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The team hall was a chamber steeped in history. The captains filed in, each wearing an expression that spoke volumes—nostalgia, suspicion, vigilance, disdain, curiosity—all directed at the man who had returned after a century: Hirako Shinji.
Byakuya Kuchiki observed him coolly. To him, Hirako had never held particular significance. Shinji had never commanded the Sixth Division. That honor had once belonged to the esteemed Kuchiki Ginrei. "Unexpected," Byakuya murmured.
Komamura Sajin stepped forward, his heavy steps echoing across the floor. His presence was imposing, his gaze locked on Shinji with canine sharpness. "They actually brought back a former criminal." Shinji narrowed his eyes at the remark, his grin fading as his stare hardened. "Big dog. Watch your mouth." Komamura didn't flinch. His spiritual pressure flared, his voice deep and uncompromising. "The old man speaks the truth. You were condemned by Central 46. You're a traitor."
Just as Shinji was about to retort, a voice—carefree and edged with mischief—interrupted. "Yeah, yeah." The Kyoto-tinged drawl floated in before the speaker entered. That foxlike grin, impossible to read, revealed Ichimaru Gin. "So it's Hirako-senpai. Been a while, hasn't it?" Shinji's glare shifted. The rage in his eyes twisted as he bit back a growl. "Ichimaru Gin…" His voice was low, the words forced between clenched teeth. Others noticed. The tension thickened.
Memories hung in the air. A century ago, Hirako and the Visoreds had been ambushed—infected with Hollow power, turned into monsters. Framed and hunted. Only Yoruichi's intervention had saved them. But many questions still lingered. The betrayal. The silence of Central 46. The hidden hands behind the tragedy. "Thanks for the compliment," Gin replied with an unbothered smirk. "You haven't changed much, senpai. Though that look suits you."
Shinji held back the flood inside him. He didn't know how many in Soul Society still served Aizen in secret—or how long he'd survive this return. It was a gamble. But seeing Aizen again… that had become his deepest wish.
"Captain Hirako." The voice was smooth, polite, familiar. Aizen Sōsuke arrived late, as if time itself bent to him. His eyes, calm and unreadable behind glasses, glinted. "Apologies. I'm still used to the old name. It's been a long time."
Shinji had told himself he could control his emotions after a century of exile and pain. He was wrong. The moment he saw Aizen, the fury surged. His pupils sharpened, blood tinting his vision. Reiatsu spiked. He was slipping. And then—coldness. A chill settled in his chest, suppressing his rage like a dam.
Moyu.
When Moyu had struck him with the Wyvern Smite Cannon, he had embedded a fragment of Reiatsu near Shinji's heart. During Kaidō treatment, he'd reinforced it. A failsafe. If Shinji ever lost control, it would calm the storm. Now, it held. Shinji lowered his gaze. Voice flat. "Yeah. Long time." Aizen smiled warmly. As if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't torn everything apart.
A deep thud echoed across the chamber. All the captains were present—save for Ukitake, still ill. Yamamoto Genryūsai stepped forward, leaning on his staff with solemn weight.
"This meeting is to address the matter of Hirako Shinji. According to information from Captain Kuchiki Moyu of the Tenth Division, the Hollowfied captains, having fled to the human world, formed a group known as the Visored. During their pursuit, it was observed that the Visored did not employ their Hollow powers offensively. At Captain Moyu's recommendation, Hirako Shinji's Shinigami status is to be restored under provisional observation. The floor is open."
Komamura stepped forward first, voice heavy. "Chief, I object. Hirako Shinji has been Hollow-tainted. He is a time bomb. Keeping him in Seireitei is reckless." Ever loyal to Yamamoto, Komamura's sense of justice aligned with authority, not sentiment. Shinji scoffed. "Do I look like I've lost control? Stupid mutt." Komamura bared his fangs, his anger flaring. "You—!" "Silence," Yamamoto ordered, voice like thunder. "Sinners have no place to speak."
Shinji bit his tongue. He didn't resist. Not with Yamamoto's overwhelming presence pressing down on him. Instead, he glanced at Aizen. Still standing there. Smiling. Watching. That same smile.
Zaraki Kenpachi leaned back, bored. "What a drag. Moyu, let's just go fight instead." Off-topic as always.
"I choose to trust Captain Moyu," said Kyoraku Shunsui calmly beneath the brim of his hat. "There's precedent, after all." Unohana nodded faintly. "I agree. I trust Moyu." Two votes in favor. Shinji's eyes flicked toward Moyu. So far, so good.
"Hollow influence is dangerous," Gin said. "If it spreads to others… well, what then?" Two to two. "Boring talks," Kenpachi muttered, abstaining.
Aizen finally spoke again. "There are many unknowns. Captain Hirako currently shows no Hollow traits. But the future is uncertain." He smiled gently. "I abstain." Shinji clenched his fists. Still playing the part.
"I trust Captain Moyu," came a sudden, cold voice. Sui-Feng. Then another. "I also choose to trust him," Byakuya said flatly. His face betrayed nothing—but his words shifted the tide. Four to two.
Tousen Kaname spoke quietly. "This violates justice. Hollow power is unstable."
All eyes turned to the last vote. Captain of the Twelfth Division—Nemu. Formerly known as Nemu Kurotsuchi, now acting under her true name: Nie Yinmeng. With Kurotsuchi Mayuri dead—slain by Moyu—she held the decisive vote. Moyu felt a flicker of unease. He had not expected her support. Perhaps she'd abstain. Perhaps not.
"I trust Captain Moyu." Her tone was emotionless. Murmurs rippled. Even Moyu stared, unsure of her motive.
Another deep thud. Yamamoto stepped forward, eyes sharp as fire. "The majority supports probation. Hirako Shinji will be assigned to the Tenth Division under Captain Moyu's watch." He looked directly at Moyu. "If anything goes wrong, the responsibility is yours. Remain after the meeting. There is more to discuss." He turned. "Meeting adjourned."
Shinji walked out slowly, face unreadable. He hadn't expected it to go this smoothly. Moyu had been right. He was a Shinigami again. And he had seen the face he yearned to confront.
"Hirako Shinji." He froze. Aizen stood behind him, calm as always. Shinji turned slowly, every muscle taut with suppressed hatred. "Aizen Sōsuke." Each syllable burned.
"You look well," Aizen said warmly. "A hundred years later, and your eyes still shine with fury. Do you hate me?" Shinji didn't answer. But the rage inside him was alive, restrained only by Moyu's seal.
"I look forward to it," Aizen said, walking past without a glance. "Seireitei's sky… has changed again."
Shinji watched him vanish down the corridor. A long pause. Then a quiet voice, spoken only to himself. "Yes, Aizen. The sky has changed… again."
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