Ichiryu arrived at the Awan family estate as evening fell, after letting his allies settle their stomachs—and their nerves—at the Kasumiōji household.
The Awan family was an upper-class noble clan with a certain lack of successors.
Its head belonged squarely to the old and stubborn type.
He was deeply dissatisfied with his only daughter, Awanmen Nayura.
He reprimanded her often, but had to weigh his actions against his seats on both the Ōin Council and Central 46.
Unlike the Kasumiōji situation, the Awanmen family remained fundamentally stable.
Any recent internal shifts were under the patriarch’s firm control.
The original inheritance system designated Nayura, the sole direct descendant, as the only legal heir.
Branch families could only watch, at most fanning a little wind or lighting a small fire before the patriarch.
But over the past two years, Nayura’s ideas had grown too radical in the old man’s eyes.
The branch families seized the opportunity.
Nayura suffered for it.
The patriarch had even begun considering marrying her off and adopting a son from a branch line.
Tonight, at the meeting in the Senzaikyū’s noble residences, he planned to discuss the matter with other house heads.
He intended to build consensus before bringing the proposal to the Ōin Council.
It also involved the stance of Nayura’s maternal relatives.
Just before he left, Nayura had tried to stop her father from going.
The old man took it as proof she had guessed his plans and was using the excuse of “feeling danger” to hinder him.
He confined her.
That only strengthened his resolve.
Especially since she had insisted on filing a lawsuit against the Shihōin family governor.
It was only after more contact with Ichiryu that Nayura had grown more deviant, even spouting nonsense about abolishing the separation between Rukongai and the noble districts.
He couldn’t keep this daughter.
Otherwise, he’d be implicated—a disgrace to the nobility.
Naturally, someone within the Awanmen household was also unwelcome.
Since this was the family head’s will, the approach Ichiryu had used at the Kasumiōji estate wouldn’t work here.
A purely violent confrontation would become very troublesome.
He slipped inside using a pre-arranged walking Kidō binding placed long ago in a corner of the outer wall.
He moved with practiced ease, triggering no barrier alarms and alerting no guards.
He went deeper, toward a secluded area, straight to a confession room tucked away in a quiet corner.
After deliberately making a small noise, a somewhat immature female voice came from inside.
“Who is it?”
“It’s impossible to confess like this,” Ichiryu said, opening the door and stepping in.
“You’re not paying attention at all.”
Nayura actually calmed down upon seeing him.
She continued kneeling before the huge character for ‘Sin’ painted on the wall without turning around.
“Let me guess,” Ichiryu said.
“You were punished because you tried to stop your father from going to Central 46 for no reason.”
“It wasn’t for no reason.”
When Ichiryu didn’t respond, she asked bluntly, “There’s going to be… an incident in Central 46 soon, isn’t there?”
“Hm?
What do you mean?”
Nayura didn’t believe his act for a second.
She’d thought about this far more than Rurichiyo had.
She believed she understood him better.
“Your recent attitude… no, ever since you approached me two years ago, you’ve been waiting for the day Central 46 ceases to be a concern.
Recently… it feels to me like all the judges there have already been destroyed.”
She stated it plainly, with conviction.
“You don’t think I would take action against Central 46, do you?” Ichiryu said matter-of-factly.
“Even the captain I respect most wouldn’t dare such a thing.”
“My father… will he die?” Nayura asked seriously, ignoring his deflection.
“Yes.”
Nayura couldn’t bear it.
She turned her head to glare at him.
He continued.
“The ancestors of the Five Great Noble Families were all contemporaries of the Soul King.
Aren’t they all dead now?
No one is immortal except the Soul King.”
Nayura stood up to face him.
Her height—no wonder even Rurichiyo could call her ‘little one.’
“When does a person truly die?” Ichiryu mused, his tone shifting.
“Is it when someone pours mercury into their ears?
No.
Is it when you’re devoured by a Hollow, or pierced by a Zanpakutō?
No.
When your eyes are gouged out and molten copper poured in?
That’s not right either.
Is it when you drink the mushroom soup you cooked?
Of course not.”
He paused.
“It’s when the world forgets them.
If the rotten stench lingering in Central 46 ever dissipates, I suppose those judges would truly be dead, wouldn’t they?
But I believe that would also be the moment the Soul Society is revived.”
Ichiryu delivered another long, ambiguous string of comparisons.
“I’m not discussing the philosophy of life and death with you!” Nayura couldn’t help complaining.
“And… why is my mushroom soup in there!”
“No, believe me.
That one is the closest to actual death.”
He was entirely serious.
“Are you using me?” Nayura asked, direct and earnest, ignoring his wit.
“If relationships between people must be defined by ‘using’ or ‘being used,’ then I believe I am the one being used.
You are the one who wishes to reform Central 46.
You had that idea long before we ever met.” Ichiryu’s tone was solemn now.
“I’m merely teaching you how to achieve your goal.”
What he said was the truth.
Nayura fell silent.