"Impossible!"
The sight before him struck young Tōshirō Hitsugaya's heart with a deep wound.
He had gathered every ounce of his spiritual pressure, channeling it into his strongest strike. The roaring ice dragon of Hyōrinmaru—a manifestation of unyielding power and courage—should have been unstoppable.
And yet, with a single Hadō spell, cast without even an incantation—Hadō #99: Goryūtenmetsu—Shimo shattered it. The ice dragon broke apart into a storm of shards, vanishing into nothingness.
As Shimo had promised, the surrounding area was left mostly untouched. The most severe damage was nothing more than ice fragments piercing the ground, leaving small craters scattered across the earth.
"The gap between us… how could it be this wide?"
Hitsugaya couldn't accept the reality. He knew his own potential well—his spiritual pressure was strong enough that even when uncontrolled, it weighed heavily on those around him. With training, he had pushed his talent even further.
At first, he thought that Shimo, the so-called genius of the previous generation, was at best his equal.
But as Shimo's feats reached his ears—joining Fourth Division, winning the Seated Officers' Challenge to become lieutenant, surviving Hueco Mundo and returning with the lost Eleventh Division officer Ashido while minimizing casualties—Hitsugaya began to fall silent.
He still held a faint hope that with hard work, he could catch up.
But after Shimo's battle with Kenpachi Zaraki, the rumors of their fight, the overwhelming results… Hitsugaya's doubts grew.
Perhaps there truly were realms beyond his reach.
Perhaps not all Shinigami could be measured by the same standard.
"…How should I put it?"
Shimo rubbed the bridge of his nose, a faint trace of guilt crossing his face. He realized he may have gone too far, striking at the boy's confidence.
"Honestly, you're already very strong. Otherwise, I wouldn't have recommended you to the Captain-Commander."
Hitsugaya's expression flickered, torn between pride and frustration.
"My power… it's not fully unleashed yet."
Spiritual pressure swirled around him, cold air thickening with icy particles. The very density of spirit energy in the air seemed to shift.
Shimo raised a brow. He knew exactly what the boy was attempting.
Snap!
Two fingers tapped firmly against Hitsugaya's forehead.
"My advice? Don't force it."
Hitsugaya froze, stunned. He hadn't even realized Shimo had moved. In his concentration, he had lost track of the man's shunpo entirely.
"…Forgive me, foolish little Shiro."
A mischievous thought crossed Shimo's mind. His face, however, remained utterly blank—an emotionless still pond.
"This is the last time."
Hitsugaya felt the concentrated spiritual pressure pressing at his forehead. His throat tightened, and he swallowed hard.
"Li-lieutenant Shimo, maybe… maybe we can call this match settled?"
He didn't understand what had just happened, but instinct told him enough. For his own safety, admitting defeat was the only option.
Shimo withdrew his hand with a casual smile.
"See? If you'd just said so earlier. Still, I'm impressed—you've already grasped Shikai. Not bad at all."
Without hesitation, Shimo ruffled the boy's white hair roughly.
Hitsugaya's face burned red.
"I-I haven't fully mastered it yet! And could you take your hand off my head?!"
Shimo gave his head two light pats before stepping back, grinning.
"Relax. Don't overthink it. I've already passed the captain's seat to you, haven't I?"
A vein twitched on Hitsugaya's forehead.
"You mean the seat you refused yourself!"
"Details, details," Shimo waved him off. "What matters is you've passed my test. Now all you have to do is submit your captaincy request to the Captain-Commander."
Hitsugaya's features returned to an icy calm.
"…Understood."
Shimo departed smoothly, leaving the boy behind in thought.
Watching Shimo's retreating back, Hitsugaya's eyes gleamed.
He knows something. Perhaps… Captain Shiba is still alive, unable to return to Soul Society for some reason.
The idea lodged firmly in his heart. Isshin Shiba had mentored him, guided him through training and administrative duties. His disappearance had been a heavy blow. Until now, Hitsugaya had believed him dead in battle. But Shimo's words and demeanor hinted otherwise.
"No… Captain didn't die," Hitsugaya murmured to himself, conviction hardening in his gaze.
Though Shimo's personality was insufferably mischievous, at his core he was trustworthy. For that, Hitsugaya felt a flicker of gratitude.
