The Shin'ō Academy Cultural Festival had become something of an unofficial holiday among the Gotei 13 Shinigami.
Though not hosted for them specifically, in the days leading up to the festival each year, the Shinigami—second only to the students themselves—were the ones who looked forward to it the most.
This year, Squad 1 had even issued a special notice: aside from essential positions that needed to remain on duty, all other Shinigami were granted a full day of leave.
Those working that day would be compensated with additional time off later.
Shiba Ganju, arms straining around a large cardboard box, trudged step by step up to the roof of the Shin'ō Academy's main building.
"C'mon, Sis, couldn't you hire more people for this?"
He placed the box atop a growing pile already stacked near the edge of the roof, panting slightly as he did.
Kūkaku sat on the rooftop's ledge, a kiseru pipe in hand, gaze fixed on the bustling, celebratory scene below.
She turned her head lazily. "What, I can't boss you around anymore?"
"I didn't mean it like that," Ganju grumbled. "I've got a ton of stuff to do today too, y'know."
"Nothing's more important than what I need done."
Ganju sat down beside her, sighing. "It's such a lively day, but in all the years I've been at the Academy, I've never had time to enjoy it. Half the guys I know are off on dates with girls right now. Don't you care about your little brother's love life at all? I wanna date a cute girl too!"
Kūkaku took a long drag on her pipe, exhaling smoke through her nose with a scoff. "What girl has low enough standards to go for you?"
"Hey! I'm respected, alright? The underclassman girls in the student council all look up to me!"
He wasn't lying—his reputation at the Academy was solid. Aside from Rukia, everyone treated him with a certain deference. Only his sister gave him zero credit.
"I'm gonna be student council president next year, and I swear I won't help you with the festival then."
Kūkaku tapped her pipe against the ledge, muttering, "So now even you're getting sick of me. One by one, everyone runs off to become a Shinigami, and I'm left here. Maybe I should move away once you graduate."
Ganju looked at her, speechless. "After I graduate, I'll still be living at home. I'll probably come back more often than I do now."
Kūkaku replied mournfully, "If your heart's not at home, what does it matter if you come back? Once you get a girlfriend, you'll just think I'm in the way."
Unable to stand her act any longer, Ganju shot to his feet, brushing off his pants. "Cut the drama already. I can't take it!"
With that, he turned and stomped back down the stairs.
Kūkaku watched him go and chuckled softly.
Becoming a Shinigami really did toughen people up—her little brother, once a docile muttering thing, now had the spine to talk back to her.
As Ganju wove his way through the stalls below, his eyes suddenly lit up.
"Shin-aniki!"
He waved enthusiastically.
Tachikawa Shin was meandering through the festival with Hinamori and Hitsugaya. Matsumoto Rangiku had originally been with them, but had peeled off alone soon after they entered the Academy.
Hinamori was already wondering if she should come up with a reason to ditch Hitsugaya, but figured he'd probably just head straight back to the barracks alone—too pitiful to do that.
"Ganju."
Hinamori and Hitsugaya greeted him too.
As they neared, Shin caught a faint scent of gunpowder clinging to Ganju's clothes.
"Your sister's already here?"
"Up on the roof."
Ganju pointed back toward the building.
Shin glanced up. "She always stays up there on this day every year. She's not coming down?"
"I've tried," Ganju said, shrugging. "She says she's not interested. She just wants to make sure the fireworks show goes off without a hitch."
Shin laughed. "So fireworks are the only thing that can hold her interest."
"She's just that kind of weirdo."
They chatted for a bit, then Ganju took off again—he still had work to do.
"He's more grown-up than before," Hitsugaya remarked.
"Hard not to be when you're about to become student council president," Shin said.
"Student council presidents always being chosen from the previous vice presidents is becoming a tradition," Hitsugaya muttered. "Captain, I think you started a bad precedent."
Shin only smiled. "If the ones who follow are nothing but conformists, then no matter how good the precedent, it's useless."
"Hey, Tōshirō," Hinamori grinned suddenly. "Jealous of Ganju?"
"Jealous? Of what?" Hitsugaya scoffed. "I'm a Third Seat now."
Hinamori giggled. "And Ganju might be one too someday. But not everyone can be student council president. That's something that stays on your record for life!"
"So what? I'm not staying Third Seat forever," Hitsugaya replied.
The three wandered on, chatting idly.
Shin's gaze drifted, his mind clearly elsewhere.
"Hinamori-senpai?"
A student had recognized Hinamori and called out to her.
She stopped to exchange a few words, and when she turned back—only Hitsugaya was still beside her.
"Where's the Captain?"
Hitsugaya shrugged. "Said he suddenly had something to deal with. Left on his own."
"Something to deal with?" Hinamori froze, thoughts flashing through her mind.
What could possibly be urgent right now?
Did he run into someone—
She looked around. "See anyone familiar?"
"Nope."
Hinamori frowned.
Don't tell me… he went to see Rukia?!
She started to fume. "Why didn't you stop him?!"
Hitsugaya looked exasperated. "He's got legs. What could I do? He's the Captain—if he gives an order, I listen."
Hinamori glared, then asked, "Which way did he go?"
Shin had already broken off from the crowd, turning corners through the plaza until he reached a more secluded area.
Quieter here.
In the distance, he spotted them—Matsumoto Rangiku and Ichimaru Gin.
