At the Captain-Commander's pronouncement, guilt flickered in Rukia's eyes.
She knew Yoshio had used bankai for her sake.
There are three ways to become a captain.
Pass the captain's test before at least three captains including the Captain-Commander.
Be jointly recommended by six or more captains and approved by three or more additional captains.
Defeat the incumbent captain before two hundred on-duty squad members.
Except for the Eleventh Division, the others require bankai.
Yamamoto had chosen the first, naming Yoshio captain.
They'd long suspected Yoshio had bankai; they'd just never seen it.
Now they had.
Which was why Rukia felt guilty.
Yoshio didn't want to be a captain. Others saw it as the pinnacle of honor; Yoshio treated fame and office like dirt. He hid bankai—especially with the Tenth's captain missing…
But for her, he used it before all, then transformed Homura and Shizuku into an artifact.
There's another way to tell a bankai-wielder: many need a release phrase for shikai, but those with bankai may not.
Hearing Yamamoto's decree, Yoshio was helpless.
He had considered he might be tapped for the Tenth—but this was fast.
He glanced at Aizen—who smiled with seeming warmth. "Congratulations, Yoshio-kun."
Ukitake and Kyōraku also congratulated him.
Yoshio sighed. "What about Captain Shiba?"
"Central 46 is still deliberating," Yamamoto said. "I have already rescinded his captaincy. Even if he is found, he will not be captain again."
He glanced at Rukia's pendant. "You're certain the parasitic hollow will not resurface?"
"Certain," Yoshio nodded. "And if anyone tries to escape the lonely hell, I will sense it at once."
"Then it's settled. Report to the Tenth tomorrow."
In other words: even if Isshin returned, the Tenth would be Yoshio's.
"…Yes!" Yoshio answered as firmly as he could.
The captains dispersed, leaving Yoshio and Rukia.
"Go on home, Rukia," Yoshio said. "Don't be sad about your brother's words. He has his reasons."
"I know." She bowed. "Though I said it before, I must repeat: thank you, Yoshio-senpai. If not for me, you wouldn't have used bankai."
"How about I treat you tomorrow?"
"Haha—buy me some good sake instead. The Kuchiki young lady can afford it, right?"
"Good sake…" Rukia thought. "I'll bring it tomorrow night!"
"Alright, off you go," Yoshio waved. "Work tomorrow."
He watched her go and returned home.
He found Yamiko in his room.
"Up so late?"
Yoshio yawned. "You've got class tomorrow, right?"
Yamiko closed her book. "I'm going to graduate."
"Eh?!"
His pupils widened. "Already? How long have you even been there?"
"I read that Captain Ichimaru Gin graduated Shin'ō Academy in a year. I feel I've nothing left to learn there. Do you think I should join the Tenth?"
"The Tenth, huh…" Yoshio brightened. "Sure—perfect timing; I'm headed there."
"Hm?" Yamiko blinked. "You're taking the Tenth's captaincy? Suddenly I feel like joining another division."
"Hey now—isn't your growth a little too fast?" Yoshio spluttered. "What's that supposed to mean? I become Tenth Captain and you want out? What did I do to you?"
"I heard from Hinamori-senpai and Lieutenant Matsumoto that you dump your work on others."
"I knew I shouldn't let you hang out with Rangiku so much. She's like that herself and has the gall to call me out," Yoshio grumbled. "Don't listen to them. Graduate and come to the Tenth."
Yamiko gave him a sidelong look. She was growing fast… and maybe getting a little, well, quirky.
Captain Aizen, don't blame me?
He groused internally. After seeing Yamiko out, he lay down, counting his gains.
He eliminated Y-older, one less spy on intel.
He gained a trove of Quincy material—fodder for Hogyoku research.
He nearly maxed Rukia's affection; Ukitake and Byakuya's affection rose past eighty—meaning he could permanently gain their soul abilities.
Byakuya's: "Elegance in Battle."
Ukitake's: "Host."
Both excellent.
Kyōraku's affection reached sixty, permitting a one-time borrow of "Two-faced."
Dark Rukia's wasn't yet eighty, but close.
Elsewhere, his avatar, Angra, infiltrated the main cast—starting to farm their favor.
Everything was going well.
He drifted off smiling.
Tomorrow would be his first day as captain.
As Yamamoto said, he didn't even need to stop by the Fifth—just report straight to the Tenth.
They'd surely been notified.
…
In the morning, Yoshio found a First Division courier at the door.
"Captain Yoshio—your captain's haori."
"You even deliver?"
He accepted the package—inside, the standard haori.
