The Kuchiki Main Estate
This residence, which symbolized the majesty and heritage of the oldest and most respected noble family in the Soul Society, was now completely enveloped in a solemn and heavy atmosphere.
Quite unlike the previous funeral of Shihōin Kiyomasa, which, though grim, was limited in scale, the farewell ceremony for the current Head of the Kuchiki Clan and Byakuya Kuchiki's grandfather—Ginrei Kuchiki—was the most grand and magnificent scene the noble circles of the Seireitei had witnessed in a century.
The courtyard, once a symbol of immortality and solemnity, had been completely transformed into the main venue for the funeral.
Massive black drapes stretched from the four corners of the courtyard to the eaves of the main hall, like a low-hanging canopy that absorbed all excess light.
Thousands of white paper cranes and massive wreaths made of ice-wheel flowers were interspersed among them, looking cold and elegant yet radiating an indescribable, heavy pressure. The spacious courtyard floor was covered in pure white spiritual sand, now trodden smooth as a mirror by the countless footsteps of those coming to offer their condolences.
Ginrei Kuchiki's massive coffin, covered with the family crest, was placed on a high platform erected in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by several rings of soul lamps burning with eternal bluish-white flames. Standing by the casket were the most loyal old servants of the Kuchiki family, as motionless as stone statues.
The new head of the family, Byakuya Kuchiki, still young and dressed in black, knelt in the lower position in front of the coffin. His posture was ramrod straight, his face pale as paper, and his eyes hollow, yet he strove to maintain the coldness and arrogance befitting a Kuchiki family head, a trait etched into his very bones.
He looked like a piece of jade that had just been placed on an altar—beautiful yet fragile, bearing the mountain-like weight of the entire family and the scrutinizing gazes of the entire Seireitei.
The guests were arranged in specific areas of the main courtyard. At the highest point, closest to the coffin, were the seats for the various captains of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads.
Captain Commander Yamamoto sat in the seat of honor, as steady as a rock.
He sat with his eyes closed to rest his spirit, but the invisible, terrifying spiritual pressure around him, which made the very air feel thick, ensured that no one dared to make a sound.
However, not all seats were filled with people wearing captains haori. In the captain's seats, several Vice-Captains sat somewhat conspicuously.
The shadow of the Hollowfication incident was still silently spreading.
Captain of the 5th Division Hirako Shinji, Captain of the 7th Division Love Aikawa, Captain of the 9th Division Kensei Muguruma, Captain of the 12th Division Hiyori Sarugaki, and Captain of the 3rd Division Rōjūrō Otoribashi—five captain seats were vacant!
The reasons for their absence were an open secret among the high-ranking officials, while among the ordinary seat holders, it sparked whispered speculation and complex, hard-to-describe emotions.
At this moment, representing them there were the Vice-Captain of the 3rd Division, Chikane Iba (Tetsuzaemon Iba's mother); the Vice-Captain of the 7th Division, Jin'emon Kotsubaki (Sentarō Kotsubaki's father); and the Vice-Captain of the 12th Division, Mayuri Kurotsuchi (whether he's currently serving as captain or not).
These Vice-Captains carried a hint of restraint and invisible pressure in the face of such an occasion, further highlighting how heavy the trauma brought by Hollowfication was.
The active captains each maintained their own posture:
Kyoraku Shunsui kept his straw hat very low and, unusually, was not drinking; he simply stroked the Katen Kyōkotsu at his waist.
Jūshirō Ukitake was pale, coughing softly from time to time, his gaze looking worriedly at Captain Commander Yamamoto and Byakuya Kuchiki.
Aizen Sōsuke sat in the seat for the Captain of the 5th Division, as gentle and refined as ever, his gaze behind his gold-rimmed glasses deep and unfathomable.
Suì-Fēng sat in the Second Division seat, her posture straight and her gaze as sharp as a hawk's, scanning the entire venue as she carried out her duties.
Unohana Retsu still maintained her gentle and calm appearance, but deep in her eyes was an insight and compassion for life.
Kenpachi Kiganjō lay half-reclined in the Eleventh Division seat in a boisterous manner, clearly extremely impatient with such tedious ceremonies, his gaze scanning around as if searching for prey.
The noble area was even more clearly demarcated with a strict hierarchy. The seats for the top four clans were naturally at the very front and in the most prominent positions.
Almost every noble who possessed a surname and spiritual land had sent a representative, and in some cases, the family heads themselves attended.
Tsunayashiro, Shihōin, shiba (represented by important family members, though their status was clearly not what it once was), including many heads or heirs of high-ranking noble families like the Kasumiōji, as well as countless representatives of Lower-ranking nobles, their figures nearly filled every corner of the courtyard.
