Chapter 211
Night.
The waning moon hung high in the sky.
The clouds were heavy, concealing every star above.
On the road walked a man with an unusual hairstyle. His hair was less than an inch long, cut short like stubble, but in the center of his head grew a thick strip of hair three to four inches long, like a dark ridge across a barren plain. The style gave him the appearance of a thug. His name was Shishigawara. After parting from his companions, he slung a schoolbag over his shoulder and stepped into a narrow alley.
Someone was already there. A man leaned against the wall reading a book. A small rectangular bookmark rested between the pages. At one end of the bookmark was a hole, through it threaded a cord with the texture of cloth, resembling a tie. Dressed in a white shirt with the number "160" embroidered faintly, black trousers, and pointed leather shoes, he carried a clean and refined air. His sharp contrast to Shishigawara was striking. The young thug hesitated as he stared at him.
Who is this man? Why sit here where people pass through?
Should I avoid trouble and take another route? But no-that would make me look weak. My hair is cut to look fierce. My attitude has to match it. If people mistake me for someone connected to gangs, then at least it will intimidate them.
He coughed once to steady himself.
"Hey... who are you? How dare you block my way?"
Tsukishima Shūkurō calmly lifted his gaze from the book toward Shishigawara and slowly withdrew the bookmark.
"It's really unoriginal to write a character like you into a book."
"Wh-what?!"
Shishigawara froze as the bookmark shimmered with a pale green light and elongated into the shape of a sword. His chest tightened in disbelief. A bookmark... turning into a weapon? This man wasn't ordinary.
Acting on instinct, Shishigawara spun and bolted down the alley. His speed carried him dozens of meters in seconds. But Tsukishima only pressed his foot lightly to the ground. Spiritual pressure rippled outward as his body propelled forward like a dragonfly across water. The blade in his hand slid past Shishigawara's guard before the boy even realized the distance was closed, piercing his chest cleanly.
---
Rain washed down in sheets that night, growing heavier by the minute.
In another alley, a delicate woman stumbled backward as three towering men approached her with predatory grins. Her umbrella hit the ground, water splashing high from the puddle it struck. Her voice trembled as she asked, "You... what are you going to do?" Her sandals soaked through instantly, her toes curling in fear. The men only sneered.
"What do you think we're going to do?"
They pulled violently at her skirt, and she screamed.
But a figure appeared at the end of the street. Wrapped in black clothing, the person's face was hidden, save for the faint glint of glasses on their nose. Their voice echoed softly through the night.
"When people walk the right path, then the law is wrong. When people walk the wrong path, then people themselves are wrong. Tonight I've come to put an end to you."
By the time the blade at his side disappeared back into its sheath, the three thugs lay lifeless in a pool of blood. The dark figure turned from the scene without pause. As one of the men bled out, he glimpsed the emblem embroidered on the stranger's back: a black chrysanthemum. His final rasp was filled with dread.
"You... you're with the Black Chrysanthemum Society..."
The woman snatched up her umbrella, clutching her chest with shaking hands as her heartbeat thundered in her ears. She fled the alley, but the man had already vanished into the storm.
---
"Report."
"Three men were killed in an alley tonight."
"According to the investigation, they were fugitives on death row attempting to assault a woman, when an unknown man intervened."
"The witness confirmed she could see almost nothing of him, only that his clothing bore the symbol of a black chrysanthemum."
The Black Chrysanthemum Society.
It had recently surfaced in rumors throughout Karakura Town-and its leader, known as Black Heart Jūka, carried a reputation that left criminals trembling. Whispers spread that no outlaw could pass through this town unscathed. Because of that, Karakura Town had become a place real-world criminals feared to enter at all.
---
Later, Aizen Sōsuke returned to a mansion. He stripped the wet cloak from his shoulders and entered the wide hall. A man sat inside by the window before a prepared set of cups and a steaming teapot. A ring decorated his finger, etched with the motif of a black chrysanthemum. Rain fell outside the open veranda, the sound steady and relentless. Yuta sat quietly, his gaze fixed on the storm beyond the glass. His eyes reflected the light of the rain like distant stars.
Since taking the position as Hideki Yuta's vice-captain, Aizen had been forced to carry out every task with his own hands. He set aside a sigh and crossed the room to sit opposite Yuta.
"Captain Yuta, the mission is complete," Aizen said evenly, though his tone carried restraint. He poured tea into his own cup, calm and precise. "Do you think we should recruit a few more members into the Black Chrysanthemum Society? Using a sword like mine against petty criminals feels like a waste."
Yuta's gaze didn't leave the rain. "Sōsuke, I think the image of the black chrysanthemum suits you well. A chrysanthemum is white, bright, and pure-until one sees its heart is black. For the sake of justice, it can kill and do terrible things, even if it stains itself in darkness."
Sōsuke lowered his eyes to the tea in his hand before lifting them once more toward the rain beyond the window. He adjusted his glasses and gave Yuta a sidelong glance.
"After all... not everyone is like you."
"What does it mean to be like me?" Yuta asked quietly.
"You don't know? Then let me explain," Aizen replied as his voice steadied. "Just like my earlier experiment of breaking through the limits of a Shinigami by merging Hollow powers to evolve into something transcendent, anyone who wishes to change the world must give something up in return." He leaned back slightly. "There is no way to build a better world without sacrifice, and I realized this a long time ago." His voice lowered. "Every person is bound tightly to the position they were born into-unable to move, unable to escape, unable to transcend."
His eyes narrowed behind the lenses as he continued.
"Just like me. In order to create the Hōgyoku, I had to sacrifice civilians in Rukongai who bore the latent potential of Shinigami." He paused. "I don't know what Urahara Kisuke used to craft his Hōgyoku, but I suspect it required similar cost."
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