Soul Society.
Fourth Division barracks.
Shimo had just returned, wearing a relaxed expression.
"Hm?"
Something felt off. He muttered under his breath, "Strange… As the lieutenant who treats his subordinates so kindly, I'm rather well liked in Seireitei. So why hasn't a single team member come to greet me? Did something… happen while I was gone?"
As he walked deeper into the barracks, a realization struck him.
"The monthly ikebana competition!"
Shimo's eyes lit up. "Right—whoever wins gets a full month off from duties. Though… it's always Captain Unohana."
Despite the long lives of Shinigami, they weren't machines. Occasional leisure kept them sane—like the Fourth Division's flower contest, the Sixth Division's noble gatherings, or the Eighth Division's sake-tasting events.
Well, maybe not the Eleventh Division's sparring duels… those were more of a blood sport than relaxation.
For them, dying in battle was practically considered a noble ending.
"Still," Shimo sighed dramatically, "my artistic career in ikebana was ruined after one small 'accident.'"
He arrived at Training Ground No. 2, where the division's spiritual pressure gathered thickly. The field was an open-air arena, with seating arranged in a semicircle around a wide platform.
Unlike the loud chaos of other events, this one was eerily silent. All the seated Shinigami were focused, watching the competitors at their stands. Each participant was immersed in delicate, careful work.
Shimo hid his reiatsu completely and used Bakudō #26: Kyokko (Bent Light), vanishing from sight.
He was genuinely curious about how the contest had evolved—and besides, this was his chance to prove he had artistic talent, too.
After spotting Unohana's position, he quietly moved to a far corner of the field. Finding a spot where no one was paying attention, he struck a random participant lightly on the neck—knocking the poor man out cold—and casually took his place at the stand.
"Now then… what theme do we have this time?"
He frowned slightly at the remaining flowers. "Ah, the previous contestant had some imagination—he was using gentians as the centerpiece to 'praise Captain Unohana's virtues.' What a bootlicker."
Shimo blinked, half amused, half impressed. "Didn't expect such talent in the Fourth Division. Shame, though… you just had bad luck running into me."
He glanced toward the corner, sighed with mock pity, then smiled. "Let's try the ikebana techniques I learned in the Human World."
Crossing his fingers, he stretched his hands forward. "At least there's a decent variety of flowers left."
For more than ten years living in the Human World, Shimo hadn't spent all his time idly petting cats or exterminating Hollows. He'd studied quite a few crafts—mostly because he was bored.
Zanpakuto meditation could only be done once a day, and most Hollow extermination tasks took mere minutes. He had plenty of time to waste.
The arena remained quiet… until someone in the crowd noticed the familiar figure working in the corner.
The silence broke like a stone dropped into still water—ripples of whispers spreading in every direction.
Unohana, focused on her own arrangement, frowned slightly at the sudden noise. The air grew cold, tension freezing the room. In an instant, everyone fell silent again.
Minutes passed, and the competition neared its end.
A clear chime echoed from the stage. "Time's up!"
The voice of the timekeeper carried across the field through Kidō amplification. All competitors set down their tools.
Shimo finally relaxed, exhaling. "That was… trickier than expected."
If not for the time acceleration he'd used to work ten times faster, he might not have finished in time.
Judges were always chosen from the previous year's top three contestants—which meant Unohana herself was both competitor and judge… and potentially the biggest bias in the room.
When the judging began, Unohana's eyes quickly found Shimo's bright grin among the participants.
She hadn't cared much when he decided to enter. Her previous "ban" on him competing was half-joke anyway. But when she looked at the flowers on his stand, her gaze softened with genuine surprise.
"Shimo-kun's skill seems to have improved quite a bit," she murmured.
Beside her, Kotetsu Isane blinked, astonished. "Th-that's… actually impressive!"
Judging began in order of presentation. Shimo's position was deliberately saved for last.
"Shimo-kun," Unohana said gently, stopping before his stand. Her warm smile carried a subtle, unreadable emotion.
When she looked down, her eyes widened slightly.
