"Ugh-"
"Finally off duty!!"
"Another day of hard work, huh."
Makoto slumped into his chair, head lolling back, looking like he might fall apart.
If not for the stark contrast between the thin stack of papers on his desk and the towering mountain of documents on Jūshirō's desk next door, one might've thought he'd made some grand contribution to the Soul Society today!
"That Ryoma, dumping all the work on me after the captains' meeting."
"Gotta teach him a lesson next time."
Makoto muttered to himself, completely ignoring the piercing glare from beside him.
"…"
Jūshirō, half-hidden behind his paper fortress, fixed Makoto with a stare, his dark-ringed eyes practically boring holes, as if trying to guilt him.
But alas, if Makoto were capable of such delicate emotions as guilt, would he still be Makoto?
Impossible!
After a long stretch, Makoto sprang up with a flourish, hopping out of his chair and strutting toward the office door.
Before leaving, he waved cheerfully at Jūshirō, brimming with concern. "Jūshirō, take care of yourself, yeah?"
"There's always more work to do."
Whoosh!
A paper sheet spun like a throwing knife, embedding itself in the door with a thunk.
Luckily, Makoto had already shut it, escaping unscathed.
From inside, Jūshirō's anguished cry echoed. "And whose fault is it that the work's never done?!"
The mournful wail reverberated through the 9th Division's office wing.
Every Shinigami in the barracks bowed their heads, pretending they heard nothing.
Only a certain Makoto hummed a tune, strolling carefree out the gate.
What a joke!
Work hard when he wasn't a captain? Fine. But keep slaving away as a captain?
Then what was the point of being one?
The Gotei 13 wasn't the chaotic 'First Generation' era, scraping by with barely a brain between them. Now, the capable should bear the load!
As for Jūshirō's health?
There was always the one-eyed healer!
Clearly, if Makoto had even a shred of conscience, he wouldn't have zero!
But as he stepped out of the barracks, a figure in the distance stopped him.
Katori stood at the gate.
Waiting for someone, it seemed.
The sight alone put Makoto on high alert.
He'd finally get a night at home, no way was she ruining it.
Without hesitation, he scaled the wall to slip out the other side.
Too bad, the moment he landed, Chika, that menace, was waiting, feigning a casual encounter.
"Yo, Makoto-kun!"
"What a coincidence!"
"How'd you know we're throwing a drinking party tonight?"
In the time it took to say those words, her hand had already latched onto his arm.
A bad feeling surged in Makoto's gut. "Fuck off! I'm going home for dinner tonight!"
"Kirio-chan's waiting for me!"
No sooner had he spoken than a familiar voice piped up behind him.
"Huh?"
"But I didn't buy groceries today."
Makoto's words caught in his throat, his face stiffening.
Turning, he found Kirio grinning at him, her eyes glinting mischievously.
Before he could say more, Kirio grabbed his other hand. She and Chika, one on each side, hoisted him up, both sporting sly, conspiratorial smiles.
"Wait a sec!"
"Chika, you jerk, I'm telling Tsukiko on you!"
"I got Tsukiko's permission to go out tonight, so don't slander me!"
"Kirio, you-"
"Makoto-nii! Sorry!"
"But I really want to see it again, you drunk, throwing yourself into Captain Saito's arms, calling her 'Mama'! Please… pfft."
"You two!!!"
Makoto fumed, powerless in his rage.
"Argh! You got me!"
Katori, hearing the commotion, dashed over from the gate. "Don't let him escape! We've gotta make him perform again tonight!"
"Hey!!"
Amid his loud protests, the group hauled him off, laughing.
Like any gathering of friends, Soul Society's Shinigami, captains and vice-captains of equal status and lifespan, often met to drink.
But for them, such gatherings were spaced years, even decades, apart.
A rare chance like tonight, spurred by the captain promotion meeting, was precious in this era.
…
By the time they reached the izakaya, dusk had settled, and Seireitei's First Street in Reika-machi was just lighting up, bustling with off-duty Shinigami and workers.
Thanks to Makoto's economic reforms, the Seireitei was no longer just for Shinigami and nobles. Limited commercial rights had been granted to Rukongai residents, and businesses, shops, guilds, and more, had sprung up like mushrooms, flocking to the center and forming a thriving commercial hub.
And Shinigami? They were the top spenders.
"Boss! Hurry up with our food!"
"Coming right up!"
Shunsui leaned out of a private room, spotting the group and waving with a grin. "Captain Katori! Captain Shihōin!"
"Over here!"
"Everyone's already inside!"
At his voice, Ryoma Kuruyashiki, noticeably larger than the rest, poked his head out, a skewer of chicken in his mouth.
Seeing Makoto being carried in, he raised a massive hand in greeting. "Captain!"
"You little!"
Makoto's temper flared. "Slacking off to drink instead of working?!"
"Do you know how hard Jūshirō's got it?!"
"I came after hours, Captain." Ryoma shot back, unfazed.
"Alright, alright, let's get inside!" Kirio huffed. "I'm starving!"
As they entered, Makoto's complaints fell silent.
