'Central 46?'
'Is Soul Society legally liable?'
'That's all.'
After taking a sweeping look at the scene, Aiyan shook his head lightly.
Having walked the Great Spirit Book Gallery with Aizen, he understood clearly why the aged Yamamoto Genryūsai allowed such a twisted creation like Central 46 to continue existing.
Thousands of years ago, Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni, along with the first-generation Captain-Commander and Gotei, led Gotei 13 as nothing more than a group of killers.
How could you expect a bunch of Shinigami, born to slay Hollows and execute orders, to form a government or write laws for Soul Society in its infancy?
It was simply unrealistic.
In truth, it was the noble clans—especially the Five Great Noble Houses—who stepped in and penned the regulations. Yamamoto held the sword, while the nobles wrote the laws. That alliance formed the Central 46 and the governing system of Seireitei.
These laws and institutions were shaped by Yamamoto Genryūsai himself. So, how could he possibly dismantle them with his own hands? Even if Central 46 grew rotten to its core, as long as it still upheld the law, the Head-Captain would never contradict its authority in public.
"The final value of Central 46 is about to run out," Aiyan muttered.
"And when that time comes…"
"This relic of the past, which exists only to obstruct justice, will vanish."
Aizen's gaze swept over the forty-six sages and judges like he was counting corpses—cold, detached, utterly emotionless.
The two exchanged glances.
Not a word more was needed.
In just a few short lines, they had quietly decided the fate of an institution that had governed Soul Society for thousands of years.
Strangely, none of the forty-six sages or judges seemed to hear them. No one looked their way, no one reacted. It was as though they weren't even there.
"Brother," Aizen spoke softly. "It's almost time."
"We should go."
"If we're late, we'll miss a grand opening act."
Aizen didn't move, as if he were waiting for a signal. After a moment of silence, he said, "It's time."
Aiyan cast a final glance at the bickering judges and sages, his eyes brimming with mockery, then turned to leave.
Aizen followed without hesitation.
The two walked out of Central 46 openly, but to everyone watching—the guards in the shadows, the members of Central 46—they hadn't moved at all. In their eyes, the brothers were still standing quietly in place, awaiting the verdict.
…
Kuchiki Mansion.
Draped in luxurious silks, with a silver hairpin adorning her head, the daughter of the noble Kuchiki family knelt at the gate of an inner courtyard.
"Kuchiki Meijun…?"
"Go back," came the cold, deep voice from inside the room.
"The punishment of blood burial cannot be changed. Not even I can stop it."
"You've already been granted a one-month extension. That's the limit of divine mercy."
The voice was Kuchiki Ginrei's.
"Father, you're the head of the Kuchiki clan and the captain of the Sixth Division. You've served under the Captain-Commander for centuries. You must have some way to save Kōga!"
"Are you really willing to see your daughter and her husband torn apart forever? To watch me grow old in this mansion—alone?"
"I don't ask you to pardon his crimes. But at least, please shorten his punishment. Three thousand years of blood burial… it's too much, Father!"
Tears streamed down Meijun's face as she pleaded.
"Silence!" Ginrei's voice thundered.
"As a captain of the Gotei 13, how could I show favoritism?"
"Go back!"
"The fate of Kōga has already been decided. Tomorrow, I will personally carry out the blood burial."
"Even if you kneel outside this courtyard for a hundred years—or a thousand—it will not change a thing!"
Though his words were harsh, his heart ached.
After all, Meijun was his only daughter.
She had only been married for a few decades. To spend the rest of her life in grief and solitude—it pained him deeply.
But still—
The eyes of the Gotei 13 were on him.
The eyes of every noble clan were on him.
To protect the Kuchiki name, to cleanse the stain left by Kōga, he had no choice. He had to be the one to bury him.
More importantly—he still needed to extract the fragments of the Soul King sealed within Kōga.
How could he allow Kōga to live?
"Father!"
Meijun's voice cracked with sorrow as she continued to kneel in the cold wind.
But inside, Kuchiki Ginrei merely sighed.
No compassion showed in his eyes. Instead, he summoned a servant.
"You—stay and watch over Lady Meijun," he ordered.
Then, he quietly changed into the dark robes of the Stealth Force, fastened his Zanpakutō at his waist, and disappeared into the night.
…
From Kuchiki Mansion to the Repentance Palace wasn't a short trip. But Ginrei, a seasoned master of Shunpo, arrived in just thirty minutes, careful to hide his spiritual pressure along the way.
By now, the guards had long shifted their focus elsewhere.
Silently, Ginrei slipped into the deepest cell of the Ninth Level without triggering a single alarm.
There, in the gloom—
He stood before the man once known as Kuchiki Kōga.
"Kōga… don't blame me for being heartless."
"You were never accepted as my heir, but I still saw you as part of the family."
"I cultivated you with everything I had. If you had only listened, you could've risen through the ranks. Perhaps even stood beside the Head-Captain himself."
Before him lay a tall, once-proud man in a white prison uniform, now gaunt and hollow-eyed.
His limbs were bound by Spirit-Sealing Shackles, forged by the Twelfth Division—suppressing every trace of his Reiatsu.
There was no longer any sign of the elegant noble, the third seat of the Sixth Division, or the son-in-law of the Kuchiki family.
"You threw it all away," Ginrei whispered.
"But enough. The matter ends tonight. I will personally escort you to the next world."
He placed his hand over the Kidō seal and unlocked it without a sound.
Step by step, he moved deeper into the cell.
Kōga, whose spiritual power was suppressed, remained unconscious—even with Ginrei standing just in front of him.
He stared at the man he once raised, then began to chant a complicated incantation under his breath.
But—
In that very moment, a crushing darkness surged out from every direction.
Ginrei's eyes widened.
It wasn't just the lights—his sight, his hearing, his sense of smell, his ability to feel spiritual energy—all of it vanished.
All that remained was the sense of touch.
"Not good!"
His instincts screamed.
Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.