After a night of indulgent relaxation, Masatsuki Aozaki and Ōetsu Nimaiya made their way to the Kirinden of Tenjirō Kirinji.
With Kirinji's warm hospitality, the three of them enjoyed a soothing hot spring bath together. Once their time at the springs concluded, Masatsuki returned to Gatonden.
Not long after he left, a tall and imposing figure stepped into the hot spring. A warm and familiar voice sounded from behind the two remaining men.
"So? The kid did well, didn't he?"
"Hmm?"
Ōetsu Nimaiya turned his head and looked at the kindly smiling bald man behind him.
As expected—it was Ichibē Hyōsube.
Instead of answering immediately, Ōetsu first splashed some hot spring water on his face. Then, with a deep sigh, he leaned back against a rock and spoke slowly.
"I finally understand now... why His Majesty the Soul King chose him."
With that, he closed his eyes. The image of that rough-hewn Zanpakutō surfaced in his mind.
The material that formed that blade—it was the same kind of soul-infused essence used in his Asauchi. There was no doubt about it. It wasn't an artificial construct like the ones Kirio Hikifune created.
Unconsciously, he murmured,
"Not only does his Reiatsu surpass mine, a member of the Royal Guard... but he can even create souls. That kind of power is terrifying."
The three of them were beings whose Reiatsu had long since surpassed the realm of ordinary Shinigami. Their senses were razor-sharp.
So even though Ōetsu had spoken under his breath, the other two had heard him clearly.
Tenjirō Kirinji's pupils contracted sharply, shock flashing across his face.
Create souls? That's impossible!
He had never heard of anyone being capable of such a feat.
Only a god could do something like that...
No, even a god might not be able to. After all, he had never seen the Soul King himself perform such an act.
On the other hand, Ichibē Hyōsube simply waved a hand dismissively and let out a hearty laugh.
"Create souls? Hahaha… His power is probably far more complicated than that."
"Not soul creation? Then what is it?"
Ōetsu Nimaiya frowned, his confusion evident as he turned to Ichibē.
However, instead of a clear answer, Ichibē simply scratched his bald head and grinned.
"Even if you ask me, I can't say for sure. Maybe His Majesty the Soul King is the only one who truly knows the answer."
He shrugged, making it clear that he had no real insight into the matter.
"Only the Soul King knows…? Is that why His Majesty had us teach him the art of sword forging?" Kirinji asked, furrowing his brows in thought.
"I don't know," Ichibē admitted. "But now that he's mastered forging, Ōetsu has completed his task. His Majesty will probably meet with him soon."
With a clap of his hands, Ichibē signaled an end to the discussion.
Kirinji took the hint and didn't press further.
It wasn't as if he had much choice. Though all five of them were members of the Royal Guard, this monk was the strongest among them.
Even if the other four joined forces, they might not be able to take him down.
Ōetsu Nimaiya pursed his lips, nodding slightly.
It was obvious—teaching Masatsuki Aozaki the art of forging wasn't his own decision. It had been decreed by the Soul King.
Otherwise, no matter how easygoing he was or how much he liked Masatsuki, there was no way he would have passed down such an essential technique to someone he'd only just met.
After all, the Zanpakutō was the very foundation of the Shinigami. It was because of the Zanpakutō that beings known as Shinigami even existed.
"...The Soul King probably doesn't want him to forge just Zanpakutō, does he?"
Ōetsu exhaled deeply, his voice trailing off as if he were speaking to no one in particular.
But without someone to answer... his question remained hanging in the air, lost in the silence.
...
Three days later...
"Understood. I'll be there on time."
After seeing off the messenger, Masatsuki Aozaki shut the door and returned to the dining room.
"Masatsuki! Where did you run off to just now!?"
Senjumaru Shutara's voice carried a commanding force, brimming with a composed authority far more serious than usual.
Since moving into Gatonden, this was the first time she had displayed such presence.
Normally, she played the role of an eccentric, somewhat scatterbrained older sister. But in truth, she was a royal operative entrusted with the protection of the Soul King.
At this moment, standing tall with poised elegance, every inch of her exuded an irresistible charm and an aura of unquestionable sanctity.
If an enemy were present, they would have been instantly cowed by her sheer presence—unless, of course, they were on par with her in strength.
But no such opponent was here now.
So no one was intimidated in the slightest.
Masatsuki simply reached out and gave her a firm flick to the forehead.
"Ow!?"
Senjumaru yelped in surprise.
"What's with the overreaction, you idiot? Anyone listening in would think we were under attack."
Masatsuki rolled his eyes, looking at her with mild exasperation.
"It's just dessert, isn't it? No matter how bad it turns out, I wouldn't run away. Now pull back your Reiatsu and stop leaking it everywhere."
Masatsuki frowned at her, clearly unimpressed.
Senjumaru, still rubbing her forehead from the unexpected flick, looked at him sheepishly.
"So where were you, then? I thought you were hiding because you didn't want to eat."
"It was that bald monk's messenger," Masatsuki replied, crossing his arms. "So, how's it going?"
"Bald..."
Senjumaru blinked, momentarily stunned, as her mind slowly caught up.
"Oh! It's chilling right now! Miss Hyōrinmaru was a huge help!"
She suddenly perked up, her composure as a Royal Guard officer shattering in an instant.
Then, just as suddenly, she deflated, her large eyes turning misty with frustration.
She clenched her fists, carefully controlling her strength, and lightly pummeled Masatsuki's chest.
"You idiot, Masatsuki! This is all your fault! I forgot to tell Miss Hyōrinmaru the timing, and now it's ruined again!"
Masatsuki hurriedly tried to soothe her.
"Calm down, don't get worked up… If Kirio Hikifune sees us like this, she'll think we're a bickering couple."
Senjumaru's small fists landed against him with soft, ineffective thuds.
The force was just right—not painful in the slightest, but oddly comfortable.
Before she could react, Masatsuki grabbed hold of her arms.
She gasped, startled, and quickly turned her face away, blushing.
Lately, this kind of thing had been happening between them more often.
Even though Senjumaru insisted on treating him as just a friend, she still found herself flustered whenever they accidentally got too close.
After all, they had kissed once before. There had been a confession. And a response.
Masatsuki: ?
Because of that, Senjumaru was caught in a dilemma—she wanted to keep some distance between them, but at the same time… she really didn't.
Suddenly, she lifted her head, her stubborn gaze locking onto Masatsuki.
"This is your fault! If I hadn't gone looking for you, I wouldn't have forgotten!"
Her voice carried a hint of petulant frustration, as if placing all the blame squarely on him.
She pouted slightly, her face tinged red—like a child sulking after being wronged.
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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