"Cough cough!!"
Kyōraku Shunsui nearly choked on his tea.
Staring in disbelief, he asked again, almost in a daze:
"…Say that one more time.
Which Division?!"
Shimo calmly repeated:
"The Fourth Division."
The conviction in his voice was something Shunsui had never seen before.
Studying him closely and realizing this wasn't some kind of joke, Kyōraku slowly set his teacup down and tapped his fingers on the table, brows slightly furrowed.
After a brief pause, he asked:
"…Can you tell me why?"
Shimo responded without hesitation:
"Because I'm deeply interested in Kaidō(Healing Arts)."
"Besides, combat isn't really my thing. And more importantly, since you have no plans to get married or have children, someone has to think about carrying on the Kyōraku family line."
"Going to the battlefield only increases the risk of death."
Clearly, Shimo was very skilled at shifting topics. In just a few words, he'd redirected the conversation back to Shunsui.
Hearing those reasons, Shunsui froze for a moment—then burst out laughing.
"Well, since you've already made up your mind, I won't try to interfere."
"Study hard at the Shin'o Academy. Cherish your time there."
"The Seireitei… is far more complicated than you imagine."
With that, Shunsui stood and took his leave.
Shimo had always trusted this elder of his.
Yet the last words Shunsui spoke still lingered in his mind.
This seemingly lazy, carefree Captain—known for his indulgent ways—was, in truth, one of the most perceptive people in the entire Gotei 13. Clearly, he'd sensed something.
"…Should I start keeping a lower profile now?"
Deep in thought, Shimo reviewed all that he'd done recently.
But moments later, he gave a wry smile:
"I've already left an impression on the Captains. What good would it do to hold back now?"
Right now, the Seireitei was like a murky swamp.
One misstep, and you could be dragged under.
The only solution—was to gain the strength to rise above that swamp.
With that clarity, Shimo calmed his thoughts and sat cross-legged, posture straight.
He placed his Asauchi flat across his knees, one hand resting on the pommel, the other gently caressing the blade.
Closing his eyes, he focused his mind.
His intense concentration allowed him to re-enter the meditative state known as Zanpakutō Communion.
That familiar realm returned.
The world of ticking clocks.
The path of frozen time.
Once more, they appeared before him.
"Wasn't this place destroyed?"
"…Does it reconstruct itself every time I enter?"
The questions swirled in his mind, but in this space—where he was utterly alone—there were no answers.
Everything could only be unraveled through his own exploration.
But this time, he entered the Zanpakutō world with far more confidence.
Now that he possessed Captain-class spiritual pressure, he was several times stronger than before.
"I hope this time, I can finally see what's on that throne."
With renewed determination, Shimo unleashed his spiritual pressure along the path of time.
Centered on him, an overwhelming surge of energy exploded outward—waves of spiritual pressure shattered countless clocks in an instant.
The immense spiritual power surged like a rising tide, crashing through this entire realm.
Eyes steady, Shimo watched the transformation unfold.
Endless darkness reappeared before him.
The shattered clocks dissolved into the void without a trace.
Ahead, the darkness rippled like the surface of a wind-stirred lake.
From within it, a throne rose—emerging from the shadows.
Distorted and broken timepieces clustered around it like twisted offerings.
But then came the disappointment.
The throne was empty.
"…Well, that raises the next question."
He looked around, brows furrowing.
"Where the hell is my Zanpakutō spirit?"
At this point, Shimo seriously began to suspect that he'd stumbled into a fake Zanpakutō space.
A world of false clocks.
A brittle road of time.
Even a mere flare of his spiritual pressure could obliterate it.
And then—just black void. An empty throne.
"No… the answer must lie on that throne."
Shimo took a step forward.
Just as his foot moved into the void—the time path reformed beneath him.
But unlike before, it was no longer flat.
Instead, layers upon layers of stairs made from clock fragments rose in an ascending spiral.
As he watched in astonishment, the throne began to rise as well—floating ever higher into the unreachable sky.
"…Is that what this is?"
"Do I have to climb up to it?"
He stepped onto the first stair.
The moment his foot touched it, an unbearable pressure slammed down on him!
Gritting his teeth, Shimo summoned his spiritual pressure to resist, relieving some of the burden.
It felt like a mountain had fallen on him—even lifting a single finger was excruciating.
Relying solely on sheer willpower, he managed to reach the first step.
But the moment he reached for the second—
—even greater pressure crushed down!
In the next instant, his vision blurred—
—and he was forcibly ejected from the Zanpakutō realm.
"Huff… huff…"
Awake again, Shimo gasped for breath, lungs straining.
That overwhelming pressure had placed an unimaginable burden on him.
His entire body was drenched in sweat—his freshly changed Academy uniform soaked through.
But…
He didn't leave empty-handed.
With great effort, he raised a trembling finger.
A faint, shimmering power danced around it.
"The power of time…"
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
His eyes gleamed with radiant resolve.