"Ito Fourth Seat, I've long heard of your name."
The white-haired woman gazed at Ito Makoto, her light purple pupils rippling faintly like autumn water.
"To think that a mere commoner Shinigami from Rukongai like myself would be remembered by the esteemed Xia Dalulu Head truly leaves me flattered and uneasy."
Though Ito Makoto's tone carried deliberate exaggeration, his expression remained calm, as if he were commenting on something trivial.
With strength already at Vice-Captain level, and able to borrow thirty percent of his main body's spiritual pressure to temporarily step into Captain-class power, there were few in Seireitei he truly feared. Aside from the top-tier Captains and Aizen's hidden faction, he could walk freely so long as he did not recklessly provoke the wrong people.
The Kasumioji Family did not qualify as untouchable in his eyes.
Captains without powerful noble backing might hesitate before such influence, especially those with families rooted in Soul Society. But Ito Makoto was different. He had risen alone from Rukongai and owed no allegiance beyond necessity.
If the Kasumioji truly sought to move against him, he could eliminate the problem at its root, sever ties with Soul Society, and retreat to the Human World to join Kisuke Urahara. At worst, his main body could recall this clone early and recreate another Shinigami incarnation. By then, who would remember the name Ito Makoto?
Seeing the faint detachment in his gaze, the noblewoman did not take offense.
"Allow me to formally introduce myself. My name is Kazumichi Asayuki, the current Xia Dalulu Head. My father also came from Rukongai… and his surname was Ito."
Ito Makoto's face did not change, yet a storm rose within his heart.
Could she be the daughter of Ito Kai and Kasumioji Yunchuan? Yet no trace of her existed in Ito Kai's fragmented memories.
He suppressed the ripple instantly.
"Xia Dalulu Head, surely you don't believe there is some special connection between your honored father and myself?"
Kazumichi Asayuki smiled gently.
"Ito Fourth Seat misunderstands. My father passed away centuries ago. It is only that you share the surname Ito, both hail from Rukongai, both joined the Eleventh Division, and both are regarded as prodigies. The coincidences are simply too many. I wished to meet you out of curiosity. I hope you do not mind."
"So that is all. Xia Dalulu Head overpraises me."
At that moment, Ito Makoto became completely certain.
She was indeed Ito Kai's daughter.
More importantly, he had not been exposed.
For a brief instant he had suspected that his covert cooperation with his main body in ambushing the expeditionary force in Hueco Mundo and seizing the Bakuyotō had come to light. Now he was reassured.
They exchanged several more polite remarks.
"Ito Fourth Seat, the Hunting Tournament is about to begin. Would you care to watch it at my side?"
He shook his head lightly.
"I appreciate the Head's kindness, but I will refrain."
With a flash of Shunpo, he exited the carriage and returned to the Shinigami assigned to escort duty.
Soon after, the two men leading the Kasumioji procession stepped forward and unfurled the large screens in their hands. The painted pavilions and courtyards depicted upon them flew outward as streams of light.
Rumble the empty wasteland transformed instantly as courtyards materialized one after another. Nobles entered their respective viewing areas and took their seats. Naturally, the Kasumioji Family occupied the central pavilion.
Ito Makoto narrowed his eyes slightly.
Those screens were undoubtedly rare Kidō treasures.
Once all were seated, the retainer Yunoi ascended to the highest platform and began to speak.
"This old man is Yunoi of the Kasumioji Family. Regarding this Hunting Tournament…"
His voice was not loud, yet it resonated across the vast grounds, clearly amplified by sound-transmission Kidō.
As the tournament was declared open, several figures in white robes appeared, pushing forth a massive scroll. When it was cast into the sky, it transformed into a stream of light that descended upon the wasteland, becoming hundreds of iron gates resembling prison doors.
Through the bars, Hollows could be seen.
All were powerful standard Hollows or giant variants, none reaching Menos Grande Gillian class. Each mask bore the same black chain insignia seen on the Hollow-drawn carriages, and their spiritual pressure was suppressed to less than one-third of normal capacity.
"So the Hunting Tournament is merely slaughtering restrained Hollows?"
Ito Makoto felt a trace of disdain.
If they craved Hollow extermination, why not join the expeditionary forces in Hueco Mundo? Dressing slaughter as sport was nothing more than aristocratic boredom.
As preparations concluded, young noble heirs gathered before the iron gates, eager and restless. Many wore Shinigami uniforms, active members of the Gotei 13 born into privilege the so-called celestial dragons of Soul Society.
A massive semi-oval purple barrier rose over the arena, resembling a miniature Sealed World barrier.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The iron gates slowly opened. Before the Hollows could surge out, the participants charged inward, initiating one-sided hunts within isolated battle spaces.
Ordinarily, Hollows purified by Zanpakutō would dissolve entirely into reishi. Here, however, though their bodies disintegrated, the masks bearing the black chain marks remained intact.
The noble youths collected these masks at their waists as trophies.
From the viewing pavilions, nobles watched closely, comparing results and boasting over whose descendant gathered more.
The constant noise from the stands and the predictable slaughter below gradually dulled Ito Makoto's interest.
To him, this spectacle was no more stimulating than watching children quarrel over imaginary glory.
Then the sky tore open.
A massive rift nearly a thousand meters long split the heavens above the hunting grounds, revealing the bleak expanse of Hueco Mundo.
From the opening emerged a colossal Menos Grande resembling a grotesque worm. Its face bore no features save a single enormous mouth that spewed viscous fluid as it descended followed by hundreds of Gillians.
Ito Makoto's eyes sharpened.
"Is that… Fleur?"