The day of the Hunting Tournament arrived.
Seireitei, Noble Hunting Grounds.
Ito Makoto stood at the edge of the vast wasteland, gazing across the sprawling territory specifically reserved by the nobles for their annual hunt.
He quietly sensed the dense spiritual particles drifting through the air and let out a slow breath.
Although the spiritual concentration here could not compare to the private domains of the great noble clans, it far surpassed even the most prosperous districts of Rukongai. Yet such a land, rich with reishi, was reduced to nothing more than a playground for aristocratic amusement.
How ironic.
A tremor rolled across the ground.
A meticulously arranged honor guard advanced into the grounds, clad in uniform ceremonial attire. At the very front, two broad-shouldered men in formal robes carried tall screens, clearing the path with disciplined precision.
Ito Makoto narrowed his eyes slightly.
The spiritual pressure leaking unintentionally from those two alone was already at the level of low-ranking Seat Officers.
The name "Kasumioji" was emblazoned boldly across the screens.
"So it's the Kasumioji Family."
As expected of the foremost noble house beneath the Four Great Noble Families. Their display was extravagant enough to use seated officers as ceremonial guards.
The synchronized footsteps of hundreds struck the earth in perfect rhythm, clearly drilled over years of rehearsal.
Behind them followed a raised palanquin draped in pearl curtains, carried steadily by eight attendants. A figure sat within. The curtain shimmered faintly under a Kidō concealment technique, obscuring clear vision. Even so, the silhouette suggested a young woman of refined bearing.
After the Kasumioji procession entered, other noble families arrived in succession. A few imitated the palanquin display, some walked on foot, but most arrived in elaborate carriages.
Or rather hollow-drawn carriages.
The beasts pulling them were not horses but subjugated Hollows, massive and feral in form. Special Bakudō chains pierced through the hollow holes in their masks, binding them like livestock.
Ito Makoto observed carefully. These were powerful standard Hollows and oversized variants, yet none had evolved into Menos Grande-class Gillians.
One detail stood out.
Every Hollow bore a black chain insignia etched across its mask.
More nobles filtered into the grounds. In the crowd, Ito Makoto spotted the old man Yano Masahiko once again, accompanied by a young maiden.
"Ito Fourth Seat, you're early."
A Shinigami with short dark-blue hair and a composed smile approached him.
"Vice-Captain Yamada. Were you drafted into this farce as well?"
The man chuckled and shook his head.
"No. I volunteered."
He adjusted his sleeves calmly.
"As Vice-Captain of the Fourth Division, aside from Captain Unohana, I possess the most refined Kidō proficiency within the Gotei 13. Security coordination, emergency response, and medical support all fall within my expertise. The organizers were more than willing to assign me responsibility for the aftermath."
The man was Yamada Seinosuke, current Vice-Captain of the Fourth Division and elder brother of Yamada Hanatarō. He and Ito Makoto had crossed paths several times before, once even cooperating during a Hollow extermination mission. Their rapport was cordial.
"I didn't realize Vice-Captain Yamada took such interest in noble politics. Planning to marry into one?" Ito Makoto teased.
"That's your imagination speaking," Yamada replied mildly. "The Tsunayashiro Family has long funded certain Fourth Division initiatives. One of their lords is observing today's event and requested my attendance."
That explanation clarified something.
Ito Makoto glanced around.
"This is called the Noble Hunting Tournament, yet none of the Four Great Noble Families seem present."
Yamada looked at him with mild surprise.
"You truly don't know?"
"Should I?"
Then realization dawned on Yamada's face. Though Ito Makoto already held the Fourth Seat of the Eleventh Division, he had been in the Gotei 13 less than four years and had never witnessed a prior tournament.
"The so-called Noble Hunting Tournament," Yamada began patiently, "is a social maneuver orchestrated by the Kasumioji Family. As the strongest house beneath the Four Great Noble Families, they seek to consolidate declining lower-ranking nobles and elevate their influence. Their ultimate ambition is to replace the fallen Shiba Family."
Ito Makoto's eyes flickered faintly.
"The Kasumioji have petitioned Central 46 multiple times to strip the Shiba of their status and assume the vacant position. Each proposal was rejected, largely due to resistance from the remaining Great Noble Families."
He continued calmly.
"That is why the Four Great Noble Families do not participate. To do so would legitimize the Kasumioji's claim."
"So that's the game."
Ito Makoto exhaled softly.
Petty struggles among aristocrats, layered beneath a fragile illusion of order.
No wonder external threats had once breached Soul Society so easily.
While he entertained these thoughts, an elderly white-haired man wearing a monocle approached with composed dignity.
"Ito Fourth Seat," he said with a formal bow. "I am Un'ei, retainer of the Kasumioji Family. The Family Head requests your presence."
Ito Makoto instinctively glanced toward the palanquin at the heart of the procession. Behind the pearl curtain, the graceful silhouette shifted slightly its gaze unmistakably directed toward him.
From behind, Yamada's voice carried lightly.
"Seems you'll secure noble favor before I do. Congratulations in advance."
"Ito Fourth Seat, this way," Un'ei gestured respectfully.
The situation stirred unease.
His participation today had already come through a directive issued via Central 46 at the Kasumioji's request. Now the Family Head personally summoned him.
Why?
Why was the Kasumioji Family fixated on a Fourth Seat from Rukongai?
He dismissed the spiraling thoughts.
If it is fortune, it cannot be avoided. If it is calamity, fleeing is useless.
Without hesitation, he followed Un'ei toward the palanquin.
"Ito Fourth Seat, please come up. Let us speak."
The voice drifting from within was soft, melodic, almost unreal.
"Whoosh."
In the next instant, Ito Makoto used Shunpo to step lightly onto the carriage. He parted the pearl curtain.
Inside sat a woman of breathtaking beauty.
She wore luxurious layered robes adorned with delicate cherry blossom ornaments. Cascading silver hair framed a face as pale as fresh snow. Her light-purple eyes shimmered like drifting clouds over a twilight sky. She resembled a deity descending from a winter summit untouchable, distant, refined.
Every movement carried the weight of noble upbringing.
Even Ito Makoto, who retained memories of another world filled with countless beauties on screens, found himself briefly stilled.
Her lips curved faintly.
"Am I beautiful, Concubine?"
Her tone was gentle, almost teasing.
"Not bad, I suppose."
Ito Makoto sat down casually across from her, crossing his legs without ceremony.
Below, Un'ei stiffened.
"Ito Fourth Seat, please refrain from impropriety."
"It is fine," the silver-haired woman said softly, her voice calm and unhurried.