Shinigami: Medicine Can't Save The Soul Reaper Society

As Urozakuro's words faded, Makoto sensed the spiritual pressure emanating from Kōga on the other side of the Kuchiki estate.

Hesitating briefly, he picked up the neatly folded shihakushō on the tatami mat and draped it over himself. In a flash, his figure appeared on the rooftop.

Having been a guest at the Kuchiki estate for some time, Makoto felt it necessary to offer assistance, even if his role as a healer didn't require direct combat.

With shunpo, he swiftly made his way to a small plaza on the far side of the estate, a site typically reserved for the Kuchiki family's Senkaimon.

Standing atop a rooftop overlooking the scene, Makoto observed the chaos below. Kōga no longer wore his usual composed demeanor; his expression twisted with anger and madness.

Before him, Sōjun and Byakuya stood protectively in front of the Senkaimon, Sōjun missing his right arm. Surrounding them were a dozen servants armed with sealing rods, faintly encircling Kōga. Two of the servants lay motionless at his feet.

Sōjun's face, usually calm, was now filled with rare fury as he shouted:

"Kōga, have you lost your mind? Do you even realize what you're doing? Put down your Zanpakutō!"

Kōga clutched his face with one hand, laughing maniacally.

"Ahahahaha! Sōjun, don't pretend to care. You and the rest of you hypocrites never truly believed I was innocent, did you?"

"That's not true," Byakuya interjected calmly. "Both Father and Grandfather have been working tirelessly to help your case."

"Help me? Don't make me laugh!" Kōga retorted. "With the Kuchiki family's power and influence, if they truly wanted to save me, it wouldn't take this long!"

"Kōga," Byakuya replied, "even as one of the Four Noble Clans, the Kuchiki family would never abuse its authority. To do so would tarnish the family's honor—"

"Shut up!"

Kōga cut him off with a venomous snarl, his expression growing more deranged.

"Kuchiki honor, hah! It's that ridiculous concept of honor that's left me to rot in a cell, humiliated and mocked by the very people who framed me!"

"What a joke... honor, the Kuchiki name... all of it is meaningless."

Hearing this, Makoto's brows furrowed slightly.

He had initially hoped there might be some misunderstanding, but Kōga's twisted expression left little doubt—his mind was consumed entirely by hatred.

What struck Makoto most was how petty Kōga's resentment seemed.

To turn against his family simply because he believed they hadn't done enough to rescue him?

Such a mentality was not only naive but also self-centered. Kōga failed to recognize the trouble he had caused the Kuchiki family, focusing solely on their perceived lack of immediate action.

Even so, Sōjun refused to give up on him.

"Kōga, calm yourself," he implored. "There's still a way to make this right."

"Make this right? How?" Kōga sneered, his laugh dripping with disdain.

"I've already killed those who framed me. I slaughtered them in the barracks of the First Division, smearing their blood, flesh, and bone across the walls."

"What?!"

Both Sōjun and Byakuya's faces turned pale with shock.

Murdering fellow Shinigami within the First Division barracks—within Captain-Commander Yamamoto's domain—was a blatant act of rebellion against the Gotei 13.

"Ahahahaha! It felt amazing," Kōga continued, his eyes gleaming with madness. "No more pretenses of Kuchiki decorum or honor. Those who dared to frame me? I ripped them apart with my own hands."

His gaze shifted toward the Senkaimon behind Sōjun.

"Sōjun, drop the act and move aside. Otherwise, don't blame me for what happens next."

Drawing his Zanpakutō with his left hand, Sōjun replied firmly, "Kōga, as a member of the Kuchiki family, I cannot allow you to escape the Seireitei. I will protect our honor at all costs."

"You?" Kōga scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt. "You've lost your right arm. Even at your peak, you were no match for me."

His voice grew louder, his words laced with years of suppressed rage.

"And yet, because you carry the blood of the Kuchiki family, you were handed the position of Vice-Captain of the Sixth Division, while I was relegated to Third Seat! Then, fearing I might threaten your position, they sent me to the First Division—"

"Ahahahaha! Sōjun, it's all because of you! If not for you, I wouldn't have been sent to the First Division, wouldn't have been framed, and wouldn't have been forced to kill my comrades. Now I have no choice but to leave the Seireitei!"

Hearing this, Byakuya's normally composed demeanor faltered as anger seeped into his voice.

"Kōga, your plight is the result of your own narrow-mindedness and childish assumptions! Your transfer to the First Division was Captain-Commander Yamamoto's decision, intended to give you greater opportunities to grow and learn!"

But Kōga, consumed by hatred, no longer listened. His gaze turned cold and murderous.

"Enough of your hypocritical lies. This is your last chance. Step aside, or face the consequences."

"Kōga, stop this madness!" Sōjun pleaded, his voice filled with anguish. "Lay down your weapon. When Father returns, we can seek the Captain-Commander's forgiveness. All is not yet lost."

"It seems negotiations have failed, Sōjun," Kōga said darkly, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Let's see if you can still hold your blade with one arm."

"Whisper, Muramasa."

At his command, a figure materialized beside him—a man clad in a white, aristocratic robe, exuding an aura of eerie malevolence. His long, claw-like nails added to his sinister appearance.

Sōjun and Byakuya, well aware of Kōga's abilities, immediately recognized the figure.

It was the physical manifestation of Kōga's Zanpakutō, Muramasa.

Unlike other Zanpakutō, Muramasa was unique. His spirit could fully manifest in the physical world and wield his powers independently.

Sensing Kōga's seething rage, Muramasa raised his clawed fingers, directing them menacingly at Sōjun and Byakuya.

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