Hitsugaya Tōshirō's expression said everything—he was far from calm.
Even without words, anyone could tell that something within him was breaking apart.
He stepped up to the prison cell, his cold aura fading slightly as he looked at the woman sitting inside the deep cell.
"...Hinamori."
His voice trembled, heavy with helplessness.
"Tōshirō, I…"
Hinamori's face twisted in pain. She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. The reality of her impending execution hung over her like a suffocating weight.
Seeing this, Hitsugaya's gaze gradually hardened. But he didn't speak further—because another man stood beside him.
"Captain Aizen."
"Captain Hitsugaya."
Their conversation began with casual formality.
"I'm deeply saddened by what has happened to Hinamori," Aizen said softly. His usual smile was gone, replaced with a tone that sounded almost sincere.
"I intend to appeal to the Central 46 within the month to request leniency. If two captains submit the petition together, perhaps the chances will be higher."
At those words, some tension faded from Hitsugaya's face.
"Then, on Hinamori's behalf… thank you, Captain Aizen."
Aizen blinked briefly, then shook his head.
"There's no need for thanks. It's what I should do. Hinamori was, after all, my lieutenant."
After a brief visit, the two captains left the Senzaikyū.
But just before reaching the outer steps, Hitsugaya stopped, looking back toward the prison. His expression was firm, eyes filled with resolve.
"Captain Aizen, there's still unfinished business in the Tenth Division. I'll return for now."
Aizen nodded.
"Of course. Go ahead, Captain Hitsugaya."
Using Shunpo, Hitsugaya disappeared into the distance.
Aizen watched his silhouette fade, folding his hands behind his back, a faint smile curving his lips.
"How intriguing. Everything is falling perfectly into place."
---
Time passed quickly.
For Shimo, the following two weeks were a test of patience. But eventually, they too came to an end.
That morning, he received intelligence from Urahara Kisuke—delivered in an unexpectedly roundabout way.
Members of the Shiba Clan had passed it to Shiba Kūkaku, who in turn handed it to him.
"Kūkaku," Shimo said, glancing at the letter in his hand, his tone wry. "You still keep in touch with Shihōin Yoruichi?"
Kūkaku's face froze awkwardly.
"W-Well… you know Yoruichi's been branded an exile. As a Shiba, how could I possibly still be in contact with her?"
Her bluff was obvious, but her honesty was disarming. Shimo coughed lightly, pretending not to notice.
"Right… of course. No contact then."
The envelope bore a small paw print pressed into the wax seal. Below it was written:
[To Kyōraku Shimo—personally.]
He could only sigh.
"So that's how you pass messages now, Kisuke… through Yoruichi's cat form."
Infusing the envelope with spiritual energy, he opened it.
[Dear Shimo,
Kurosaki Ichigo and his companions will enter Soul Society tomorrow.
Let's meet soon.
– Urahara Kisuke.]
And beneath the signature, another paw print.
Shimo's eyes narrowed slightly as he burned the message into ash.
"So… the stage is finally being set."
Kūkaku eyed the ashes curiously but said nothing. She was sharp enough to know when not to ask questions.
When she drifted into thought, Shimo suddenly clapped his hands.
"Right! I almost forgot something important."
He turned toward her with a serious look.
"If you don't return to the Shiba estate tonight, who's going to fire the Kakaku Taihō (Flower Crane Cannon)? Surely not Kaien?"
He shuddered at the thought.
If Kaien tried to operate it, it'd probably misfire before launching the Ryoka anywhere near Seireitei.
And if Ichigo couldn't breach the barrier, Hinamori wouldn't be able to stage her prison break—meaning Shimo's check-in mission would fail entirely.
Decision made, he smiled at Kūkaku.
"Kūkaku! We're heading back to the Shiba estate tonight."
"H-Huh?" she blinked.
Even she, bold as she was, turned slightly red at the sudden insistence in his tone.
After informing Unohana of his temporary departure, Shimo and Kūkaku headed for the Western Rukongai.
"For safety's sake," he added as they walked, "you're sure Kaien can't handle the cannon?"
Kūkaku crossed her arms proudly.
"In all of Soul Society, no—in all of existence—I'm the only one who can fire it properly! Big brother's genius lies elsewhere… unlike you, Shimo, who's just ridiculous in every way."
Shimo chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment."
