The judges from Central 46 did not get what they wanted.
For three whole days, they sat in a dark hall reviewing every Kidō sensory recording and Reishi survey from the Northern Valley.
They analyzed every rock, every spiritual current, and every trace of ambient energy.
In the end, their final report was short and simple:
1.
Forty Hollows breached the mountain pass.
2.
A sudden, natural tectonic collapse crushed the entire pack.
3.
Every Hollow was completely neutralized by the falling cliff.
4.
Captain Kazuma and the Tenth Division sat under shade pavilions drinking tea the entire time.
Since no Zanpakutō was drawn, and not a single whisper of Captain-level Reiatsu was recorded, the Council was forced to dismiss the case.
They officially commended the Tenth Division for their “exceptional fortune” and closed the investigation.
Kazuma celebrated by sleeping on his porch until three in the afternoon.
The next morning, his quiet was interrupted once again.
Kazuma was sitting at his low wooden desk, pouring hot water into a cup of green tea, when the sliding paper screen clicked open.
Standing in the doorway was Fifth Seat Sōsuke Aizen.
As always, his hair was combed neatly, his shihakushō was spotless, and he wore a gentle, courteous smile.
“Good morning, Captain Kazuma,” Aizen said, bowing respectfully.
“I have brought the finalized paperwork from Central 46.”
Kazuma didn’t look up from his teacup.
“Leave them by the door, kid.
If they touch my desk, I might feel obligated to read them, and administrative reading causes severe eye strain.”
Aizen stepped inside regardless, setting a lacquered wooden box on the corner of the table.
“The Central 46 judges were fascinated by your luck,” Aizen said smoothly, taking a seat across from him.
“It is truly extraordinary for three hundred tons of bedrock to collapse at the exact millisecond a Hollow pack advanced.”
“Completely lacking in manners.”
Aizen adjusted his glasses with a finger.
A subtle, cold glint caught the glass lenses.
“Indeed.
Most Captains would have released massive spiritual pressure to eradicate forty beasts.
Yet you expended zero Reiryoku.
You simply allowed gravity and stone to do the work.”
“Granite doesn’t demand a squad salary, Aizen-kun,” Kazuma smiled lazily.
“Rocks are the most cost-effective seated officers in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads.”
Both men sat in quiet contemplation.
Aizen knew the falling cliff was Kazuma’s doing.
Kazuma knew Aizen had orchestrated the Hollow breach to expose his true strength.
But because neither man had broken their cover in front of official observers, the round ended in a dead draw.
“Now that the audit is formally concluded,” Aizen said, rising to take his leave, “the Fifth Division will resume our routine duties.
I look forward to our next assignment, Captain.”
“Hold on a moment, Fifth Seat,” Kazuma called out, tapping the rim of his porcelain cup.
“You forgot your special requisition scroll.”
Aizen paused with his hand resting against the screen door.
“My requisition?”
Kazuma reached beneath his desk and slid a long, gold-stamped scroll across the tatami floor.
“While you were busy drafting your report for the judges,” Kazuma said with a bright, easy smile, “I took the liberty of visiting Captain-Commander Yamamoto.”
Aizen looked down at the scroll.
His eyes narrowed imperceptibly.
“Because of the rockslide,” Kazuma explained, tapping the bright red vermilion seal at the bottom, “the primary trade route between the northern districts and the inner city is completely obstructed by tons of fractured granite.”
“That falls under the jurisdiction of the Onmitsukidō engineering corps,” Aizen noted, his tone flat.
“Under normal circumstances, certainly,” Kazuma agreed cheerfully.
“However, I informed Old Man Yamamoto that the crushed bedrock is heavily saturated with toxic Hollow spiritual residue.
If left unpurified, the corrosive miasma risks poisoning the groundwater of District 20.
And since the Fifth Division is renowned for its scholarly expertise in Kidō theory and spiritual decontamination…”
Kazuma pointed at the Captain-Commander’s signature. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
“…the Captain-Commander agreed that the Fifth Division should personally clear the pass, stone by stone, while conducting a thorough Kidō purification of every single boulder.”
The room fell into absolute silence.
Aizen’s polite smile stiffened on his face.
“Stone by stone?” Aizen asked quietly.
“Every single pebble,” Kazuma smiled happily.
“Yamamoto signed the mandate this morning.
You have twenty junior unseated officers, forty heavy iron picks, and three wooden carts.
By my estimates, it should take roughly four months of detailed, manual purification in the summer sun.”
Aizen stared at the scroll, then shifted his gaze back to Kazuma.
Kazuma took a slow, leisurely sip of his warm tea.
“You wanted to study the northern rocks, didn’t you, Aizen-kun?” Kazuma chuckled softly.
“Now you have all season to analyze them.
Have fun with your pickaxe.”
For the first time since their paths crossed, a tiny vein faintly ticked beneath Aizen’s calm expression.
He took a slow, controlled breath, instantly smoothing his features back into a flawless, polite mask.
“How exceptionally thoughtful of you to consider our research, Captain Kazuma,” Aizen said softly, picking up the heavy scroll.
“We will ensure the Reishi purification is executed with absolute precision.”
“Take your time,” Kazuma waved his hand lazily.
“Try not to get calluses on your delicate scholar hands.”
Aizen bowed stiffly, slid the door open, and departed into the bright corridor.
As the door closed, Kazuma leaned back onto his soft cushions with a deep, contented sigh.
He had neutralized the investigation without drawing his sword, without leaking a single drop of Reiatsu, and without leaving his office.
Best of all, the most dangerous mastermind in the Soul Society was going to spend the next four months doing manual road maintenance in the heat.
Kazuma pulled his straw hat down over his face, folded his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes.
‘Never try to outplay a lazy man,’ Kazuma thought happily as he drifted off to sleep.
His afternoon peace was secure once again.