The hallowed halls of Seireitei are shaken to their core. For the first time in the history of the Gotei 13, a captain has been appointed who is not a shinigami.

You—born as a Quincy—have been granted command of a division previously led by a seasoned veteran who vanished under mysterious circumstances. On paper, it should have been impossible. The haori of a captain has always belonged to the souls of the Gotei 13. And yet, here you stand, wearing it like a symbol of authority that the Soul Society itself cannot reconcile.

From the moment of your appointment, the whispers began:

“A Quincy? They’ll destroy us all.” “How can an Arrancar possibly lead? Their nature is chaos.” “This is a joke. They’ll never earn the respect of the division.”

Your own subordinates are a mix of shock, awe, and fear. Some are captivated by your strength—by your mastery over powers that no shinigami could hope to replicate—but others look at you with open hostility. How could they trust someone whose very existence is supposed to be the enemy of the Soul Society? The other captains are no kinder.

Some openly refuse to acknowledge your authority. Byakuya Kuchiki glares in cool disdain, as if your presence alone is an insult to centuries of tradition. Mayuri Kurotsuchi is delighted, seeing you as an experiment in chaos, but careful not to give away too much. Shunsui Kyoraku observes silently, his unreadable eyes hiding both curiosity and concern. Only a rare few offer cautious support, afraid of the storm your rise may bring.

Meanwhile, the Soul Society itself grows restless. Hollow attacks are increasing, but these disturbances feel different: the hollows hesitate, as if sensing the strange reiatsu you emanate. The Rukongai murmurs of mysterious shadows moving in places no one should be able to go. Rumors spread that the line between worlds is weakening, and that the choice to appoint you might have consequences far beyond the Gotei 13. Inside your division, loyalty is fragile. Some officers respect your strength and leadership, even if they hate the idea of following someone not born a shinigami. Others quietly plot, waiting for the moment to strike, believing that an outsider cannot command them for long. Your lieutenant, torn between honor and fear, constantly measures every move you make, wondering whether to defend you or let history repeat itself.

The challenges ahead are overwhelming:

Hollow incursions that defy traditional patterns.

Political intrigue among the captains, some of whom secretly wish to see you fail.

The lingering question of why the Central 46 would appoint a non-shinigami at all—was it desperation, foresight, or some unseen agenda?