The Royal Palace, suspended high above the Soul Society, far beyond reach, rested within an eternal stillness, bathed in a faint, sacred radiance.
The reishi here was dense and pure, as if the very pulse of the world’s foundational laws could be felt at one’s fingertips.
On an open platform that appeared deceptively simple—
Sat the creator of all Zanpakutō, a member of the Royal Guard:
Ōetsu Nimaiya, the famous “Sword God.”
He was seated casually on the ground, completely lacking any sense of decorum, fiddling with several fragments in his hands—each one shimmering with an unusual metallic luster.
Dark-skinned, with white hair tied in a high ponytail, wearing sunglasses and a distinctive sleeveless outfit, he looked utterly out of place against the solemn and divine surroundings.
“Hey, monk.”
Without even looking up, Nimaiya tapped the fragments against the ground, producing a sharp, metallic chime.
His tone carried undisguised skepticism.
“Are you really sure about this?
Letting that kid, Yanagawa, handle something like the ‘Twin Hyōrinmaru’ incident?”
His voice echoed faintly across the vast platform, yet somehow failed to disturb the stillness of this sacred place.
Nearby, the towering figure of
Ichibē Hyōsube shifted slightly, like a mountain stretching after long stillness.
He turned slowly, the massive dark prayer beads around his neck clicking softly.
Rather than answering immediately, he first glanced curiously at the fragments in Nimaiya’s hands.
Then, his lips curled into a broad, easygoing grin that contrasted sharply with his imposing presence.
“Oh?
What’s this, Ōetsu?” Ichibē said casually, his deep voice carrying an almost leisurely tone—like discussing something trivial over tea.
“Already worried about your handiwork?”
He paused, then added with a teasing edge:
“Or are you afraid that if the kid actually figures something out, it’ll make you, the great ‘Sword God’, look less than perfect?”
“Ha?!”
Nimaiya practically sprang up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
Behind his sunglasses, his glare shot toward Ichibē.
Every Zanpakutō I forge is a one-of-a-kind masterpiece!
This has nothing to do with perfection!”
Ichibē burst into hearty laughter, the sound booming across the platform.
“Relax, I’m joking.”
He waved a large hand dismissively, still smiling.
But beneath that casual tone, the intelligence in his eyes sharpened slightly.
After a brief pause, his gaze drifted downward, toward the Seireitei hidden beneath the clouds, as if he could see Yanagawa making his way to the Central 46.
His voice grew more layered, more deliberate.
“Besides… letting him handle this isn’t such a bad thing.”
He blinked once, the motion oddly playful for someone of his stature, yet filled with quiet cunning.
“For one, it’s a test, to see what he’s made of.”
“And for another…”
His grin widened just a touch.
“That young man is going to be staying down there for a long time.
It’s only right he gets familiar with the place.
Meet the neighbors, so to speak, especially those… particularly rule-obsessed, self-important ones.”
He chuckled softly.
“Better he gets acquainted early.
Whether he ends up getting along with them… or turning their carefully maintained little garden upside down…”
“Either way,” Ichibē said, amused,
“it should be entertaining.”
“‘Neighbors’?
You mean the Central 46?” Nimaiya snorted, dropping back into a seated position as he resumed tinkering with the fragments.
But behind the scenes?
That’s another story.”
“Exactly,” Ichibē replied smoothly, his tone light, almost as if discussing a play about to begin.
“That’s what makes it interesting.”
He rested his chin lightly on his hand, eyes gleaming with quiet amusement.
“Let’s see how this young man, personally chosen by the Soul King, handles people who treat rules and authority like their lifeblood.”
“Will he navigate it cleanly and resolve everything without a hitch?”
“Or will he stir things up so badly that even we old men have to step in and settle it?”
A faint chuckle escaped him.
“Either outcome… should be worth watching.”
Nimaiya clicked his tongue.
“Yeah, yeah.
You just enjoy watching chaos unfold.”
He stood up, brushing himself off.
“Well, whatever.
I made the swords, so I’m curious too.
If the kid figures something out, I’ll give him credit.”
With that, he waved a hand dismissively and strolled off toward the Phoenix Hall, already muttering to himself about metallurgy and construction theories.
Ichibē watched him go.
The easy smile on his face slowly faded, but the glimmer of interest in his eyes remained.
“Now then… Yanagawa.”
His voice was barely more than a whisper, laced with quiet anticipation.
“Let us see… what makes you worthy of the Soul King’s attention.”
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