kiganjo raised an eyebrow. "Is the Fourth Division out of people? Sending a mere Fourth Seat?"
A few squad members behind him let out low, mocking chuckles.
Ren's expression remained calm, as if he hadn't heard their laughter at all.
"Captain Kiganjo."
He bowed slightly, his tone flat.
"For this expedition, I am solely responsible for treating the wounded. I will do my utmost to fulfill my duties, so you can rest assured, Captain Kiganjo."
Hearing this, Kiganjo curled his lip and let out a cold snort.
"Whatever. Just keep up, and don't drag us down."
After saying that, he strode forward.
As the Eleventh Division members behind him passed by Ren, their eyes were filled with scrutiny and contempt.
Some didn't even bother to look at him, simply brushing past his shoulder.
Watching this scene unfold, Aizen turned his head slightly and spoke to Ren.
"Captain Kiganjo has a straightforward temperament and doesn't care for trivialities in his words or actions. Don't take it to heart."
Ren shook his head.
"It's fine."
He genuinely didn't care.
Aizen observed his expression, a hint of approval flashing in his eyes, and gently patted Ren's shoulder.
"Let's go."
The two led their squad to follow the group, and the large procession marched grandly out of the Seireitei's North Gate.
Kiganjo Kenpachi walked at the very front, his pace unyielding.
"Look alive, all of you!"
His booming voice echoed throughout the entire group.
"We aren't going to the Rukongai for a sightseeing tour. If there's a Menos Grande, we cut it down! If there's a horde of Hollows, we slaughter them! If any of you cowards chicken out, don't blame me when I turn on you!"
"Yes, Captain!"
The Eleventh Division members responded in unison, their morale soaring.
Aizen walked in the middle of the formation, side by side with Ren.
He occasionally exchanged a few words with the surrounding squad members. With his gentle demeanor and friendly tone, he quickly familiarized himself with them.
Ren watched this unfold, secretly marveling in his heart.
Aizen's personal charisma was indeed incredibly strong.
No matter who he faced, he could always find the right way to speak, making people feel as comfortable as a spring breeze.
The members from other divisions in the group initially felt a sense of distance from Aizen.
But after walking for less than half an hour, they were already chatting with him familiarly, the atmosphere exceptionally harmonious.
Unfortunately, only Ren knew that all of this was nothing more than a fake persona Aizen had put on.
*Don't be fooled by Aizen's smiling face right now. When he pulls out his sword to stab you, he'll definitely be smiling even brighter than he is now.*
Ren then withdrew his gaze and focused on the journey.
The group traveled steadily northward.
The districts of the Rukongai were numbered from 1 to 80. The higher the number, the further away it was from the Seireitei, and the more desolate and chaotic it became.
The first ten districts were fairly prosperous, with orderly houses and bustling crowds, no different from the outskirts of the Seireitei.
From District 20 to 30, the architecture began to grow shabby, and the crowds thinned out significantly.
From District 40 to 50, decent streets were no longer visible, replaced only by scattered villages dotted here and there.
Beyond District 60 lay a true wasteland.
By the time the group entered District 60, the sky had already begun to darken.
Kiganjo Kenpachi ordered them to set up camp on the spot and resume their journey first thing in the morning.
After a day of rapid marching, the squad members were somewhat exhausted, so they began to busy themselves—some pitching tents, others starting fires.
Ren found a relatively flat spot, set down his medical pack, and began inspecting the medicines and equipment he had brought.
"Hasumi Ren."
At that moment, Aizen's voice called out from the side.