Shiki stared expressionlessly at the ruined battlefield in front of him.
Charred earth. Lingering Reishi dust. Medics hurrying from one casualty to another. And in the distance, the Senkaimon now stabilized and glowing softly.
But in his head, his thoughts were racing like a barrage of messages flashing across a screen:
What the hell is Aizen playing at? Philosophical metaphors, seriously?
Hirako Shinji's literally lying right there pretending to nap—does he think Shinji's dead?!
Wait.
Shiki's mind jerked to a halt.
If he noticed Shinji was eavesdropping, there was no way Aizen missed it.
Which meant… he wanted him to hear that.
That line about "the king watching from safety"—he meant for Hirako to catch it.
But why? At this point in time, Aizen shouldn't be anywhere near ready to tip his hand.
Following the "normal" course, Hirako had never managed to catch Aizen in the act.
So why now, was Aizen practically handing him a clue about "usurping power"?
That didn't make sense.
And what was with those sideways glances during the conversation? As if they were in on some secret play together?
Hey. I'm just a peaceful guy who wants to write novels, build some spiritual power, and enjoy a quiet drink, alright? Don't drag me into this!
Shiki's eyes flicked sideways toward Aizen.
The man stood relaxed, hands tucked into the sleeves of his shihakushō, posture perfect, side profile illuminated by the Senkaimon's gentle light—calm, harmless, almost scholarly.
In that moment, a jolt of understanding ran through Shiki.
No.
Aizen's true aim was never something as superficial as "overthrowing the nobles."
His ambition… his gaze… was far deeper. Far more terrifying.
So this was deliberate.
Deliberate mention of nobles, kings, and observers.
Deliberate misdirection. Giving Hirako a false trail that seemed threatening but led away from his real plans.
He was layering a fresh "suspicious mask" on top of the deeper truth.
If Shiki hadn't had access to memories from "another life," he might've been misled too—just like Hirako Shinji, now likely stewing over some grand anti-noble conspiracy.
Well played, Aizen.
You've barely joined the 5th Division, and already you're playing mind games with your own captain.
Fine. Let them play.
One hiding wary vigilance beneath a lazy grin. The other wrapping deadly ambition in soft warmth.
Let them circle each other. Let them probe and parry.
Just don't drag me in.
Shiki let out a mental scoff and immediately made plans to remove himself from the blast radius.
The Senkaimon was now fully operational. The first injured and some squad members had begun their orderly return.
Perfect.
His expression remained placid, but he turned on his heel with purpose, walking calmly toward the gate with a stride that said, Mission complete, routine withdrawal.
Then, just as he passed the small slope where Hirako had been lying—
"Yo, 5th Seat Shiki."
Hirako Shinji shot upright, sauntered over, and casually slung an arm over Shiki's shoulder. His face—half grin, half scrutiny—was unreadable beneath the fringe of golden hair.
"Mission's done. Once we're back in Seireitei, how about a drink? My treat."
Shiki froze for a fraction of a second. Then resumed his natural rhythm.
He turned slightly, gazing calmly at Hirako with eyes as flat as a still pond.
"Your offer is appreciated, Captain Hirako. But the battle was draining. I'll need to return early and rest."
"Is that so?" Hirako's arm remained. He leaned in, voice dropping in volume.
"Can't blame you. After all, you did 'rescue' quite a few comrades today. I bet the ones you pulled off the field will become your most loyal readers, huh? Can't wait to boost your next book's sales?"
Shiki's brow twitched. Minutely.
So. That little "tactic" of his—prioritizing those near collapse—hadn't escaped the notice of this sly old fox.
He kept his face neutral and replied crisply:
"The Hollow threat had been contained. Prioritizing exhausted comrades to avoid unnecessary losses was a tactical decision. Nothing more."
"A very sound decision. Perfectly reasonable."
Hirako nodded approvingly—then abruptly shifted topics with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
"Say, 5th Seat Shiki, I heard you've got a little nickname floating around Soul Society—'The Nobleman of Junlin'an.' Ever thought about… making it official one day?"
The question was abrupt enough to draw attention—even Aizen, standing slightly behind and pretending to admire the light from the gate, turned his head slightly toward them. His gaze through those glasses was gentle, curious.
Shiki showed no visible reaction.
He looked Hirako in the eye and replied with measured clarity.
"A joke, I'm sure. I was born in Junlin'an—a common soul, with no noble ties or ambitions of the sort."
"Oh? Didn't you hear?"
Hirako gave his shoulder a friendly pat, smile turning just slightly enigmatic.
"Word is, one such 'commoner' is about to become a noble. And not just any noble—he's marrying into the Kuchiki Clan."
His eyes watched Shiki's face with sharp precision, searching for the tiniest flicker.
But Shiki's expression didn't budge.
Only after a perfectly calculated pause, he tilted his head slightly and gave a polite, inquisitive look—just enough surprise mixed with interest.
"A few days from now, a bunch of us captains will be heading to the 6th Division to witness it," Hirako added, clicking his tongue in mock envy. "Lucky guy. Kuchiki by name. Skyrocketing status overnight. Tch, some people have all the fortune."
Shiki nodded faintly, voice mild. "That is… indeed enviable."
Then, smoothly, he shifted the spotlight.
"And you, Aizen-san? Ever dreamed of moving closer to the world of high nobility?"
Aizen smiled, warm as spring sunlight.
He adjusted his glasses with graceful composure, voice soft with humility.
"The great noble clans carry long traditions and deep foundations. To learn from them, even from a distance, would be an honor and a valuable experience."
"Then it's settled!"
Hirako laughed heartily, giving a theatrical wave.
"When we go to the 6th for the ceremony, I'll take you along. Let you get a peek at that world! After all, you're one of the brightest in our Division!"
Aizen gave a slight bow. "Then I thank you in advance, Captain."
Shiki seized the moment—Hirako's attention diverted—and gently slipped out from under his arm.
He resumed walking toward the Senkaimon with calm, deliberate steps.
"I'll be going on ahead. Please excuse me."
His figure remained upright, his pace even, until he vanished into the gate's soft light.
Hirako watched him disappear, then glanced at the ever-smiling Aizen beside him.
Beneath the golden fringe, his eyes narrowed once more.
…