Chapter 170: Captains' eting
Shunsui and Nanao.
In Seireitei, few captain and lieutenant pairs felt as naturally suited to inheritance as those two. Nanao Ise, despite lacking a Zanpakuto of her own, wielded the Yasakani no Tsurugi, the Eight Span Mirror Sword, and carried herself with the precision of a seasoned Kido master. Even in the Thousand Year Blood War, she had proven herself useful, which was no small feat for a lieutenant.
And yet the true monster was Shunsui himself.
He walked beside Aizen now, chin thoughtfully stroked, posture loose, expression languid, as if he were on his way to a midday nap rather than a captains eting.
As the second son of the noble Kyoraku family, Shunsui carried surprisingly few aristocratic vices. After the death of his elder brother and sister in law, he had shouldered responsibility with Nanao and kept walking. He was one of the oldest captains in service, and that alone was proof of his capability, no matter how idle he appeared.
Aizen could not help but asure the man.
What kind of heart did it take, to grow up under Genryusai Yamamoto, to lose him, and then still find the resolve to pull a certain sealed criminal from the depths of hell?
Shunsui’s bond with the Captain Commander was undeniable, yet when war arrived, the carefree mask vanished. The man who once lounged and joked could beco rciless without hesitation. Like the execution of the First Espada, Shunsui grasped the essence of war the mont it began. He was a realist, the kind who would use any thod that worked.
If he were not Yamamoto’s disciple, Aizen would have made him a first choice for recruitnt.
But Shunsui was, in a sense, Yamamoto’s son.
Aizen could not bring himself to drag a son with his own ideals into rebellion against a father who truly loved him.
Shinigami were not like ninjas who went mad searching for peace. Their beliefs were heavier, their roles more solemn, their positions sharper.
Gin and Kana Tosen were not exceptions. If not for ideals, and the leverage Aizen held, neither would have stood at Aizen’s side.
In that sense, Soul Society’s tragedies were born from clarity.
The extermination of the Quincy a century ago, the Quincy’s assault a thousand years ago, the wars with Hueco Mundo, the Spirit King’s sacrifice, the Five Great Noble Houses and their relationship with the Gotei 13, everyone knew where they stood, understood the other side’s stance, then struck decisively.
It was the opposite of the shinobi world.
Seireitei had spent over a thousand years optimizing its internal faith. Words alone could not sway them. Small favors could not buy them. They had decided what they were long ago.
In the end, the Gotei 13 was an assassination organization that protected Seireitei.
Changing Seireitei would never be simple.
“Ah, Captain Kyoraku, Lieutenant Ise. Good afternoon.”
As Shunsui approached with his sake bottle and straw sandals, Aizen withdrew his hand under Momo’s slightly reluctant gaze. He slipped both hands into his haori and smiled.
“An order from Captain Commander Yamamoto? I have not received anything. I was only taking a short walk with Momo at her request. If there are special orders, please relay them to .”
“Haven’t received it yet? Never mind. Co along anyway,” Shunsui said, sighing theatrically. “The old man wants a eting. Captains eting is about to start. Let’s give the cute girls so room to chat.”
Nanao adjusted her glasses, expression flat as ever.
“Then please proceed ahead, Captain. Lieutenant Hinamori and I will follow separately.”
“Yes,” Momo said quickly.
The two girls exchanged a glance and bowed to their captains.
In front of outsiders, Momo still carried a hint of dependence, but her manners remained proper. Aizen did not need imagination to picture what would happen once the captains were out of sight.
Nanao and Momo were genuine book lovers, close friends who traded romance novels and whispered comntary like contraband. As for the greatest romance author in Seireitei, it was none other than the carefree Shunsui himself.
The infamous Rose Colored Path in Seireitei Correspondence was his work.
Aizen also maintained a column there, The Back of the Pine Leaf.
It was one of many reasons Aizen found Seireitei difficult to truly shake. They were not starved for culture, art, life, or research. Their minds were not rotten. They were eager, even enthusiastic, about new knowledge.
To walk into such a place and declare rebellion was like trying to light a fire in the rain.
Aizen’s thoughts flickered through internal structures and old habits as he walked beside Shunsui.
“So, Captain Kyoraku, what caused this captains eting?”
Shunsui yawned as if the question bored him, but his eyes remained sharp.
“The old man said Captain Mayuri discovered a very powerful Ryoka. He wants everyone cautious.”
His tone turned lightly irritated.
“He sounded serious. And Captain Mayuri claims he has evidence. Any updates from your side? It’s been a while since we gathered like this.”
Aizen’s pace stayed unhurried.
“The Technology Developnt Bureau reported it as a barrier fluctuation lasting a fraction of a second,” he said calmly. “The Sekkiseki wall showed no reaction. It resembles an instrunt malfunction. Captain Mayuri insists a Ryoka infiltrated, but when I encountered him on the way, he could not present evidence of an actual intruder.”
His words were asured, mature, and perfectly consistent with the Aizen Sosuke Seireitei believed in.
“Sight, spiritual pressure perception, internal detection, the barrier Kido team’s checks, all indicate no foreign presence. An unconscious intruder would have left traces imdiately. Yet no unfamiliar spiritual pressure particles have been found. In conclusion, I believe Captain Mayuri’s equipnt malfunctioned.”