Dressed in fine silks and brocades, their complex and magnificent family crests were particularly striking against the plain white background.
The cold scent of expensive incense permeated the air, but even stronger were the silently flowing scrutinies of power, the weighing of interests, and the whispered assessments of the fate of a top noble family about to enter a new era.
The glory of the Kuchiki family was once like the sun and moon in the Seireitei's sky, and at this moment, all the nobles were witnessing with their own eyes the afterglow of this "sun" before sunset—it was still radiant and awe-inspiring, but beneath that brilliance was a heavy air of decline that could not be ignored.
Perhaps, "This is the last of the Kuchiki family's glory,"—this thought quietly surfaced in many people's hearts, even among those wearing solemn expressions.
Shihōin Hiroki sat in the prestigious seat belonging to the head of the Shihōin Clan, his gaze calmly sweeping across this grand and oppressive scene.
Beside him, Uchiha Izumi stood in silence as always, her eyes sharp and alert to her surroundings, maintaining a perfect guard posture.
On the other side stood the maid, Tamaki Chizuru, who was significantly different. Since Hiroki had "invested" in her, spending points to exchange for a vast amount of power sufficient to promote her to Third-Class Spiritual Pressure (though he felt a bit of a sting at the high processing fee), her internal life essence had undergone a qualitative leap.
The marks left by time on her face had miraculously faded significantly; her skin was smooth, her posture erect, and her eyes were clearer and sharper. From her appearance, she looked as if she had aged backward by over a decade, and standing with Izumi, they almost looked like sisters.
To avoid attracting unnecessary trouble or too much pointless scrutiny (a maid with Captain-level spiritual pressure would be far too conspicuous), Hiroki had specifically had her wear an exquisite spiritual pressure regulation and suppression bracelet developed and produced by Urahara Kisuke.
At this moment, her spiritual pressure was steadily suppressed to the level of an ordinary Seat Officer, as she low-key and obediently fulfilled her duties as a personal maid.
Under the respectful and decent guidance of the Kuchiki family servants, Hiroki and his party were led to their reserved seats.
What made him feel slightly nuanced was that sitting next to him was the head of the old-guard top noble Tsunayashiro Clan—Tsunayashiro Tokishirabe.
Tokinada had an elegant posture, wearing an exquisite dark-patterned kimono, with a face that wore a textbook, impeccable expression of grief and composure for the noble circles.
Their eyes briefly met in the air, and both clearly captured that slight, imperceptible insight in the other's eyes regarding the essence behind the grandeur of the entire scene.
Without words, both nodded slightly, their eyes exchanging a hint of unspoken indifference and detachment—this was the most common "greeting" among the top nobles of the Soul Society, a ritualistic gesture with a sense of distance.
Hiroki took his seat.
Although the seats were of the highest specification, there was still a carefully calculated distance of a full two meters between the two tables symbolizing their identities.
This just-right space reflected respect for both families' status and perfectly outlined the invisible, insurmountable territorial barriers in noble social interaction.
After a long period of silence, the ceremony entered its core part.
Captain-Commander Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni slowly stood up.
The moment his not-particularly-tall body rose, he seemed to become the center of the entire world. All small sounds completely vanished, and even breath seemed to freeze.
The Captain Commander walked toward the high platform step by step, each step as heavy as a thousand pounds.
He stood still before Ginrei Kuchiki's coffin, his withered palm extended. Without any chanting or flashy movements, pure and majestic spiritual pressure flowed toward the casket like a trickling stream.
This was not power used for combat, but a guide, a reception, the fulfillment of a Shinigami's final duty—the Soul Burial.
His movements were sacred and solemn, carrying a compassion seasoned by time and an unquestionable majesty.
Under the guidance of that purest spiritual power, Ginrei Kuchiki's soul seemed to find peace, breaking free from the shackles of the Human World and transforming into specks of pure reishi. Following some ancient law, it slowly rose toward the place of reincarnation for the three worlds.
This silent farewell was the final decency and glory given to this old noble by the highest authority of the Soul Society's top combat power.
The entire courtyard was so quiet that a pin drop could be heard. Everyone stood with their heads bowed in respect, their eyes following the gradually dissipating spiritual light, each with their own thoughts.
Hiroki stood in his place, bowing along with the crowd.
However, his mind was not entirely immersed in this solemn Soul Burial ceremony.
The long Soul Burial ceremony finally came to an end.
The atmosphere in the courtyard was like a thawing lake, beginning to show ripples that eventually and inevitably evolved into waves. The long-suppressed noble social instincts began to fully revive.
The grief and solemnity of the funeral were quickly replaced by the bustle of interwoven interests, relationship maintenance, and intelligence gathering, like a fading ink wash painting.