From the moment they'd entered the Academy and parted ways, Shin had been tracking Matsumoto's spiritual pressure. When he sensed hers intersect with another significant presence, he came immediately.
They were deep in conversation. Shin couldn't hear the words, but Rangiku—usually so carefree—stood stiffly in front of Gin, her expression faintly forlorn.
Shin stepped in.
"So this is why you wanted to wander off alone. You had someone you were hoping to run into."
The conversation halted. Both turned to look at him. Rangiku's lips pressed tightly together. Seeing Shin, she seemed to breathe a little easier—but said nothing. Head bowed, she walked off quickly.
Shin watched her go, then looked at Gin.
"My lieutenant's clearly upset. What were you two talking about?"
Gin still wore that eternal, smiling mask. "Captain Tachikawa, isn't it a bit rude to interrupt a private conversation?"
A nearly transparent field of reishi burst outward from Shin's position, expanding to envelop Gin as well.
Gin blinked. His ever-narrowed eyes opened slightly.
"Captain Tachikawa… what's this supposed to mean?"
Shin stepped forward calmly. "Nothing much. Just thought I'd give you a little lesson—seeing as you upset my lieutenant."
"..."
Gin honestly couldn't follow Shin's logic. He sounded baffled. "You're serious?"
But the moment he finished speaking, he realized—his body wouldn't move.
It wasn't spiritual pressure. It wasn't pain. It felt like he'd been forcibly locked in place, immobilized by something intangible.
Gin's eyes sharpened.
Tachikawa Shin… really planning to strike him here?
That didn't fit his profile at all.
Gin ramped up his reiatsu, trying to force his way free—but it was useless.
What the hell is this…
His heart sank.
"Don't bother," Shin said, stopping just in front of him. "This is my Zanpakutō's power. Unless your reiatsu is vastly greater than mine, you can't break it."
Zanpakutō…
Gin's pupils shifted. "Wait, your Zanpakutō is supposed to be kaidō-type, isn't it?"
"It's… a different kind of power," Shin said lightly.
"I can suspend the state of a thing. Right now, I've suspended your physical state in its standing position. As long as I maintain it, you can't move at all."
Gin stared at him silently.
"It also works on me. Back during our duel, when your attacks couldn't hurt me—it was because I suspended my body's health state. No matter what you threw at me, it couldn't do a thing."
"Not just physical and kidō damage. Once this ability's active, nothing external can touch me."
"..."
Suddenly Gin could move again. The strange reiatsu field that had bound him had dissipated.
But he didn't budge.
Looking at Shin standing so close, realization flickered through his mind—and his pupils narrowed.
He had suspected Shin's Zanpakutō wasn't just kaidō-based. Aizen had, too.
After their battle at the Shinigami Exchange Event, Aizen had grown curious. Gin had given him a full report, and Aizen had observed it all himself.
Immunity to damage didn't align with kaidō abilities. Something like a Hollow's high-speed regeneration would make more sense.
Aizen had even tested him with a new experimental Hollow—and the results had surprised them.
Shin's ability might not be healing at all—but something closer to time reversal.
Those 10th Division Shinigami had already been swallowed whole by the Hollow. Even Unohana couldn't reconstruct corpses from that. Yet they'd been returned, clothes intact.
Gin inhaled slowly. "Why tell me all this, Captain Tachikawa?"
Shin smirked. "No reason. Just showing off. You sensed it, right? The reishi field I spread out—it stopped all spiritual pressure fluctuations in this zone. Which means I can release my reiatsu however I want here, and no one outside will notice."
Gin's mind reeled.
He muttered, "What exactly… do you know?"
Shin shook his head. "Nothing at all. But you—are you ready to get hit?"
—
Ichimaru Gin did take a beating. Shin didn't use his Zanpakutō. Just fists.
Gin never fought back.
When he returned to the festival crowd and met Aizen, the latter looked surprised.
"What happened?"
Gin touched a bruise on his face—it stung.
"Got into a fight."
Aizen smiled. "Gin… you haven't let go of that yet, have you?"
"You worry too much, Captain Aizen."
"Oh?" Aizen's voice stayed warm. "Then why did she hit you? Or rather… why didn't you hit back?"
Gin's gaze shifted. "Captain Aizen… it wasn't her. It was Captain Tachikawa."
Aizen's voice paused.
Gin glanced sideways—only catching the mirrored flash on Aizen's glasses.
A beat later, Aizen's tone returned, still gentle.
"You mean… Tachikawa Shin?"
The question sent a chill through Gin's core. His fingers trembled imperceptibly at his side.
He didn't notice…
He didn't notice…
Gin replied, voice calm, "Yeah. He said I upset his lieutenant. Picked a fight with me over it."
"Gin."
Aizen looked at him, smiling. "You seem… unsettled."
Gin smiled too, the same old way. "Got roughed up a bit. Anyone'd be rattled."
He'd sensed his own inner turmoil.
But not Tachikawa Shin's reiatsu at all…
Aizen smiled again. "Gin, truth be told—I was watching your reiatsu signature the whole time after you left me. Aside from you and Vice-Captain Matsumoto, I didn't sense a third."
"But if it was Tachikawa Shin… then everything makes sense."
"Gin. Why don't you tell me exactly what happened?"
Gin stared into Aizen's kind smile—the same smile he'd always revered like a god.
But now, that divine mask felt pulled away. And what it revealed… was just a man.