When Kyoraku Shunsui made his invitation, Gosuke Shigure froze for a moment.
Then, he smiled faintly.
He didn't refuse.
After all, he wasn't a rigid man.
In his previous life, he had lived on the edge of a blade — the kind of existence where each battle left behind blood, exhaustion, and an ache that no meditation could cure.
After a fight, there were only two ways to vent the accumulated tension: wine and women.
And so, he nodded lightly and said, "Since it is an invitation from Captain Kyoraku, I can only be respectful rather than disobedient."
The words came out politely — too politely.
So much so that Shunsui himself blinked in surprise.
Politeness wasn't unheard of among shinigami, but in the Eleventh Division — a den of rough fighters who solved every conversation with their fists — such refined courtesy sounded almost comical.
Still smiling, Shunsui adjusted his hat and gestured toward the door. "Well then, Vice-Captain Gosuke, let's go."
Shigure set aside his documents and followed.
…
*Clack*
They left the Eleventh Division compound and made their way through the white-stone streets of Seireitei.
Though far smaller than Rukongai, Seireitei was still a vast city, filled with noble estates, barracks, gardens, and marketplaces — a blend of sacred order and quiet luxury.
The higher one went within the walls, the thicker the spiritual density became. And in those upper districts stood the quarters of the great noble families — a world apart from the chaos of Rukongai.
Naturally, where nobles gathered, entertainment followed.
Gosuke Shigure had assumed that Shunsui's "drink" meant a tavern, or perhaps a private reception with other captains and lieutenants.
What he hadn't expected was for the Eighth Division captain to lead him directly into the heart of Seireitei's Kabuki District — the pleasure quarter near Noble Street.
…
The business there was thriving.
At the entrance stood towering sakura trees, their blossoms scattering with every breeze.
*Swish*
Petals drifted through the air, carrying a faint fragrance of rouge and sake. The atmosphere radiated wealth — elegant, perfumed decadence.
Nobles in silken robes came and went, their laughter soft and practiced.
Many of them recognized Kyoraku Shunsui and greeted him with a bow or a smile.
"Captain Kyoraku, it's been a while!"
"Ah, Kyoraku-sama, good evening."
Shigure followed silently, watching the exchanges. It wasn't surprising.
Aside from being a captain of the Gotei 13, Shunsui was also the head of the Kyoraku Clan — a high-ranking noble house, second only to the Five Great Noble Families.
Among the "upper nobility", the Kyoraku family stood at the pinnacle. In a more poetic sense, they were half a step below perfection — nobles of freedom and refinement rather than cold formality.
Under Shunsui's easy guidance, they entered the district proper.
…
The interior of Kabuki Town was a world apart from the regimented halls of the Gotei.
Private rooms lined the wooden corridors, each separated by paper sliding doors and perfumed with sandalwood and incense. The air itself seemed to hum with the quiet music of shamisen strings.
At the center stood a small stage where performers in ornate kimono danced kabuki routines — graceful yet suggestive, their sleeves swirling through the lamplight.
Beyond the private chambers was a much larger hall, where another stage hosted far more… uninhibited performances.
Gosuke Shigure didn't need long to understand what kind of establishment this was.
His eyes shifted toward Shunsui with a hint of curiosity. "Captain Kyoraku…"
He hadn't expected this kind of outing.
Could a place like this — one that would likely be banned in polite company — really be where the Eighth Division's captain came to "relax"?
Then again, he supposed, he wasn't exactly a child anymore.
There was nothing to be embarrassed about.
Shunsui chuckled, noticing his expression. "You're thinking it's not quite the place for a vice-captain, aren't you?"
Shigure offered a light smile. "Just… not what I pictured."
"Well." Shunsui said easily, "I originally wanted to invite your captain, Kenpachi Azashiro, to come and loosen up a little. His temperament's too dull — though I can't entirely blame him. His past left scars deeper than any blade. But now that he's captain, I figured it was time he stepped out of that shell."
Shunsui spread his hands helplessly. "Unfortunately, he rejected my invitation outright. So, lucky me — you accepted instead."
He laughed warmly.
Shigure chuckled once, understanding perfectly.
'So I'm the replacement.' he thought wryly.
But he wasn't offended. To him, such trivialities didn't matter.
What caught his attention was something else — the phrase "his past".
He glanced sideways. "Captain Kyoraku… you mentioned Captain Azashiro's past. What exactly happened to him?"
Despite his three lifetimes — including his time as a human on Earth and his ancient past as a Shinigami before the Gotei 13 existed — Gosuke Shigure knew surprisingly little about Azashiro Soya.
He only remembered fragments from the distant future: that Azashiro had become the Eighth Kenpachi by defeating Kuruyashiki, that he had later committed some grave act and been imprisoned in the Muken, the great underground prison.
And that, years later, after Aizen's downfall, he had escaped — only to be defeated by Zaraki Kenpachi and locked away again.
But the details of his origins… were lost to time.
Shunsui's expression softened. He poured sake into both cups before answering.
"I probably shouldn't tell you this." he said quietly. "But since you asked, I suppose it won't hurt."
He leaned back, gazing at the flickering lanterns.
"When Azashiro defeated Kuruyashiki and became Kenpachi, I had the same question. Who was this man? He looked like a noble — his bearing, his education, his speech — but I couldn't recall ever hearing of him before."
"So I investigated."
He paused, taking a slow sip before continuing.
"What I found was… tragic."
…
"Azashiro's full name is Azashiro Soya — the eldest son of the Azashiro clan. They were low-ranking nobles. Not prominent, but respected enough to hold land and assets."
He set down his cup. "Many years ago, the family fell into decline. A series of 'accidents' — fires, assassinations, disappearances — slowly wiped them out. Though small, the Azashiro estate still possessed resources that certain outsiders coveted. And when those outsiders acted, the clan was destroyed."
Shigure's expression darkened slightly.
Shunsui went on, his tone quieter now. "Azashiro's older sister died protecting him. She fought a hollow during their execution on charges of crime — a Menos Grande — and perished at the execution ground."
He exhaled. "Even then, people still weren't satisfied. They came for him again. It was then that he awakened his Zanpakutō."
"The power of that blade killed everyone around him."
"When the Stealth Force finally arrived, he was the only survivor."
For a moment, the sound of shamisen filled the silence between them.
"Afterward," Shunsui continued, "the families of the dead wanted revenge. But the case was buried — sealed by the higher nobles. With their interference, the matter was declared an accident, and Azashiro was spared."
"After that, he disappeared. Never joined the Gotei 13. I don't think anyone even knew he existed until the day he walked into the Eleventh Division and challenged Kuruyashiki."
He finished his cup. "So yes — perhaps it's because of that childhood, that endless cycle of loss and betrayal, that Azashiro Soya became the man he is today. Cold, distant, detached."
…
There was more that Shunsui didn't say aloud.
He didn't mention how Azashiro, despite being of noble blood, refused to wear the full regalia of his class — only the minimal symbols required by law.
How his uniform lacked the usual embellishments, as though he wanted to erase every trace of aristocracy from himself.
That contradiction spoke volumes.
It was rebellion, and yet resignation.
*****
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