Shimo had officially joined the Fourth Division. Backed by letters of recommendation from two captains and an outstanding graduate certificate from the Shin'ō Academy, he was directly appointed as the Sixth Seat.
The Fourth Division's barracks were located in a quiet part of the Seireitei—peaceful and serene compared to those of other divisions.
Since this was a place meant for Shinigami to recuperate, the environment resembled that of a hospital in the World of the Living. Even walking along the streets within the barracks, one rarely heard any noise.
Fourth Division members passed by carrying medical kits, green sashes fastened across their chests. Some were cleaning, some transporting medicine, and others carrying stretchers toward the general infirmary.
Under the guidance of a Fourth Division Shinigami, Shimo made his way toward the Captain's office.
"Forgive me—I didn't catch your name," Shimo said calmly after they'd walked most of the way. He had just realized his oversight in etiquette.
But the Shinigami leading the way didn't seem to mind. He turned around with an apologetic expression, his brows and eyes drooping slightly, giving off a timid and gentle air.
Shimo blinked in surprise. A name immediately popped into his mind.
"You actually know my name?" Hanatarō said, pleasantly surprised. His voice carried a tinge of excitement.
"I'm the Seventh Seat of the Fourth Division and also the Leader of the Fourteenth Advanced Relief Team—Hanatarō Yamada. It's a pleasure to meet you!"
As he spoke, this mild-mannered Seventh Seat actually bowed politely to Shimo.
Shimo appreciated people who knew how to be respectful. If others respected him, he would naturally respect them in return.
"Likewise," Shimo said with a warm smile.
Hanatarō tilted his head slightly, curious.
"By the way, how did you know my name?"
Shimo casually came up with an excuse.
"Before I joined the Fourth Division, I met Liutenant Yamada. You two look quite alike."
To be honest, that was quite a stretch.
Seinosuke's face was pale and narrow-eyed, exuding an aura of deviousness at first glance. Hanatarō, by contrast, had a meek and timid appearance that made people instinctively think he was easily bullied.
They were complete opposites.
If Shimo hadn't already known they were brothers, he would never have guessed. The stark contrast in appearance was just that drastic.
Still, he managed to say it with a straight face—which was, admittedly, a credit to his thick skin.
Hanatarō could only respond with a somewhat awkward but still polite smile.
Though timid by nature, he wasn't stupid. Such a comment might fool someone who didn't know better, but certainly not him.
However, Hanatarō didn't press for more. His task was simply to guide Shimo to the Captain's office.
"I see," he replied with a smile.
"Liutenant Yamada is indeed my older brother. We get along well."
"I actually admire you quite a bit, Shimo."
As their conversation shifted, Hanatarō gradually relaxed around him.
"Oh? Why's that?" Shimo asked, keeping his pace steady while glancing around the barracks.
"I envy your talent!" Hanatarō said with growing emotion.
"There are very few students who can graduate early from Shin'ō Academy. But you did it in just two years!"
Shimo offered a modest smile in response.
"Hanatarō, you should remember something important—talent isn't everything. There's an old saying:
Genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration."
Hanatarō's eyes lit up at that. He stammered:
"R-Really? You think hard work can make up for a lack of talent?"
Shimo gave a reassuring smile.
"Let's just say—anything is possible."
He came to a halt, raising his gaze to the building before them.
It looked quite ordinary—nothing special about its architecture. But this was the office of the Fourth Division's Captain, Unohana Retsu.
Hanatarō seemed to realize it as well.
"The Captain is waiting for you inside. I won't keep you—I've got other duties to attend to."
"Thanks for guiding me here," Shimo nodded with a smile.
Hanatarō still seemed lost in thought, his expression bright and hopeful. Even watching him walk away, one could feel the optimism radiating from his back.
Shimo hadn't lied—but he had left something out.
That one percent of talent... is often more important than the ninety-nine percent of hard work.
Shaking his head, Shimo stepped toward the barracks.
He rapped gently on the door. A moment later, a calm voice responded from within:
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