The Autumn Chill Cuts Like a Blade

After several rounds of drinks, by the time the crescent moon had risen and all was quiet, Seiya's table remained lively.

Matsumoto Rangiku, slightly tipsy, rested her head on the wooden table, gazing at the shimmering lanterns outside. The light in her eyes was beginning to blur.

"This is great~ I can't believe there's no more curfew. It's absolutely wonderful."

Compared to forty years ago, Seireitei had indeed undergone significant changes.

One of them was the abolition of the curfew—except in times of war, there was no longer a mandatory nighttime lockdown in Seireitei.

And the one who had formally proposed this policy was none other than Seiya.

Of course, convincing the rigid and conservative factions had been no easy feat.

Seiya had to prepare his arguments carefully:

—Nighttime commerce was a genuine source of revenue.

—Alcohol taxation could be adjusted accordingly.

—Opening controlled districts for nighttime activities would help regulate Seireitei's overall security index.

A simple truth: the stricter the control, the stronger the backlash.

At its core, Seireitei was still a closed-off, old-fashioned society with many shortcomings.

Even someone as rigid as Yamamoto ultimately adhered to his principles for the sake of Seireitei. If given a path toward development, he would not be entirely inflexible.

Because of that, persuading him had gone more smoothly than expected.

Once Seiya brought it up, the proposal was quickly approved by the Gotei 13.

From there, the process of reporting it to Central 46, discussing it, and eventually implementing it encountered no obstacles at all.

"Captain Arima, having someone like you in Seireitei is a blessing~"

Matsumoto's political instincts might not have been sharp, but as a seasoned drinker, she definitely appreciated the change.

With the establishment of the nightlife district, drinking culture within the Gotei 13 had begun to flourish.

To Matsumoto, this was heaven!

She had wanted to say something polite in response, but before Seiya could even speak…

Matsumoto had already passed out on the table.

Gin scoffed in clear disdain.

"She's pulling this trick again…"

Seiya glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

"So, you're paying today?"

"We can't expect this unconscious drunkard to foot the bill. Last time she tried this, she nearly pawned her Zanpakutō to cover her tab."

Seiya almost lost his composure.

"…Terrible drinking habits."

He stood up to settle the bill while Gin helped his childhood friend to her feet.

As they walked onto the long street, the autumn breeze carried a sharp chill, making Matsumoto shiver slightly.

Gin seemed ready to act, but Seiya had already removed his captain's haori and draped it over Matsumoto's shoulders.

"…Are you sure about this, Captain?"

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

Gin pointed at the fluttering haori, his tone unreadable.

"For a captain, isn't this something rather important?"

Even if he wasn't a captain himself, Gin had attended enough captain meetings over the years to understand.

Kyōraku Shunsui, for instance—who never cared for his appearance—had been beaten out of meetings more than once because of his disregard for protocol.

"If you don't take good care of it, the Head-Captain is going to scold you."

"Oh, that?"

Seiya remained utterly unconcerned, even waving a hand dismissively.

"It's just a symbol of status, nothing more."

As a matter of formality, a captain was supposed to respect and always wear their haori.

But if one really thought about it…

In the end, it was nothing but an object.

"The old man only cares about the attitude behind it."

"What truly matters is action, Gin. If we let trivial things hold us back…"

Seiya smiled and patted Gin on the shoulder.

"Then what's the point of calling ourselves protectors of the Court?"

Gin was silent for a moment, his gaze shifting slightly. When he lowered his head again, he muttered under his breath.

"…Sometimes, you actually say something decent, Captain."

"No… I should be considered reliable all the time, right?"

"That's just what the younger members think after being blinded by your polished image."

"That's kind of harsh, Gin…"

The back-and-forth between them had gone on for decades—it was effortless and natural.

A sense of ease, free of pretense.

After delivering Matsumoto back to the Tenth Division barracks, Seiya figured that since he was already here, he might as well pay a visit to the captain.

