Fanon Canon: Phantom Ascent

This article, Fanon Canon: Phantom Ascent, is part of this site's Fanon Canon project(s), which may include Bleach: Extinction, Bleach Renascence, or The Coven War. Use of this page's contents is determined by the author of this page unless otherwise specified.

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Never Saw them Coming

Nighttime in Karakura Town used to be a peaceful and relaxing time of day, when one could simple lay their worries to rest for a few hours and enjoy a soothing night of sleep. But tonight, there was something... anxious about this typically quiet city. Most people in their beds found it hard to close their eyes; some of them were even pacing around their beds in a restless manner. Even for those who had no Spiritual talent whatsoever, they could all tell that something was very, very wrong about tonight.

The night had seem to have gotten unreasonably darker. Indeed, even with the full moon shining brightly above the skies and the various city lights dotting the large settlement, the streets were coated in a shade of black that could drive even the reasonably sane to question their own reality. It felt downright sickening to be near this darkness, which obviously warranted that getting further inside of it could prove fatal. So at a glance, no one left their homes for fear of making contact with it.

This was only for the residential districts of the town, however. Near the more deserted parts of Karakura, particularly the warehouse section, some night-wanderers had apparently not taken enough caution. Within the ever present dark shade that was over each of the cities streets, dozens of bodies of humans were scattered about under it's black haze, and while they weren't in excessive numbers, these supposedly lifeless corpses would still warrant great caution to any who saw them.

But this wasn't the only thing that was off-setting about tonight.

There was a particular yellow warehouse in this sector, but it's door, unlike the others, appeared to have been blown open. A large smoking hole, big enough to fit a tractor-trailer through, was in the center of the door's broadside. The warehouse appeared to be almost entirely black on the inside, save for a handful of spotlights that would give way to some clear vision, but it didn't seem to matter... as the darkness outside of the warehouse was slowly creeping in.

Finally, a sound could be heard: the patter of feet rapidly making contact with the ground, along with excessive panting, the signs of someone sprinting as fast as they could. This source was a seemingly young girl with brown eyes and blonde hair with two spiky ponytails, wearing a pink hoodie and sweatpants. She was sweating heavily; tears were streaming from her eyes but she was not crying, perhaps due to the fact that she did not have the time to sob. A large serrated cleaver was in her right hand as she continued her mad dash towards the door, but this mighty weapon had a large crack in it's center; the blade appeared ready to fall apart should it hit a hard surface.

It was Hiyori Sarugaki

"L-Lisa!!" she yelled with a mixture of fright and anger, turning her head to look behind her as she neared the door. A foolish decision, as she would be unable to see the long pole that was seemingly extended from the wall to her right side, just before the hole in the door. "Lis-GURK!!" she grunted as she turned her head just in time for the pole to crash into her neck and send her crashing to the floor. Her head smacked the concrete ground hard enough to draw blood, which caused her to grunt once again in pain.

"The fuck... was that...?!" she angrily asked to no one in particular, grasping the new wound on her head before looking over to the pole's source. What she saw caused her to gasp and instinctively cover her mouth with her cleaver hand: it was Lisa Yadōmaru, impaled and pinned to the wall with her own, halberd-shaped Shikai. Her eyes had rolled into the back of her head, and flies were beginning to gather around her body.

"Oh...oh god..." the girl began to sob, trying her best to keep her voice low. As fast as she was trying to make it out of this building, she couldn't stop herself from mourning her brutally murdered friend. "I'm gonna kill him.... I swear to god..." she began to mutter between her sobs, grabbing her cleaver as a pink colored energy began to gather around her manifesting in tendrils. "I'LL FUCKING KILL HI-". She was cut off once again, this time by a hand that grabbed her collar, a hand belonging to someone who was running just as fast as she was previously. Looking up to see who it was, she found that it was her fellow Visored, a bruised and slightly burned Love Aikawa.

"Love?!" she yelled in anger and surprise, noticing that they were now a fair distance away from the building. "Did you just leave Hacchi in there with him?!?!" Love initially didn't respond, instead donning his toothy Hollow Mask without a single motion. He twisted himself around, slinging Hiyori towards the direction that he was previously running, before opening the maw of his Hollow mask. A crimson orb of energy gathered between the sets of teeth before it was unleashed in the form of a massive beam, completely obliterating the warehouse, and hopefully, whatever it was that had forced them out.

Hiyori's tears seemed to almost completely dry after this, as she stood back on her feet and delivered a powerful kick to the back of Love's knee. This forced a grunt out of him, as well as caused him to kneel on that particular knee, just enough so that Hiyori could move to his front and grab his neck with both of her hands as tight as she could. "The fuck are you thinking?!?!" she yelled, rearing a fist back to punch Love as hard as her body would allow her. "You just killed Hacchi like he was nothing!!?!? So what, are you going to just kill me too, to spare me from whatever the fuck that thing's going to do?!?!" she continued before Love almost effortless pulled her hands off of him and stood back to his feet.

"Keep it together!" he angrily yelled, pulling his Hollow mask up over the top of his head to glare at her right in her eyes. His face was sweating, and although he appeared to be keeping a composed demeanor, it wouldn't take much for one to see that he was in just as much stress as Hiyori was. "Hacchi's fine, he made it out of the building before either of us did." he continued, looking back up at the burning ruins of the warehouse they used to call home. "We've got to get the word out to Shunsui and the others; this shit could get out of hand quick..."

It was then that his heart seemed to stop, as his eyes widened and a slight gasp escaped the gaps between his teeth. Within the smoldering flames of the warehouse stood the figure that had been terrorizing presumably the entire city. He was tall, nearly two feet above Love himself, and he wore a tattered brown trenchcoat with a large hood over his head, obscuring all of his facial features in darkness. Slowly, the man began to raise his two arms up to his sides, which subsequently caused the flames that surrounded him to dissipate, and the darkness that surrounded his feet began to rise next to his hands, following their exact motions.

"Not even a dent?!" Hiyori thought to herself, gulping as she clutched her cleaver with both of her hands. However, Love firmly placed his hand on her shoulder, causing her gaze to quickly shift to him. "No, Hiyori." He said in a stern voice, staring down the hooded man that had murdered their friend. "You're faster than either me or Hacchi; you can outrun this motherfucker faster than he can kill us." he continued, his last statement seemingly implying that he had already accepted his fate. Hiyori, of course, had to object, ripping her shoulder away from his hand with a snarl. "If you think I'm just going to leave you and Hacchi here..."

"This isn't a request, Hiyori-san." the simple voice of their friend, Hacchi, said, the round and pleasant looking man appearing behind the two of them. "If someone isn't told about what this man is capable of doing to this world, then every living thing in existence will be in grave peril." he continued, a sad expression on his face as he went on. "I'm sorry Hiyori-san, but this is out of the question: you must warn the Gotei 13, immediately." Her mouth dropped open slightly, the tears beginning to well back up in her eyes once again. Her shocked face looked up towards Love, who merely smirked and nodded in response, and back to Hacchi, who managed to put back his trademark smile for her one last time... and then with another snarl, she clenched her eyes shut and began to run away, deep into the building alleyways behind them.

Love then looked back towards the hooded figure; the fires that previously surrounded him had completely vanished, and the darkness that had surrounded his feet was now materializing around him. He then began to quickly walk towards the two Visoreds, the darkness moving in sync with his footsteps, appearing as waves on a beach. Love then clenched his Zanpakuto, wordlessly releasing it into it's colossal spiked club form, while Hacchi used his Flash Step to appear on the top of the building directly behind him. With that, Love pulled his Hollow mask over his head and began to quickly run towards his new opponent, clenching his giant club with both hands.

"Come on, you rat-bastard!" he yelled, starting to lift his weapon up into the air. "Let's g-URK!!" he grunted as the hooded man continued walking, but outstretched his left hand to grasp Love's neck. The force used in this grab was unlike anything the former Captain had experienced; it was like a bear-trap that had just locked onto his neck and he couldn't get it off. Unwilling to let his weapon go, all he could do was clench the man's hand with his free one and try to stop the man's pace. The hooded man continued walking towards the spot that Love once was, the latter's feet skidding and stomping as hard as they could to stop his opponent's movement, but to no avail. Then, with the same amount of force applied to the grip, the being through Love through the building that was in front of him, causing him and his club to not only fly through it, but the structure behind it as well.

"Love!!" Hacchi called out with alarm, quickly pointing his arms down at the hooded man, who was still in clear view. His signature orange barrier, shaped like a cube, materialized around the hooded man, immobilizing him from further movement and hopefully giving Love a moment to recover. He didn't expect what was coming next, however. The hooded being tilted his head up slightly to the right, looking directly at Hacchi, before shooting his right arm up towards the round Visored. Five tendrils of the darkness around his feet immediately shot up towards Hacchi, at a speed that the latter was unable to react in time too. The bottom three tendrils tore the corner of the building Hacchi was on apart, while the other two wrapped themselves around the man's shoulders and began to drag him down.

"Urgh! No!!!" Hacchi yelled as his feet hit the darkened ground. Instead of touching solid concrete, he felt as if he had been drug down into a pool of quicksand, and his body only continued to sink. His hands and his waist were submerged into the dense and wet-feeling darkness, as the hooded man stood in front of him and stared him down. Before Hacchi could react, the man's left arm clasped over the immobilized Visored's face. His body began to glow with a dark blue energy, energy of which that began to feed into the hooded man's left arm.

Over this exposed arm were several arcane, black markings, the center of which contained an upside down star, but upon absorbing the blue energy, this star transformed into what appeared to be the shape of Hacchi's Hollow mask. The energy then dissipated, and he released his grip of Hacchi, whose eyes had rolled into the back of his head, and his skin had become a sickening pale color, before his body was slowly drug into the shadows until not a trace of him was left.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!" an enraged Love leaped from the hole of the building he had previously been thrown through, raising his club over his head with both hands and swathing the weapon with a mighty burst of flame. Just as the weapon came down upon the hooded man, however, the darkness around the latter's feet shot up into the form of two pillars, both of which caught the club in midair and forcefully destroying the flames that were previously cloaking it. With Love's hands still on the handle, the pillars of black slung the man and his club around in an arch, planting the Visored's back flat into the darkness-submerged street.

"Ugh! The fuck?!" Love shouted in anger, his hands still grasping the club, but not for long. The darkness that clasped onto the club was released, and the hooded man simply walked over and ripped the giant weapon from it's owners hands. He raised it above his own head, the mark on his arm changing to reflect that of an Iris, the emblem of the 7th Division, before slamming it down onto the immobilized love. While such an impact would have normally caused a crater in the ground, the darkness prevented such from happening, once again making it seem as if he had struck a pool of dense water. There was another sound, however, the one of bones being crushed under the force of the impact; if Love had somehow survived a blow like that, then he wouldn't survive what came next. The club was left stuck in place, and the darkness slowly began to drag it, as well as the presumed corpse of it's owner, down into it's maw, as it had done to Hacchi.

With both forms of opposition out of the way, the hooded figure looked out towards the distant city. He could sense the presence of Hiyori a few miles away, and if he hurried, he could intercept her before she could get the word out to his enemies. While it seemed reasonable for him to chase after her... he instead decided to turn the other way and begin to walk in the opposite direction... as if he wanted to be discovered and known about. The darkness that was around every street corner of the city began to quickly materialize a few feet in front of the man, taking the shape of a small spire that was just about the same height as himself, before he walked through it like a doorway. And with that, he disappeared, and Karakura Town's night once again appeared to have gone back to normal.

Well, except for the few dozen corpses that dotted the sector.

The Shields of Soul Society

It was another sleepless night, unfortunately.

Captain-Commander Kyōraku sat upon the same desk as his predecessor within the barracks of the first division; hunched over, reminiscent of a sleep-derived individual, as he looked down at what appeared to be an old scrapbook. The pages of the book looked as though they had been worn for some time now. Kyōraku's one remaining eye scoured the contents of the pages he was open to. On his side sat a cup of tea that had been sitting there all night, barely sipped, that had grown cold and dark. On the opposite end of the desk lay scattered papers, potentially a sign of work that Kyōraku had either finished or merely neglected to complete.

With a heavy sigh, the leader of the Shinigami closed his only good eye and placed the book down upon the desk. Slowly, he picked himself up out of his chair, stretching out his arms as cracks in his old bones could be heard. And once he did, he made his way toward the opening that faced the entire Seireitei; shrouded in the darkness of night. But a glimmer of light happened upon the horizon. It was clearly the end of night in the spiritual realm, soft shimmering rays piercing the darkness and rising from the scenery's edge. "I suppose... There really is no other choice. We must move forward... no matter what pools of blood we must leave behind." resounded the thoughts of Kyōraku.

