Chapter 91: Fifth Division's Movie Project
A ray of golden sunlight tore through the last of the night as the sun rose from the eastern horizon of the Seireitei.
That blinding light poured straight into the eyes of Takeru and Ichigo.
Even so, neither of them flinched.
This was the First Division's kendo dojo, a semi open, open sided hall with one side facing the sunrise.
And they were facing that direction, swinging their swords.
It was their usual morning Genryu training.
Yamamoto Genryusai was there as well.
The three stood side by side, silently staring at the sun as if it were something that could be cut down, and swung their bamboo swords in unison.
In kendo terms, it would look like suburi practice.
But it was not.
This was hasuji.
The trajectory, angle, and line of the blade.
The bamboo swords in their hands had blunt, oval tips, and the shafts were specially made with a bizarre, uneven weight distribution.
Worse, their vision was partially washed out by the light of their "enemy."
And unlike a normal fight, they could not rely on spiritual pressure to sense anything at all.
Even so, the bamboo swords in their hands moved like real blades.
Sharp, whistling sounds tore through the air, one after another.
You could tell immediately that the air itself was being split by something thin and keen.
That was the point of hasuji.
Clean angles. Clean lines. Perfect consistency.
The stability was so precise it was almost infuriating.
They were only swinging into empty space, only "test cutting," yet even with bamboo it felt as if they could cut through iron like mud.
If it were a real sword, it almost seemed possible that even something intangible like light could be cut.
They trained with total focus.
Physical strength drained away, and the morning heat only made it worse. Sweat ran off their chins, soaked their shihakusho, and gathered into small puddles at their feet.
Two hours later, Tsuchibone arrived on the dot with water and towels.
Morning training, the foundation of kendo, finally came to an end.
According to the schedule, after a brief rest came breakfast.
During that break, the three usually sat down and talked.
More accurately, Yamamoto Genryusai insisted the two young men summarize what they had learned from their "fieldwork" the day before.
That, too, was training.
Ichigo always felt pressured by it, but he had promised Ukitake he would join the Thirteenth Division, and he would likely shoulder serious responsibilities there. To avoid disappointing anyone, he used every chance to absorb knowledge like his life depended on it.
As for Takeru, it went without saying.
Through fieldwork, he kept making a name for himself. Reputation, seniority, experience, connections, everything came rolling in.
He saw through Yamamoto Genryusai's intentions far too clearly, so he usually had little to say.
Because of that, these breaks often turned into Ichigo asking questions while Yamamoto answered.
But today, Ichigo was unusually silent.
Because yesterday, he had been assigned to the Eleventh Division.
He had spent half a day as a sparring partner, and in every sense of the word, he had nothing left to say.
Yamamoto Genryusai knew exactly why. So he turned his gaze to the black haired youth sitting with calm composure, almost noble in his bearing.
"And you, Takeru?" Yamamoto asked. "You went to the Second Division yesterday. Soi Fon's report praised you highly. She said you solved a bizarre murder case."
"It was just poison hidden in ice cubes," Takeru replied lightly, as if he had seen it a hundred times. "Dropped into drinking water during hot weather, then delivered by someone else. Not particularly bizarre."
Ichigo's eyes widened. "Then how did you catch the culprit? Did you deduce it step by step like those Human World detectives?"
"No," Takeru said, shaking his head. "That was an option, but I'm not a detective, and I don't have that kind of urge to show off."
"So I asked Rindo's animal friends for help. Not long after, a sparrow flew in and testified."
Ichigo froze. "You can do that?"
"The culprit was furious when we arrested him," Takeru continued evenly. "He insisted a sparrow had no right to be a witness."
"And then?" Ichigo asked.
"He confessed not long after Captain Soi Fon dragged him into the interrogation room."
"…" Ichigo turned in disbelief to look at Yamamoto Genryusai.
The old man did not scold Takeru. He simply nodded once, as if satisfied.
"Oh, right," Yamamoto said, as though remembering something. "At yesterday's Captains meeting, the Eighth Division Vice Captain proposed a project called the Seireitei Film Festival, Fourth Commemorative Edition. What do you two think?"
"What did you just say?" Ichigo blurted.
He looked like he had misheard every word.
"Film festival? That's Human World stuff. And the fourth edition? You mean this has already happened three times?"
"I see," Takeru murmured, thoughtful. "Borrowing post war economic recovery methods from the Human World."
"Takeru," Ichigo protested, "do you not hear how insane this sounds? Movies. Movies."
"With Captain Kurotsuchi around, filming conditions are not an issue," Takeru said calmly. "What matters is what this project means for the Seireitei."
"No, I mean," Ichigo said, flailing, "how does the Soul Society even have something like this?"
Ignoring Ichigo's disbelief, Takeru continued to think aloud.