However, it turned out that no one was around.

"Our captain has been busy with some unknown matters lately. Apologies, Captain Arima…"

After all, it wasn't every day that another captain came by. Without someone of equal rank to receive him, it felt inappropriate—leaving the squad members unsure of how to handle the situation.

Thus, their attitude grew even more respectful.

"If there's anything you'd like to say, please let me know! As soon as the captain returns, I will be sure to pass on the message!"

"Haha… No need to be so formal. It's nothing serious."

At most, he was just a little disappointed.

"Well then, I'll leave Matsumoto in your care—"

"Is there something you need?"

A voice, still carrying traces of youthful inexperience, rang out as the doors swung open.

A silver-haired boy stepped forward.

Short in stature, his expression was set in a stern frown—but his physique lacked the intimidation factor to make it truly imposing.

If anything, it only accentuated his youth.

His gaze swept across the entrance, and the two nervous squad members practically bolted inside as if they had found their lifeline.

"Calm down. Speak slowly."

One had to admit—despite his youthful appearance, his composed and rational demeanor gave him an air of maturity that didn't quite match his looks.

Before long, the young man stepped forward quickly.

His Zanpakutō swayed slightly on his back, and paired with his signature furrowed brows, he stood before Seiya and saluted.

"Captain Arima, I apologize for not welcoming you properly."

He cut straight to the point with a bow.

"I am Hitsugaya Tōshirō, Third Seat of the Tenth Division. If there's anything you need, please feel free to tell me."

His hands rested at his sides, and as he leaned forward slightly, his tone was filled with sincerity.

"I can't guarantee I'll meet your expectations, but I will do my best."

Seiya leaned back slightly.

What a professional attitude…

Then, he glanced to the side.

See that, Gin?

Gin, with remarkable awareness, turned his head away, avoiding eye contact entirely.

Come to think of it, this was Seiya's first time meeting Hitsugaya.

The boy had spent very little time in the Academy before being assigned directly to the Tenth Division…

So Seiya had only heard his name before.

"I've heard about a young genius joining the Tenth Division—so that must be you, Hitsugaya."

Faced with Seiya's praise, Hitsugaya remained composed.

"You overestimate me. It's nothing but an empty title."

He raised his head slightly, his expression still respectful.

"And compared to someone like you, Captain Arima, I'm nothing to be proud of—calling me a genius is laughable."

A reputation preceded by a name—this was how things worked.

Under Seiya's leadership, the Fifth Division had long since built an esteemed reputation.

"Haha, am I really that famous now? Feels kind of surreal…"

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Seiya explained his reason for coming.

Hitsugaya's expression darkened slightly as he lowered his head.

"…So that drunkard caused trouble again."

He immediately directed the squad members to help carry Matsumoto off, ensuring she was taken care of.

"In that case, please send my regards to Captain Hitsugaya. That's all for now."

Hitsugaya politely escorted them a fair distance before turning back.

Seiya remained indifferent, but Gin, on the other hand, seemed somewhat distracted.

"…Worried about Matsumoto?"

Gin shook his head decisively, his tone flat.

"No. The Tenth Division is competent enough to handle something this simple."

Seiya frowned slightly.

"Then why the troubled look?"

"…I'm worried about something else."

The two walked side by side—a familiar sight after years of working together.

But tonight, something felt subtly different.

Gin, eyes fixed ahead, spoke in a measured tone.

"Captain Arima."

"I'm listening."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Here?"

"If you're uncomfortable with it…"

"No, if you're fine with it, then I don't mind."

More than anything, Seiya was curious—what could Gin want to ask at a time like this?

Sensing the atmosphere shifting, Seiya tried to lighten the mood.

"So, what is it? Is Matsumoto borrowing money from you again, or—"

"Captain Arima… do you truly trust Aizen Sōsuke?"

Silence.

As the two locked eyes, a sharp autumn wind swept through the street.

The autumn chill cut like a blade.

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Powerstones?

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