Soul Society.
Within the New Seireitei.
Today, the Shinigami continued their tireless work, striving to maintain order in their world, restoring balance where it faltered.
Knock, knock, knock...
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
A small figure buried in piles of paperwork jolted upright, her voice coming out hurriedly.
"Pl-Please come in!"
The door opened, and a head of bright yellow hair poked through. His half-lidded eyes, dead-fish-like and unbothered, scanned the room before landing on the figure behind the desk.
"Sorry to bother ya, Hinamori... Seems like I caught you at a busy time?"
Shinji Hirako.
As the captain of the Fifth Division, his laid-back demeanor was well-known.
Not only did he seem indifferent to his own work, but his view of the world was grounded and logical. He always seemed capable of looking at things from a detached, almost clinical perspective.
They said he wasn't always like this a hundred years ago...
Whatever had happened during that time must have changed him profoundly.
And the person he came to see—
Momo Hinamori.
Vice-Captain of the Fifth Division.
Small in stature and gentle in demeanor. When she was out in public, many of the new recruits couldn't help but think she seemed a bit unreliable for someone of her rank.
It was only natural to think that way.
After all, first impressions counted for a lot.
Given the choice, most people would prefer their leader to look stern, dependable, someone who exuded confidence and strength.
But over the years, those doubts began to fade.
Hinamori proved with her actions that her sense of responsibility was no less than anyone else's.
And now, hearing her captain's voice, she couldn't just sit still.
Almost out of reflex, she shot up from her seat.
"I-I'm here!"
Shinji blinked, momentarily caught off guard.
"...Never mind. You look exhausted. Sorry for interrupting."
Just as the door was about to close, Hinamori, rubbing her tired eyes, rushed to the entrance.
"Wait, Captain! I'm not tired at all!"
"Get some rest already, geez..."
"I'm perfectly fine!"
Their back-and-forth at the doorway was a common sight, so much so that passing squad members seemed entirely used to it.
As always, it ended with Shinji giving in.
Reluctantly handing over the documents in his hand, Shinji adjusted the scarf around his neck, his expression caught somewhere between frustration and resignation.
"Even though I'm the captain, I feel bad saying this… but Hinamori, you really work yourself to the bone."
That wasn't just lip service.
Most of the division's internal work had been dumped onto Hinamori's shoulders.
Recruit screening, resource procurement, organizing training sessions... she handled it all.
Shinji Hirako was practically the definition of a hands-off leader, yet Hinamori never once complained.
Instead, she forced herself to smile and tried to look more awake.
"It's fine! It's what I'm supposed to do!"
After all...
"For Captain Hirako, I'm sure there are far more important things than internal division work, right?!"
Shinji sighed silently, pressing his hand to the bridge of his nose.
As she said, the Fifth Division's captain had indeed been preoccupied with matters elsewhere.
This work hadn't just drained his energy—it was starting to affect his day-to-day life.
"Sorry… I know I'm pushing a lot onto you."
It was an indirect admission.
In some way, it was also recognition of Hinamori's dedication.
The young woman pressed her lips together and let out a soft hmm, almost as if reassuring herself.
"It's fine. I'm just doing what I can."
After all…
"If something really happened, the ones who'd be able to handle it are people like Captain Hirako!"
Shinji rubbed his temples and looked off to the side.
It was true.
Currently, his attention was entirely focused on something much larger than just division affairs.
Not just the Fifth Division, but all the captains were being called in for emergency meetings.
And these urgent summons were becoming far more frequent.
Too frequent.
The days of peace were being eclipsed by shadows of war.
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Shinji resigned himself to the reality of it.
"Alright. I'm heading out. I'll be back soon."
The emergency war footing had been declared days ago.
Under such circumstances, the no-fly zones were lifted, allowing captains to air-walk freely.
Shinji stepped into the air, using Reishi to create a path that shot him across the sky toward his destination.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed others.
The Fifth Division captain's expression grew serious.
"..."
High above Seireitei, numerous figures were all heading toward the First Division.
Though the summons was for an emergency meeting, it wasn't just for the Fifth Division… it was for every captain.
"Kyōraku, what are you planning...?"
New Seireitei Underground.
In the deepest part of a secure facility—a place designed to hold the most dangerous of criminals—lay Muken.
This place was usually deserted.
Only the worst of the worst were kept here.
Those whose crimes were unforgivable, yet for one reason or another could not be executed.
They were neither released nor sentenced to death.
Instead, they were left to rot in isolation.
The sheer emptiness of Muken was maddening. A prison not just of iron, but of silence and solitude.
The kind of solitude that could break even the strongest of minds.
"A terrifying concept, isn't it? Water carving through stone—applied to the human soul. Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl."
A straw hat adorned the head of the man who spoke, his expression a mix of curiosity and sympathy.
Shunsui Kyōraku.
He sat cross-legged, alone in that abyss.
There was no one else with him.
This visit wasn't public, nor was it even acknowledged.
It was, by all accounts, a secret.
With a sigh, Kyōraku composed himself, his tone turning businesslike.
"So, what do you think... Former Captain Aizen?"
Not far from him, a figure emerged from the shadows.
Kyōraku's words rippled through the darkness like stones across water.
Reality itself seemed to ripple, shifting to reveal the silhouette of a man approaching slowly.
He walked smoothly, his steps steady, and the air around him distorted with each stride.
The blackness clung to him, unraveling as he moved forward.
When he stepped into the light, his face became visible.
Sōsuke Aizen.
Dressed in a prison uniform, Aizen regarded Kyōraku with unblinking eyes, his expression unreadable.
"So... the transfer ceremony is complete. Should I call you 'Captain-Commander' now? Would that be more appropriate?"
"If you offered a congratulations, I'd appreciate it more. But I guess such little things aren't worth discussing right now."
There were bigger matters at hand.
Kyōraku's gaze sharpened.
"Your shackles—both on your feet and hands—and the seal on your left eye and mouth... how are they undone?"
The restraints placed on Aizen in Muken were of the highest grade—his body had been bound, his energy absorbed, and his spirit tightly locked away.
But now...
This man was standing before him, free of most of his binds.
To say that Kyōraku wasn't concerned would be a lie.
After all, imagining himself in such a position, he saw no possible escape.
Aizen's danger level had far exceeded his expectations.
Aizen raised his right hand, gently brushing his face. His voice was smooth and calm.
"Are you interested in that? How mundane... It's nothing more than a trivial technique."
"These things they used to bind me… it's just another form of Reiryoku manipulation."
"If you understand the principle, breaking it becomes trivial."
He spread his hands, making a fist as if to grasp the very air.
"And you know... I hold no grudge against you for imprisoning me."
"Without this experience, I wouldn't have understood things so deeply."
Aizen smiled, his eyes gleaming with a strange light.
"Just as Seiya once said... Without descending to the depths, one would never reflect on their own flaws."
Now, Sōsuke Aizen stood upon a higher plane.
"Things that once seemed troublesome… now feel incredibly simple."
If one had to describe it—
"It's like unraveling a thread."
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Powerstones?
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