"Ever since the execution incident, everyone's nerves have been stretched too tight. Movies are popular entertainment. They can help each division raise funds, and they can also provide balance between work and rest, easing pressure."
"I personally support Vice Captain Ise's project."
Ichigo stared at him. "Takeru… are you the one pushing this from behind the scenes?"
Takeru looked at him, speechless.
"Where would I find the time," he said flatly. "Besides, you know me. If it were me, I would never do something that small."
"If you want entertainment, money, and stress relief, it would be a grand arena tournament."
"Invite the strongest from each division under the banner of Strongest on the Surface, have the First Division host it, then set up a betting pool…"
"Stop. Stop. Stop," Ichigo said in a panic.
Because he had noticed Yamamoto Genryusai's face had started to darken.
"I believe you. I believe you."
Since Vice Captain Ise's plan suited the Seireitei's current situation, and was far gentler than a certain someone's "grand idea," the First Division approved it.
Time passed into the next afternoon.
Fifth Division, Captain's office.
"Because of Vice Captain Ise's project, the sealing operation finished three days early," Aizen said to his two disciples, his expression unusually serious.
"But now the Fifth Division faces a very serious problem."
"What problem?" Ichigo asked, swallowing nervously.
Takeru, by contrast, sipped tea at ease.
That ease lasted exactly one sentence.
"The Fifth Division's movie project currently has no leads," Aizen said, fingers interlaced, chin resting on his hands.
"Between the sealing operation and piled up division duties, Hinamori is exhausted. She wants to use this chance to catch her breath."
"So I want to entrust this task to you two. If you need help, the Fifth Division will cooperate fully."
Ichigo's eyes went wide. "No, wait, I've watched plenty of movies, but I have no idea how to make one. So… Takeru. This is on you."
"…" Under Ichigo's and Aizen's expectant gazes, Takeru felt a twinge of regret for ever supporting Ise Nanao's proposal.
He was not particularly interested in this project.
But there was no escaping it.
Takeru and Ichigo had been assigned to the Fifth Division as an external mission. Logically and emotionally, he could not refuse.
Not only could he not refuse, he had to make sure their film did not fall behind the other divisions. Otherwise, it would be embarrassing.
"Sensei," Takeru asked with a resigned sigh, then straightened, "do you have any requirements?"
"Requirements…" Aizen pondered briefly.
"I hope it will be a film that inspires courage and dares people to face the future."
"That's a classic heroic theme," Ichigo blurted.
"Heroic…" Takeru repeated, as if testing the word.
Aizen's eyes sharpened slightly. "Do you have an idea?"
"Mm," Takeru said, thoughtful and quick.
"I'll assign tasks. We start filming tomorrow and aim to finish within three days."
"Three days?" Ichigo nearly choked. "What are you planning to shoot?"
"We'll shoot what just happened," Takeru replied. "And you'll play the protagonist."
A cold premonition crawled up Ichigo's spine.
Early September.
A bright, clear day.
Takeru dragged Ichigo through division after division, and even made a trip out to the Rukongai.
The crew assembled at a ridiculous speed, and once assembled, it moved just as fast.
Actors from various squads finished their scenes and did not leave. Instead, they enthusiastically followed Takeru to Sokyoku Hill, eager to watch.
When the final scene began filming, they even volunteered as extras.
"Ichigo, your emotions are off. Fix them," Takeru said, voice sharp.
"After you get knocked down, you should not calmly think of a countermeasure."
"Remember how you felt the first time you learned Bankai. That feeling of being omnipotent."
"So even if you're knocked down, you cannot be calm. You need to smile with confidence, like you can flip the situation whenever you want. That's how you drag the audience's emotions with you."
"I get it," Ichigo shouted back.
After scolding the protagonist, Takeru used Shunpo and returned to the director's chair behind the camera.
"Take two."
Renji Abarai, clapping the slate with a sour look, called the retake.
Filming continued.
Ichigo lay in a crater, panting, forcing himself upright. His voice came out strained, almost resigned.
"…As expected, I can't win against Bankai using only Shikai."
Outside the crater, Byakuya Kuchiki, his opponent, snorted coldly.
"Watch your tone, brat. You speak as if you have already mastered Bankai."
"That's exactly what I mean."
"What?"
Byakuya's eyes widened a fraction.
Ichigo raised his Zanpakuto without hesitation. His spiritual pressure surged, heavy and sharp, and he released Bankai.
Byakuya stared at the pitch black blade and the transformed shihakusho, shock and irritation mixing in his gaze.
"How can a Bankai be that slender," Byakuya spat. "That looks like a normal Zanpakuto."
Behind the camera, Takeru nodded slightly and praised Aizen, who was also serving as action director.