Wearing it—he had to admit—it looked good.
He sent the courier off, admired himself, and clicked his tongue.
"Nice. Big-boss vibes."
At the Tenth, Rangiku already had the squad assembled.
"Captain Yoshio, starting strong," she said drily as he approached. "Late on day one. I can already see my dark future."
"Ahem." He coughed. "Had something to handle. Everyone knows I'm captain? How's the mood?"
"How d'you think?" Rangiku huffed. "Captain Isshin's missing; now a new captain drops in. No one's in spirits. At least pretend to work hard for a bit."
"Relax—I'm no tyrant," he said. "Honestly, if Captain Isshin returns, I'd go back to Fifth Lieutenant."
"I doubt you'll get the chance," Rangiku shook her head. Captain Isshin had been gone too long.
They entered; as she said, the squad looked listless.
But many knew Yoshio—he was a popular author, often visiting other divisions, especially the Tenth and Thirteenth. Senior seats even had good impressions.
Still—Isshin's disappearance cast a pall.
Rangiku barked, "What did I say earlier? You want the new captain to look down on you?! Stand tall!"
Even bubbly Rangiku had authority here. The squad straightened.
Yoshio stepped forward, turned, and addressed them. "We share grief over Captain Shiba's disappearance."
"If not for the Captain-Commander's appointment, I'd still be Fifth Lieutenant. Not that lieutenancy is bad—but the Tenth's captaincy is a wider sky for me."
Though many knew he didn't want it, he wouldn't show disdain before them.
He didn't want a dead squad.
"So—since I'm your captain, I'll lead you. I won't claim I'll outdo Captain Shiba. I'll say this: I'll do my utmost to catch up, to disappoint neither the Captain-Commander nor you."
"Don't waste time on ceremony. Back to work."
"Rangiku—come in with me."
She nodded, and they entered the captain's office.
Captain's offices dwarf lieutenant's; both captain and lieutenant also have personal quarters attached.
Many captains live in their barracks—even Aizen. Only those with nearby homes, like Yoshio and Byakuya, often go home.
Inside, Yoshio mused. "Who'd think—captain in just a few years. Fastest in the Seireitei?"
"Hardly," Rangiku sniffed. "Hitsugaya next door is about to be captain. He'll be faster than you."
"He's not captain yet," Yoshio said from the captain's chair. "So I'm first."
He eyed the paperwork—already processed.
He looked at Rangiku, surprised. She flushed. "What are you staring at? Think I only drink?"
"Don't underestimate me!"
"I see. Otherwise I was about to… adjust you with my ability," he muttered.
"What was that?!" She sprang back. "What're you planning?!"
"Nothing. Just, if someone keeps slacking, I've got tools to make them diligent."
"Heh—use them on yourself first!" she snapped. "If there's nothing else, I'll go back to my office."
"Don't rush. I need a briefing on the division."
Even if you plan to slack, not on day one.
So he worked for real that day.
Even Rangiku hustled—what excuse could he have?
He even ate lunch at his desk.
In truth, there wasn't too much to handle; he processed it quickly.
Most of his time went into Hogyoku research.
Who needs lab gear? The mind can simulate.
He finally put the trove of Quincy souls to use.
…
That night, he returned home and entered Las Noches.
In his lab, he dropped a liquid onto a jade-like point of light.
It reacted—contracted, expanded, dimmed—finally becoming a glassy bead.
"Not bad. Pretty smooth."
Sweat dotted his brow.
This precision work was exhausting—more than a fight—especially a first attempt.
But success at once—his research talent?
He grinned and extracted the bead.
He had Aizen's notes, but only as reference.
Unfortunately, the Quincy souls had been tormented so long that outside Mayuri's systems, they were dissipating.
He didn't want to prolong their suffering, so he rushed the Hogyoku's creation.
This was only a prototype—far from complete—but the hardest step was over.
Next was feeding it souls; if needed, augment with fragments of the Soul King.
He'd handed most fragments to Baelz; he kept some, and Tokinada's ancestor had guided him to a large piece.
He shaved off a sliver and fed it to the bead.
The bead, hungry, devoured it—felt sated—then hungry again, craving more.
He stopped.
This one might go to Aizen—let Aizen puzzle it out.
He didn't mind giving him the Hogyoku—he wanted to witness the fusion of three Hogyoku.
After Aizen fused them, Yoshio could take the three-in-one for himself.
Let Aizen be his temp worker.
Don't think that fusing it makes it yours.
Yoshio had a soul ability: Host.
