The warm Tokyo afternoon was soaked in an early spring haze. Cherry blossoms hadn't yet reached full bloom, but their promise shimmered in the air like a whisper from the trees. Ajax Evarson stood quietly outside a modest but modern office building in Shibuya, dressed in a clean-cut navy blazer, charcoal slacks, and a collared white shirt—business casual with the quiet confidence of someone who could command a room if he chose to. Beside him, pedestrians passed with indifference. No one recognized him. No one knew he was the founder of Axer Games.
And no one—absolutely no one—knew he was the Titanlord.
He tapped his earpiece, where Alfred, his ever-faithful AI companion, waited. The connection clicked open.
[You've checked your reflection in the window thrice, sir. Unless you plan to court the man, I believe you look sufficiently sharp.]
Ajax smirked. "It's Kubo, Alfred. Tite Kubo. This is one of those meetings where we either walk out with a universe, or we walk out empty."
[Understood. Then allow me to make a bold suggestion—don't blow it.]
With that dry wit lingering in his ears, Ajax stepped into the building.
The receptionist, a young man barely into his twenties, straightened as Ajax approached. "Evarson-san?" he asked, clearly unsure whether to speak in English or Japanese.
Ajax bowed politely, speaking fluent Japanese. "Yes. I'm here to meet Kubo-sensei."
The young man blinked in pleasant surprise and immediately picked up the phone. After a brief conversation, he gestured toward the elevator. "Ninth floor. Kubo-sensei is expecting you."
The elevator ride was brief, but Ajax's mind was running a marathon.
Tite Kubo. The man who had created Bleach, a series that had become a global phenomenon in less than a decade. Currently on Volume 26, the manga had reached the turning point of the Arrancar saga. Ulquiorra. Grimmjow. Las Noches. Ajax had devoured each chapter like scripture. It wasn't just fiction—it was world-building done with a unique visual flair and emotional depth.
And he wanted that world in the virtual dimension of Axer Games.
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime.
The office was minimalistic. Large windows bathed the room in natural light. A few framed Bleach covers adorned the walls, and a rack of black coats hung neatly by the door—some long, some longer. A glass table sat in the center of the room, and at it was Tite Kubo, wearing dark shades despite being indoors.
He stood as Ajax entered, offering a handshake. His build was slender, casual, but there was a quiet sharpness in his posture—like a drawn sword that had chosen not to swing.
"Evarson-san," Kubo said in Japanese. "Welcome."
"Thank you, Kubo-sensei," Ajax replied, bowing respectfully. "It's an honor."
They sat.
No translators were needed. Ajax had made sure of that. He wasn't going to negotiate art through a filter.
Kubo poured tea for both of them. "I've been hearing things. About your company. Your VR."
Ajax smiled. "People are talking, and they don't even know what we're making yet. That's a good problem to have."
Kubo sipped his tea, silent for a moment. Then: "Why Bleach?"
Ajax's smile widened, but he didn't rush his answer.
"Because Bleach isn't just about power-ups or sword fights. It's about legacy. Identity. Inner conflict. It's about rules that govern the unseen world. And that's exactly the kind of structure that a VR universe needs."
Kubo raised a brow.
"I've studied your power system," Ajax continued. "Zanpakutō. Shikai. Bankai. The way each ability reflects the soul of the wielder. The fact that a sword's personality isn't just flavor text—it's the soul's echo. That's brilliant game design, even if it was never intended for games."
Kubo folded his arms. "You want to turn it into a game?"
"No. I want to turn it into an experience. One where players don't just wear a mask and swing a sword—they earn their soul's weapon. Their Zanpakutō isn't a reward. It's a revelation."
Kubo looked at him carefully. "I assume you've read up to Volume 26?"
"Of course. Las Noches. Ulquiorra's first real step into becoming something more than an Arrancar. The cracks in Ichigo's power. The beginnings of the mask. The clash between reason and instinct. It's all ripe for VR."
Ajax leaned forward.
"We can build Hueco Mundo. Seireitei. The Dangai. A full-blown Soul Society. I can give you the tech. But I need your world. Your permission. And your vision."
Kubo leaned back in his chair, staring out the window for a long moment.
Then he asked: "How much control would I have?"
Ajax didn't hesitate.
"The same thing I told Toriyama-sensei: complete creative control."
That caught Kubo's attention. "You met Toriyama-sensei?"
"Two days ago. We had tea. I think he was testing me. He asked questions. I gave answers."
"And he agreed?"
Ajax nodded. "With conditions. Reasonable ones."
Kubo's face was unreadable behind his sunglasses. He stood up, walking slowly to the window, tea cup in hand. The silence between them grew long—but not awkward.
"I've had studios ask before," Kubo said at last. "Game companies. Movie studios. Merchandisers. They always want to take Bleach and make it into something else. Something that sells."
"And I want to take Bleach," Ajax said, standing to meet him, "and make it into something more. I want the world you built to evolve—but only with your hand on the wheel."
Kubo turned slowly.
"Tell me, Evarson-san… if a player creates their own Zanpakutō, how will they unlock its name?"
Ajax grinned. "That's what I wanted to ask you."
They returned to their seats, and the meeting shifted.
Now it was about the soul mechanics.
About Shikai conditions. Zanpakutō spirits. How long it should take for a player to hear the name of their blade. How inner worlds could be shaped by a player's personality, behavior, and experiences in the VR world.
"What if the inner world changes based on decisions?" Ajax proposed. "What if the spirit changes too—reflecting the corruption or purification of the soul?"
Kubo nodded slowly. "Like a Hollow influence."
"Exactly. Or a Quincy imprint. Maybe even... something else."
Kubo reached into a drawer and pulled out a sketchpad. He flipped to a page and showed Ajax a drawing: a figure wielding an everyday object transformed into a weapon.
"They're humans," Kubo said slowly, "who've been spiritually influenced by a Hollow while still in the womb. As a result, they can pull the soul out of physical objects and manipulate them."
Ajax blinked. "That's... amazing."
Kubo gave a quiet smirk. "They're not in the story yet. Maybe not for a long time. But I've been thinking."
"Let me put them in the game," Ajax said immediately. "Unannounced. Hidden. Buried under the rest of the world's structure. No marketing. No hint. But when players start discovering strange mechanics... when someone reaches that level and finds their power doesn't look like a Zanpakutō... that's when we drop the hint."
Kubo leaned back, intrigued. "You really get it, don't you?"
"I get that Bleach has more secrets than you've shown. And I want players to feel like they're earning those secrets."
For the next hour, they talked about Hollows—what it meant to fall. The difference between a player temporarily gaining Hollow powers and a player becoming a Hollow. The dangers. The advantages. The spiritual consequences.
They talked about Quincies. Reishi manipulation. The idea that some players could see spiritual threads and tug on them in the world to alter their path. That Quincies shouldn't just be ranged fighters—they should be spiritual surgeons.
Then came the question of Bankai.
And they paused.
Because this wasn't just power progression.
"Bankai," Kubo said slowly, "is more than just leveling up. It's understanding who you are. A captain trains for decades to achieve it. It's not just knowing the name of your blade—it's fusing with it. Trusting it."
"Then that's how we gate it," Ajax said. "The player can't just grind for Bankai. They need to prove emotional alignment. Philosophical understanding. The game shouldn't tell them when they're ready. The Zanpakutō should."
Kubo was silent again. Then he smiled—an actual, warm smile.
"Alright, Evarson-san," he said. "Let's make something special."