A soft gentle breeze entered the office room, fluttering about the papers on the desk only slightly to make them aware of its presence, as one could then see the page opened in the book that Kyōraku spent all night observing. It was two young boys; one was clearly Kyōraku in his youth, but the other was a strange white-haired boy. Both were smiling brightly, if not a little naively; such was the prospects of childhood. Regret was not typically present in Kyōraku's mind, but apparently, the events of the recent past as well as a strange uneasy feeling would cause this uncharacteristic man to unknowingly put on display some small crack of emotion in the tinted window that is the Captain-Commander's heart.

The rays began to illuminate the Seireitei as morning finally arrived...

---

The somber atmosphere that seemed to have enveloped the Human World and even Soul Society could be felt in nearly all of its residents. A restlessness that ached down to their very bones, an easiness that pervaded their thoughts as the darkness of night foreshadowed an evil that was to come. 

As dawns early light stretched across the Second Division barracks, it illuminated bodies strewn across the rooftops and floor. Debris littered the ground, it was like a warzone. If that warzone had been an ongoing party. In his office, Kurama blinked his bleary eyes as consciousness returned to him. Attempting to stand up he finds the sudden rush of motion disorienting, groaning in the process as the tell-tale signs of a hangover rears its ugly head. All around him collapsed in various states of disarray where members of his division, some clothed... some not. The poignant stench of booze fills his nostrils causing another wave of nausea and that is when he finally notices what he is wearing... 

Skin-tight spandex and black leather? Kuukaku must have stopped by, if he was wearing this outfit. The bruises across his body and the scratch marks on his backside were the next indication that things had spiraled into the realm of erotica. In front of his own division no less. He palms his head in irritation. The amount of blackmail this would require... shaking his head once more, he carefully maneuveres his way to his desk. With all the elegance of a brute he slumps into his luxurious chair; a piece originally crafted by a famous Kuchiki artisan over three centuries ago - courtesy of Shigenaga. Though the haze of his hangover clouds his mind, his senses are still razor sharp, and he hears the door to his office open.

There stood his precious little minion - Kazuo Hanazawa. What greets the Lieutenants eyes was a scene one would normally find in a brothel, or questionable movie. Add to that the outfit his Captain was wearing? With speed born from countless hours of grueling training he retrives the camera hidden in his sleeve and takes several pictures of Kurama's current dress, before muttering a spell that seals it and its contents out of Kurama's reach. Kurama's brief look of disbelief gives way to a smoldering glare. Kazuo merely smiles in return. Kurama blinks, once, then twice before nodding his head approvingly. He gestures for Kazuo to take a seat. Where in the mess of bodies was anyone's guess. When he spoke his voice was hoarse, likely from a night of drinking but no less commanding despite the circumstances.

"Do you have anything to report my minion?" he says with closed eyes. 

"It's official, I'm not being paid nearly enough for this. This was not part of my contract" the Lieutenant thought to himself, suppressing a sigh. Dutiful even in this situation, he calmly pretended that he had not just procured incriminating evidence on his own Captain. Holding a variety of documents he began to read aloud from each one. He resolved not to sit, for while there was a couple of chairs, they were either broken or glistening with some strange liquid. Water, probably, at least he hoped it was water.

"...The Kidō Corps have expressed their thanks for our assistance in resolving that embarrassing situation with the pet hamster and backfired spell work, it was messy, but our agents managed to get it under control. The hamster is back to regular size and now only eats vegetables and fruit. There was no casualtie-"

Kazuo was abruptly broken off when the 4th Seat, Moritake Nomi grabbed ahold of his left leg and brought it to his cheek, cuddling with it. The brief lapse in Kazuo's concentration passed quickly as the Lieutenant straightened his posture and attempted to ignore his subordinate. Who'd by now begun to trace sloppy kisses up his ancle, nope, he was definitely not getting paid enough for this job.

"Nemu Kurotsuchi.. lets play doctor."

That was a bit much, breaking himself off once again, Kazuo frantically attempted to free his leg from the lovesick 4th seats clutches. He succeeded and took a cautionary step forward, out of reach, before resuming his report. "As I was about to say, there was no casualties, our agents know how to handle a pet hamster."

He handed out some documents to his Captain, they were meant for his eyes only. He got some of those once in a while, he nodded briefly before he looked over the last document. Reading it too aloud "We've also reportedly dealt with a Bakeneko problem in one of the rukon districts, apparently it had devoured one of the maids and was posing as her. We destroyed the creature, unfortunately we've also suffered heavy casualties of our own, such beings aren't easily dealt with. I sure hope the monster cat wasn't one of your relatives, Shihōin-taichou, if such a case, my condolences." Kazuo took a step towards the door, eloquently stepping over his moaning division.

"That would be all, Shihōin-taichou. The documents I've handed to you are from the Onmitsukidō, for your eyes only. Given how agitated the courier was, I'd say it's expected that you answer today. Have a good evening, Taichou" With that, he left the room.

---

Even though it was only the daybreak, the tranining hall of the Third Division Barracks was occupied. Dim orange light shone through the windows, timidly illuminating the omnipresent darkness that drowned the world outside. However, the shadows had been receding slowly, reluctantly, with every passing moment.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud from within the building.

"Get up, Yuji. We aren't done", uttered a low, somewhat melancholy voice.

Captain Teruo Akui. Young, but promising Shinigami who had been a mere Fourth Seat Officer not that long ago. He was tall and fairly muscular, as expected from a warrior of such a rank. However, his appearance was far from ordinary. The natural black of his spiky hair and the hazel colour of his right eye was contrasted with a prominent grey patch and peculiar pale blue, respectively, on the left side. Furthermore, the skin of his exposed left arm was afflicted with spots of severe depigmentation that stood out amongst his medium complexion. The disease seemed to spread as far as his neck and left cheek. He was clad in the traditional Shinigami uniform, which lacked the left sleeve, complete save for one vital element - the Captain's haori.

That particular element of his garments was a symbol. He could not suffer it stained during a sparring session.

"That's not fair!", protested a higher-pitched yet similar voice. "You've almost punched me in two, brother!"

Lieutenant Yuji Akui. A teenager who had been barely able to finish education at the Shin'ō Academy when the Wandenreich made its move years ago... He was toned and in a healthy condition, but still obviously a child. His medium length, unkempt hair were dark brown and his eyes hazel, with no trace of depigmentation to disrupt his appearance. He too wore a complete Shihakushō for the purposes of training, with the Lieutenant's badge used as a buckle at his belt.

His widened eyes were very visibly sunken. He was laying on the floor, in the middle of a cavity caused by his earlier impact with the surface.

"Remember, Yuji, evil never relents", said Teruo in the tone of a wise sage unfit for someone of his age.

There was no form of warning or discernible transition afterward. Just an abrupt leap as he somersaulted in mid-air to perform a rotating kick to crush his own little brother. Fortunately, Yuji got up and evaded the sudden strike in the nick of time. Meanwhile, the foot of Captain Akui crashed into the floor, prompting a shower of splinters to rain upon the training hall. Frustrated, the younger brother launched a ferocious counter offence. His strong right hook was blocked, however, and he quickly proceeded to deliver a rapid series of punches to overwhelm Teruo. Nevertheless, the older brother withstood the assault with unwavering composure. Seeing the futility of this approach, Yuji withdrew slightly and rotated in a powerful roundhouse kick... and then gasped when he realised Teruo had casually grabbed his leg in transition.

"W-woooow!"

The Captain tossed him with little visible effort. Somehow, the younger brother managed to regain balance in time to land heavily, but in a controlled manner. He was panting. He wiped the droplets of sweat from his forehead. He was tired, exhausted. He looked at his older brother. That odd, sullen expression and the ominous glint in the eyes... but no signs of fatigue.

"I'm tired, brother. Let's finish for now, I need to sleep sometime", he said as he straightened up.

"Evil never sleeps, Yuji", retorted Teruo calmly.

"Oh, cut this out!", exclaimed the Lieutenant as he pointed his index finger at the elder sibling. "You aren't evil, you're my stupid brother!"

Teruo closed his non-matching eyes, then slowly shook his head.

"You don't understand, Yuji. The purpose of this training is to prepare you for the inevitable combat with the forces of evil", he said shortly afterward. "I am not your enemy, but you should treat me like one. Forget that I'm your brother for a little while, Yuji. Focus."

"Dad wasn't that harsh on me", countered the younger brother, pouting his lips.

There was a sudden change in Teruo's demeanour. Subtle, but significant.

"This is true. But remember, the purpose of this training is to make us both stronger. Stronger, so our close ones won't suffer anymore", he uttered in a grave tone. "I was there, Yuji, and I couldn't help. I couldn't help because I wasn't strong enough. I was weak. TOO WEAK!", he bellowed abruptly with his left fist raised high.

Yuji flinched in response, staring sheepishly at the fist, now wreathed in crackling energy the colour of which reminded him of a dying flame.

"Let's do this so we aren't weak anymore", continued Teruo in a drastically more composed tone mere moments later, his left arm lowered. "Let's keep this up so we can be sure we can protect our close ones. Each other, Yuji", he said with a faint smile.

Then, he approached his younger brother unhurriedly and placed his left hand on the latter's head. Yuji looked upward, at his unusual countenance, largely unaffected by the sudden mood swings but touched by the meaning of the words. He sighed quietly.

Someone has to protect him, thought both brothers simultaneously.

---

In the distance, the true caretakers of the soul society continued to do what they did best, save lives. Unlike the rest of the divisions, those belonging to the Fourth Division were offered absolutely no free time to goof around. Time wasted resulted in the deaths of innocent citizens and rugged warriors. No member of the fourth could live with such a concern protruding their conscience. It was for this very reason that sleep was a privilege in the fourth divison, and never guaranteed. Sleep was for the weak, and only made work more troublesome. While one slept, they could have instead spent the time accomplishing some form of work; inching closer to their goals. No, sleep was for those who were unable to do anything else, such as the patients who lied motionless on the many beds of the Sōgō Kyūgo Tsumesho. Those who had suffered greater wounds than others, particularly shinigami, were given their own private rooms, where as common souls were all fitted into one large room, each of their beds neatly arranged beside one another. A trained nurse was issued to every single individual patient, attentively watching their every move. Seated shinigami served primarily as managers, who oversaw the work of the others. When trouble arose, it was their responsibility to take initiative, and sadly, such an event was not uncommon.

In one of the more reserved hospital rooms, an injured shinigami prepared himself for the worst. He had been unable to breathe for quite sometime now, his oxygen being transferred to him through a machine. Several wires were now connected to his body in order to get an efficient reading on his state of being. Various screens were also present throughout the room, one of which began to beep quicker and quicker as time wore on. The man's life was now beyond his control. His eyelids began to betray him, forcing his eyes shut. His last image was that of his Zanpakutō, which had been resting along a nearby wall. As his eyes closed, an alarm gave off in the captain's office, altering those inside of the dying patient. It was a code red, meaning only one or more seated officers were capable of saving the man from his critical condition. With her lieutenant, third, and fourth seats out respectively, it was a call for the captain, and she would see to it.

Rikuri Suigyoku, the captain of the Fouth Division leaped over her office desk the moment the alarm went off. Her long, vanilla white coat flowed behind her, catching wind as she gained speed. She was truly quite the beauty, having taken over the wrights of soul society's most attractive kunoichi following the untimely death of the 10th divisoon lieutenant, Rangiku Matsumoto. The transfer of such power was certainly not her doing, but more so a collective agreement among the male shinobi of the soul society. In truth, she possessed a stupendous physique, from shapely thighs, to a plump butt, all the way to her enormous breasts. She was downright gorgeous, whether she had chose to accept it as a fact or not. However, such trivial thoughts did not peek her interest at the moment. Right now, all that mattered was saving the life of a fellow shinigami. A distinctive flapping sound, reminiscent of fat bare skin slapping together could be heard as Rikuri continued down the hallway. This was the punishment she received for having been blessed with such tremendously large bossoms, who could never stay still no matter how much their master commanded. The jiggling of the woman's breasts only worsened as she halted to a sudden stop, turning a corner and entering the designated area of what was the room of the dying patient.

Nurses moved out of the way as Rikuri flew through the room. The beeping of the heart monitor was slower than ever before. Wasting no time, Rikuri leaped into the bed, balancing herself atop the dying patient. She sat on his lower abdomen, placing a thigh on either side of his body, before planting both her palms on the mans chest. She glanced quickly to examine the heart monitor, before leaning forward. Her soft, full, pink lips fitted perfectly around the mouth of the dying patient, beginning a useless CPR procedure. Pumping his chest, Rikuri was quick to determine such a method would have little to no effect. It was time to get serious. Running both hands through her luscious brown hair, Rikuri prepared herself for the next medical procedure. As the captain of the fourth division, Rikuri possessed a unique healing method, the likes of which had never quite been seen before. A technique that was the result of several centuries of research, sucking on her skin proved to be an effective method of efficient recuperation. However, there was one problem, the man was unconscious, and therefore, would be unable to do so. At least, on his own.