Hiroki and his Shihōin Clan instantly became one of the centers of the whirlpool.
The Shihōin Clan's situation in recent years formed a very sharp contrast with that of the Kuchiki Clan. Although the head, Yoruichi, was sentenced to a hundred years of exile for raiding the execution grounds, anyone with a discerning eye could see the true nature of this "exile"—under Hiroki's management, it looked more like a distant "cultivation journey."
More importantly, the Shihōin Clan itself had not lost its vitality! Hiroki held the center, plus there was the Captain of the Second Division Suì-Fēng, as well as Fugaku and Shisui, who had already revealed their strength.
The Shihōin Clan truly maintained three "Captain-level" top combatants!
This formidable strength, combined with Hiroki's consistently "steady" (in their eyes) style of always being able to grasp key resources, made him an immediate target for recruitment and testing by all parties.
"Lord Hiroki, it has been a long time. Is your noble health well?"
"The acting head of the Shihōin family has become increasingly composed in his bearing."
"I wonder if Lord Hiroki has any insights regarding the recent changes in industrial properties in certain noble districts?"
"Young Master Yushiro is young and promising; his future is truly limitless."
"I heard that Lady Yoruichi has also had extraordinary encounters in the Outer Realms..."
Various greetings, probings, and purposeful small talk surged toward Hiroki like a tide. Whether from old-guard nobles or emerging forces, their words were filled with obvious flattery and cautious intimacy.
Hiroki wore a just-right smile that befitted his status as acting head, but deep in his eyes was his usual laziness and calm.
He brushed them off with standardized, ambiguous noble platitudes like "Everything is fine," "My younger brother still needs tempering," "I don't deserve such praise," "Thank you for your concern," and "Let's wait and see."
Izumi guarded him like a rock, a step behind and to his side, her cold gaze forming an invisible barrier that blocked out excessive or presumptuous intimacy.
Chizuru, meanwhile, skillfully played the role of a perfect retainer, bowing and responding tactfully to greetings that needed some processing but weren't worth a direct refusal from Hiroki.
A crowd also gathered around Tsunayashiro Tokishirabe. As the leader of one of the Four Great Noble Clans, Tokinada's popularity was naturally top-tier. He handled it with ease, the smile on his face and the sharp wit in his words as elusive as a ghost.
Occasionally, he would seemingly unintentionally sweep his gaze toward Shihōin Hiroki, his eyes carrying a hint of playfulness and an imperceptible comparison.
In contrast, today's nominal "protagonist," the new Kuchiki head Byakuya Kuchiki, experienced a massive drop-off.
Even though he tried his best to maintain his dignity and a cold expression, the gazes people cast at him were a mix of sympathy, scrutiny, assessment, and even imperceptible slight.
The words of condolence offered to him were mostly formulaic and ritualistic. There wasn't much deep exchange, nor were there many enthusiastic inquiries about future cooperation with the Kuchiki family.
Everyone simply fulfilled a necessary procedure, expressed their sorrow for the deceased, and then hurriedly left the scene to turn toward Hiroki, Tokinada, or other core circles of influence.
The Kuchiki family's former prestige and influence were rapidly dissipating in this naked contrast, like mist under the sun.
With Sōjun's early death, Kōga's defection, and now the loss of their anchor Ginrei Kuchiki, leaving only a young family head with a shallow foundation who had yet to fully prove himself, the difficulty of his future situation was already evident in everyone's quiet social choices.
After a round of "audiences" and socializing, Hiroki felt more tired than if he had unleashed a single strike of Tai Xu Sword Qi.
Just as he breathed a secret sigh of relief and was about to signal Izumi and Chizuru to slip away quietly—
A young girl's voice, slightly raised and carrying obvious displeasure and a hint of grievance, clearly pierced through the bustle of the crowd and stabbed straight into Hiroki's ears:
"Ho! Isn't this Lord Hiroki? It really has been~ a~ long~ time~ hasn't it?"
The thick sarcasm and teeth-gritting tone in that voice caused some nearby nobles who hadn't left yet to cast curious glances.
Hiroki looked toward the sound and saw a young girl in full dress standing a few steps away with her hands on her hips.
She wore the exquisite kimono standard for a young girl of a Lower-ranking noble family, with an elaborate hairstyle, skin as white as snow, and quite refined features, carrying an air of pampered and protected nobility.
Hiroki felt this face was somewhat familiar, as if it could touch some corner deep in his memory, but the specific information was like being covered by a thick veil; he simply couldn't remember exactly who she was.
When did he ever provoke such a little girl? He frowned slightly, his eyes filled with genuine confusion:
"Um, hello? Do we... know each other?"