Before her was a purple-themed arrangement: the flowers intertwined in deliberate, elegant layers, with curling blue stems spiraling around the central gentians like a flowing river.
It wasn't the most extravagant piece she'd ever seen—but it was refined, balanced, and undeniably beautiful.
The judges around her, including Isane, exchanged surprised glances. Everyone in the Fourth Division knew Shimo's reputation: his "art" had once been so atrocious that Unohana herself jokingly banned him from competing.
And yet… this work was flawless. The color harmony, the balance between blossoms and vase—it was professional-grade art.
"Does this piece have a name?" Unohana asked softly.
Shimo smiled, confident. "Swordsmanship."
At that word, the flowers on the stand bloomed fully. A sharp yet serene sword like feeling rippled through them, flowing like crystal-clear water.
"What a splendid creation," Unohana said, smiling faintly.
Isane nodded eagerly—until she heard what came next.
"This is your haori, isn't it, Shimo-kun? I like it very much."
Isane's neck stiffened with a creak, eyes wide. Wait—what did I just hear?!
No, she must be hallucinating. Maybe the stress of work had gotten to her. Or maybe Shimo's spiritual pressure was interfering with her hearing.
Shimo's face, meanwhile, froze into a colorful mix of disbelief and awkward pride. "Uh… if you like it, then… that's good."
Smack!
Both turned toward the sound—Isane had slapped her own cheek, wincing.
As their gazes shifted away, she rubbed her face painfully and muttered, It hurts… so it's not a dream.
What followed made her brain nearly short-circuit.
Unohana extended a delicate hand toward Shimo.
"W-wait, Captain, what are you doing?!" Isane screamed internally, blushing furiously, already imagining an entirely different kind of scene.
"Shimo-kun," Unohana said softly, pulling her back to reality. "May I have this piece?"
"…Ah. The ikebana."
Somehow, Isane felt an odd disappointment.
"Of course," Shimo replied smoothly. "It was made for you, after all."
Unohana smiled beautifully. "Thank you, Shimo-kun."
Isane was beyond words now. First Shimo the "art disaster" turned into an art prodigy, and now Unohana—Unohana!—was smiling like that.
"My worldview… is broken," Isane whispered blankly.
Unohana gave her an amused glance but said nothing.
That day, Shimo won first place. Whether it was legitimate or not, nobody dared question it. Everyone knew the captain held both veto and approval power.
After that, life returned to normal—or so it seemed.
Lying back on a sunlit chair, Shimo knew better.
The gears of the world had begun turning again.
The Hollow outbreaks in the Human World had been quelled; the number of Hollows was dropping sharply. With the new spiritual energy detectors from the Department of Research and Development, the Human World seemed calm once more.
Most stationed Shinigami were being recalled, leaving only the Thirteenth Division for field duties.
A month later, Shiba Kaien returned to act as substitute captain of the Thirteenth, since Ukitake Jūshirō's illness had worsened.
But with everyone returning, new issues surfaced—one in particular.
The Fifth Division's lieutenant… had gone missing.
Inside the Fifth Division's barracks, Aizen Sōsuke stood calmly, hands folded before him, his white captain's haori draped loosely over his shoulders.
"Gin. Have you finished the investigation?" His voice was gentle, unreadable.
From the shadows, a black-robed figure emerged, pale lavender hair glinting faintly under the light.
"Yes, Captain Aizen," Ichimaru Gin replied. "Everything's exactly as you predicted."
Aizen smiled faintly, walking toward the window. His eyes lifted to the sky of Seireitei.
"As expected… there's been a small disturbance."
"But that's fine. The plan proceeds as usual."
He turned slightly, voice smooth as silk. "You may return, Gin."
Gin bowed, uncharacteristically serious. "Yes, Captain Aizen."
A flash of light enveloped him as he vanished once more.
Aizen continued to gaze upward, his tone calm and distant.
"The sky of Seireitei… remains as dull as ever."
---------------------------///
Advance Chapters on Patreon!
p(a)treon(.)com/HudaLin
-Remove the parenthesis to access patreon normally
Thanks for the Support