Captain Aizen’s smile faded, replaced by a look of concern, as he turned to Moriyasu Tokoyo.
“Moriyasu, can you still hold up?
Should you get treatment first?” Moriyasu Tokoyo wiped the blood trickling from his ear, and answered without so much as glancing away.
“I can hold up.” Captain Aizen nodded, then turned his palm over, and the Zanpakuto of twin coiling water currents appeared in his right hand once more.
No one had noticed exactly when the sword at his waist had vanished.
Not a single person present could figure out what had just happened.
“Did you all see that?” “Did Captain Aizen just release his Shikai again?” “No, that can’t be a second Shikai.” Captain Aizen offered an explanation right away.
“A Zanpakuto grows alongside its wielder, nurtured through the soul, through dialogue between the two.” “Its abilities are tied to the nature of each person’s own soul.” “Mine falls into the Kidō type, and it manifests by using water to create illusions.” “So the sword you all just saw sheathed at my waist was nothing more than an illusion I created.” As he spoke, he raised the water-formed Zanpakuto high overhead.
A moment later, the two currents of water slowed, gradually faded away, and the blade reformed into an ordinary sword, sliding back into its sheath at his waist.
“I’ve taken up quite a bit of the academy’s time today.
Let’s leave it here.” He looked at Moriyasu Tokoyo once more.
“Moriyasu, please head to the academy infirmary for treatment right away.” “I can still—” Moriyasu Tokoyo had barely gotten the words out.
A sharp, searing pain shot through his stomach.
Rukia had driven her elbow straight into his gut.
While he was doubled over from the pain, she hoisted him up onto her small shoulder.
“Captain Aizen, sensei, I’m taking this idiot to get treated!” Captain Aizen smiled and waved her off.
Only then did the homeroom teacher step up behind him, rubbing his hands together nervously, speaking in a low voice.
“I’m terribly sorry for the trouble, Captain Aizen.
This batch of students is a bit unruly.
Thank you for your patience with them.” “Not at all.” Aizen turned slightly, that gentle smile returning to his face.
“This group has plenty of spirit.
Whenever I have some time free from division duties, I’ll come by and talk with them more.” “Better for children to have some liveliness in them.” “Yes, yes…” The homeroom teacher, for all his intimidating build, was hunched over now, looking every bit the underling.
There was no helping it.
The gap in status between the two of them was simply too vast.
“Well then, I’ll take my leave.” * * * The First Division barracks.
Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto, Head Captain of the Gotei 13, sat at his desk, working through a stack of July’s paperwork.
He scanned each document one by one, then stamped it.
Every so often he’d pick up his brush and jot a note in the margin.
Then he came across this year’s new student enrollment form, and spoke up.
“Another year of new students.
Come to think of it, it’s been a long while since I last took on a student myself.” Chōjirō Sasakibe, Lieutenant of the First Division, standing at his side as always, bowed respectfully and replied.
“If the Head Captain had the time and were willing to visit Shin’ō Academy, I imagine the students would be too overjoyed to even eat.” “More likely too frightened to eat, I’d think.” Head Captain Yamamoto shot back, then looked back down at the enrollment list in his hands.
“Twenty-six this year.
Not bad, actually.” “Indeed.
Most years it’s only been in the teens.” Sasakibe replied.
Then, suddenly, he noticed something off about the Head Captain.
The fingers gripping the paper seemed to be pressing down harder than they should, crumpling the page.
He frowned slightly and asked, “Lord Genryūsai, is something wrong?” Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto set the paper down, lifted his head slightly, and closed his eyes.
About two minutes passed before he finally spoke, slow and deliberate.
“Chōjirō, do you know how many great noble clans Soul Society has?” Sasakibe answered at once.
“Soul Society has four great clans.” Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto lowered his head again, and beneath his long, grizzled brows, his eyes opened, dark and unreadable, and settled once more on this year’s Shin’ō Academy enrollment list.
His gaze finally came to rest on the name “Moriyasu Tokoyo.” He spoke quietly.
“No.
Soul Society began with five great clans.” “What?
But…” Sasakibe’s instinct was to object.
He’d studied under Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto since he was young, at the dojo the man had founded, and had followed him for nearly a thousand years since.
Never once had he heard anything about Soul Society having a fifth great clan.
Even after the private academy had been reorganized into Shin’ō Academy, complete with lessons on each noble clan’s crest and a certain amount of historical instruction, the name of a fifth great clan had never once appeared in any of the course material.
Genryūsai Shigekuni’s mouth opened slightly, his voice distant, almost adrift.
“I’d nearly forgotten they ever existed.” Sasakibe, curious now himself, stepped forward and followed the Head Captain’s gaze down to the enrollment list, murmuring aloud.
“Tokoyo?” “Yes, that’s right.” Head Captain Yamamoto seemed to be weighing something in his mind, then went on.
“Tokoyo is one of the oldest noble clans in Soul Society.” “Even I only ever heard of them.
I never once actually saw them for myself.” He paused there, turning over in his mind everything he’d once heard about the Tokoyo clan.
Each of Soul Society’s five great clans carried its own duty, and the Tokoyo clan’s duty was to keep watch over Hell.
He’d heard it from others long, long ago, back when he himself had still been young, but he had never once laid eyes on them.
And now, someone bearing the name Tokoyo had appeared in Soul Society, enrolled in Shin’ō Academy.
Could something be wrong on Hell’s side?
The thought settled in, and Head Captain Yamamoto spoke at once.
“Chōjirō.
Send word to the 12th Division.
Have them step up their monitoring of the space between the three worlds.” “Have the 13th Division’s captain send more personnel to the living world, and increase patrol density.” “The moment anything turns up, report it to me immediately.” “Understood!” Sasakibe dropped to one knee in response, and the next instant, he was gone.
Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto rose to his feet and walked slowly to the edge of the corridor, watching the setting sun.
He couldn’t help but recall a major incident from decades past, one that had gutted the Gotei 13’s strength and cost them far too many talented people.
There had been more than a few strange things about that incident.
Several key figures had fled into the living world, and to this day, none of them had ever been found.
And now, after more than a thousand years without so much as a trace, one of the five great clans, Tokoyo, had suddenly resurfaced.
Was this a sign of something?
Should he reach out?
He narrowed his eyes, watching the sun sink slowly, and in an instant, night fell over the whole of the Seireitei.
It felt as though all of Soul Society had been swallowed into darkness.
Torches along the streets and lanterns carried by patrol officers flickered to life, small clusters of dim light cutting through the dark.
Head Captain Yamamoto turned and went back to his desk, sitting down once more to continue his paperwork.
Whatever happened, Soul Society would be fine.
Because the sun would always rise again.