Shiki Mirai stood at the corner of Junlin'an, wearing a flawless smile as he waved enthusiastically.
He didn't stop until the gentle figure with chestnut-brown hair completely disappeared around the bend of the street.
A long breath escaped his lips.
"Sigh… Dealing with a future final boss like that is shaving years off my life…"
He rubbed his cheeks, which were starting to ache.
Truth be told, when he first transmigrated here, he'd tried going the hack-writer route—copy-pasting scenes from Battle Through the Spirit Realm and Lord of the Soul Society straight from memory.
The result? Complete cultural rejection.
Even his perpetually dazed Vice-Captain, Kuna Mashiro, managed to stay lucid for a whole thirty seconds after reading the draft—just long enough to declare, "Didn't understand a word… but I was definitely shocked."
Beaten down by reality, cornered by life, he had no choice but to look to the "material" already at hand.
Operating under the noble principle of "better them than me," he based his next work on Aizen and came up with a heavily dramatized piece titled The Genius Boy's Solitude and Arrogance.
He thought a literary character study like that would be too niche to take off—just enough to scrape together some bar money. Who could've guessed it would explode overnight?
The feedback was outrageously positive.
Apparently, all his readers were geniuses themselves. Only a genius could resonate with Aizen's experience, after all~
Hic.
Shiki staggered slightly, head spinning from the buzz. He wandered along the riverbank in the general direction of the 9th Division Headquarters.
It wasn't far from Junlin'an. Just a half-hour walk along the moonlit river.
"I can't keep writing about Aizen… Another chapter and I'll be deleted from existence…"
He rubbed his temples, brain firing rapidly.
"Gotta start a new story fast. Next month's paycheck's already spoken for by the tavern tab… I'll be drinking river water if this keeps up."
Two ideas popped into his mind.
First: The Killer of Meteor City, inspired by none other than the first Kenpachi—Unohana Yachiru.
Second: The Godfather of Death, a chronicle of Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni's ruthless early years founding the Gotei 13.
Both were living legends. Surely their stories would earn him enough for a few rounds of Spiritual Intoxication.
Bang!
Deep in brainstorming mode, Shiki slammed straight into something—lean and wiry, yet absurdly solid.
He stumbled back and looked up—instantly slapping on a professional smile.
"Captain Hirako! My bad, I was lost in thought planning my next story and didn't see where I was going."
The 5th Division Captain, Hirako Shinji—sporting his usual golden hair and a smirk steeped in laziness and sarcasm—tilted his head and regarded him.
He wasn't angry. On the contrary, he casually slung an arm over Shiki's shoulder with surprising force.
"You little punk," Hirako drawled, his half-lidded eyes gleaming with mischief. "Out drinking and didn't invite me? That's how you see your Captain?"
He leaned in and sniffed with exaggerated force, catching a whiff of that distinctive Spiritual Intoxication aroma still clinging to Shiki's clothes. A vein throbbed on his forehead.
"You little brat! You were drinking Spiritual Intoxication?! Must be raking it in, huh? Acting like you've made it! Have you forgotten who spoke up for your manuscript when that hard-headed Muguruma nearly trashed it?"
Hirako grinned wide, flashing those eerily perfect teeth. It wasn't a comforting smile.
Shiki's heart skipped.
It was true—when he first handed The Genius over to Captain Muguruma Kensei, the hot-blooded man had zero patience for "emo literary whining." He was ready to reject it outright.
It was only because Hirako, who'd dropped by for a visit, skimmed a few lines and said, "Kinda interesting—let him try," that the piece got serialized in Seireitei Communication.
In that sense, Hirako really was his benefactor.
"Captain Hirako, you wound me!" Shiki raised his hands in mock surrender.
"You don't know the half of it. Vice-Captain Kuna's been hounding me nonstop, demanding I continue Hell Girl—even though it tanked! I've been dodging her like my life depends on it. I barely managed to sneak away to the river to drink in peace!"
"That's a separate issue," Hirako said coolly, jabbing a finger hard into Shiki's chest.
"So you can drink with Aizen by the riverside, but not me? Is it that I, Hirako Shinji, am not good enough for your booze? Or…"
His voice dropped, faintly menacing.
"…do you just look down on me?"
Shiki cursed inwardly. What a fox.
Outwardly, he chuckled and waved his hands. "Captain, you've got me all wrong! Aizen came to the tavern on his own and even insisted on paying! It's not like I invited him. How could I ignore a fellow literary soul who literally walked through the door?"
"Oh? Came specifically to see you…" Hirako released him and crossed his arms, voice laced with amusement.
"Tomorrow's the day Shin'o Academy graduates choose their squads. Is it you who's handling recruitment for the 9th Division?"
"Come on, don't tease me like that." Shiki laughed nervously and scratched his head.
"Even if Vice-Captain Kuna doesn't go, Captain Muguruma will. There's no way a measly 5th Seat like me is going to represent the squad."