In the spacious room, built for a dozen or more, a large, square rosewood table dominated the center, laden with cold dishes, tea, and sake.
But the only two men in the room sat clustered near the door.
At the far end of the room, two women sat across from each other.
Unohana and Saito ate in silence, leisurely picking at the dishes on the table.
Yet their mere presence sent a chilling, blade-like shiver through the two men nearby.
"Makoto-kun, you're finally here."
The man seated opposite Shunsui let out a heartfelt sigh of relief, urging him inside.
Tall and lean, a deep scar slashed across his sallow face, his voice raspy, giving him an unapproachable air.
But his words betrayed him.
"Without you here, just sitting in this room feels suffocating."
"Come on, come on, inside!"
This older man was Shinichiro Sumashi, once a Genji School member, known for his valor. After the Gotei 13's founding, he served as Vice-Captain of the Third Division.
Since mastering Bankai, he'd risen to captain of the 13th Division, a role he'd held for some time.
Makoto blinked frantically, as if trying to signal in Morse code.
What kind of death-trap dinner was this?
Who invited these two together…?
His thoughts raced, and instinct pointed to a culprit. He glanced back at Captain Katori.
As if on cue, Katori, barely stifling a laugh, turned her face away.
It was you!!
Makoto dawdled at the door, trying to slide in next to Sumashi on the outermost seat.
"Makoto-kun." Unohana-sensei turned, smiling gently, her tone tinged with confusion. "Why sit so far?"
She patted the cushion beside her, voice warm. "Come here."
Makoto's neck stiffened as he tilted his head, pretending not to hear.
Then, Katori's hip bumped him, nudging him toward the center.
She plopped down beside him, grinning like she was settling in for a show. Her eyes, framed by thick glasses, curved with barely contained amusement, practically gleaming with mischief.
The epitome of loving the chaos.
Poor guy.
Kirio thought as much but sat across from him without hesitation, her eyes sparkling.
"See that?" Chika, sitting next to Shunsui, joined the men by the door, raising a sake cup and nodding toward Makoto. "That's what happens when you flirt among monsters."
"One wife is plenty!"
The dark-skinned captain lowered her voice, brazen as ever.
Likely still sore about the time Makoto's wives ganged up on her.
Ryoma and Sumashi nodded vigorously in agreement.
Only Shunsui, feigning heartbreak, slumped over the table. "I'd endure that pain gladly!"
"Why do all the good women flock to Makoto-sama?!"
"It's so unfair, I could die."
"Hmph!"
Saito slammed her sake cup down, the thud echoing.
The one-eyed girl fixed Makoto with a glare, her voice dragging out in discontent. "Yeah!"
"Why is that, Makoto-sama?"
Shunsui shut up instantly, sitting upright, eyes on his nose, nose on his heart.
Makoto pivoted awkwardly. "Speaking of, Chika! Tsukiko's due soon, right? Time flies… Got a name picked out yet?"
"Make sure she doesn't go wandering, things are dangerous out there. Better stay home."
"Pfft.."
Katori, sitting beside him, let out odd, stifled noises at the painfully obvious subject change.
Noticing his glance, she turned away, hiding her face.
Makoto shot her a sideways glare, the 'mastermind' of this mess.
Did she even consider his feelings?
Her moment of amusement was a ton of bricks on him!
Fuming, Makoto slipped a hand under the table, delivering a sharp pinch to her inner thigh.
Katori's smile froze.
A faint blush crept onto her pale cheeks.
But before Makoto could smirk, a dull, twisting pain shot through his waist.
Turning, he found Unohana, serene as ever, daintily picking at the cold dishes with her chopsticks.
As if she hadn't noticed his gaze.
Makoto deflated instantly.
"Y-Yeah." Chika replied, perhaps taking pity, munching peanuts. "Tsukiko's waddling around with that big belly, no way she's going anywhere."
"Safety first!"
"Forget Tsukiko, you're the one who needs to watch out."
Sumashi raised his cup, pointing at Chika. "After Captain Kuchiki's Hueco Mundo rotation this year, it's your turn for patrol, right?"
"Be careful out there."
"What's there to worry about in Hueco Mundo?"
Makoto seized the chance to steer the topic away from romance, adopting a serious tone.
Sumashi glanced at him, exhaling a boozy sigh. "It used to be fine, but these past few years, new types of Vasto Lorde have been popping up out of nowhere."
"For regular Shinigami, their strength is terrifying."
"Even for a slacker like me, it's a lot of pressure…"
"Really?"
Chika perked up, intrigued.
Not just her, others, drawn from Makoto's romantic drama, leaned in, curiosity piqued.
Three hundred years ago, Hueco Mundo underwent two brutal purges by the Captain-Commander and Makoto, wiping out nearly all threatening Hollows in the expeditionary range.
For three centuries, captain-class Shinigami had rotated through, relentlessly culling.
With such sustained suppression, it was hard to imagine any real threats remaining.
"Yeah."
Shinichiro Sumashi clutched his sake cup, his brows knitting tightly. "They're Adjuchas, but their size doesn't shrink at all."
"I've seen a few from a distance, beast-like Adjuchas, larger than any Gillian."