After tidying up Kifuku Hill, he returned to the Tenth Division barracks. Yet on the way back, he noticed something odd—the division members kept giving him strange looks.
It made his already thin patience snap. He quickened his pace, heading straight for the barracks.
"Third Seat Hitsugaya!"
The guards saluted quickly as he entered. Then, a moment later, their faces flushed bright red as they stifled laughter.
Hitsugaya glared coldly at them.
"…What's with those expressions?"
Before they could answer—
"Yo, Shiro!"
That drunken, familiar voice froze him in place.
"…Matsumoto!" Hitsugaya spun around, shouting in embarrassment. "Call me Third Seat Hitsugaya!"
Nicknamed "Shiro" for his hair, he hated the childish name.
Rangiku Matsumoto, reeking of sake, stared at him in surprise.
"Pfft—hahaha! Shiro, is this your new look? Didn't think you were the type to change your style!"
She staggered over, playfully running her fingers through his hair.
"Not bad at all. Whose handiwork is this?"
Confused, Hitsugaya conjured an ice mirror before him—only to see his normally neat white hair a complete disaster, twisted into a bird's nest as if someone had maliciously tousled it.
His image—ruined.
"Kyōraku Shimo!!!"
His furious cry echoed through the barracks, accompanied by Rangiku's unrestrained laughter.
Shimo, meanwhile, was already wandering through Fourth Division, entirely unconcerned. For him, it had been nothing more than a prank inspired by watching a hairdresser at work—using spirit particles to press down and distort hair. Simple, effective… and very amusing.
---
Three Days Later – First Division Assembly Hall
Hitsugaya submitted his application to become captain. Given Tenth Division's circumstances, Yamamoto convened a captain's meeting. Unohana was absent, occupied with preparing Fourth Division's monthly ikebana tradition, so Shimo attended in her stead.
The captains gathered, waiting idly for the meeting to begin. Shimo noticed, to his surprise, that Kenpachi Zaraki had already returned from the outskirts of Rukongai. Though swathed in bandages, his energy was unshaken, his grin fierce as ever.
The moment he spotted Shimo, he bared his teeth.
"Shimo! Let's fight again!"
"No chance," Shimo refused flatly. "Not happening."
"…What?!" Zaraki blinked, thrown off by the blunt rejection.
"Go pick another fight. Try Byakuya, or Shunsui."
Both men immediately bristled.
"Oi, don't drag me into this," Shunsui groaned, scratching his head. "I'm already losing hair from writer's block."
Byakuya, as always, maintained his cold, aristocratic silence. For the Kuchiki clan, composure was paramount.
"Unbelievable," Zaraki muttered. "To deny me battle… such disgrace."
Shimo's eyes widened slightly. Did Kenpachi Zaraki actually just use a word like "disgrace"? Perhaps the world truly was changing.
Just then, Hitsugaya entered. The moment his eyes landed on Shimo, his frosty calm dissolved into simmering fury.
"…You bastard," he muttered under his breath as he passed.
Shimo only smiled innocently, as if he knew nothing. That infuriated Hitsugaya all the more—but there was nothing he could do.
The memory of Goryūtenmetsu was still fresh. Even his Shikai had proven powerless against Shimo. The gap was unbridgeable.
The meeting commenced. The atmosphere turned heavy. Shimo frowned; something was off. This wasn't just about appointing a new Tenth Division captain.
Yamamoto's aged, steady voice filled the chamber.
"Given Captain Shiba Isshin's disappearance, Soul Society recognizes his death in the line of duty. The Tenth Division captaincy is vacant. Yesterday, Third Seat Tōshirō Hitsugaya submitted an application. Do any of you object?"
Silence. Which, in this chamber, meant consent.
"Very well. Hitsugaya Tōshirō shall assume command of the Tenth Division. You will be the youngest captain in Soul Society's history. I expect you to make full use of your talent."
Yamamoto's gaze lingered on him. He valued the boy. Hyōrinmaru—the strongest ice-type zanpakutō—stood as the perfect counterpart to his own Ryūjin Jakka. The potential was undeniable. Whether Hitsugaya could reach those heights was another matter, but the possibility was there.
"…Now, one more matter."
Yamamoto's tone grew stern. Faces around the chamber stiffened.
"In the World of the Living, several cities have reported the deaths of stationed Shinigami. Hollows stir once more in Hueco Mundo."
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