"As expected of Sensei. You actually got him to master a partial Bankai in three days."
"That is not difficult," Aizen replied with a mild smile, adjusting his glasses. "It is essentially the same as holding back half one's strength."
Both actors moved naturally. Watching them trade blows, the fight fierce and full of turns, left even the spectators stirred.
Kukaku Shiba looked genuinely shocked. "Even without editing, this already feels like a real production."
Renji, however, could not stop grumbling.
"The biggest advantage is the subject matter," he complained.
"A boy from the Rukongai gets attacked by a Hollow, gets saved by a female shinigami, then gains her spiritual power and becomes a shinigami in her stead. That's just copying Kurosaki's own experience."
"And then the female shinigami gets arrested, dragged into a conspiracy, and sentenced to death. The Rukongai boy steps forward, gathers help, forces his way into the Seireitei, beats one strong enemy after another. That's also copying Kurosaki's experience."
"And don't even get me started on the conspiracy and the villain's appearance. Tosen and Ichimaru only left recently. Public interest is at its peak. Shooting this is basically cheating."
"Just say it, Renji," Rukia said, wearing the white prisoner uniform she had changed into for the role. Her smile was merciless. "You're jealous Ichigo gets to be the protagonist. You're mad you're only a supporting role who gets beaten by him."
"No," Renji snapped, face flushing red. "I just care about quality. Anyone could play that role. What if that idiot ruins the performance? The Captain is also one of the leads. It would be embarrassing for him too."
Everyone, including Rukia, could tell exactly what it was.
Pure jealousy.
Soon, the battle reached its conclusion.
Both Ichigo and Byakuya were heavily injured.
Then Aizen, playing the villain, appeared, bringing Rukia, who was supposed to have escaped.
Takeru and Orihime also played Aizen's subordinates, standing at his side.
The director himself had stepped into the scene.
And the extras were not idle either.
Bang.
Komamura made an exaggeratedly dramatic entrance.
"Traitorous rebel," he roared. "This old man will never forgive you!"
His entrance and dialogue were full of weight, but it was all designed to highlight the villain's power moments later.
Aizen lifted a hand and cast a powerful spell.
[Hado 90: Kurohitsugi.]
Komamura was instantly defeated.
During a brief cut, Komamura, covered in burst blood packets, walked over to Takeru and spoke in a low voice.
"Takeru… no, Director. I feel this part is a bit too exaggerated."
"Exaggerated?" Takeru repeated, eyebrow lifting.
Komamura explained earnestly, "In the script, it makes sense for Captain Aizen, as the mastermind, to hide his strength."
"But it is impossible for him to use an unchanted Hado 90 to directly defeat me, a fellow Captain. There is a logical contradiction."
"I do not care about face," Komamura added, serious and steady. "I even think using this film to help everyone overcome the shadow of the betrayal is a good thing. But if we exaggerate the opponent's strength too much, it might backfire."
"Hm." Takeru nodded slowly. "Captain Komamura has a point."
"How about we add a scene where you were confused by an illusion, so you were caught off guard?"
Komamura's eyes lit up. "Excellent."
"That further highlights the villain's cunning and deceit," Komamura said, visibly pleased. "Losing to strategy is nothing to regret."
Adding a scene was not difficult.
They did not even need special effects from the Twelfth Division.
Aizen's water based Zanpakuto alone could satisfy the requirement.
Compared to the convenience of existing props, what truly impressed everyone was Aizen himself.
The way he delivered lines, the pressure of his presence, the sheer control in his performance, it all carried an infectious power that shook the heart.
Even Komamura felt his earlier suggestion might have been a bit presumptuous, despite how reasonable it was.
"Aizen san, Takeru," Orihime said brightly as she descended, controlling Santen Kesshun. "I think this Fifth Division film is going to be really popular."
"I only provided the idea," Takeru said, giving no credit to himself. "Sensei performed excellently, and he even designed the lines and actions himself."
"Eh, really?" Orihime covered her mouth, surprised, eyes turning to Aizen.
"I only acted on instinct and did my best," Aizen replied gently. "The greatest credit belongs to the perfect cooperation between you, the director, and Ichigo as the lead."
"Honestly, I believed Takeru would not disappoint me," Aizen continued, pulling out another pair of glasses and putting them on as he casually tidied his hair. "But the script still surprised me greatly."
"Stop praising us, Sensei," Takeru said, helpless. "This is a Fifth Division film. As the Fifth Division Captain, you should give it a formal title."
"We can't keep calling it by the temporary name Seireitei Summer Conspiracy."
"A title…" Aizen murmured.
From his vantage point, he glanced down at the crowd below, as if the height itself gave him inspiration.
Then he spoke softly.
"Let's call it Kyoukai."
"Boundary."
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