Passion, was the trait that most admired about Rikuri. No matter the circumstances, Rikuri was a winner; she would do whatever it took to ensure success. This would prove to be one of those times. Taking a deep breath, Rikuri leaned forward once more, engaging the man in a gruesome lip lock. If the man was unable to suck on his own, she would simply have to do it for him. The room became completely silent, aside from the dying heart monitor and the heavy breathing belonging to Rikuri. Using her own mouth as the catalyst, Rikuri forced the mouth of the dying shinigami to mimic a sucking pattern, allowing for the man to absorb the nutrients residing within her lips. The man's eyes opened slowly in time, expressing disbelief at having such a beauty in his bed. He would take advantage of the situation, knowing she would not be able to stop herself so long as she was in the midst of the procedure. He took it upon himself to enjoy himself as best he could, tying his arms around the woman's waist, which later descending to her plump assets. The man's life was fortunately saved, but as he walked to the counter to check out of the fourth division barracks, the sight of his face brought a smile to the nurse behind it. There was now a large, bulging red imprint of Rikuri's hand on the side of his cheek. Ironically, it would serve more so as evidence than it did as a punishment, as it was truth that he had gone far beyond what others could only dream of.

---

Among the earliest of mornings, a man was awake even before the crack of dawn. Before the light appeared. His eyes were set onto the horizon even during the darkness that surrounded him earlier. The man looked relatively young; a young man which appears to be a simple teenager with a muscled figure. As the wind of the morning blows onto his jet black spiky hair, his deep, ominous red eyes were still set onto the horizon, as if he was searching for something...something that he could never find. The purple kimono he wore was still sort of drenched. He took it from the laundry late at night before it dried, after all. He feels comfortable whenever he wears it, and wouldn't this be the right time to feel comfortable?

His left hand was holding a cup of what appears to be chocolate milk, whereas his right hand was holding onto the railing. He was on the edge of the Fifth Division barracks, standing few meters away from the captain's personal room and office.

The door of his office was open, open ever since the early morning, and with that, a simple, classical, repetitive music sounding peacefully, breaking the silence. Even though he liked the silence, it brought him the feeling of loneliness, a feeling he once enjoyed, but not now. He figured any music would be good to break this feeling of his, and he was correct; the music he "accidentally" bought from the World of the Living.

The music was truly soothing...until a large thump appeared behind the man. On the stairs upward to his position and his office, a girl, carrying what appear to be bags and bags of dried and neatly folded Shinigami uniforms. A sense of helplessness appeared, coming all from the girl carrying all those laundries. Of course, what did you expect from a little girl carrying all those heavy stuff?

The sense of helplessness changes drastically to a sense of anger. The hands of the girl were shaking, but they were not shaking because she was scared of him or because she was too tired to carry them anymore. Rather, she dropped all the laundries, previously in the clutches of her hands, now on the floor, but somehow they were all still neat. The face of an angry, young girl appeared. Her face was bright red in anger, despite her possessing the symbol of delicacy in the Division. Her unusual purple eyes set onto the still relaxing man, her uniquely styled blond hair, tied into a ponytail set high along with a braided ponytail down bellow, follow the shaking of her anger.

"Vin! You can't just order me around to do stuff like that!" the girl was set ablaze as if bright flames were surrounding her.

She was talking to the man, the man who is known as the one who led the Division; its captain, Alvin Ryūren, calling him by a simple nickname. She looks too young to be calling the captain through a simple nickname, and she even looks too young to be included inside the Division. Too young to be carrying a Zanpakutō, which was on the side of her left thigh all along. She looks as plain as an eleven-year-old girl who would still be busy thinking about her studies instead of doing business with the Shinigami. But despite her looks, a symbol situated at the tip of her braided ponytail says otherwise: it was the lieutenant's armband, wore as a hairclip for her hair.

"Relax," the man said calmly. "You yourself made the new recruits to do errands you're too lazy to do, am I right?" Again, the sense of anger was changed into a sense of shock, which was paralleled on her shocked features hearing what the captain just said. "Oh, Succubus, you're too easy to predict."

Succubus? A nickname for someone as young as she is? True, Succubus refers to the alluring, sexual female creature, which is her, the lieutenant of the Fifth Division, Cynthia Kazuryū. Both the captain and the lieutenant prepared nicknames for each other, and the "Succubus" nickname refers to Cynthia's true nature, seducing men as she always did, despite her looks as a simple grade-school girl.

"Eh, never mind that. What are you doing anyway? And why did you take away your kimono while it was still drying?" the lieutenant asked. The frown of the captain turned into a smile. His previously bored face turned into a face of happiness. It is extremely rare to see Alvin smiling like this. With that expression, Cynthia's previously shocked expression changes as well; she replied with a simple, devilish grin mirroring an actual Succubus.

They both knew...something worth enjoying is near. The something he couldn't find earlier is ready to be found.

---

As the sun rose, so did the barracks of the Sixth Division. The Law and Order of the Soul Society demanded that they were attending to their duties, and so they did. Some unseated officers did the sweeping, while others were attending to the raking of the leaves. As they did so, a certain presence came upon them. A man standing with a certain regal air as he strode through his division.

Here was the Captain of the Sixth Division, Byakuya Kuchiki. The man's status was undeniable, as all who were occupied in their duties bowed to him as he walked past them, acknowledging each and every officer that had been in his division. The man had entered his own barracks, closing the sliding doors and sitting on his desk, attending to the paperwork as his routine expected.

However, while doing so, the Captain felt compelled to do something prior to engaging in his formal duties. He looked towards the edge of his desk, where three photographs had been present. The three people in these photographs where those that the man had felt compassion and attachment towards; they were his pride.

But he looked at them no longer. Closing his eyes for but a brief second, as if he were apologizing, his attention was focused towards his documents, as he patiently awaited his lieutenant to give him the reports of the division's activities in the past week.

An hour earlier Byakuya’s Lieutenant, Takashi Sakuma, had been standing on a small hill overlooking a fallow field in east Rukongai. He felt a soft, cold breeze push against his face as the first light of dawn glowed on the horizon, and watched as his hawk, Kohaku, circled rather lazily above. He focused his mind on his hawk’s and, closing his eyes, could see through hers. The field rushed past far below and he saw himself standing on its edge. Kohaku seemed sleepy and lethargic. Hurry up. He told her silently. She brushed him off irritably and Takashi returned to his own mind. He watched her for a moment before he sighed and sank to the ground. He pulled out his own breakfast: two onigiri, one with dried fish and the other with pickles, and ate while he waited for Kohaku to finish. Behind him, they Seireitei lay in still and in shadows. But as the sun rose its warm light spread over the city, glittering with gold and white. The wind picked up as morning came. It was stinging and bitter, and rattled through the dry grass of the field. Winter was nearly upon them, the trees were now bereft of leaves and there was frost each morning from the ever-colder nights. Even though Takashi was a member of the Gotei 13 and safe from freezing and starvation, he could still not help but feel a sense of dread for the oncoming winter.

When he turned back Kohaku had disappeared from the skies. He stood up and peered over the field, trying to spot her in the grass. He whistled shrilly and she answered with a sharp kit-call. Takashi followed the sound and found the hawk ripping into a medium sized rabbit just outside a burrow. Blood and entrails were spread everywhere. He waited patiently until she had finished and was once again perched comfortably on his shoulder. Then he turned back towards the Soul Society. The cold had set deep into his skin and he walked quickly to shake it off. Then he checked the position of the sun and suddenly registered that he was running late. Kohaku would be irritated when he used Shunpo while she was still preening herself, but it could not be helped.

He reached the Squad’s barracks a few minutes later and went straight to the Division’s main office to pick up the report he had compiled the night before. Kohaku was, indeed, rather annoyed with him, and as he made his way towards the Captain’s office asked: Why do you show such deference towards him? Takashi glanced at the bird, who was deftly cleaning her feathers with her beak while he walked, and tried to gauge her mood. He is my Captain. It is my duty to respect him. Kohaku did not reply. You know me better than anyone, little one. Why would you ask me this? She ruffled the feathers at her neck in a shrug. Because he holds no respect for you. Takashi shook his head. No, he respects me as his Lieutenant. Nothing more, nothing less. As he stopped outside the door to the Captain’s office he added to himself: I could not ask for anything else in a Captain. He did not acknowledge what he knew Kohaku had perceived, he did not even admit it to himself, but deep down, he also feared his Captain.

Takashi quickly checked to make sure both he and Kohaku were presentable, then he slid open the door and stepped inside just as the clock struck seven. The room was neat, as usual, and soft blue light diffused through the window in the back, softening the edges of the desk, bookshelves, chair… Takashi noticed, without wanting to, the pictures of Byakuya’s former Lieutenant and family sitting on the desk, and caught his distant expression. He had seen pieces of his Captain’s silent, hidden grief before, but it still unnerved him. There was no place for condolences in the Gotei 13, and both he and his Captain must continue with their duties— without hesitation, without looking back.

“Good morning Captain.” he said with a curt bow. Byakuya had been waiting for him. He was standing behind his desk, and he inclined his head mildly at the greeting. Takashi felt Kohaku straighten up and puff out her chest as she regarded Byakuya with a condescending air. Stop that. He told her sharply.

“Lieutenant Sakuma,” Byakuya acknowledged his Lieutenant.

“I have the report for you sir.”

“Very well, proceed."

Takashi took the thick document and began to summarize each report, moving methodically through the stack of papers. “The Hollow that appeared in East 32nd District was destroyed by the task force we sent out on Monday… Apparently there was a disturbance involving a rampant, over-sized lab rat from the Kidō corps. The situation was handled by the 2nd Division, our 6th Seat witnessed the incident…”

Takashi turned over the last paper.

“Ah, yes. Sensors installed by Squad 12 in Karakura Town have registered a higher amount of Reishi concentrated in that area. They say it is of no concern, but any Division sending operatives to the Human World should be on the look-out for Hollows.”

“Higher Reishi concentrations, you say?

“Yes sir, that is correct.” Byakuya stroked his chin with his thumb and forefinger, thinking for a moment.

“Put in a post to Squad 12 for any further information on that report.”

“Yes sir, understood.” Takashi reorganized the papers, extracting the report from Squad Twelve, and handed the rest back to Byakuya. “What are your commands for today sir?” he asked. He looked up from the report and found that he had met Byakuya’s gaze. He was appraising him evenly, coolly, with no hint of emotion in his steel blue eyes.

“Proceed as normal.” he said. “That will be all for today, Sakuma-san.” Takashi bowed and left without another word, and Byakuya turned back to his work for the day without a second thought about his Lieutenant.

---

A soft, deep thumping somewhere in the distance is what brought Hein out of his slumber. It was the muted sound of a drum signaling the hour. He counted to himself as he listened— it was five in the morning. For a moment he lay still, but soon his energy began to coalesce in his body and he grew suddenly anxious to be awake. Without another moment’s hesitation he threw off the covers and stood up. The blood rushed to his head, pleasantly numb, and he yawned, stretched, and snapped his kosode on over his shitigai.

Already the first thin rays of light were breaking on the horizon, he could tell by the subtle hint of warmth in the air. Hein threw open the sliding shoji panels and strode outside to the veranda. He breathed in to the depth of his lungs. Then, like he did each day, he strode barefoot across the grass lawn to the shed at the back of the Captain’s quarters. In the two weeks that he had been there, Hein had transformed the single-roomed complex into a small training hall, complete with tatami and Makiwara. He quickly ran through the exerting regimen that he used to start the day, including various push-ups, pull-ups, stretches, and other strenuous exercises. Although he was a man who typically resisted habitual rigidity, and even as a Captain, he was not exempt from the basic physical routines that kept one in top condition.

After he finished he returned to his room and put on his haori, folding it across his waist in his signature manner, and firmly securing his Zanpakutō to his obi. Hein slipped on his wooden geta and clacked down the veranda to find the mess hall—and breakfast. As usual he had a vicious appetite. The cooks were dismayed when he appeared at the door to the kitchen an hour before anyone else in the Squad, but he took a small amount of satisfaction in disrupting their normal pattern. After eating his fill he emerged from the mess hall, still munching on a rather large nikuman as he swaggered through Squad 7’s Headquarters. When he passed by the Division’s main dōjō he heard the coordinated stomp of feet and earnest shouts. He paused for a moment to listen. The men training inside had Reiatsu signatures that were perhaps a few degrees above the other Squad members: they were Komomura’s old group. A diligent and eager band of men, Hein had so far left them to their own devices, and there was no respect between them. He knew they were frustrated that he did not take his role as Captain seriously, and he was annoyed that they tried so hard despite having no potential. Hein was only interested in strength. None in his Squad could yet impress him.

