T/N: Sorry for no uploads, I've accidentally only been uploading on p@treon, will do a mass release probably on sunday. Sorry again.
In a rundown little house tucked away in a corner near Shiraidōmon, a single dim light flickered inside. Outside, fireworks filled the night sky — but inside, it was cold and silent.
Tsunayashiro Koshiro lay covered in bandages, slumped over the edge of his mother's sickbed. Again and again, with cracked, bloody lips, he whispered:
"Mother… the fireworks outside… they're beautiful… You said we'd go see them together, remember? You said you'd eat takoyaki with me at the festival this year. I… I bought it for you… I brought it home for you…"
Tears fell onto the piping-hot takoyaki, the smiling little octopus faces decorated with black sesame seeds now warped and ruined by his tears — leaving only a broken, soggy mess.
Just then, from the weedy gate came a knock.
Knock knock knock
It wasn't too loud — clearly not those damned main-house people.
Koshiro took a moment to compose himself, then walked to the gate and opened the half-rotting wooden door. It creaked mournfully — and there stood a familiar young man, gentle-featured in the night.
Seeing Asano Kiyoshi, Koshiro's hand went instinctively to his zanpakutō, eyes wary as he demanded:
"Asano Kiyoshi? What are you doing here?"
Seeing Koshiro so tense, Kiyoshi raised his hands to show he meant no harm. He spoke in the calmest tone he could muster:
"I heard… your mother is very sick, isn't she?"
At that, pain flickered across Koshiro's bloodshot eyes. He half-closed the door, voice low:
"That has nothing to do with you. If you've come to mock me — use any excuse you like — but not this. If you do, I swear I'll kill you."
Seeing the feral, cornered look on Koshiro's face, Kiyoshi didn't get angry. He simply held the door open and looked him straight in the eyes, voice quiet but unwavering:
"Let me try. Maybe… I can save your mother."
At those words, Koshiro's eyes first blazed with a savage glint — then darkened, the fight draining out of him as he saw Kiyoshi wasn't joking. He looked down, then back up, and croaked hoarsely:
"…Sorry. I misunderstood you. If you really can… whatever you ask for, I'll give it."
Kiyoshi just smiled and said:
"Show me first. And here — have some water. Your lips are bleeding."
At that, Koshiro silently unhooked the flask from his belt and took a careful sip.
Inside the shabby room, green kidō light pulsed — brimming with a vitality that flowed into Koshiro's mother's frail body.
Her complexion gradually turned rosy again; she coughed up a mouthful of black blood, and her breathing steadied, looking less deathly pale by the moment.
Kiyoshi wiped sweat from his forehead, said nothing, and quietly stepped outside. Koshiro trailed after him, moving slowly. Just as they reached the door, Koshiro's mother stirred awake and murmured in a voice barely louder than a breath:
"…Thank you…"
In the candlelight, her face was still sallow, but that gentle, motherly love radiating from her eyes warmed the cold, lonely little house more than any flame could.
Kiyoshi met her gaze, just smiled faintly, and stepped outside.
Moonlight spilled down, cloaking the two boys in a thin veil of white. Koshiro looked at Kiyoshi and asked quietly:
"Why… why did you help me?"
"You promised your mother you'd watch the fireworks with her, didn't you?"
"…Yeah."
"Then keep your promise."
With that, Kiyoshi turned to leave. But just then, Koshiro grabbed a corner of his sleeve. He stepped in close — so close they were almost pressed together — and Kiyoshi felt a faint, sharp sting against his chest. His spiritual pressure flickered, unsettled, before he could react.
By the time he realized what had happened, Koshiro had already stepped back. He looked at Kiyoshi, lips moving barely at all as a whisper brushed Kiyoshi's ear:
"Think of it as a thank-you. You'll need it when you go into the Great Spirit Book Hall."
And with that, Koshiro turned back toward the shabby house. Under the cold, clear moonlight, his figure looked so thin, so solitary, so quietly sorrowful.
Kiyoshi opened his mouth but didn't speak. He just turned and left that little broken courtyard behind.
Outside, the fireworks still bloomed — leaving their warmth to linger in the cold night air.
Inside, the woman clutched Koshiro's hand. The two of them watched the rising fireworks through the cracked window, their eyes full of hope.
From now on, let me just be a son — staying by your side.
Seireitei Inner District — Over the Tsunayashiro Estate
Aizen, cloaked in black, stood high above, a cold smile on his lips as he looked down at the Tsunayashiro nobles feasting on Soul Society's blood. A soft, disdainful hum rumbled in his throat.
Then his body seemed to vanish from space itself. In the blink of an eye, he appeared in the main hall — his presence sudden and silent.
The two clan elders sitting at the head of the hall didn't even look surprised. Instead, they frowned and scolded:
"Miyahira! Didn't we tell you to bring the tea ages ago? Why are you so slow?"
Aizen lifted his head, cold eyes flashing with murderous intent — but it melted back into a soft smile.
With a sound like shattering glass, his figure faded, leaving the clueless Tsunayashiro elders blinking in confusion.
Moonlight fell cold and pale. Aizen walked through the bamboo grove, the frost-touched branches brushing his cloak like a god fallen to the mortal realm.
There came a soft click. White-haired Gin Ichimaru appeared behind him, a fox-like grin on his face:
"Lord Aizen, I checked again. Everyone's under Kyōka Suigetsu — all those troublesome eyes and ears have been cut off. No loose ends."
Aizen's voice was warm as he replied:
"Mm. Good work, Gin."
Gin squinted, still grinning slyly:
"It's my honor to serve you, Lord Aizen. But… there's one thing I just don't get. Why did you choose to help Asano Kiyoshi?"
Aizen glanced at him, then walked on, moonlight pooling over his shoulders.
"Gin, I'm not choosing to help anyone. I just think… this makes things more interesting. After all, those who stand at the top always carry a loneliness words can't describe — and that loneliness gives birth to all kinds of things, meaningful and meaningless alike.
What I did tonight… tell me, Gin — do you think it has meaning?"
T/N: For up to 30 chapters ahead on most of my translations, become a p@tron at p@treon.com/LordHipposApostle