The Birth of White

I…

Am a snake.

Cold-hearted, incapable of gratitude.

Even if I receive kindness, I should never waver from my path.

As for my true purpose—Gin Ichimaru had once pondered this question. Now, he had long found his answer.

To ensure that Rangiku could live a complete and peaceful life.

And for that, he only needed to watch over her from afar.

Because a snake's cold body could never provide warmth. No matter how close he got, no matter how much he tried, he could never say the words that might comfort her.

His goodwill did not need to be acknowledged. His actions did not need to have meaning.

As long as Rangiku was safe… Gin Ichimaru could endure any humiliation, swallow any bitterness.

This was the debt he owed her, the emotion buried deepest within his heart.

That was how it should have been.

But everything changed that day.

A man named Seiya Arima had violently torn away his facade.

And after that, through near-forceful means, had reconnected him with Matsumoto Rangiku.

It was almost ironic.

He had thought himself capable of enduring an eternity of darkness and solitude.

But this warmth, like the taste of honey, had ensnared him.

Just one moment of it—

And he, an ant, had already grown addicted to its sweetness.

If he could have this—without sacrificing anything—

If he could simply remain by Rangiku's side…

Gin thought that perhaps, he would never ask for more.

But even as this thought surfaced, Gin immediately crushed it.

"Captain Arima!"

His voice was firm, his expression severe.

For once, Gin Ichimaru bore no trace of his usual mocking smile.

He stared directly at the man before him, his piercing gaze unwavering.

"I know that you and that man do not walk the same path."

"I know you must be scheming something—something that will bring you danger."

"You think… I'll just stand by and watch?"

Decades of companionship.

From the moment he had struggled to keep up with Seiya's footsteps, to the moment he had finally come to understand the burden Seiya carried.

"You refuse to betray that man, yet you also strive to maintain the peace in Seireitei."

"But standing in the gap between two worlds… That's an impossible burden! I know… Captain Arima is not someone who wavers."

"So even if you don't say it—I understand."

Am I pitying him?

Perhaps.

After all, in all of Seireitei, perhaps only Gin Ichimaru could clearly see Seiya Arima's conflict.

He didn't understand Seiya's ultimate goal.

He didn't know what Seiya truly believed in.

But no matter what—

Could a single man truly shoulder such an impossible weight alone?

—Though he wanted to say it.

The words caught in his throat.

In the end, he swallowed them back down.

Because from where he stood, no matter what, those words would be far too disrespectful.

In the end—

Respect was not something that could be forced.

It was not an obligation.

It was a feeling that emerged from the depths of one's soul.

The gratitude of a teacher guiding his student.

The trust of a commander in battle.

It all formed the foundation of his conviction.

And in this moment, Gin Ichimaru bowed his head.

His voice was hoarse, but sincere.

"Please… please, let me stay by your side."

—

A long silence followed.

And then, a soft sigh.

Seiya lowered his gaze, his expression unreadable.

Was he happy? Perhaps.

But what he felt most was something else entirely.

A deep, unshakable sense of responsibility.

The boy who had once been the ultimate schemer—

The one who had hidden his true thoughts behind a mask of mockery for so many years—

Now, he was looking at Seiya with such genuine sincerity.

I…

Without realizing it, I have changed the course of his life this much?

Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

Seiya wasn't sure.

But at this moment—

All he could feel was gratitude.

"I understand your feelings, Gin."

The moment he heard those words, Gin tensed.

Because the way Seiya spoke—

It felt off.

"But I'm not some child who needs a hand to hold. If you think I require protection—"

Seiya paused.

"—Then you're underestimating me."

This wasn't a hardship he had been forced into.

It was a future he had chosen to step into.

"My vision extends farther than anyone else's. Even further than Aizen's."

That much was indisputable.

"So you don't need to worry about me, Gin. I know it might make you feel guilty… but you should accept the happiness given to you."

It was a touching sentiment.

But now was not the time to reveal his true hand.