Continuing past the dōjō he headed towards the end of Squad 7’s ground. As he neared the Guard House he could hear the rough voices of men and the rolling of dice across a table even though he was still several streets away. Terrible early for gamblin,’ that’s goin’ for nothing. He thought to himself. As he grew closer he pressed up against the side of the building, keeping to the cool edge of the wall where he knew he would be hidden in shadow, and masked his Reiatsu so his approach could not be discovered. He found the gamblers in a corner, the smell of cigarettes and sake pinpointed their location. They were the night watch, probably just relieved by the morning shift, and Hein noted that the gathering was so sophisticated they even had a small coal brazier to keep their fingers warm as money slipped from them. To his interest, as he listened to the men’s conversation, he discovered they were actually talking about him. Chortling and laughing, rather.

“What do you think would happen if we rearranged all the furniture in his quarters?” one asked.

“Hey Tanaka, you should loan him some money.”

“Why?”

“I bet he’ll say “I’ll pay you back next time I see you.” the others groaned.

“Hey, I’ve got one: a blind man walks into a bar… and then a table, and a chair…” the others continued to groan.

“I saw two blind men get into a fight in the Rukongai once.” A man with a particularly raspy voice said seriously. This seemed to catch their attention.

“What happened?”

“I said “I’ll bet my money on the one with the knife.” They both ran away.”

Even Hein chuckled at that one.

“Nah, here’s a better one. Let’s get one of the gals to strip in front of one of the Squad's meetings—” Hein listened carefully to suggestion, nodding in agreement at the details.

“Hey, that sounds all right.” he interrupted. Everyone froze to stare at him in shocked horror. “Real idea ya got there.”

No one said a word. No one even dared to move.

“What? Ya look like ya’ve just seen fish fly.”

“Captain, what a surprise.” the dealer, Tanaka, worked hard to smooth over the awkward situation, rubbing his greasy hands together nervously. “We were, uh… just getting ready to start another game. Care to join us?” Hein looked over the table.

“What’s the game?”

“Oicho-Kabu.” Hein smirked to himself. He could win at that game blindfolded. Hey, those indecent puns are catchin ’ on.

“Yeah, deal me in Tanaka-han.” This seemed to shock the men even more. “What, ya got a problem with that? Don’t matter. It should be terrible easy to clobber’ a blind man.” They murmured in hushed whispers to each other, undecided. Hein decided for them. He sat down at the table, chasing one of the younger players from his seat.

“Waitin’ is goin’ for nothing. Let’s start.” Eventually, Tanaka got the hint that Hein would not be leaving anytime soon, and began to shuffle the cards. The men were trading hushed remarks all around him, but Hein paid them no heed. He was listening to the dealer and the even cadence of the cards slapping onto the table. But he noted that there was a pause between the deck and the table. With a little more concentration he was able to catch the sound of Tanaka’s thumb scraping over the corner of each card that left his hand. Real interesting. Hein thought. He picked up his own cards ran his fingers over their surface. The men began to snicker to themselves, no doubt laughing over his attempt to “read” the cards. But Hein was quickly able to tell the hand he had been given: ten, seven, and two. In other words, a winning hand. There were tiny scratches in the right top corner of each card, barely perceptible except to a trained touch. Uncreatively, the kanji matched to each card. A few moments later and the betting started. Hein, however, did not place any money on the table. He turned to the dealer and flipped the cards face-up, tossing them onto the table.

“Ten, seven, two.” he said. The men gawked, and slowly began to grasp the implication of Hein’s feat. One of them placed a card on the table and rubbed it vigorously with his palm. Hein could feel as Tanaka grew more and more uncomfortable with the situation, he shifted nervously and licked his lips.

“These cards are marked!” one of the men exclaimed.

“I bet the dice are loaded too.” Someone added, and suddenly they were clamoring for their victimization to be heard. But Hein beat them to the punch.

Without warning, he lunged across the table and grabbed Tanaka by the collar. With one foot on the table he leaned over, twisting the man’s shirt tight on his neck.

“Hey you indecent piece of shit. Are ya tryin’ to cheat a blind man out of his hard-earned cash? That’s terrible rough.”

“No sir I…” the man stuttered. His breath was shallow and fast in Hein’s face, heavy with the stench of onions.

“I’ll clobber ya.” Hein growled, releasing some of his Reiatsu at the same time to add weight to the threat. The man seemed to wilt under the spiritual pressure.

“I’ll…” Tanaka swallowed and could not finish the sentence. “I’ll pay! I’ll pay!” he stammered in a high-pitched voice.

“s’ that so?” Hein lifted Tanaka off his feet and, grinning widely, hurled the man bodily across the street. He slammed into the wall so hard the plaster crumbled and he fell through into the building on the other side of the wall. Dust filled the air, and Hein caught the scent of urine and blood.

“Well, which of ya should I finish next? I’m in a terrible rough feeling.” The men who were still standing began to back away. “Don’t be indecent. Dump the money on the table ‘fore I dump ya.” He heard as a the men frantically dug through their pockets and tossed the coinage onto the table.

“That’s all right. Now if I was ya I’d hit the road.” The men did not need another moment’s urging. They took off, their straw sandals slapping against the pavement until they faded into the distance. “Well then.” Hein cracked his knuckles and swaggered over to the wall where Tanaka lay buried in the rubble.

“Tanaka-kun.” he laughed out loud as he entered through the hole in the wall. The building had been a small storage room for straw and grain, and the air was choked with chalky dust. Hein reached down, rather casually, and picked up a piece of straw. He chewed on it as he kicked aside bits of brick until at last his foot contacted a soft body. “Ah, there you are Tanaka-kun.” He grabbed the man by the shirt collar and dragged him back outside to the street. Tanaka had gained some of his senses back by then and moaned pitifully.

“'spose I’ll finish this.” Hein said aloud.

“Please, no!” Tanaka tried to pull away as Hein reached for his Zanpakutō, and began to whimper when he pulled it a few inches from its sheath.

“Smolder,” Hein commanded, at which point Tanaka began to sob hysterically. “Put a cork in it ya dumb ass.” Hein did not release his Zanpakutō completely, instead sending a few bright sparks onto the table and charcoal brazier where sake and marked cards lay spilled across the ground. “Heh.” With a grin he ignited the sparks, and the table erupted in flames. Tanaka watched, his hysteria somewhat nullified by the sudden display of some one hundred kan melting into the ground. Hein snapped his sword back in its scabbard and the flames subsided. “Hah, looks like your goose is real cooked!” Hein exclaimed. “Well then.” he marched back down the street, dragging the unwilling Tanaka behind him.

“Where are you taking me?” he managed to gasp. But Hein did not get the chance to reply as just then his Lieutenant, Kōsetsu, appeared in front of them.

“Captain Ueda!” she called as she ran towards him, her kimono flapping behind her. Hein’s smile instantly faded. What indecent shit is it now? He thought irritably.

“Watch out!” Kōsestu continued to run right past him. Hein turned around and tracked her movement. Something was burning, he noticed a sulfuric smell to the air, and without warning there was a sudden roar of flame. Apparently, some of the embers from Hein’s Zanpakutō had caught fire in the storage room, causing the structure to explode with heat. Kosetsu rushed fearlessly towards the flames before she stopped, suddenly, and traced a pattern through the air with her hands. the symbol for water. She then extended both palms in front of her. “Yururyū!” there was a burst of her peculiar, luke-warm Reiatsu and two pressurized streams of water shot from her hands and drenched the entire area, drowning out the flames until nothing but heavy, wet ash remained. Panting, Kōsetsu turned back to Hein. “Are you alright, Captain Ueda?” she asked, genuine concern in her voice. Exceptional. He muttered through gritted teeth.

---

It had been a very long night for Kazuya Kuchiki, revered member of the Kuchiki clan and next in line to become head of the clan. For the entire night he'd been up completing all of his work for the next week and edited the Seireitei News Magazine. At the moment, there really was nothing left for him to do. Dark rings were clearly visible underneath his eyes, the Captain turned to look upon the rest of his office, after he had finished his work he'd taken to rearrange his furniture, categorize each of his books, arranging them after author and subject in the large bookshelves that seemed to frame the room from all directions.

Sitting down at his desk, he rummaged in his drawers for a bronze ring. Laying it on the table, Kazuya's hands lit up with a pale green light as he began weaving enchantments into the object. One of his officers would be performing a patrol of the outer reaches of the rukon districts this afternoon, he needed to ensure that he was kept safe from the many dangers. Given how rare it was for Kazuya to ever venture of the Seireitei, he'd decided to complete every single task handed to his division with absolute diligence and done to perfection, his reports were always flawless and his handwriting always neat and tidy.

He'd never even been to any of the amusement districts, some would consider him a prune, but Kazuya merely took his duties seriously. At least, that was his defense. He couldn't recall the last time he considered relaxing or having fun, it just wasn't his style. A voice broke him out of his concentration.

"Kazuya, I believe your grasp of the earthen secrets are lacking, you should study the works of Sakura Ywagashi. She's renowned in our history for her mastery over the element of earth. A true Kidō Master must seek to understand each element intimately. How can you expect to surpass me if your knowledge of our noble art is still so.. lacking?"

In the middle of the room, which up until now had been empty save for Kazuya, stood an old woman. She was gaunt, with long silver hair, tucked into a long braid that touched the floor. She was dressed in a gorgeous cloak, crafted of peacock feathers and shimmering with powerful enchantments. Her face was wrinkled and pale, and her eyes seemed to pierce his soul, the icy blue stare had always alarmed him. Even from the time he had first laid eyes upon her. She was his Zanpakutō, Gin'Iro Odoruchō, his mentor and his closest friend. But she was even more than that, she was Hisako Kagine - one of the greatest Kidō Masters to have ever existed, the woman who had fought Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto back in the warring ages. She had originally died by his blade, or so it was thought - in reality, she had merely resumed a purely spiritual form and embedded herself into the soul of a child, eventually manifesting as his Zanpakutō and then proceeded to teach him the secrets of her art.

He knew who she was, because not only had she told him, but during his time in Kidō Corps, he'd seen her name and visage many times. Whether it be the gigantic portrait hanging over the desk of the Commander-in-chief or the huge library filled with numerous copies of the one-hundred-and-thirty-seven different books she had written on the matter. It was believed that anyone who mastered her teachings, would one day become the Kidō Corps Commander. Her eyes were not questioning him, it wasn't a suggestion, it was an order, and one he was all too happy to follow. Standing up, Kazuya retrieved the assorted works of Sakura Ywagashi and sat down to study them. His officers should be here any minute now.

Walking up to the door before taking a knee, an anthropomorphic rabbit creature cleared his throat to gain his captains attention. The rabbit was wearing the typical Shinigami uniform, and he awaited his captains summons for him to enter his office. This was the third seat of the Ninth Division, Nisshō Ichijōji. Several thoughts came across his mind and he tried to ignore them on the eve of an important mission.

---

A radiant sunlight peeked beyond the windows lining the beige walls and illuminated the sight of the figures lined across the room behind respective desks; prospective warriors to behold, indeed. If the mettle of these individuals held true to their desires, they would overcome the trials of this academy and be deemed earning of the Shinigami mantle.

But truly, what weight did such a title carry in their yearning hearts? And if so, had any of them already experienced the vigor of combat? Would such a question matter? As she stepped into the room meditating on her thoughts, however pointless they were, the unnerving silence as all eyes fixated on her provoked a slight blush on her youthful face. But nay, this woman was no stranger to combat. Indeed, with a sharp glance from her chocolate eyes, puffy hair of a brunette coloration with a carefully trimmed fringe to not obscure her vision, and, most notable of all, a muscular physique apparent even through her long-sleeved kosode, she clearly had her share of conflict many times before; but of what nature? Dwelling in retrospective thoughts, the origin of her power seemed little more than a forgotten dream. But whatever secrets lie concealed in her past, they would surely be inconsequential to the scene of today—today, she stood beside her instructor and before her classmates-to-be with a wealth of experience and determination fit for a pedestal of its own.

Shrugging off her embarrassment, the woman bowed before her spectators, a gesture to embellish the introduction which followed, Drawing her breath, she spoke with careful enunciation. “Hello, everyone. My name is Kusahara Urara. I come from Yōkōgoten, District 1 of North Rukongai. I intend to do my very best to—”

With an abruptness that caused the flustered Urara to let out a small yelp, the instructor spoke. “Today, class, the academy welcomes an unprecedented new student. I would like to introduce everyone to Kusahara Ginkōgō VII! As her name suggests, Kusahara Ginkōgō VII is the seventh female head of the noble family. It is said that this successor rightfully earned her new name in a passionate bout against her legendary predecessor, Kusahara Ginkōgō VI. Although she was unable to best her nemesis, Kusahara Ginkōgō VII proved that her spirit alone was more than enough to guide the family to greater prosperity for many ages to come.”