He could forcibly integrate an external item into his soul—even one that already had a master. Even if Aizen fused the triune Hogyoku, Yoshio could still integrate it.
With their relationship, surely Aizen wouldn't be stingy over a bead?
If he was… then Yoshio would stand on the side of justice.
But first—test this bead.
On whom?
His bead induced Quincy-ification—a lower-quality effect than Aizen's or Urahara's; Urahara's worked as a wish-granter, extracting his desire for hollowfication.
Yoshio's was limited: induce Quincy-ification—with unknown defects.
He chose a hollow test subject.
Source material?
Easy—Szayelaporro's lab.
Szayelaporro needed tons of subjects: some were Arrancar from Las Noches; most were captured hollows—over 80%.
Hueco Mundo was vast; hollows countless.
Millions die yearly in the living world; some become pluses to Soul Society; some—hollows—to Hueco Mundo, struggling in an endless evolutionary hell.
Soul Society had many districts; Hueco Mundo did not.
Szayelaporro never lacked test subjects.
When Yoshio arrived, Szayelaporro looked much better.
Since being forcibly excised from Stark, he'd been weak. Yoshio had thought he'd need years; he was already eighty to ninety percent recovered.
"Oh? You succeeded?"
Szayelaporro adjusted his glasses, intrigued.
"More or less."
Yoshio showed the bead. "I need test bodies. I'll try one here."
"Oh?"
"This is the Hogyoku?"
"Lesser Hogyoku," Yoshio quipped, moving to a sealed Arrancar. "Borrowing this one?"
"Help yourself."
Yoshio bathed the subject in the bead's light.
The sleeping Arrancar didn't know he was about to be reworked by a mad scientist.
As the light merged in, the body twisted.
A frown.
This was already an Arrancar; twisting further—
It became a monster.
The Arrancar roared in his sleep; light shone from the hole, the form convulsed, and finally became a mass of flesh.
Within glowed a light, resonating with the bead.
Then the mass dispersed like wind.
The flesh vanished; the uniform remained.
"Strange…"
Szayelaporro frowned. "A kind of assimilation with the environment?"
"Seems I've got a ways to go," Yoshio sighed. He hadn't expected success on the first try—but an Arrancar lasting seconds…
"This was soul suicide," he said. "Insufficient soul strength. Not only did the boundary between hollow and Quincy break, but the boundary between his soul and the outside did too."
"In the end, his soul fused with outer spiritons—completely dissipated."
He sighed again. "Arrancar, with shinigami factors within, should have had an advantage resisting boundary breaks—helping maintain form. Even so, he suicided in seconds."
Truly turning someone Quincy would be a long road.
Only after using it did Yoshio appreciate how grueling it was for Aizen to hollowfy hollows en masse.
"Doses and ratios, too," Szayelaporro noted. "Even if soul strength was low, an Arrancar shouldn't dissolve that fast."
"Yeah," Yoshio nodded. "We'll need more samples to calibrate. I'll be borrowing your collection."
"No matter. When it works, let me be first."
"With your soul strength, even failure won't insta-suicide. Plenty of room to save you."
He nodded—but he was busy lately…
He'd need Aizen's help.
…
The next day at noon, Yoshio returned to the Fifth to see Aizen.
"Lieuten—ah, no, Captain Yoshio—you're back?"
Hinamori greeted him. She looked troubled—and to Yoshio's surprise, the text above her had changed.
Her soul ability had been "Ultimate Defense," which he'd already permanently gained. It was powerful, if seldom used.
Now it read: "Truth and Illusion."
"Truth and Illusion: swap truth and illusion."
What did that mean?
He'd thought he had her permanently; her affection had been over ninety; now it was eighty-three.
What the heck?
Why the sudden drop?
He hid his puzzlement.
"Momo, I barely left and you're acting distant? I'm hurt."
He put on a wounded face. "Congrats on becoming lieutenant, by the way."
He knew this tied to Aizen—ever the puppeteer of hearts.
With Yoshio off to the Tenth, Hinamori, formerly third seat, naturally became lieutenant.
After becoming lieutenant, Aizen must have told her something.
Couldn't he have waited until Yoshio locked in the permanent ability? If her affection had to drop, let it drop after!
Though it might have changed only after Aizen spoke.
Truth and Illusion—what did it imply?
Hinamori managed a smile. "You came to see Captain Aizen, right? He's in his office. Shall I take you?"
"No need. You take care," Yoshio waved, and went alone.
…
Inside, Aizen sipped tea.
Yoshio sighed. "Captain Aizen, that wasn't very sporting."
"I barely left—and the tea grows cold."
"You saw Hinamori?"
