Chapter 77: Shutara Senjumaru

“You’ve earned a break,” Yamamoto Shigekuni said. “Take half a month off to rest.”

“Captain, you’re the best!” Yamabuki Haruto’s eyes welled up. Since joining the Gotei 13, he’d been swamped, never imagining a vacation. Half a month? Perfect for his big plan.

Leaving Yamamoto’s office, Haruto headed to a Seireitei tailor shop run by a lesser noble. Low-ranking nobles relied on small businesses, unlike their highborn kin. Century-old shops thrived in Soul Society’s long-lived culture.

“Chief of Staff! Picking out clothes?” the shop owner greeted, smiling.

“Just browsing,” Haruto replied, scanning the shop. The clothes were standard—no stockings, his secret obsession. In the living world, knights wore them in the 14th century for horse-riding grip, later fancied up by nobles. Could I start that here?

“How much to open a shop like this?” Haruto asked.

“You, a shop owner?” the owner said, surprised.

“I’m Amatani Kiyoshi,” Haruto lied, grinning. “Just looking to supplement my income.”

The owner named a price—five years of Haruto’s salary. Five years is short here, but I’m impatient. “Thanks! Anyone bothers you, drop my name. I’ll handle them,” Haruto said, exiting with a grimace. No money, no skills, no workers. This is as brutal as Hueco Mundo.

Then it struck him: Shutara Senjumaru. The future Squad Zero tailor who’d invent the shihakushō. She hadn’t joined the Gotei 13 yet—likely a young Rukongai tailor. A kid? Easy to sway.

Haruto contacted Kazenami Haru. Her assassin network could find anyone. “Locate Shutara Senjumaru,” he ordered.

Haru didn’t question, returning in hours. “She runs a tailor shop in West Rukongai, District 14. Want me to grab her?”

“Kidnap her? You nuts?” Haruto laughed. Senjumaru, even now, was formidable. “Just the address. Thanks.”

“Anything for you, Chief,” Haru said, mindful of Yamamoto’s warning. Betraying Haruto meant erasure.

District 14 was safe, no bandits lurking. Haruto reached Senjumaru’s shop. “Welcome,” a cool voice called. A tall, slender woman in a kimono approached—about twenty, pure, not yet the cunning Squad Zero legend. Her vice-captain-level reiatsu hinted at her potential.

“Just looking,” Haruto said, plotting his pitch.

Senjumaru smiled faintly. “Business is slow. My clothes last ten years without tearing. Rukongai folk can’t afford frequent buys.”

Haruto seized the opening. “Can you custom-make something tricky? Other tailors bailed.”

Senjumaru’s eyes gleamed. “Challenging my craft?”

Haruto showed two sketches: a detailed maid outfit, inspired by modern designs, and a rough stocking drawing. “Thin, elastic silk for legs—transparent, hides flaws. Can you do it?”

Senjumaru studied them, intrigued. “Clever. I’ll try.”