He explained the situation on their way back—the Ryoka invasion, the need to open the cannon gate, and what was about to unfold.
Kūkaku, ever straightforward, didn't even ask why. She just agreed.
"You really are the best, Kūkaku," Shimo praised.
"Better than Yoruichi?" she teased.
He paused. "…Let's save that debate for another day."
---
Thanks to Urahara's pre-arranged coordinates, the Shiba Clan had already relocated from Northern to Western Rukongai to match the Kaidō Gate's alignment.
Because of this, Kūkaku's fate had already shifted—her arm was still intact, and her family had avoided their original tragic sequence of explosions.
When everything was settled, Shimo returned to Seireitei.
Behind him, Kūkaku's lingering, wistful gaze followed until he disappeared beyond the horizon.
"Marriage talk already… way too soon," he muttered, quickening his pace.
---
The next morning, Shimo resumed his duties, inspecting the General Relief Ward as usual.
But as he returned to his barracks, a sharp alarm rang out—
The Hell Butterfly Communication Network flared, followed by the echo of the Twelfth Division's emergency alert system.
"Emergency situation!" a voice cried.
"Repeat! Emergency situation in the Western Outskirts—abnormal boundary readings detected from Sectors 3 through 8! All divisions, prepare for engagement!"
Whispers spread like wildfire.
"Abnormal boundary readings?"
"Could it be… a Ryoka incursion?"
The word sent ripples of tension through the barracks.
In Soul Society, this term had one meaning—illegal souls crossing the boundary between worlds.
And those who did… were known as Ryoka.
Hearing it, Shimo smiled faintly.
"Finally."
"Yūsuke! Gather the first aid unit—we're heading to the Hakutōmon. (White Road Gate)"
"Understood!"
Within minutes, his aide Yūsuke had assembled the elite Sixth me Relief Unit, and they took off at full speed.
---
Western Rukongai – Hakutōmon
Kurosaki Ichigo stood before a towering figure whose height nearly reached ten meters.
"No entry through the Hakutōmon, kid!" boomed the giant, his voice like a temple bell.
Jidanbō Ikkanzaka, the gatekeeper of Seireitei, hefted his twin axes.
"Unless you can defeat me!"
Ichigo grinned and drew his massive Zanpakutō.
"Fine by me. Let's fight!"
Their blades clashed like thunder.
Jidanbō's strength shook the ground, but Ichigo's determination refused to yield.
At last—
Crash!
Jidanbō's axes shattered, and his huge body was hurled backward toward the gate.
Defeated, the loyal gatekeeper laughed weakly.
"A promise is a promise."
Planting his feet, he raised the gate with a roar of effort.
But as it opened—his eyes went wide with horror.
On the other side stood a man in a white captain's haori, with short lavender hair and a perpetual, foxlike smile.
"W-Who… is that?" Ichigo asked, his voice tense.
"C-Captain of the Third Division… Ichimaru Gin," Jidanbō stammered.
Gin tilted his head, eyes narrowing in amusement.
"Well now, that's not good, is it?"
He slowly drew Shinsō, its blade gleaming with killing intent.
But before he could strike—
Clang!
Steel met steel, his slash intercepted.
"Oh?" Gin turned slightly, a flicker of surprise in his gaze.
"Well, well… Lieutenant Kyōraku Shimo. Fancy seeing you here."
Shimo smiled pleasantly. "My apologies, Captain Ichimaru. But I'd rather not give my division more work than necessary."
Gin chuckled. "A soft heart, as always?"
Shimo's smile deepened—warm, polite, yet far more unsettling than Gin's.
"Just doing my duty. This area is off-limits… surely you understand."
Jidanbō blinked. "That's… the Fourth Division's Lieutenant—Kyōraku Shimo!"
Before he could finish, Ichigo exclaimed,
"You…!"
Shimo met his gaze, smiling like a teacher meeting a wayward student.
"Well, what a coincidence, Ryoka boy. We meet again."
A bead of cold sweat rolled down Ichigo's cheek.
The smile—that same terrifying calm. Even now, with all his newfound strength, he felt it again.
That suffocating, primal fear.
A dread that clawed up from the depths of his soul.
His knuckles turned white as he gripped his sword, hands trembling.
And yet—Shimo only smiled wider.
"Sorry, everyone," he said softly.
"But this gate… is closed."
--------------------------///
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