The Soul King Palace—a sacred realm suspended in the unreachable heights far above the Soul Society, cloaked in eternal tranquility and a faint, ambient radiance.
Here, the spirit particles were dense and pure, as though the very pulse of the world’s primordial laws were within arm’s reach.
On a deceptively simple open-air terrace.
The creator of the Zanpakuto, member of Squad 0, and the God of the Sword, Ōetsu Nimaiya, sat sprawled casually on the ground, fiddling with several metallic shards that gleamed with an uncanny sheen.
With his dark skin, white hair tied into a high ponytail, dark sunglasses, and an eccentrically styled short jacket, he cut a figure starkly at odds with the sacred, solemn surroundings.
“Hey, Monk,” Ōetsu called out without looking up.
He tapped the shards against the stone floor with a crisp clink, his voice dripping with undisguised skepticism.
“Are you seriously okay with this?
Sending that Yanagawa kid to handle such a mess?”
His words drifted across the expansive platform, echoing slightly, yet strangely doing nothing to disturb the realm’s prevailing stillness.
Ichibē Hyōsube’s massive frame shifted slightly, like a mountain stretching its limbs.
He slowly turned around, the dark prayer beads around his neck clattering softly.
He didn’t answer right away, his lips curling into a grin that felt distinctly mismatched with his imposing presence.
“My, my, Ōetsu.
Worrying about your creations already?”
Ichibē’s voice remained resonant and booming, yet his cadence carried a relaxed, almost leisurely ease—as if discussing what pastries to serve for afternoon tea with an old friend.
“Or are you actually worried the boy might see through something, making it look like the grand ‘God of the Sword’ wasn’t quite perfect when he forged it?”
“Hah?!” Ōetsu practically jumped, reacting like a cat that had its tail stepped on.
Behind his sunglasses, his eyes glared toward Ichibē.
“Are you kidding me?!
Every single Zanpakuto forged by Ōetsu Nimaiya is a unique work of art!
It’s got nothing to do with being perfect or not!”
Ichibē burst into hearty, booming laughter that reverberated across the platform with pure amusement.
“Just a joke, just a joke.”
He waved a palm as broad as a fan.
His tone remained light, though a glimmer of profound wisdom swirled in the depths of his gaze.
He paused, casting his gaze down through the veil of clouds toward the Seireitei below, as though watching Yanagawa make his way toward Central 46.
His tone took on a suggestive nuance, though the smile never left his face.
“Besides, wouldn’t it be good to let him test the waters with this?
First, to gauge his mettle.
And second…”
He winked.
The gesture looked almost comical on his massive face, yet it carried an all-knowing, shrewd cunning.
“That young man will be making a home down there in the future, so he needs to know his way around and get acquainted with the neighbors.
Especially those…
well, those old neighbors with all the stiff rules and inflated egos.”
“Letting them cross paths early to see whether he can get along peacefully with the neighbors, or if he’ll turn their meticulously manicured garden upside down—isn’t that rather entertaining?”
“Neighbors?
Central 46?” Ōetsu scoffed, returning his attention to the shards in his hands.
“Those old fossils.
Yanagawa heading over there backed by Squad 0’s authority will definitely work on the surface, but under the table…
who knows.”
“Precisely,” Ichibē chimed in, his airy tone resembling someone discussing an entertaining play about to commence.
“Isn’t this just perfect?
Let us see what this rather special youth—the one favored by the Soul King—is truly made of.”
“How will he handle those who guard rules and power as if their very lives depended on it?
Will he resolve things smoothly and cleanly?
Or will he stir up such an uproar that even us old folks have to step down and break up the fight?
Either way, isn’t it quite the spectacle?”
He stroked his smooth chin, his eyes glinting with an amused and enigmatic light.
Hearing Ichibē’s seemingly casual remarks—each carrying sharp, hidden edges—Ōetsu clicked his tongue and shook his head.
“Fine, fine.
You just love watching the world burn.” He pocketed the shards and stood up.
“Anyway, the blades are my creations, and I really am curious about what’s going on.
If the kid manages to figure it out, I’ll give him credit.”
With that, he paid Ichibē no further heed and sauntered off toward the Hōōden, muttering under his breath as he went back to obsessing over his metals.
Ichibē watched him walk away.
The jovial smile slowly faded from his face, yet the light of keen insight and amusement lingered in his eyes.
*Well then, Yanagawa-kun…* A silent whisper, tinged with anticipation and intrigue.
*Let us see what makes the young man who caught the Soul King’s eye so special.*