As Urara looked upon the instructor with puzzlement as he continued explaining this inflated history he had seemingly fabricated to promote her. Apparently, in his misguided fantasy, the Kusahara was a family of nobility with a leader whose name she had never even heard of; but just as she would interrupt the instructor for an explanation, a new surge of bewildering visions and repressed accounts disrupted her focus. Under what encouragement did she wish to become a Shinigami? Should a certain woman not have been standing alongside her at that very moment? And for whatever reason lost to her, she averted her gaze. Looking over her left shoulder, she closed her eyes as a chilling breeze swept over her. In its wake stood an eerie woman.

In spite of the presence of this unmentioned apparition, Urara remained unmoved. Indeed, the black scarf draped over this woman's shoulder was not unlike a trophy of Urara's collection; and how she always yearned to have such silky long dark hair! Taking a single step in this woman's direction, Urara leaned down to her smaller stature to observe her expression underneath her lowered head; but before their eyes could meet, the woman walked forward to join the spectating class.

Finding herself strangely allured by such a wayward presence, Urara followed closely behind her, taking a seat directly beside her. Even the instructor's ensuing lecture did little to dissuade her from gazing endlessly at this woman to provoke some response from her, nothing less a glance in Urara's direction.

“Urara-chan... what does it mean to be a Shinigami?”

It was an abrupt question that brought the class to silence. How odd, Urara thought, was her lack of surprise that this woman would address her so familiarly.

“I'm not sure anymore; that's what I'm here to discover.” Even her own words were beginning to seem alien to her. Had she rationalized an answer to that question in a forgotten moment?

“What were you really thinking as you spoke to me that fateful morning? Was it to simply slay hollows; to ensure the protection of the Gotei 13 and preserve the Human World in turn? Would it be a coincidence for that very same dream to coincide with a more personal ambition?” The woman rose from her seat; but even as Urara gazed at her from below, her lengthy strands of hair concealed any expression from her. “Do you remember how you responded as I asked you that very same question... at that very same moment?”

Why had the classroom fallen so silent even in the midst of such distracting behavior? Rising from her own seat, Urara spun around the room to observe her classmates; alas, little life remained in their stoned expressions. It was as though time itself had waylaid the uninvolved in acknowledgment of a significant moment that was to transpire unhindered.

“There's no need to dwell on it. The fact that you and I are even standing here together is proof of your answer, is it not?”

Even listening to this woman's otherwise soothing voice somehow drowned Urara in a seemingly barren melancholy. “I don't understand,” she spoke, her own voice quivering. “What do you mean?”

The woman placed a single hand on her scarf, which began to flail about from a seemingly unnatural breeze. “You always were so slow to understand, Urara-chan.”

Blink, blink... Urara blinked continually as she struggled through her speechlessness, yet no words would come to her. As she turned in the direction of the door, another sudden closing of her eyelids changed the scene entirely to that of a boundless grassland. And so, Urara fixated on the faceless woman once more, who pulled her scarf from her shoulder. “You're more selfish then you'd ever admit,” the woman spoke, this time in a grim tone. Her scarf became rigid as the biased winds dissipated. The scarf straightened as she lowered her grip, and crumbled into violet fireflies to reveal the shape of a blade. With Urara spectating in astonishment and worry, the woman pirouetted upon the grassy field while brandishing her sword, the golden chain affixed to the edge of its pommel scraping against its handle to produce a melody of sorcery. Each swing of the blade left in its wake a violet trail of Reiryoku; and finally, a red tuft of fur hanging from the final link in the chain rattled wildly, producing a deafening noise and igniting it with a blazing red aura. Even the once bright sky shifted dark in fright of this enigmatic frolic. As she halted to once again face Urara, a quick upward swipe to bring the blade into a neutral position opposite her sword arm was all it took to call the violet residue back into its source, birthing a menacing aura upon it. A single downward swing brought all surrounding vegetation to oblivion and set the stage for a reckoning.

Urara struggled to maintain her footing. Regret, jealousy, hatred, sorrow—the surge of random emotions was nearly indescribable; but the looming of a certain fear far outweighed anything else. Nay, this was not merely a fear of falling to this woman's superior power. As the woman slowly approached her with her head still lowered, a single tear rolled down Urara's eye; everything had indeed been made nigh clear to her.

The woman further slowed her pace as she prepared to speak, making known to Urara the distance at which she would meet her end by this woman she was only beginning to remember. “I am slow to understand as well. I'd forgotten something as well—something I once found important, but I never knew what it was. I often reminisced of that one moment to regain that fragment of myself I misguidedly thought I'd needed. And every time I saw you, everything became clear to me, including my own idiocy. It really is tiring.” She stopped as she stood close enough to touch the now-kneeling Urara. “Why, Urara-chan? Why pursue me so morbidly instead of abandon my memory as you would do if you had truly cared for me?”

A long silence had come before Urara's shaky response. “Because there's something I have to know.” Mustering the final reserves of her strength, she rose her head to the sight of the blue-eyed woman's stoic visage. The piercing pain of revelation in her heart was a final unrequited cry for an answer that would be cut silent by a single swing of the woman's roaring blade.

“Shigeko...”

Ginkōgō Kusahara VII's tranquil state of mind as she opened her eyes to find herself afloat in a sparkling lake was at odds with the horror of that nightmare, one she had far too many variations of in her past to think anything new of. Ridding the nightmare from her thoughts, she discovered her minor spell of amnesia. Why had she come to this quiet district? District #6 of South Rukongai, Genzenkusa, was the sight of her momentous battle against her predecessor. It was a quiet, sparsely-inhabited plain with few areas of residence known for its wide bodies of water and attractive view of the mountains. It was here that Ginkōgō would lie to meditate on her thoughts, for it always remind her of the responsibilities she placed upon herself and the title she so rightfully earned in that hallmark battle. Satisfied with her introspective rest, Ginkōgō swam to the grassy surface and sat by the lake to admire the scenery one last time before heading back to the Seireitei, hoping that no one had gone looking for her.

But there he was, waiting patiently in the distance, benign and unassuming. An elderly man of average stature, with receding dark grey hair and thick moustache. Clothed in the standard uniform of a Shinigami, he wore a distinct wooden badge upon his left arm: the badge of a Lieutenant. But there was a single even more noteworthy trait that immediately drew the attention from anything else. For all his kind disposition, gentle spiritual pressure and a friendly smile, there were square-shaped goggles on the man's face that concealed his eyes under pitch black darkness. Goggles made of bone.

Tenth Division's Lieutenant, Venturro Aurientis. An Arrancar.

---

Winter had been coming to the Soul Society. The temperature had been steadily dropping over the weeks, the days had grew shorter while the nights stretched out longer. The most telling sign, at least for the new Captain of the Thirteenth was laid bare on the scales of three healthy koi fish. Normally affected of a black shine marked by white patterns, their body changed its pigment to match the changing seasons. The fish shuddered in response to ripples appearing in the pond as a series of flakes rained down slowly, emptied out of Seia's overlooking hand. She sat crouched at the pond's edge, her gaze cast on the fish as they occupied themselves, either with the arrival of their feed or the simple matter of continuing to swim, to exist. Though her eyes were clearly on them, she did not seem to be looking at them as such but into the space beyond them. The sound of flicking metal could be heard, even as absent as she appeared to be, her body still took care of its habitual needs. Her thumb pressed against the tsuba of her sword until it was loosened from the grip of the sheath only for the thumb to stretch out past it and press it back in with a neat little clasping noise. The motion repeated endlessly, creating enough sound to attract the attention of passing officers as they walked from one hall of the barracks to another, they did not disturb their Captain but instead left with a look that mixed curiosity and confusion.

"You would look a great deal less awkward performing Jinzen, my child", spoke a sudden voice, feminine but deep, rough, and echoing unnaturally in the open air. With it came the sound of fire that peeled away at the air, etching its own existence into things to reveal a large bundle of blue-white fur lazily resting on a large wooden beam a few steps away from Seia. A wolf adorned in decorative garb and its paws laced under each other as a rest for its elongated muzzle. "Heheh, what fun is there in that?", the Shinigami replied with a hearty chuckle. Sure, she could sit cross legged in some corner and meditate, but she had reached a point where she could peer into the inner reaches of her own world simply by focusing enough.

"So, what counsel requires that you seek me out in my den?", asked Rairyōken inquisitively, that had been matched with a twitch of her pointed canine ears, it was a tell, a subtle one that told the spiritual creature already knew the answer. Of course she did, she was a part of her wielder after all. What she wanted was to hear Seia speak of it, to give that knowledge to her in confidence. At first it evoked little more than a heavy sigh from the woman that quickly gave way to the crashing waves and creaking wood that provided the atmosphere of this particular Inner World.

The silence from either party was broken when Seia's clothing began ruffling under her movement. She crossed her legs with hasted motion, taking a haphazard perch on the wooden deck beneath her. Rairyōken's gaze was cast on her when she slammed the end of her sword on the ground, ears perked up in sensitivity as the sword within its sheath rattled. The woman was quick to raise and begin rapping it lightly off of her own shoulder, repeating the sound again and again. "We'd almost retired, Hibanagan", though Rairyōken's expression hadn't physically changed, it had subtly become a look of annoyance as Seia referred to her by another name, changed in demeanour from its previous contentedness. "A year outside a' desert wonderland and not a fight in sight".

"In the free 'n' clear then we get dragged int'a this mess", the words formed on Seia's lips with a wistful quality to them though it didn't feel particularly genuine, at least not to the wolf before her. Its eyes closed in reply and then its muscles began to shift, Rairyōken's quadrupedal form rose from her perch, leaping onto the deck from the beam with the soft pitter-patter of her paws. She circled Seia several times in silence, watched by the Phoenician woman's solid green eyes. She passed around again, and again, until she believed there had been enough waiting. Then, as she walked around Seia one last time, she ended it with a swish of her tail, the fluffy appendage striking her in the face to her immediate surprise.

"What the-", even as she attempted to voice her indignation she was cut off by another swish of the tail.

"No, this is right", said Rairyōken solidarity in her tone, she was not only sure of her answer, she believed there was no way it could be wrong. "If you were so easy as to be lulled in to misguided serenity by a small bout of peace then you would not be worthy of me", the wolf spoke with obvious pride swelling in her chest, still circling around her wielder, a white swirl swimming around the black-clad woman.

"I will not be dulled by complacency, apathy, or indecision, and neither shall you whether you realize your own wishes or not", Rairyōken looped around one last time before sitting in front of Seia, her eyes staring into the woman's own with a sharpened glare uttering the idea that she would lash out if she so much as thought of looking away. "So wake up, Seia, we have work to do", the wolf commanded of her to a sound reminiscent of someone snapping their fingers together.

Hearing it Seia instinctively shook her head finding herself back on the edge of the koi pond. She let out another sigh, shorter than before, less depressive, almost resolute. She clasped her Zanpakutō back into its sheath one last time before rising to her feet, heading towards the barracks of the Thirteenth Division, her Division.

A small trek through the winding wooden halls took her to a set of familiar paper-wood doors. There were whisperings on the other side, sliding it open revealed a group of Shinigami standing in front of a desk that had been stacked with papers, each one filled in with a unique form of cursive handwriting, beside those were a bottle of half-finished Sake and a ceramic biscuit tin with a sloppily placed label reading "For the Seireitei's Best Doggy Lieutenant". Each of the Shinigami present had their hands full with more papers, reports from all across the Human World.

Each of them bowed in respect as Seia passed them by in order to take her place on the well-worn seat behind her desk. She propped up her Zanpakutō on the side of it before stretching her hands out into the air with a yawn escaping her maw. "Alright!", she started abruptly.

"You, go get more sake", she commanded with the quick stroke of her finger to denote which of her subordinates she meant. The man sighed breathlessly at his meager task, but nonetheless set out to fulfill it, placing the stack of papers he had acquired for his Captain on the desk before leaving. "And, you, go find Glacies", and so the process repeated...

The Herald of Black

While all this was happening down in the fortress-city that was Seireitei, a particular Vice Captain was laying high atop the edge of the largest tower of the Senzaikyu palace. She had spiky brown hair, clipped with a strange bone-like braid, and laying next to her were the skeletons of two small fish, supposedly eaten by her several minutes ago as she had a third skeleton hanging in her teeth like a toothpick. As her elbows were rested on the hard marble surface of the tower, her hands held up a large pair of binoculars to her eyes. These were so large one would expect that she could see for at least a dozen miles past the horizon, but instead, the glare of this device was focused ever-so intently on the machinations of her fellow Shinigami in the streets and buildings below.

"Let's see..." she thought to herself, shifting the fish bone in her mouth around while focusing her vigilant eyes on the barracks of other Divisions. "Third Division looks clean, as usual. Fourth looks fine... Sixth looks fine... ugh I almost don't even want to look at the seventh or eleventh ones..." she continued her inner monologue, occasionally shifting her gaze away from the binoculars to blink and re-focus her sight. "...and the Eighth is always fine. Why wouldn't it be? With me keeping watch of the place all the time...". She was forced to stop herself when she noticed a young Shinigami with shaved black hair and large round glasses hastily opening and closing a door on one of the Division's balconies. He was clutching a large, black and square-shaped item, and running away from the scene as fast as possible.

