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Three sign-in tasks at once?
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Shiraha's mouth as he muttered to himself. He had thought the system's next task would not appear until the eve of Rukia's execution—or perhaps a few days before—but to his surprise it had already triggered, and not with one mission but three. His current template progress now stood at eighty percent. Completing these new tasks would push the Gojo Satoru template to ninety-eight.
"I hope the next template offers something even stronger," he thought. Once Fujitora's path had been completed, and with Gojo's template capped at one hundred, the moment he touched the complete Hōgyoku he would unlock the next. Even his Zanpakutō—his own true blade—lay waiting beyond that threshold. With a stronger template extracted, his strength would leap forward once again.
Above Seireitei, the air split as a blazing blue sphere plummeted toward the barrier. Every division member tilted their heads skyward. The orb struck the sekiseki-lined membrane encasing the Court of Pure Souls, a thunderous impact sending cracks of lightning tearing across the barrier. With a resounding crash, the protective field split open, flames bursting from the fractured sphere.
The fire scattered in four blazing streams, each breaking apart into fragments that streaked toward the Court below. From within those falling flames emerged Kurosaki Ichigo and his companions.
Shiraha narrowed his eyes, Observation Haki capturing every detail. "The Kakaku Cannon," he murmured. As expected, Ichigo and the others, denied entry at the main gate, had turned to Shiba Kūkaku's Flower Crane Cannon to breach Seireitei.
"It's been too long since I've seen Yoruichi. I should visit her first," Shiraha decided, knowing his current sign-in tasks could not be completed yet. The Seventh Division's duty was to defend the First and suppress rebellion. But Aizen had not yet revealed his treachery, and no rebellion had yet arisen within Seireitei. As for guarding the First—if there was an enemy they could not withstand, then the Seventh would be no use either. In truth, his division was the most relaxed in the Court.
Closing his eyes, he stretched his Haki outward, locked onto Yoruichi's position, and vanished with a flash of Cang.
Beneath Central 46, in the underground chamber where the trial platform loomed, Aizen sat calmly leafing through texts gathered from the Great Spirit Book Corridor. Tōsen Kaname stood silent behind him. Since leaving the First Division, the two had not returned to their barracks. Cloaked in black garments that masked their reiatsu, they had slipped away unnoticed. Their lieutenants and division members, all bound under Kyōka Suigetsu's complete hypnosis, remained oblivious to their absence.
"Ah, Captain Aizen," a drawling voice came from the shadows. Ichimaru Gin stepped forward, smiling. "Is it time to begin?"
"Well done, Gin. The preparations are complete. The plan can move forward." Aizen adjusted his glasses with a faint smile.
"Understood, Captain Aizen." Gin's fox-like grin never faltered.
"You stirred quite a commotion this time," Aizen added with amusement. "No doubt you've drawn the eyes of every captain." Originally, Gin's assignment at Baidaomon had been simple—let Kurosaki Ichigo and his allies slip through, staging a convenient clash with Shiraha to further their deception. But Shiraha had destroyed Baidaomon outright, and Gin had been forced to release Bankai to survive. The uproar had been greater than planned, yet it had ensured Yamamoto's attention.
"Without Bankai, I might have been killed," Gin admitted, still smiling though unease flickered in his eyes. "Captain Shiraha's strength is terrifying. If Kyōraku Shunsui and Unohana hadn't intervened, I'm not certain whether he was truly acting or if he intended to end me."
Shiraha had revealed only a fraction of his power, yet it had cornered Gin into releasing his Bankai. What if he had fought in earnest? The thought alone chilled even Gin.
"Do not worry, Gin," Aizen said smoothly, eyes glinting. "Shiraha will not strike you down. As long as he seeks the full Hōgyoku, he has no choice but to walk alongside me. Killing you serves him no purpose. It would only cast me as his enemy before the time is ripe."
"Understood," Gin murmured, bowing slightly.
"Tōsen. Gin. The original plan begins at dawn." Aizen's tone held quiet authority.
Tōsen lowered his head, stepped into shunpō, and vanished. Gin gave a shallow bow, his smile fixed, then disappeared as well. Alone, Aizen lowered his gaze, whispering Shiraha's name, a smile curving his lips.
Meanwhile, on a broad street in Seireitei, Zaraki Kenpachi scowled up at the sky. "Tch. Split into four pieces and scattered."
Yachiru, perched cheerfully on his shoulder, propped her chin in her hands, eyes wide with curiosity as she watched the light trails fall. Behind them, the Eleventh Division gathered, their reiatsu buzzing with excitement.
"Which one's the strongest?" Zaraki muttered, lips curling into a feral grin.
He had long since abandoned the thought of challenging Shiraha after witnessing his spell that froze even Kenpachi's blade mid-strike. Kyōraku Shunsui had been his next target, but every attempt to draw the Eighth Division captain into a fight ended in disappointment—Shunsui hiding away, or worse, indulging him only to hold back deliberately.
"The strongest ryoka… you're mine," Kenpachi growled, laughter rumbling in his throat. In a burst of speed he shot forward, charging toward the nearest streak of light.
"Let's go, everyone!" Yachiru shouted gleefully from his shoulder.
The Eleventh roared as one, scattering through the streets in pursuit, their blades eager for blood.
The hunt for Kurosaki Ichigo and his companions had begun.
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