After all, Soul Society respected strength above all else.
Who'd want to join a division where the recruiter wasn't even a Vice-Captain?
Hirako lifted his head slightly, letting moonlight bathe half his face. His gaze turned sharp, contemplative.
"You never know. Maybe… if you go, Aizen Sōsuke will choose to join your division."
He casually dug a pinky into his ear and continued with a nonchalant air:
"Don't let his academy record fool you—just because he only ranked top in Kido. That kid… might be even more dangerous than your boy Aisuke."
A chill ran through Shiki's spine. Damn it, Hirako's intuition is terrifying!
To be able to see through Aizen's surface even now? There was probably no one else in Seireitei who could.
Shiki only knew the truth thanks to "the script."
He forced down the panic and smiled, asking, "Then… Captain Hirako, do you have your eye on any recruits?"
"Hmm—" Hirako blew imaginary dust off his pinky. His dead-fish eyes returned.
"Yeah, I'm eyeing Aizen. Thinking of bringing him into the 5th Division."
Then his smile vanished.
"But back to the point. Don't change the subject. In The Genius, how's Aisuke supposed to break through his limits? Don't tell me you're actually stuck."
Panic shot through Shiki like a lightning bolt.
Hollowfication was an absolute taboo. Even hinting at it was playing with fire.
Sure, Hirako might seem all buddy-buddy now, but if Shiki leaked even a whiff of that forbidden concept—and the future Hollowfication Incident came to pass—Hirako would be the first to personally drag him to the lowest level of the Central Underground Prison.
"Haha, Captain, that's exactly my problem! I've got no idea how to proceed!" Shiki raised both hands in surrender, face the picture of sincerity.
"You have any suggestions? I've decided to put The Genius on hiatus for now—start something new, clear my head. Maybe inspiration will strike again?"
"For now, Aisuke's story ends here."
He maintained his polished smile, locking eyes with Hirako.
Time seemed to freeze.
Until his cheeks began to twitch and his smile started cramping.
Hirako's gaze—sharp enough to peel skin—lingered for a long, long moment before he finally turned, waving over his shoulder.
"Fine. But if Aisuke gets any new storylines… you'd better tell me first."
And with that, his figure melted into the shadows like water slipping into a crack.
Only then did Shiki finally exhale, soaked in cold sweat.
He dragged a breath through his teeth and continued toward the headquarters.
Aizen leaves, and then bam—Hirako just happens to show up?
Yeah right. As if that was a coincidence.
Hirako must've been watching Aizen closely for a while now. Not even Shiki's meeting escaped notice.
"Ending the series here was definitely the right move…" A shiver of dread ran through him.
"Any further, and I'd be on Hirako's personal watchlist."
He just wanted to earn some drinking money, improve his quality of life a little—how had he ended up playing mind games with the most cunning powerhouses in Seireitei?
This is exhausting!
CLANG CLANG CLANG!
"I'm innocent! I was framed!"
Suddenly, from around the corner came the loud banging of metal bars and a shrill cry—jolting Shiki out of his self-pity spiral.
The familiar sound actually cheered him up. Like returning to his comfort zone.
He picked up the pace and turned the corner, arriving at the source of the noise: the side gate of the 9th Division Jail.
Two Shinigami guards stood at attention the moment they saw him.
"5th Seat Shiki!"
Shiki nodded and asked briskly, "How many today?"
"Ten disciplinary offenders apprehended, sir!" one reported loudly.
"Only ten?" Shiki raised a brow. "Did the 11th Division maniacs skip their brawls today?"
The 9th Division mainly handled detention of law-breaking Shinigami and civilians—conducting initial questioning and holding them temporarily.
Only the most severe criminals were transferred, post-trial, to the true Central Underground Prison.
This place was more of a specialized detention facility.
"No fights today! Just a few freeloaders caught eating without paying!"
The phrase freeloaders made Shiki's brow twitch.
He himself had nearly become a "drink and dash" suspect not long ago.
"Ahem! Good job!" He cleared his throat to mask his guilty conscience.
"But make sure to rotate shifts properly and stay sharp. No slacking off!"
After a few more routine instructions, Shiki turned down the path leading toward the 9th Division Headquarters courtyard.
But as soon as he stepped inside, his feet froze.
Bathed in moonlight, a tall, broad-shouldered man with silver buzzcut hair and a stern face stood in the center of the courtyard, back facing him.
The sheer presence radiating from that still figure felt like a silent mountain pressing down.
Captain Muguruma Kensei.
Shiki's heart skipped. He quickly composed himself and approached with respect.
"Captain! You're still here this late… Is something the matter?"
Kensei turned slowly, his sharp eyes gleaming under the moonlight.
"Hm." His reply was short, voice low and gravelly.
"I'm waiting for you. We need to talk. Won't take long."