"Hey!!" she audibly shouted in a bout of comical anger, her eyes flaring and her cheeks slightly turning pink, quickly lowering her binoculars and standing up on her feet. "That's my room you little prick! What the hell did you take from there?!". Even if she knew the question was pointless at this distance, the audacity this young man had, as well as his choice to raid her room, was enough to make her young blood boil. Throwing her (seemingly expensive) binoculars off of the tower to fall and surely land on some unfortunate soul's cranium, Naomi backed up from the edge of the tower before making a mad dash back to where she was and leaping from the edge as hard as her legs would force her. With the speed and grace of a deadly heat-seeker, she flew down towards the fleeing boy, the latter of whom was still frantically making a break for the streets beyond the barracks.

"I can't believe it! I can't believe it!!" the young boy was saying to himself aloud as he continued his sprint towards the great wall that surrounded the Seireitei. Te glare of the sun brightening his glasses, saliva flying out from his mouth and sailing behind him, he was a comical sight to behold indeed. "I actually got all of them into one photo-album!! My friends are going to be so stoked to see-" he stopped his mad ramblings when a chilling sensation crawled up his spine faster than he could run. Instinctively, he turned his head to look behind him as he continued running, and what he saw would cause even the mightiest of warriors to tremble in fear, a thing that forces generals to their knees, a thing that makes kings beg for pardon, and gods to cry in terror:

A growling, angry teenage girl, flying straight towards him.

The boy didn't even get a chance to scream as Naomi tackled him with the force of an airplane. The two of them tumbled for several meters, kicking up dust and debris all the while as other Shinigami did everything in their power to avoid the ball of black death that soared towards the inner wall. Finally managing to get a firm footing on the ground, Naomi held the boy in her arms and threw him into the broad side of one of the small Division buildings, creating a rather comical sight of him being embedded firmly into the hard wall's surface, and yet still clutching the album in his arms. Naomi stomped towards him, pried the item loose from his arms, and glared angrily into his fractured glasses with her sharp teeth knawing against each other.

"Tell me what's in here... and I'll tell Rikuri-sama that it was an accident..." she said through her demonic teeth, which caused the boy to gulp in fear and to also make him stammer upon trying to start his sentence. "I-I-It's a uh, uhm, an-an-an... um... a collection of pictures o-o-of you're ah... mmm... drawings!! Ye-Yeah yeah, your artwork is so amazing I just had to take a few snapshots of them to show my pals!" This caused Naomi to blink and revert back to a more normal, curious expression. "Oh... really now? Hm..." she said as she began to open the album. Of course, this action caused the boy to start sweating like a stallion, and he closed his eyes as if bracing for an oncoming train. "Which ones did you like best? I personally think I did well on th- OH MY GOD!!!!!" she screamed as she opened the album fully. Her face, especially her cheeks, became a hot pink upon seeing the contents of the album.

"H-H-How did you find these!!!??" she shouted. Now she was the one who found herself stammering. Apparently this album held a collection of pictures that were clearly meant for her eyes alone, or perhaps, someone else's in particular. "I had all of them hidden under a carefully modified spell! What are you, some kind of reality hacker!?" she angrily shouted, reverting to a more comical version of her angry face. The boy only replied with a nervous smile, a smile that was now missing several teeth. "I ah.... the spell wasn't that hard to break... you really shouldn't be taking pictures like that..." The response he received from her was having the open album violently closed on his head, seemingly flattening it and turning all of his screams and pleas from help into amusing muffles and grunts. He fell on the ground flat on his back, immobilized, and with stars and kittens floating above his album-enclosed head.

Before Naomi could inflict further torment onto this poor soul, she heard a loud crack in the Sekkesei wall just next to her. Two long and perfectly straight cracks had formed, in fact, and the wall between those two cracks slowly began to rise up from the ground. Two large hands were lifting this part of the wall up, and it was quickly revealed to be one of the massive gate guardians of that particular wall. Naomi's eyes shifted to those of both confusion and worry as she looked up at the massive guardian. "Uhh.... just what do you think you're doing? These walls aren't supposed to open for anyone unless the Commander himself..."

Her gaze became one of shock as she noticed who was standing next to the guardian: a bruised, battered, and run down Hiyori Sarugaki. The former Visored gave Naomi a dead stare, and her voice was cracked and hollowed, ghastly sounding. The sight alone was enough to force Naomi to take a step back; just what did she do to get this guardian to open this normally sealed door? She almost didn't want to know, and she certainly didn't want to hinder or annoy this dangerous being.

"...Take me to Kyoraku, now."

---

Letting her curious and cautious nature get to her, Naomi wordlessly obliged to Hiyori's demand. As stubborn as she could be, Naomi knew a serious situation when she saw it. She couldn't call herself a member of the Gotei 13 if she didn't know the history of Hiyori and the other Visoreds, and for one of them to barge into the Seireitei in such a dead serious manner only made her realize that dark times could truly be upon them all. The thought made her spine tingle, and it certainly wasn't a tingle of anticipation; things in the Seireitei were already fairly difficult as they were, so the last thing they all needed was another war or end of the world situation.

Hiyori hadn't spoken a single word since they departed for the Commander's quarters, instead merely walking at an even pace and holding both of her arms together against her ribcage, possibly due to the low temperature and climate, but it also seemed as if she had hit a mental breakdown recently, evidenced by her eyes constantly shifting to look at their environments. Was she expecting some sort of threat to leap out at her from any angle? Most of the Shinigami that they walked by would glance at her, sure, but they also knew that one of Naomi's rank and status accompanying her meant that she was allowed to be here.

Finally, they arrived to the Commander's quarters. Carefully and respectfully, Naomi slid the door to his room open and slipped off her sandals, stepping inside and kneeling on both of her knees before the Shinigami leader. "Captain-Commander Kyoraku." she said calmly, closing her eyes. "Hiyori Sarugaki has requested your-"

"I want answers Shunsui!" Hiyori spat, stomping inside of the room and towards Shunsui's desk with none of the respectful actions that Naomi had taken. This caused the latter to jump to her feet and grasp a hold of the green-handled katana sheathed on her left hip; she certainly didn't want to start some sort of confrontation with the traumatized woman, especially in front of the Captain-Commander, but she wasn't willing to take any chances either.

Kyōraku's attention immediately drifting from the pouring of tea into his cup to the kind words of Naomi entering his barrack office. With an almost warm and fatherly smile, he looked up at the young lady with his one good eye, "Ah... Naomi-chan~ What brings you he-" But little did he expect, his question would be answered on the spot, as the sudden out roar perpetrated by Hiyori caused the wizened Captain-Commander's hands to shake a little and he had nearly dropped his pot of tea. During moments of peace and quiet, when this man had not hardened himself to the horrors of war and tried desperately to cling to some small notion of tranquility, he was akin to that of an old man; easily startled by loud noises. But more so, like the prick of a needle and the sudden jerk reaction to the pain, the sensation of a loud sound brought back a sliver of stress from the times of war. This man, however, was no stranger and despite that momentarily feeling of shock rippling throughout his body, he showed no outward expression of the internal turmoil.

Upon registering Hiyori's presence, along with the tone and content of her spoken words, he faced her with an almost childlike look of confusion. He looked upon the young girl's body and the horrendous injuries etched along her skin and clothing. "Hiyori-chan... Answers to what? What happened to you?" he asked calmly, in order to assess the situation.

Seeing the way Shunsui greeted Hiyori was sign enough for Naomi to take her hand away from her blade, and it was also a sign that she needed to give these two the room they needed. With a simple bow of her head, she slipped her sandals back onto her feet and stepped outside, closing the door on her way out.

"Don't act like you don't know what's happened!" Hiyori continued to yelled out, slamming her hands down on Shunsui's desk and staring him into his eyes with her bloodshot ones. "There's no way Kurotsuchi hasn't told you about the crazy-ass shit going on in Karakura Town!" Although an angry and annoyed demeanor was trademark for Hiyori, there was something far more concerning about her this time around. Whatever she was referring to, it had to be pretty dire.

Kyōraku's demeanor stiffened some as serious filled his expression and his eyes narrowed as a result. The Twelfth Division was to present an official report every month to the Captain-Commander; not only in regards to the Soul Society but the Human World as well. He recalled the report mentioning an unusually high increase of spiritual energy concentration in the material world but all that really meant was that Hollows were becoming more frequent. Surely a Hollow was not responsible for causing such injuries to a former Lieutenant? Kyōraku peered down at his desk littered with documents and picked up one in particular, gazing upon it with his only good eye; it was the monthly report given to him by the Twelfth Division, this one specifically had been handed to him not even two days ago.

"Increased spiritual activity... Could this mean even more stronger Hollows are making their presence known in the material world? But that can't be. For a Lieutenant-class to have been so greatly bruised in a fight, that Hollow would have to be a Menos. And an Adjuchas-class for that matter..." came to the Captain-Commander's mind.

"Hiyori-chan... Let's have a talk."

Council of the Captains

With all that was said and done, through a discussion between the Captain-Commander and the Visored girl, it was decided that a Captain's Council was the best option in this case. The level of danger revolving around this situation was not something that could be blatantly gauged as though it were an insurrection or a declaration of war. No, this would require the wisdom of the thirteen leaders of Soul Society banding together, as they did in times past.

It required precisely three days. Three days slowly rolled on by as Captains were called in all throughout Seireitei in order to attend this Council meeting. Such was the problems that belie such a large city such as the court of pure souls. Though he made sure his messages displayed seriousness that all Captains were needed to attend, he had not actually put forth any details discussed between himself and Hiyori. That would have to wait for when they finally gathered together.

Eventually, it all came to fruition. At the end of three days, as the afternoon sun shined across the building roofs of the barracks, Kyōraku gazed out toward the hall of the First Division headquarters. There stood his fellow Captains, a twin array of white coats standing before their commander, as Kyōraku's expression slowly revealed a smile. It was the first time he managed to call upon all thirteen ever since the promotion of many of these Captains in the past nine years of the reform period, though it was unfortunate that it had to be under negative circumstances.

"Welcome, my fellow Captains, to our first council meeting together in over nine years." the Captain-Commander warmly introduced, before slowly standing up; the cracking of his old bones were faint but noticeable as he stretched his arms. No matter how dire the straits, Kyōraku was a man that took his time; something that most likely irritated many of the Captains, despite their shared respect of him. "I apologize for not making myself more clear in my message, but this is something I would have preferred to discuss first and foremost in person... But first." Kyōraku beckoned, as an officer carrying a large tray slowly strolled out from behind his large chair.

"...Let's all have some tea."

It took a moment, for this officer to hand out a cup of tea to every Captain as well as to set up a small table for all thirteen of them which sat in front of their individual persons, so as to leave their tea there to cool before sipping upon it. This was truly an unusual act; something that even Yamamoto, in his thousand years of rule, had never done before.

Kyōraku nonchalantly took a sip of his own tea before facing the Captains. "Now that everybody has their tea... About three days ago, Hiyori Sarugaki arrived at my barracks. She was given severe injuries during a battle in the material world..." the Captain-Commander opened, slowly building up to his discussion. "Though she could not identify her attacker, during the process of her healing, it was concluded that the reiatsu was from... a Quincy." he announced.

Captain of the Third Division seemed completely undisturbed by the atypical introduction. However, he was in the process of calmly taking a sip of tea when the Captain-Commander uttered that single, oh so meaningful word. Akui froze as he stood. His cup fell from his hand and broke apart as it impacted with the table. His tense body appeared as if chiseled in marble, and the stare of his unmatching eyes became fixed at some distant point unperceivable to anyone else.

"I beg your pardon, Captain-Commander", he spoke slowly. "How reliable is this information?"

Kazuya smiled warmly at his fellow colleagues, that is, all except for his cousin. When he spoke, he voice carried a sense of authority, one ingrained into his being from an early age. It was not the voice of Kazuya, but that of an aristocrat. He fought to keep his tone mellow and constrained however, he'd served under Hachigen while in the Corps all those years ago and now his death was a possibility.

"I'm then to assume that if she's the only one here, she's the sole survivor of this attack? I hadn't thought a Quincy capable of such a feat. Hachigen Ushōda was one of the finest connoisseurs of the noble art, his presence will undoubtedly be sorely missed. I shall inform my contacts within the Kidō Corps of his demise - so that they might make steps to preserve his teachings."

It was inconceivable to Kazuya that a master like Hachigen could be taken down by a mere Quincy. This would not stand, they were humans for goodness sake! No human should be able to contest a Kidō Master, it just wasn't possible. He felt his cool slipping and white hot fury boiling to the surface, his fists clenching and his knuckles whitening. He took a deep breath, he'd show whomever did this the true wrath of a Shinigami. Hachigen's pacifism had prevented him from utilizing his magic in a directly offensive fashion, he was different.