Shunsui humd, as if agreeing, as if rely listening, yet the conversation itself was a blade.
Aizen understood.
The Technology Developnt Bureau was still young. Its past included disasters, including the defection of its forr head. Many captains and nobles questioned its stability. Mayuri’s thods were especially suspect, because with him it was hard to tell whether a flaw was accidental or an intended trap.
Mayuri was often proven correct in hindsight, but that did not erase the fact that many of his creations were monstrous. The human bomb concept alone disgusted most Shinigami. For Mayuri, it was elegant.
“So you think it’s another issue caused by Captain Mayuri’s developnt,” Shunsui said, voice lazy. “Not the first ti, either.”
“That is my current judgnt.”
“Hmmm.” Shunsui sighed. “I agree it might be equipnt. But Mayuri won’t accept that, and Central 46 won’t like it either.”
“What do you an?”
Shunsui tilted the sake bottle slightly, as if to emphasize the obvious.
“Replacing equipnt costs money. The Technology Developnt Bureau already burns resources like a bonfire. It was a miracle the nobles funded it in the first place. Central 46 has never been pleased with you, or with Mayuri, you know.”
It sounded like small talk.
It was not.
Shunsui liked to begin truths as jokes. He fished for real thoughts with casual laughter. He wanted to probe Aizen again, using this incident as a hook.
Aizen simply shook his head.
“I do not believe this will trouble Captain Commander Yamamoto or Central 46. The bureau’s existence is fundantal. Even if equipnt is flawed, developnt should not stop.”
“Well,” Shunsui said softly, “in the end, it still depends on what the old man and Central 46 decide.”
“Since Captain Mayuri convinced Captain Commander Yamamoto to convene a captains eting, it should not be an issue.” Aizen’s smile remained gentle. “What concerns more are problems within Seireitei itself.”
Shunsui’s eyelids drooped, but his attention sharpened.
“You an Captain Gin, and that conspiracy of yours? Honestly, I always thought it was imagination. We are Seireitei. Even if there is a conspiracy, we can’t exactly push the old man down, can we? He’s an old man. Even the most foolish person wouldn’t believe they could defeat him.”
“I sincerely hope that is true,” Aizen said. “If so, it would be wonderful. Still, I have uncovered so issues. I cannot yet explain why. Once I have detailed information, I will report properly.”
“That will require a chain of evidence,” Shunsui warned. “If it’s speculation, the old man’s anger can be terrifying.”
“I understand. I will not disappoint Captain Commander Yamamoto, nor anyone else.”
Aizen nodded slightly, the gesture faintly confident, as if he held sothing in his hand.
Shunsui’s brow lifted a fraction.
In his mory, Aizen’s conflict with Gin had always felt strange. Aizen believed Gin hid conspiracy, pressed him harshly, while Gin maintained a subtle, nacing stance that never quite beca open war.
It had always seed like a rivalry that stopped short, almost intentionally.
To Shunsui, who had lived real war, that was unnatural. If soone was your enemy, you struck without hesitation. Smiling while holding a dagger was simply basic.
A rivalry perford in the open, decade after decade, felt artificial.
Now, Aizen sounded as if he had real evidence.
It surprised Shunsui.
Could there truly be a conspiracy in Soul Society?
What kind of conspiracy could exist?
To kill the Spirit King? To shatter Soul Society itself? To undermine Yamamoto?
Shunsui’s thoughts churned, then he laughed it off, guiding the conversation away, turning instead to literature.
Shunsui wrote adult romance. Aizen wrote political philosophy and quiet psychological cuts. Their styles did not touch. After confirming again that their creative minds did not align, even Shunsui began glancing at his sake bottle as if debating whether alcohol might loosen Aizen’s tongue.
But the walk was short.
They reached the eting hall.
Inside, Genryusai Yamamoto sat at the head of the table, eyes closed, hands resting on his cane. Mayuri’s mask angled toward Aizen, hostility practically steaming through the painted grin.
Two captains were already present.
Byakuya Kuchiki stood in noble stillness, star shaped hair ornant gleaming, silver white scarf draped with perfect composure. His eyes were lowered, expression cold, waiting.
Soi Fon stood rigid nearby, white haori crisp, gaze sharp as a blade as she asured Shunsui and Aizen.
Shunsui greeted Aizen casually, then took his place. Aizen stepped to his own position.
Yamamoto remained silent, waiting for the full attendance.
One by one, captains arrived.
Finally, a rough voice rolled in like thunder, and a man with bells and an eyepatch strode into the room, grinning wide, as if a captains eting were an invitation to a fight.
“Oh, so everyone’s here. I knew I was on the right track.”
“Stand in your place, Kenpachi Zaraki, Captain of the Eleventh Division,” Yamamoto said, voice heavy.
“Oh.”
Kenpachi grinned, shoved his jagged Zanpakuto carelessly into his sash, and took his position.
Once Kenpachi stood still, Yamamoto opened his eyes slightly and slamd his cane against the floor. The dull echo swallowed the room.
“According to the report of Captain Mayuri Kurotsuchi of the Twelfth Division, an unidentified intruder has appeared within Seireitei. All captains will check their barracks and relevant areas for unusual activity. Ensure Seireitei’s safety.”
His gaze swept the room, stern and absolute.
“The detailed information will be presented by Captain Mayuri Kurotsuchi.”
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