Chapter 311: Treatment? Impossible!

at this moment, in Aizen's eyes, there was absolutely no connection between Makoto and Asura—not in appearance, aura, spiritual pressure, race, behavior, hobbies, or even logic.

However, Aizen never believed in coincidences…

Just when he was pondering why Makoto remained at the expeditionary army's camp without making any apparent moves, a Vasto Lorde-class Arrancar with such an immense spiritual pressure had suddenly appeared.

And unlike Starrk, whose existence was documented in Seireitei's intelligence, Asura seemed to have emerged out of nowhere in Hueco Mundo—wielding abilities distinctly tied to Arrancar transformation.

It was as if a couple in the midst of a passionate romance were suddenly separated for a brief moment, only for one of them to be abruptly embraced by a highly attractive stranger. Such a coincidence was difficult for Aizen to dismiss as anything but a calculated move by Makoto.

"This uncertainty… I'll confirm it myself."

Aizen's eyes narrowed slightly before he assigned specific tasks to Tōsen and Gin. Then, without a sound, he vanished from Las Noches.

Meanwhile, in Makoto's perception, he could track Aizen's movements based on Kyōka Suigetsu's location—without a doubt, Aizen was heading straight for the expeditionary army's camp.

Yet, Makoto remained indifferent. He didn't care whether Aizen was merely baiting him or if he truly intended to return to the camp.

His daily routine continued as usual—pacifying Nelliel while secretly researching her spiritual structure, seeking to uncover the mysteries behind a natural Arrancar transformation.

However, Nelliel was an extraordinarily playful and mischievous being…

Even with his extensive experience in handling loli-like entities, earning him the title of "Soul Society's Ultimate Loli Conqueror," Makoto still found himself unable to resist Nelliel's overwhelming cuteness, often ruffling her hair in affectionate frustration.

As for Grimmjow, under Makoto's indulgence, he had been completely reduced to Nelliel's personal mount—forced to carry her around Las Noches at full speed on a daily basis.

---

Meanwhile, back at the expeditionary army's camp, Shinro Bansho—disguised as Makoto—was meticulously handling official duties, his vacant gaze betraying his growing fatigue.

Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork… and more paperwork.

Originally, Shinro Bansho had agreed so readily to this arrangement because he had envisioned the thrill of freely using Makoto's identity to enjoy all sorts of indulgent experiences.

For instance: demanding the camp's kitchen operate 24/7 to prepare him endless gourmet dishes, or perhaps constructing an amusement park within the camp that perfectly matched his fantasies…

However, the harsh reality was that, aside from sleeping, he had spent almost every waking moment buried in administrative tasks.

Moreover, to avoid any discrepancies, Shinro Bansho was forced to follow Makoto's habits—conducting regular patrols, tending to the injured, and overseeing resource management.

"So… this is what it means to be born a Shinigami? What a miserable existence!"

Shinro Bansho found it incomprehensible. How was it that his so-called "Master" always seemed to have so much free time?

What made it worse was the unbreakable connection he shared with that damn Master. Even as Shinro Bansho teetered on the edge of mental collapse, he could clearly sense Makoto's carefree joy and leisure.

"Unforgivable!"

With a frustrated growl, he slammed his pen onto the ground and stomped his feet multiple times in agitation. Just as he was about to flip the desk over in protest and announce his strike against that damn Master—

A sudden rush of urgent footsteps echoed from outside the tent.

In the next moment, Shinro Bansho composed himself, seamlessly adopting Makoto's gentle and composed demeanor before stepping out.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Ch-Chief Senju…"

The Shinigami before him, visibly flustered at first, quickly composed himself under Makoto's steady gaze, respectfully bowing before delivering his report.

"The patrol squad discovered Captain Sasakibe and Vice-captain Ise, gravely injured and unconscious, approximately ten miles west of the camp."

Hearing this, Shinro Bansho instinctively wondered—And what does that have to do with me?

A moment later, he remembered his role. As Makoto, there was only one appropriate response.

"How are they?" Shinro Bansho inquired.

"The patrol squad has already brought them back to camp," the Shinigami answered quickly. "They're currently receiving treatment in the medical unit."

Without further hesitation, Shinro Bansho hurried toward the medical unit's tent.

---

Upon arrival, he immediately spotted Sasakibe Chōjirō lying unconscious on the operating table. His body was covered in severe burns and bloodstains, his condition clearly dire.

At the same time, Yamada Hanatarō—one of the medical unit's secondary officers—rushed over upon hearing of Makoto's arrival, appearing slightly disheveled as he began his report.

In an instant, a torrent of technical jargon related to Kaido and medical procedures flooded out of Hanatarō's mouth.

Unfortunately, despite being Makoto's Zanpakutō, Shinro Bansho did not inherit Makoto's extensive medical knowledge.

However, one thing was abundantly clear from Hanatarō's final summary:

"In short, Captain Sasakibe needs immediate treatment. But if I perform it alone, I only have about a 50% chance of success. We'll need you to personally handle it, Makoto-san."

…Me?!

Fighting? Killing? Shinro Bansho was confident he surpassed that damn Master in such matters.

But healing?

That was a technique derived from Makoto's mastery over spiritual particle control and his vast medical expertise. As someone who lacked even the faintest concept of such skills, Shinro Bansho knew that if he attempted it, he'd be personally sending Chōjirō to his grave.

His gaze flickered.

Beneath the mask of warmth and stability, Shinro Bansho was acutely aware that if he treated Sasakibe, it would be no different from personally escorting him to the afterlife.

The next moment, under Hanatarō's bewildered gaze, the always compassionate and reliable Makoto shook his head.

"Impossible."

"Ma…Makoto-san?" Hanatarō blinked in shock.

Immediately, Shinro Bansho seamlessly adjusted his posture, maintaining Makoto's gentle and composed demeanor as he met Hanatarō's gaze.

"A doctor… must never shrink back from the severity of a patient's condition."

"When a precious life is slipping away before our eyes, a healer's duty is not to hesitate, nor to calculate the probability of success, but to pour everything into saving that life—no matter the odds!"

======================

Consider joining me on P@treon For 50+ Advance Chapters:

P@treon: p@treon.com/JustaPasserby