"Not to insult Hiyori in any way, but can be we positively certain that Master Hachigen perished? There's innumerable ways for someone of his caliber to cheat death, especially if their opposition was a Quincy. His specialty was protective barriers and supportive magics, we should send a platoon to the spot where he "died" - he might've encapsulated himself within a barrier or protective enchantment."

"I wouldn't say we should send a whole platoon", Seia interjected, her words echoed by the gentle jangle of her Zanpakutō being softly knocked against the back of her head in repeated motions. "We need guys down there, definitely, but a ton a' troops just makes us look obvious and scared", though she elected to hide her surprise behind a twitching eyebrow, Seia was sure her reaction wasn't far off from the other Captains. She knew less about the Visored than most, they had come after her time, and she knew even less about the hybrids they had become under Aizen's games, but she knew they were tough. Tough enough to be among the Captains of the Gotei twice over, and anything that could take them out was truly serious.

Hein gulped his tea down with one swig and nearly tossed the cup back on the small table in front of him. Needless to say, his etiquette was as deplorable as always. This was the first Captain’s meeting he had ever attended and he was more irritable than usual due to the stiff atmosphere. The tea was a nice touch, and made the meeting seem more casual in nature. He listened with a certain degree of boredom as Akui became upset over the news of the Visored, and picked wax from his ear as Kazuya started monologuing about Kidō. Finally Seia mentioned sending a few Soul Reapers to the Human World to investigate, and Hein perked up. At first, none of the other Captains replied, and Hein listened to the clacking of Seia’s sword against her skull.

“Yeah. That sounds like an exceptional real idea.” He yawned, then added: “And is there a reason why ya are all bein’ so damn formal about this? Goin’ for nothing if ya ask me. Ya send out a couple of assassins or such-and-such, and the goose is cooked.” He said with a pointed look towards the Captain of the Second Division. “Ain’t that real?”

Kurama pointedly ignored Hein and instead contemplated on the recent developments. His subordinates had already swept the area of the battle, following Hiroyi's unexpected arrival into Soul Society. The evidence was troubling to say the least, but luckily they were able to procure trace amounts of residual reishi. He sent them to Mayuri for further examination and what they found confirmed his hypothesis. Without a doubt they were facing a Quincy, one powerful enough to defeat several Captains, but that was not what interested him, but the manner in which it happened. 

Still, he lacked information, and considering the potential threat this posed, he would have to send the evidence to Shigenaga, while he himself was a master of brokering information, the Arma Clan Head exceeded even his ability to procure such information from so little evidence. Looking across at his fellow Captains, Kurama pondered on how much he should share with them. But as quickly as the thought came, he ruthlessly quashed such notions. It would be far more entertaining to see them rush blindly into this. Now there's a thought, perhaps he could use this to his advantage?

Rikuri remained silent in the midst of the squabble. It seemed as though everyone was quite offended by the supposed altercations, and Rikuri herself was no exception, though it was beyond her to speak without any form of consent, especially before the Captain-Commander. As the captain of the fourth division, her numerical ranking positioned her between the likes of the prophetic Byakuya Kuchiki and the skeptical Kurama Shihouin. She sat comfortably, her right leg crossed tightly over her left beneath the table she had been supplied with earlier. A pink flower found itself perched atop her head, complimenting her luscious, long brown hair. Her big blue eyes looked about the room nervously, examining the various reactions of the captains. Truthfully, she was a bit agitated herself, given the history behind the Quincy. They had only just begun to recover from the damage they were dealt with during the course of The Thousand-Year Blood War. From stealing bankai to wrecking havoc, the Quincy had done whatever they could to extract their revenge upon the shinigami. Would all that really be returning?

It was a privilege to dine upon the likes of such powers, even if it were only for a moment. The idea of having tea was truly a remarkable one; granted the warmth of each sip would slowly work to ease away her anxiety. Reaching for the cup, Rikuri displayed the manners she had been inducted with even prior to her emergence as a shinigami; gracefully balancing the plate with one hand and skillfully tying her fingers around the handle of the teacup, pinkie up. (An old habit from her life as a human)

She closed her eyes, devouring the warmth of the tea. It was incredibly relaxing, even given the current situation. She was as conscious for the safety of her loved ones even more so than he was about the protection of her own body; the thoughts of such a threat, of what was the quincy, returning to their world was certainly exasperating, enough to perhaps cause Rikuri to hyperventilate, were it not for the tea. As she placed the teacup back onto the table, the imprint of her pink lipstick remained around the rim of the cup.

The Captain of the 10th Division, Ginkōgō Kusahara VII, simply sat with her unmoving eyes focused upon her tea, seemingly retiring to her usual behavior of paying little heed to her peers; but this was not the case. Her prior meditation upon the fields of her homeland had left her mind in a state of tranquility, although her time spent away from the Seireitei also meant that she may very well have been late for the council if not for the timely intervention of her Lieutenant. Even when such little time for preparation had been offered, Ginkōgō remained astutely attentive to the words of her comrades. The novel thought of having to defend the Gotei 13 from such an apparently threatening opposition seemed yet so nostalgic to this woman who had thus far aimed her blade at little more than ravenous Hollows and her own indecisive family; even the war had entirely transpired without her involvement. In her eyes, earning her new name and becoming a Captain was a magnum opus that marked the end of her life story.

Only one question from within her dream lingered: what did it mean to her, to wield her Zanpakutō as a Shinigami? Even her own answer to her beloved sister seemed too distant to reach, barred behind scars of such origin which she could only vaguely recall. And so, one truth was clear to her—it was a revelation beyond a canyon of which only her own blade could forge a bridge to overcome. If that meant adding another chapter to her story, then so be it.

And now, she thought, it was time to offer her own opinion regarding the subject at hand. The Human World was no peculiarity to this woman who had once considered it her home. It was a world upon which she had numerous adventures, met people of which her ignorant mind would never have conceived of otherwise; and the Visored were no exception to this. She had observed their exploits from a distance and thought of them as nothing less than exceptional combatants regardless of their loyalties; but of course, no being was unstoppable in her eyes—no power stood without a definitive method of countering. That even the Visored could be so easily slain was not entirely inconceivable to her, and perhaps even the most likely outcome. If so, what would that mean for the sanctity of Soul Society? Upon collecting her thoughts, Ginkōgō rose her head and spoke with an elegance withholding her uncertainty. “If the Visored really were exterminated so easily, then this threat that we know so little about shouldn't be taken lightly no matter how we decide to respond. What if this enemy is actually planning an attack on Soul Society? Is it really a good idea to send any number of Shinigami to the Human World when our time might be better spent fortifying our own defenses and observing this enemy's next move?”

Among the Captains that spoke, the Captain of the Sixth Division, Byakuya Kuchiki was the only one who was involved in threats of this nature. If the threat were, indeed, a Quincy, he knew very well not to underestimate them, especially considering his own experiences with the said race. Having sipped his tea once out of politeness, the man had opened his eyes and taken in the queries and concerns of his fellow Captains, including his cousin. At that point, he spoke, "Captain Kusahara." His authoritative tone had paused, briefly, granting him attention from his audience. "That is precisely why we send out a small squadron. Fortification of our defenses will not accomplish anything if we do not understand the potential threat that faces Soul Society." Ending his statement, Byakuya awaited for a response.

Sitting on the opposite side of Byakuya Kuchiki, lies the ignorant Alvin Ryūren. His expression was set into a face of boredom, his fingers one by one dipping into his barely-drank tea and ripples of the dull-colored liquid appeared around the cup as his fingers were circling around it. His eyes were closed deeply; either he was bored for real like his expression may suggest or he is simply being the grumpy ignorant he is. He may be the only captain within the room who doesn't actually care about these kind of things. "I agree with Captain Kuchiki. A small reconnaissance team, solely for the purpose of gathering information regarding this new enemy of ours," he finally spoke, his tone and way of talking confirm his boredom. But even with his bored mind and ignorant self, he knew that it is better for them all to take a swift action rather than seeing the results of what this new enemy did to the material world, or even worse, to Rukongai or Seireitei, then taking action.

Fitting a man of his nature, Kyōraku was receptive of every word spoken back and forth between the Captains; taking into account each of their trains of thought and outlook on the matter. Such was one of this man's greatest skills, something his late mentor praised him for as well, as the one that could instantly read a person's character and always see the truth, especially whenever it wasn't readily present. Finally, amidst the discussion, the Captain-Commander once more spoke up in a calm yet dignified voice; one that surely captured the attentions of his fellow Captains. "I do not believe this issue to be something that requires a large-scale effort quite yet. Sending a small team to investigate the scene of attack with the help of Hiyori-chan will surely..." But he was then cut off.

A thunderous knock in a chime-like pattern came to the closed doors of the barracks hall where the council was taking place. Kyōraku faced upwards toward the source of the noise, "Enter." he answered briefly. The large doors of the hall slowly opened, revealing a member of the fifth unit of the Onmitsukidō standing there; obviously carrying news of importance. "My apologies, Captain-Commander... I did not mean to interrupt." the officer remarked, as Kyōraku merely waved his hand, gesturing for the officer to not worry about such a thing. "No need for such apologies, please. Are you here to report something?" Kyōraku asked in a soft tone. The officer merely nodded, though a small bead of sweat slowly dropped from his cheek as he began to speak.

"Hiyori Sarugaki... admitted three days ago to the Fourth Division barracks... passed away approximately thirty-seven minutes ago."

A look of sheer disappointment was evident on Rikuri's face as the messenger delivered his message. She was suddenly embarrassed of her position as the captain of the fourth divison; despite the streak of lives the fourth had managed to save throughout the course of the last several months, they had still come up short in rescuing arguably the most important one, as far as the sudden turn of events brought forth. She also felt slightly guilty; knowing had she been there, the girl's fate would not have been so easily decided. It was unlike Rikuri to blame her subordinates, she would have to take full responsibility for such failures.

Kurama was pleased, though outwardly he didn't show it. Just like that, the last of the loose ends finally comes to an end. A shame that he had to play a part in ensuring Hiyori's demise, but she was a liability and any information she had on the matter had already been extracted. None too gently either. Had she recovered her mind would have been a gibbering mess. Better it to end this way, with her dignity intact. He'll have to remember to reward the nurse, she was always speaking about those in the pastry's in the Human World, he'll have to make sure to get her some for her effort. 

"Unacceptable", commented Teruo whilst meticulously wiping tea from the table with a tissue he had procured through undisclosed means. "I can't help but see similarities to the situation from nine years ago."

Ever since the death of Hiyori Sarugaki was mentioned there had been a frown on his face. She might have been impure, but she was a Shinigami. He kept glaring at the table in front of him. Wiping the stain in a circular motion, time and again. Quincy...

"We must act immediately. We were caught off guard and humiliated once, we cannot allow this to happen yet again", he continued, his voice growing somewhat raspy. "Let us dispense with the pointless discussion. We should determine line-up of the investigation team as soon as possible."

Kazuya took one step forward, his eyes lingering briefly on each of his fellow captains before being fixed at Shunsui. Folding his arms behind his back, he took a deep breath before speaking. This time, there was no trace of his distress in his voice, it was clear and conveyed just the right amount of authority.

"In taking down the Visored, individuals who rival ourselves in terms of raw power, our enemy has proven themselves to be both cunning and powerful. I would think it plausible that we send a small group to make a temporary base in Karakura. Because our foe proved themselves powerful enough to take down Captain-level combatants, I think we should have this group be led by a Captain of our own, and that it be comprised primarily of officers. I think five in total"

Right, now came the difficult part. He cleared his throat briefly before continuing, at this point he was standing in the middle of the room and speaking directly to his Captain-Commander. Others might consider such an act brazen, but he cared little for that, he would take the initiative here and now.

"I'd like to volunteer to lead this group myself. Know that this is not for petty vengeance, but for the sake of being pragmatic. My talents are undoubtedly most suitable for this purpose, with the noble art that I command. I can erect powerful barriers to protect my charges from harm. Heal their wounds and restore their bodies if I somehow fail, and utilize the wonders at my fingertips to track down our enemy or deliver immediate intelligence back to you. Furthermore, I would be able to recognize any clues or hints Hachigen left behind, and probably be able to contact him if he's sealed himself away somewhere. Besides, I'm fully capable of fighting and defeating a Quincy without ever needing to resort to Bankai"

He thought he'd made an impression on the Captain-Commander at the very least. Though he suspected his fellow Captains might take offense to his enthusiasm. Though Seia, at least, seemed to be caught up in his fervor. She stopped with the passive clattering of her sword against her cranium, only to tap it against the hard wooden floor echoing out both the rattling steel and the creaking floorboards.

