Soul Society, Seireitei — Central 46 Chambers.
For over a millennium, countless trials had taken place beneath these cold stone arches. Today was no different.
Forty wise men and six judges sat arranged in tiers above. Below them stood Commander-General Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni; Fourth Division Vice-Captain Higashi Shuuichi; Eighth Division Captain Kyōraku Shunsui; and Ninth Division Captain Muguruma Kensei.
On the floor, bound and alone, stood Tsunayashiro Tokinada.
Honestly, the setup felt excessive to Shuuichi.
The Commander-General's presence was expected—he attended most Central 46 hearings. His stern gaze lent the court its borrowed courage.
Muguruma Kensei's presence made sense too—he led the capture after the incident. But Kyōraku Shunsui? That one puzzled Shuuichi.
What's the head of the Intelligence Division doing at a trial like this?
Of course, that thought stayed locked in his mind. He wasn't about to question Kyōraku to his face.
But as the trial progressed, the reason became painfully clear.
Shuuichi caught the death glare Tokinada sent toward Kyōraku and, inwardly, gave the man a silent thumbs-up.
"You've got balls, brother."
Turns out, the Tsunayashiro family had already brokered a backroom acquittal. Kensei was prepared to release Tokinada.
Then Kyōraku dropped a formal accusation on Central 46's lap, forcing them to act.
Now they were in a bind.
The Tsunayashiro clan—one of the Five Great Noble Houses—demanded face. But so did Kyōraku Shunsui—Captain of the Eighth Division and prized student of the Commander-General himself.
Damned if they favored one. Damned if they didn't.
Thus unfolded this bastardized excuse of a trial.
Tokinada stood accused—technically—but the charges were laughable: "unintentional manslaughter," "excessive force in self-defense."
Soft. Sanitized. Sterile.
One of the elders even shot Kyōraku a pitiful look as if to say, "This is the best we could do."
The sentence? House arrest for five hundred years, deferred by six months so Tokinada could "transition his responsibilities."
No restitution. No penalty.
Even someone like Higashi Shuuichi—who never claimed moral high ground—found it offensive.
It would've been better not to hold a trial at all. At least then people could pretend justice might still exist.
He turned to Kyōraku and saw only quiet disappointment in the man's eyes.
"If he weren't born into the Kyōraku clan," Shuuichi thought, "he might've followed Aizen too."
Kyōraku was a man of contradictions—idealism cloaked in irreverence. Most were fooled by his lazy smile.
To Shuuichi, the trial was a complete failure. Central 46 tried to appease both sides and ended up alienating them both.
Worse, they didn't even realize it.
After the judgment, they ordered Captain Muguruma to escort Tokinada and announce the verdict to the public—as if that would legitimize their disgrace.
Shuuichi followed silently. When they arrived at the square, he saw him—fists clenched, teeth gritted, blind eyes wide open.
"Tōsen Kaname."
It hit him in that moment. He had misunderstood Aizen.
Last night's words weren't about the trial itself.
They were about this man.
In canon, it was Aizen who recruited Tōsen. But now that he had Shuuichi as a reliable lieutenant, there was no need to risk exposure.
By nudging Shuuichi to attend and invoking past memories, Aizen was leading him to see Tōsen as a mirror of his former self.
He didn't need to say anything. Shuuichi would handle the rest.
Masterful, Shuuichi thought, deeply impressed.
If I didn't have foreknowledge, I'd be dancing on his strings like everyone else.
Kensei finished reading the verdict to a crowd of cheering, clueless Shinigami. Not one noticed Tokinada walk away, unguarded and free.
Not even a leash. No surveillance. No conditions.
Ridiculous.
But not everyone missed it.
Though blind, Tōsen's spiritual perception was sharp. His "eyes" locked onto Tokinada.
And Tokinada saw him too—his late wife's closest friend.
He approached, calm and measured.
Tōsen asked why. Why did he kill Kakyou?
Tokinada sneered, relishing the opportunity to boast.
He spoke in detail, sneering at Kakyou's kindness, her pacifist dreams, her belief in love and peace. All of it, in his eyes, was filth.
Repulsive.
And then he did it—lifted Tōsen's Zanpakutō and placed it against his own throat.
"Go ahead. Just a flick of your arm, and you can avenge your precious friend—my wife, Kakyou. So which matters more? Her dream… or her revenge?"
His voice was mocking, eyes locked on Tōsen's empty stare.
Was he daring Tōsen to strike?
No. He didn't care if he died.
He wanted Tōsen to break.
From the moment he touched that blade to his neck, he had already won.
Whether Tōsen struck or not, Tokinada would savor the outcome.
But fate sided with him once more.
Tōsen trembled. He hesitated.
He couldn't do it.
He remembered Kakyou's dream—a world without hate—and couldn't defile it with blood.
"If I kill him... how could I face her in the afterlife?"
Tōsen wept inside.
And Tokinada? He laughed. Drunk on sadism.
He struck Tōsen—fists, elbows, knees. Beating him savagely, trying to provoke a response.
But Tōsen endured. Not a word. Not a blow returned.
At last, Tokinada grew bored. He turned, leaving Tōsen half-dead on the ground.
"If you're that obsessed with her nauseating dream, then go join her in the grave."
He couldn't even be bothered to kill him. Let the family retainers finish the job.
But just then—light erupted from the sky.
"Bakudō #62: Hyapporankan!"
Dozens of pale rods of light crashed down, slamming into the advancing assassins and pinning them where they stood.
"Vice-Captain Higashi?!"
One of the attackers recognized him.
"I'm not sure what just happened here," Shuuichi said coolly, stepping between Tōsen and the assailants, "but this is Seireitei. A civilian showing up here with an unregistered Zanpakutō? Suspicious enough. He won't die here—not yet. I'm taking him to the Tenth Division for questioning. Any objections?"
His reiatsu unfurled—not enough to crush, just enough to warn.
One of the would-be killers tried to protest: "But he's a Tsunayashiro—!"
Shuuichi silenced him with a glare.
"I wasn't aware nobility had the right to execute people without trial. Even Central 46 doesn't have that power."
And he wasn't wrong. Technically, that was the law.
It was just never enforced—at least not when nobles were the perpetrators and commoners the victims.
But now that someone had spoken aloud, they couldn't hide behind shadows.
Just like Kyōraku's accusation—the moment it hit daylight, it had to be addressed.
Defeated, the attackers stood down as Shuuichi bent down to tend to Tōsen.
Of course, the "Tenth Division" was a lie.
He brought Tōsen not to any interrogation chamber, but to his own quarters in the Fourth Division.
Where someone was already waiting—Aizen Sōsuke, calm and smiling.