"Just Adjuchas!"
"But the mere ripples of their reiatsu as they passed left me completely unable to muster the will to fight."
His words stunned the group.
As everyone knew, Hollows evolved from Gillian to Adjuchas to Vasto Lorde, their bodies shrinking with each stage.
Adjuchas followed this path, consuming and compressing reishi to advance further.
Expanding their size with reishi endlessly? Utterly impractical.
Wait!
A memory of a certain exceptional Hollow flashed through Makoto's mind.
His brows furrowed sharply.
"No way?"
Shunsui gaped. "Sumashi-san, you're a captain with at least Tier-3 Reiatsu… How could a mere Adjuchas?"
"It's the truth."
Sumashi downed his cup, exhaling wearily. "I'm not the strongest, but I've got eyes."
"Was this reported? What happened after?" Makoto pressed.
"Of course I reported it." Sumashi continued. "But the Captain-Commander only sent the 'Hollow Corps' to investigate, and then, nothing."
"After that, I was pulled from the expeditionary force, and Captain Kuchiki took over."
"Even though that Hollow bypassed our camp, while I was stationed in Hueco Mundo, I'd occasionally sense terrifying reiatsu fluctuations from deeper within."
"Those days, just being there kept me on edge."
"Sometimes, I envied the regular Shinigami who couldn't sense those shifts."
"What a pathetic old man I am."
Lamenting his own weakness, Sumashi gulped another cup.
Though he'd mastered Bankai, a captain like him, barely at Tier-3 Reiatsu, was worlds apart from the others at the table.
Some missions were simply too heavy for him.
Makoto's brows tightened.
From these fragments, he sensed something lurking beneath the surface, changing at breakneck speed.
The room fell silent.
Outside, the bustling clamor of the marketplace contrasted sharply with the captains' soundproof barrier, like two separate worlds.
As the silence lingered, a familiar voice broke through from outside.
"Captain Katori?"
Heads turned instinctively.
A young couple stood amid the crowd.
The petite woman waved lightly, standing on tiptoe.
Katori waved back.
It was Sosumi Aizen, whom they'd seen earlier that day.
Naturally, the man beside her was her husband.
"Esteemed captains."
The refined man offered a warm smile. "I am Kensei Aizen, 5th Seat of the 10th Division."
"My apologies for the intrusion."
Clearly, this wasn't the place for strangers to join.
The Aizens gave a quick greeting before heading to their reserved room.
A brief interlude.
Only Makoto glanced down the hall, quietly noting the man's face.
Kensei Aizen… huh?
Sosumi + Kensei = Sosuke?
After a short pause, the group resumed their lively chatter, as if to banish the heavy topic's shadow.
The ceiling of a Shinigami's potential was a topic none wished to dwell on.
No matter the effort, an impassable threshold bred only despair.
But as the drinks flowed and spirits rose,
Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
The ground rippled like a stormy sea.
A violent tremor radiated from a central point, accompanied by a deafening roar.
In an instant, the lively din outside turned to panicked screams.
Chaos, cries of pain, urgent shouts, and hurried footsteps blended into a cacophony.
The group, barely a few cups in, froze, then bolted out of the izakaya at top speed.
Makoto, who hadn't touched a drop, moved like lightning, smashing through a wall to reach the chaotic street, his gaze locking onto the source of the disturbance.
His eyes fixed on the sky.
At the apex of the blackened night, a jagged tear, like a knife's slash, hung beneath the moonlight.
Countless massive bone claws gripped the edges of the rift, prying it wider.
Faintly, the hum of space itself tearing apart echoed.
Gillian masks and tattered black cloaks loomed within the fissure.
Simultaneously, countless large Hollows poured through the gaps between the Gillians, charging fearlessly toward the Soul Society.
"ROAR!!!"
A low, guttural bellow, like a wail, thundered across the sky, reverberating through the Seireitei.
Everyone, Makoto included, stood stunned.
Not from fear.
But the absurd shock of a fully armed elite squad, fresh off duty, still in gear, watching a petty thief with a fruit knife barge into their locker room.
This?
How dare they!
Makoto reacted fastest, barking orders. "All captains stay! Vice-captains and seated officers, return to your divisions, sound the alarm, and reinforce defenses! No one leaves their post!"
"Yes, sir!"
In moments like this, a leader's presence shone.
Though he seemed carefree normally, in crises, Makoto's figure radiated reliability.
"Ryoma!"
Before moving, he added, "Keep an eye on the prison and the Nest of Maggots."
"Don't embarrass me now."
"Yes, sir!"
Ryoma's response was crisp, and he turned to leave.
Not just him, other Shinigami scattered in different directions, following orders.
With those brief commands issued, Makoto turned, facing the swarm of Hollows dancing in the night sky. He glanced at his comrades, a faint smile on his lips.
The captains drew their Zanpakuto in silence, stepping forward.
These were their prey.
***
Bonus Chapter:
100 Power Stones = 1 BC
300 Power Stones = 2 BC
500 Power Stones = 3 BC
700 Power Stones = 4 BC
1000 Power Stones = 5 BC
***
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