"I'm with Broom here, kid can work his magic and if anythin' serious turns up he can talk its ear off till the rest of us turn up", she contemplated going for the tea in front of her as she spoke, but decided against it instead diverting her attention by tapping her fingers against the ceramic plate beneath it. "Goin' with his idea, I'd say we should send someone from the Fourth, and at least one or two kids from the combat Divisions", those were the most feasible picks in the Phoenician woman's eyes, a proper, dedicated healer would be useful and lower ranking, but focused, combatants would be better served dealing with most threats than Kazuya, assuming any possible scavengers weren't Captain-level as well.

Hein had listened to Kazuya’s speech with a certain degree of skepticism. Ain’t that terribly excessive. He thought. A Captain? Hein wasn’t sure about the Visored, if they really were so powerful then how had they managed to get killed so easily? Weak. Hein hid his derision, throwing his hands behind his head in an off-handed manner.

“Well, I got nothing.” he said. “But if Kuchiki-han here really is goin,’ it won’t be necessary to send any Lieutenants.” he eyed Kazuya somewhat suspiciously. “One wouldn’t hurt though. Since mine is tied up with her duties and such-and-such, I’m goin’ to recommend that dog from the Thirteenth.” Hein wasn’t partial to Glacies, in fact he wasn’t partial to any of the Lieutenants. But if one was going to stir the pot… Hein sat back with a smirk in the corner of his mouth. Unless he was mistaken, the discussion regarding the task force could very easily become heated. He was glad to sit back and watch.

Alvin stayed silent, his eyes still closed, his fingers still playing with his tea. He was still bored, but at this point he must give at least a certain degree of an act which shows that he actually cared about this and is worthy of attending this council. His mind finally raced. Someone from his Division that could help with this team that he agreed to make. "Now that Captain Kuchiki of the Ninth Division volunteered to lead this group, Cynthia is not that needed, is she?" he asked himself, his voice kept all to himself. "Besides, she would be busy stalking people right now."

Will he actually send someone to this group? He's not sure. He wasn't the type to think about any of this but somehow he's into it. Cynthia wouldn't be needed, though extra power would be good. Her Kidō-type Zanpakutō would be able to aid Captain Kuchiki of the Ninth Division. Still, sending her into the enemy they are trying to figure out may ultimately lead her to be gone forever...and Alvin wouldn't like that, not at all. The third seat of his Division wouldn't be able to go. After all, if his third seat is to go, who would take part in working the rest of his paperwork? His mind raced, his fingers began to tap on his table. He finally opened his blood red eyes, glowing in the midst of dim lights that surround them all. They were now set onto the cup of tea that was brought closed by his fingers, and slowly began to drink the liquid he played with earlier. Maybe the tea would help him think, who knows.

At some point he finally concluded; the tea actually helped him. His face, previously resting down, trampling his left hand, now all held high where his shoulders finally meet with the rest of the captains' shoulders. With all the captains around still talking with one another. He close his eyes once more and began to simply say, "My sixth seat would like to volunteer. I do believe his abilities in being able to attack enemies from such distances would enable the others to achieve a swift victory, or in cases where the enemy is as strong as the reports says," he quickly glanced upon Hein, who sits directly beside him. Breaking the glance, he continued, "He would be able to distract such enemy from far away distance in order for the others to flee away." He opened his eyes, eyeing Captain Kuchiki of the Ninth Division, hoping that such words like his would not offend him.

Kyōraku sipped his tea in a nonchalant manner, his gaze shifting slowly with the passing of each Captain's turn at speaking in regards to the situation. Finally, upon the words spoken by the Fifth Division Captain, the Captain-Commander placed his teacup down onto the table beside him, subtlety clapping his hands together once to draw everybody's attention.

"Well now... From what I can see, the best course of action is to allow a five-man team to enter the Human World with Kazuya-san. Within this team, one member of the medic corps and a member from the Onmitsukidō should be present, along with three others that will be determined at the discretion of Kazuya-san; one of which should be a Lieutenant." the Captain-Commander concluded.

Kazuya took a sip from his teacup, suddenly the very picture of proper etiquette. His initiative had paid off, he'd get the chance to find Hachigen after all, or at the very least, avenge him. It was just a Quincy, a mortal, strong though they might be they'd be no match for his magic. Smiling to his colleagues, Kazuya let his eyes drift around the room before he turned to answer his Captain-Commander.

"I'd like to bring with me the following individuals: 5th Seat Aiken Kuchiki of my own division, his experience and wisdom should surely be of aid to us in this case. Furthermore, I'm also intending to bring with me my 3rd Seat, Nisshou Ichijouji. Nisshō's loyalty and perseverance would certainly be of great help."

There was few options from which to choose, few seated Officers had thus far proved remarkable enough to accompany him on such a mission, both Nisshō and Aiken were people he knew well, people he could trust. They were capable of handling themselves, and he'd be happy to have them along. It was risky, and it would undoubtedly not be well-received, but there was only one thing to do.

"For my final two, I'd like to request Lieutenants Fuyutama and Sakuma. Both of them are accomplished healers, and together they'd help ensure that our group survives whatever ordeal we might face. I also know that Lieutenant Sakuma was formerly affiliated with the Omnitsukido, and therefore possesses talents and skills which we are in want of, they're both good combatants with a grasp of most forms of the Zankensoki. Now, I realize what some of you might be thinking, sending one Captain and two Lieutenants to the human world might give our enemy the impression that we're desperate. But so be it, the fact of the matter is, whomever this person was, they've proven themselves a match for Captains, and most seated officers would be in grave danger if confronted with such individuals, our Lieutenants are second only to us, and should be able to adequately defend themselves if need be. That's all"

Hein’s grin soured. He was quickly growing tired of the meeting. To him it seemed as though everyone was concerned with making wise suggestions, most likely to save face. He just wanted to be done and over with it all, yet he could not let this one lie. Kazuya, along with the other Captains, had blatantly ignored him. Well then.

He spat to the side, aware of what a disgrace it was to do so, and said: “And why the hell would ya need two Lieutenants?” he growled. “Terrible indecent idea, if ya ask me. It’s just runnin’ scared. Ya’ve been sayin’ this whole time that ya can’t underestimate this ‘threat’ or such-and-such because a whole bunch of Visored managed to get real clobbered.” he paused, allowing his words to sink in before adding: “But none of ya are suggestin’ that it could have been from their own incompetence.”

Rikuri's gaze fell upon the bickering man. Her arms folded across her chest, a look of unfamiliarity possessed her face. "Remain silent, captain of the 7th division. An unexperienced hooligan such as yourself should not speak unless formerly addressed beforehand." Such a remark coming from Rikuri was surely unexpected, though it only worked to establish the danger of the current situation. Ueda was young, unexperienced at that. He had no right to go about disrespecting the other captains, let alone question the instructions of man who was without a doubt his superior. The man had gone as far as to spitting on the ground, of all places, in the captain commander's office. What's more? He felt no shame in the presence of the other captains; Rikuri despised him, and simply could not tolerate his behavior. Was he aware of what had taken place nine years ago? Was he okay with letting history repeat itself? Or did he simply not care as usual?

She turned her head in the direction of Kazuya. "I was only just about to auction him myself. I hope Fuytama-kun will be of use to you."

Teruo had by then finished removing the spilt tea and arranged the fragments of the broken cup in a tidy pile. He remained silent, listening to the lengthy suggestion of Captain Kazuya Kuchiki. However, there was a sudden shift in his demeanour when Captain Ueda... spoke. For a brief moment an intimidating frown appeared on Akui's face, although it quickly faded away into an oddly relaxed smile.

"How about you go investigate on your own, Captain Ueda?", he said in a mock-friendly tone. "Either you discover what transpired in the World of the Living and bring back vital intel, or you perish to the mysterious assailants. It is a win-win situation", he suggested, tilting his head to the side.

Still smiling and with his eyes narrowed, there was some uncanny resemblance to a controversial man who had been once the Captain of the Third Division, Gin Ichimaru.

"You lot are supposed to be Captains, not a bunch of easily miffed little kids, try actin' like it", Seia stated though her light mood hadn't lessened any in the face of her reprimand of the other bickering Captains.

"I agree with Captain Honoria," Alvin grumbled, his head now bent low to trample his left hand yet again, his eyes began to close. Though his previous words were ignored before, he wouldn't mind being ignored once more. But there was a slight change in his attitude; he was ignorant about this before, but now he cares about it. "We are here to discuss something, not to begin a quarrel among ourselves," he stated aloud. Quarrels like this would make waste of such significant times and more importantly, make waste to the Vizored's sacrifices. Alvin is not familiar regarding the Vizored, and he wasn't partial to them, either. But as a Shinigami, stopping this quarrel would be the least he could do to appreciate their sacrificial deaths all to give warning to the Gotei 13.

The signature smirk vanished from Teruo's face. He had requested to dispense with the arguments himself just a while ago, and now he was joining the quarrel. He just could not stand an insensitive criminal as an alleged peer. Well. He had to ignore him altogether to behave worthy of being a Captain himself.

"I apologise", he said, now grim as usual.

Hein’s eyebrows jumped above his blindfold when Rikuri spoke. Normally calm and soft-spoken, it was rare to receive such a rebuke from the Captain of the 4th Division. She must have been tense indeed. Teruo cut in with a threatening insult before Seia tried to smooth things over in her easy-going manner.

“I apologize.” the Captain of the Third Division said gravely.

Hein tried to hide his grin. “Don’t matter, there ain’t need to apologize, seein’ as how I agree with you, Akui-han.” he cleared his throat. “That is to say, it’s the most real plan ya’ve come up with so far.”

The other Captains began to stir uneasily as he spoke, but he continued anyway. “I hate repeatin’ myself, but I’m goin’ to ask ya again: why the hell are you all bein’ so terrible formal? Mopin’ around is goin’ for nothing. Terrible indecent way for a bunch of Captains to act, if ya ask me.” he turned to Shunsui before he could be cut-off. “One last thing before ya start throwin’ knives and such-and-such,” he crossed his arms.

“Isn’t it about time ya say something here, Otchan? We’ve been sittin’ on our respective asses this whole time, and ya’ve barely cracked yer eyelid. Kuchiki-han here has made an exceptional real suggestin’ on the task force, puttin’ a terrible amount of thought into it and such-and-such. The way I see it, we either drag this terrible dull meeting on ‘til time stands still, or we send out Kuchiki-han and his task force.” he glanced around at the other Captains and nodded. “And if ya’ve got a personal quarrel ‘gainst me, I suggest ya clobber me later, as opposed to arguin’ about it here.”

Although he knew he could never admit it out loud, Kazuya felt at ease around Hein, he was used to wearing a mask to conceal his true feelings, and more or less everyone he interacted with daily had the same mindset. Life in the Kuchiki household was a never ending battle, everyone wanted him to make a mistake, everyone wished to goad him into making one so that they might have a chance at becoming clan head after Byakuya. In comparison to that, Hein's foul mouth was a refreshing change.

Taking a chance in order to show his appreciation of the man, Kazuya flashed a warm smile at him before directing his full attention to Shunsui. His mask back in place in a heartbeat, and his expression stoic and unmoving, Byakuya was here after all. He could take a risk once in a while, but he couldn't afford to do anything that might jeopardize his position.

"His deplorable lack of manners not withstanding" At this point he directed a pointed look at Hein, but the gesture seemed hollow and empty, as though he was merely acting out his part in a play. "Ueda-taichou strikes a good point. If there's nothing else you would have us discuss, Captain-Commander, I will issue orders to have the team ready by tomorrow morning, and begin preparations immediately. I trust this is agreeable?"

Kyōraku took a final sip from his cup, finishing the tea that sat within it, as he placed it calmly onto the table as he faced the Kuchiki Captain, offering him a nod in agreement with his words; slowly standing up from his chair as he gazed out toward the thirteen Captains. "Things have been rough these past nine years." the Captain-Commander announced, drawing the attention of the council. "We've had to pick up the pieces of our destroyed society, say good-bye to many loved ones, and have to change our entire lives around in order to compensate for the changes going on around us. This created darkness in our lives. The darkness of doubt, fear, worry, and anger that has filled our hearts. Not even nine years of recovery, not even all the changes we've made to improve and move forward, can ever permanently rid us of that darkness. With new challenges and tribulations coming our way, adding to the residual darkness left here by the Wandenreich, it might feel overwhelming at times. Even we Captains are but mortals. But... there is a bright side to this." Kyōraku remarked, slowly curling his lips into a smile. "Darkness has a way of making us stronger just as it makes us weaker. But this is only possible when we find meaning in the darkness — in our suffering — that we can use it to make ourselves stronger. And in doing so, we can forge a light powerful enough to keep darkness at bay. In these times of uncertainty, light and hope is something we must create ourselves. And as Captains, we can pass on our light to our subordinates and our loved ones, until the light has become so strong that even darkness must bow to it. As we engage the future, uncertain as we are, never forget who we are. We are the shields of Soul Society... the Gotei 13." the Captain-Commander concluded his speech.

They are the shields of the Soul Society, moving forward with steel blades and steel hearts! Next time, the mysterious enemy makes himself known!