The manor where the three Quincy sisters lived had been funded and constructed by the Ishida family.
Coincidentally, it sat directly atop the site of the last Quincy gathering.
From the outside, the Ishida estate still looked the same as ever—but inside, it opened into a vast landscape of forests and mountains. To the right, the terrain rose in rolling hills; to the left, a dense stretch of woodland. The mansion nestled quietly within this greenery, and through its windows, one could see children laughing and chasing each other across the grass.
From afar, some of the children spotted Masatsuki Aozaki and Masaki Kurosaki at the window and waved happily.
Masatsuki, when not facing an enemy, was surprisingly easy to get along with. To him, life was filled with too many beautiful sights to spend it brooding all the time. It was important to know how to enjoy it.
Thanks to his looks—well above the average—his warm smile always had a calming effect. It made the children feel safe, made them happy.
So naturally, he got along with them rather well.
...
As they approached a particular door, the atmosphere suddenly grew heavy.
Masatsuki Aozaki stood before Masaki Kurosaki, his expression unusually solemn. His eyes held a trace of concern—maybe even nervousness.
He spoke gently, but with clear seriousness and care.
"Are you sure? Once you walk through this door… there's no going back."
Faced with his intense gaze, Masaki Kurosaki reached out and rested her hand on the doorknob, feeling the chill of the metal beneath her fingers.
The air was faintly tinged with a masculine scent. It was calming, yet carried a strange tension. It was familiar—so familiar that it stirred something deep in her, bringing back a flood of memories.
The older sister who used to giggle at the moonlight. The hot-headed yet gentle Quincy. The soft-spoken and kind Shinigami big brother...
All those cherished fragments of the past flashed through her mind, overlapping with the empty room just beyond the door.
And then—resolve.
The once-young girl was now a poised and graceful young woman. She straightened her back, lifted her chin, and looked Masatsuki Aozaki straight in the eyes.
With no hesitation, she declared,
"I'm ready!"
Her voice rang out, crisp and clear—echoing like a vow through the air around them.
Masaki Kurosaki knew exactly what she was about to face.
She had imagined this moment countless times on sleepless nights.
…
Masatsuki Aozaki had spent countless days and nights in the World of the Living.
Soul Society.
Night had fallen. A bright full moon hung in the sky like a massive silver plate, quietly suspended overhead. The moonlight poured down like water, casting a serene glow over the landscape.
But in contrast to that tranquil scene was the calm within the 1st Division barracks.
Dim light glowed faintly from the buildings, blending with the moonlight outside to form a uniquely beautiful image.
Suddenly, a soft noise shattered the stillness.
With a light clatter, a wooden door slowly closed.
Sōsuke Aizen stood at the entrance, holding a stack of documents freshly delivered from the Shinigami Research and Development Institute. His gaze swept over the three people before him.
They were Tōshirō Hitsugaya, Captain of the 3rd Division; Shinji Hirako, Captain of the 5th Division; and Sajin Komamura, Captain of the 7th Division.
Hitsugaya wore his usual smug look, the brat seemingly full of contempt for everything around him. Komamura, with his large wolf head resembling an Akita dog, was doing his best to mimic old man Yamamoto's stern demeanor, locking eyes with Aizen.
These sights were nothing out of the ordinary. On any other day, Aizen might not have noticed anything strange.
But the issue lay with the third person—Shinji Hirako.
Ever since becoming the 1st Division's Lieutenant, Aizen's workload had exploded. He was so swamped that he barely had time left to play games.
And Shinji Hirako—what the hell was wrong with that guy? He constantly pestered him for no reason, always getting in the way of Aizen's noble mission to make the world a better place.
How could he tolerate that?
It was already bad enough that he had to play second fiddle to Masatsuki Aozaki and pretend to obey those noble blowhards. He sure as hell wasn't going to take crap from a small fry like Shinji Hirako.
So, to punish this "villain" for obstructing progress—and to blow off some steam—Aizen discovered a new hobby.
Once a year, he'd give Shinji Hirako a haircut.
The benefits were obvious.
It helped clear that messed-up head of his, maybe even made his brain a little less weird—and it gave Aizen a way to unwind.
The urban legend of the "Hair Thief" had stirred the whole Seireitei for seven years now. The culprit struck once a year and was never caught.
Each time, the target was the same.
There was even a time when the Captain-Commander and the Lieutenant personally went to apprehend the criminal, only for the perpetrator to escape yet again.
Since then, Shinji Hirako had practically lived in a wig.
And today just so happened to be Aizen's stress-relief day. He had returned from the Hirako residence not even two minutes ago.
By all logic, there shouldn't be a single hair left on Shinji Hirako's head.
Yet now, here he was—standing before him with a full head of soft, medium-short hair.
That hair had clearly been growing out for about a year.
With Aizen's sharp eye for detail, he could tell immediately: that wasn't some cheap wig. That was real.
"So you're the Reigai Masatsuki mentioned? Then…before you say goodbye to this world, I have a question."
Aizen's voice was gentle, like a kind older brother from next door.
Too bad there wasn't a blushing girl around—just a blond guy in front of him, wearing a punch-worthy expression.
"What an arrogant bastard. Just like that Masatsuki Aozaki guy," Shinji Hirako scoffed, arms crossed, sarcasm thick in his voice.
Aizen pushed up his glasses, a glint flashing across the lenses. His head lowered just slightly, his expression hidden.
He didn't respond to the jab. Instead, he asked again.
"Why not let me handle it myself? What makes you three think you can stand before me?"
Shinji sneered.
"Idiot. You think I'm stupid? Why the hell would I tell you that!?"
"And we're Captains standing in front of you. Instead of worrying about crap like that, maybe you should worry about yourself."
"Lieutenant-sama," Komamura said calmly, scratching his head, "your Reiatsu is too strong. That's why we haven't found suitable materials yet."
"And our Reiatsu has been enhanced beyond that of our original selves. Our Lord believes the three of us combined have a real chance against you."
"Hey! Are you brain-dead? Why the hell would you tell him that!?"
Shinji stared at his calm, seemingly unbothered canine-headed teammate, utterly exasperated.
Wasn't this basically a public confession?
"That's Aizen—the most scheming, sinister bastard in the entire Gotei 13! One of the biggest threats we've ever faced!"
Komamura chuckled awkwardly, scratching his head.
"Sorry. Maybe that's the 'loyalty' Genryūsai-sama used to talk about."
"Loyalty my ass! Your master isn't that old man anymore—and it sure as hell ain't Masatsuki or Aizen!"
Shinji sighed and rubbed his forehead.
"Whatever. What's said is said. Not like the dead can blab."
"Perfect. I've been waiting for a chance to smack this bastard around."
Grinning under the moonlight, Shinji flashed a dangerous smile, revealing sharp white teeth.
"Collapse, Sakanade!"
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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