Ōetsu Nimaiya couldn't help but feel a tinge of emotion as he observed Masatsuki Aozaki, who made no effort to conceal his true self.
Despite being a disciple of Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto, Masatsuki was refreshingly straightforward and completely unpretentious—nothing like that old man.
Much better than Yamamoto, who put on a righteous facade in public but was anything but behind closed doors.
Ōetsu found that he much preferred someone as genuine as Masatsuki.
With a wave of his hand, the Zanpakutō sisters bowed gracefully and withdrew.
Turning back to Masatsuki, Ōetsu smiled and said,
"Masatsuki-chan, come with me. We can start right away."
Masatsuki blinked in surprise, his expression shifting.
He had expected to relax and enjoy himself here for a while before getting to business, but things were moving much faster than he anticipated.
"This soon?" he asked, puzzled.
Forging a Zanpakutō was an immensely important craft—shouldn't he be tested first? Maybe be made to stay in Hōōden for a few days to prove his worth?
However, Ōetsu's eyes gleamed with excitement as he nodded without hesitation.
"Of course! I can't wait!"
Without further ado, he led Masatsuki forward until they arrived at the edge of a cliff.
Below them stretched an endless ocean, waves crashing relentlessly against the rocky shore.
A small wooden cabin stood alone at the cliff's edge, isolated as if cut off from the rest of the world.
Masatsuki glanced up at the sign hanging above the door, squinting slightly as he read the three large characters inscribed on it: Hōōden.
He muttered, puzzled, "Hōōden?"
Ōetsu grinned and nodded. "That's right, this is Hōōden."
Pointing at the humble wooden hut, he explained,
"The place you're looking at right now? That's the real Hōōden."
"And that lavish, honey-filled palace from earlier? Just a glorified entertainment lounge, nothing more."
Then, gesturing toward the sea beneath Hōōden, he continued,
"Below this Hōōden, deep beneath the ocean, is my blade repository. That's where I forge Zanpakutō."
Masatsuki raised an eyebrow. "So all of your Zanpakutō are made beneath this hut? Pretty well hidden."
Ōetsu nodded again. "That's right. If you want to take a look, I don't mind giving you a tour."
But then, his expression grew serious.
"Before we head in and start your training, there are a few fundamental things I need to explain."
"You're a Shinigami, and you've used a Zanpakutō. But do you know where Asauchi come from?"
Masatsuki glanced at him, thinking for a few seconds before shaking his head lightly.
"Simply put," Ōetsu said, "Asauchi are condensed souls—raw spiritual matter that I forge into the form of a blade."
"So even if I master the craft of forging a Zanpakutō," Masatsuki mused, "I still wouldn't be able to create one without souls as raw material, right?"
Ōetsu chuckled. "That's right. But in your case, I doubt you'll ever have to worry about a shortage of materials."
Masatsuki kept his usual smile, but inwardly, his thoughts chilled.
"…And what exactly do you mean by that?"
Ōetsu didn't answer. Instead, his eyes flickered toward Masatsuki's waist, where his katana hung.
He grinned—a sharp, almost eerie smile.
"Your blade is quite something, Masatsuki-chan."
"It really does resemble a genuine Zanpakutō… though the craftsmanship is a bit crude."
He paused, then waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, forget it. That's not important."
Turning on his heel, he gestured toward the cabin.
"Come on in."
"Forging is a tedious art, so you better be ready!"
With that, Ōetsu bobbed his head to an invisible beat and strolled into the hut at his own rhythm.
His figure gradually disappeared into the darkness, leaving Masatsuki standing at the entrance.
Masatsuki pondered Ōetsu's words for a moment, then followed him inside.
...
They descended into the underground chamber—a vast, cavernous space swallowed in darkness.
Dim Kidō lamps flickered to life along the walls, casting a weak glow that barely illuminated the surroundings.
Then, from the depths of the shadows, figures emerged.
White, humanoid beings with mouths in place of eyes.
They stood silently, unmoving, yet their very presence exuded an invisible pressure.
Ōetsu's eyes gleamed with excitement as he looked at them.
"These are Asauchi, Masatsuki-chan. Now, let's get to work."
…
A day later, in the 1st Division barracks of Seireitei...
"Tch. A thousand years of resentment, huh? Those damn Quincy really don't know when to quit."
Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto's expression twisted into something terrifying—a cruel, unrestrained smile. Under the watchful eyes of the gathered captains, he made no effort to hide his murderous intent.
Kneeling before him on one knee was Rōjūrō Ōtoribashi, captain of the 1st Division Special Forces Unit.
As head of the Special Forces, his duty was to patrol and protect noble territories.
Now, the truth was finally clear.
The noble disappearances that had cost the 1st Division countless sleepless nights of investigation had, in the end, been the work of the Quincy.
And Rōjūrō Ōtoribashi had confirmed it himself.
Thinking back, the incident at the underground prison beneath Shin'ō Academy was likely their doing as well.
Yamamoto hadn't personally encountered the Quincy hiding in the shadows, but judging by the devastation left behind in the Special Forces, it was clear that even their fragmented remnants were still formidable.
Nearly thirty Special Forces members had been wiped out—only Rōjūrō, a captain-level fighter, had managed to escape.
What was particularly troublesome was their Shadow Domain—a technique that allowed them to manipulate shadow space and slip through Seireitei unnoticed.
If this were a direct battle, Yamamoto could erase them with a single swing of his blade.
But the issue wasn't fighting them.
It was finding them.
Of course, that didn't mean he was going to let this go.
Setting aside the thousand-year-old blood feud, they had dared to abduct and murder nobles right under the Gotei 13's nose.
That wasn't just an unforgivable crime.
It was an outright challenge.
Yhwach… your remnants are just as despicable as you were.
The thought of that man—filled with nothing but malice toward the world—stirred deep disgust within Yamamoto.
His sharp gaze turned toward Kisuke Urahara.
"Captain Urahara, does the Shinigami Research and Development Institute have a way to deal with the Quincies' Shadow Domain?"
Urahara furrowed his brows, deep in thought for a moment, then nodded.
"If it's just a Reishi-based space, cracking it shouldn't be too difficult. But it will take time."
Yamamoto gave a slight nod, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.
"Good. As of today, the Research and Development Institute will focus all its efforts on deciphering the Shadow Domain."
"The rest of the divisions must prepare for battle and strengthen their vigilance."
A cruel smile formed on his lips.
His voice, low and commanding, carried a weight that sent chills down the spines of those present.
"Wandenreich? A bunch of rats crawling through Seireitei's shadows, too afraid to show their faces, and yet they dare call themselves an empire? How ridiculous."
"This time, you'll die alongside your so-called emperor."
His words echoed through the hall, cold and final—like a death sentence.