"I did. What did you do to her?" Yoshio asked bluntly.
"That was your doing," Aizen said mildly. "I hadn't expected Hinamori to attain bankai."
"With that, she can't be a mere pawn."
"So… you laid cards on the table?" Yoshio blinked.
Aizen smiled, saying nothing.
…
Let's rewind briefly.
Last night—Yoshio's first day at the Tenth.
With Yoshio gone, many in the Fifth missed him.
Even Hinamori—despite being bullied into handling his paperwork—felt the absence.
She was lieutenant now, able to help Captain Aizen more—but felt a melancholic ache.
Perhaps noticing, when she placed a file on Aizen's desk, he called to her.
"Unhappy to be lieutenant?"
"N-no," she said quickly. "Just… I miss Yoshio-senpai."
"I see," Aizen murmured, rising. "Hinamori, come with me."
"Eh?" she blinked. "Where?"
He said nothing and walked past her.
She followed; being near Aizen always soothed her—though this place exuded ill omen.
"This is the decommissioned Image Hall," Aizen said. "Tokinada Clan black department. After their downfall, it was abandoned."
Tokinada had too many departments to assume; they were down to two people and a kid.
Some lesser branches were abandoned.
The Image Hall was a branch job—no one came to claim it.
Aizen led her inside. With no maintenance, the monitors were dead.
"Captain, why are we here?" Hinamori asked.
"Hinamori, what you see next may overturn your worldview," Aizen said, drawing a file marked "top secret" from a shelf. "I only recently found this. Even I was shaken."
What could shock Aizen?
She took it, flipped—and within pages, her eyes blew wide. Her breath quickened.
"Captain… Aizen…"
"Is this real?"
"Though I don't want to believe it—this is recorded history. Among the Five Great Clans, Tokinada embodies 'History.' Their archives are not false," Aizen said softly. "Read on. There is more… the sins of shinigami."
The file chronicled every darkness of the Seireitei—and Soul Society: from the Five Great Clans betraying the Soul King to create the three realms, to the machinations of recent centuries—every shadow, condensed.
Hinamori read faster—shock, then numbness—finally collapsing weakly.
"This… must be fake."
She whispered.
"The world itself is built on a sea of hellish blood," Aizen intoned, adjusting his glasses.
"Captain…" Her hands covered her face, eyes peering out in fear.
It was too horrific. How could such darkness lurk in righteous Seireitei?
Then… what were they? What were shinigami? Executioners? They fancied themselves guardians of balance—yet to those above, what were they really?
Tools for profit; blades to uphold rule.
How were they different from hollows?
Her worldview cracked.
Do not pursue the aesthetics of crossing blades.
Do not seek the virtue of dying without returning.
Do not consider only your own life.
If you would guard the One King and Five Lords, slaughter all enemies in the shade of leaves.
So read the Shin'ō Academy Handbook—every shinigami swore fealty to One King and Five Lords. But now…
To what had they sworn?
What is a shinigami?
More: if this continues, then the three realms…
"The three realms will collapse," Aizen said, reading her mind. "The Soul King in the sky is cruelly dismembered. The power that maintains the realms grows thin. One day, the three will collapse."
"And the cause is not Quincy, nor hollows. It is shinigami."
"I saw all this and began to doubt this world. What is the Seireitei? The Thirteen Court Guards? What am I? Do I guard this world—or harm it?"
"I… I don't know!" Hinamori clutched her head. "I can't tell! Who is right? Aren't we the balancers of the world?!"
"Yes, we are the balancers—but shinigami are not," Aizen's tone cooled. "Hinamori, now that we have seen the true world, we must walk to its end."
She looked up; Aizen seemed both unfamiliar and towering.
"Captain Aizen, what will you do? Publish this?"
"Impossible," Aizen shook his head. "Captain-Commander Yamamoto would never allow it. The oldest blade would turn on us the moment we tried."
"You saw the file; you know—they would absolutely do it."
"…" She said nothing. Indeed, even knowing that they knew this history might get them silently "disappeared."
Such cases dotted Seireitei's past.
"Does Yoshio-senpai… know?" she asked suddenly.
"No," Aizen said. "I only just found this, and Yoshio wasn't present. Besides…"
"In the Fifth, the one I trust most is you, Hinamori."
Her breath quickened; longing shone in her eyes. "Captain Aizen! What do you want me to do?!"
Aizen looked at her and spoke softly:
"We cannot let so-called shinigami remain fools, nor let those high above remain there. We—must be rebels, and drag them from Heaven's Gate into the blood sea of hell."