Seiya walked around his desk, casually clapping Gin on the shoulder.

"Besides—I've already submitted your transfer request."

Gin's eyes widened.

"Wha—?!"

"The paperwork should be on the Tenth Division captain's desk by now."

The… Tenth Division?!

Of all places—why there?!

Gin wanted to argue.

But as he looked at Seiya, the words wouldn't come out.

All he could do was force out a weak:

"I'm not going."

Seiya simply chuckled.

"Come on now, Gin. I saw that look on Rangiku's face. You're telling me you aren't happy?"

"Besides—this is where you belong. This is the place that suits you best."

Seiya smirked, slipping his haori over his shoulders.

In an instant, his air of laziness was replaced with authority.

"The Tenth Division's captain will be having some issues soon. Aizen and I both agree on this."

"So go claim the seat that should rightfully be yours, Gin."

"I trust in your strength."

Now that he looked at him closely—

Seiya realized just how much Gin had changed.

His shoulders had broadened.

His frame, though still slender, exuded a new sense of reliability.

Somewhere along the way, he had grown.

Seiya couldn't help but grin.

"If you put on a captain's haori, you'd look pretty damn cool, you know."

It was an absentminded remark.

But Gin clenched his jaw.

Seiya seemed to realize what he had just said—

And immediately tried to brush it off.

"Well, not that you don't already look cool in your uniform or anything."

The damage was already done.

Gin remained silent.

But his decision had already been made.

Seiya saw the shift in his expression—

And decided to seal the deal.

"Of course, I don't think it'll happen, but… you wouldn't lose to that so-called 'prodigy' Hitsugaya, would you?"

"…"

"Come on, Gin. I trained you myself. Don't embarrass me."

It wasn't a challenge.

But it was a test.

Gin knew that much.

He gazed at Seiya's back—

At the figure that he had once loathed.

The figure that he now respected above all else.

And he said:

"If it's your arrangement—then I'll take responsibility for it."

"But…"

His eyes glinted.

"The choice of my vice-captain… That, I will decide for myself."

Seiya smirked.

Well, what else could he say?

This was his own student, after all.

He knew Gin inside and out.

So he raised a hand—

And waved it dismissively.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll leave it to you."

Gin Ichimaru bowed deeply.

Grateful.

Determined.

And utterly resolved.

The position of Tenth Division Captain—

He would claim it without fail.

Seiya walked through the streets, absentmindedly rubbing his chin as a thoughtful expression settled on his face.

It felt as if, in just the blink of an eye, time had slipped away from him.

And now, if he counted carefully—

There were less than fifty years left before the main storyline truly began.

"Not even half the time remains."

So then—

What significant events were still ahead? Which ones could he influence?

Seiya quickly sorted through his thoughts and realized that the remaining incidents were both straightforward and critically important.

First—Shiba Kaien's death.

That event had been the trigger that led to the complete downfall of the Shiba family, and it had left Jūshirō Ukitake in a state of lingering grief.

After all, Ukitake was already plagued by his chronic illness. If, on top of that, he were to lose someone he cherished as a student, he would undoubtedly be consumed by guilt.

The impact was undeniable.

This loss had also shaped Kuchiki Rukia's mindset, further fueling her self-doubt and pushing her into an endless cycle of guilt.

Ultimately, this tragedy would give rise to the creation of Arrancar No.9—Aaroniero Arruruerie.

Seiya weighed the pros and cons of interfering.

—Shiba Kaien's death would lead to the decline of the Shiba family and alter the emotional trajectories of several key figures.

If he intervened, would it truly disrupt the overarching narrative?

Even if he saved Kaien, the timeline might not shift too drastically.

But then again—

At this moment, Seiya was far more concerned about something else.

The matter of White.

This particular event was deeply intertwined with Ichigo's existence, and Seiya had been paying especially close attention to it.

And now—

The experiment was already nearing completion.

Seiya's footsteps hastened.

His destination was none other than the Ninth Division barracks.

Under Tōsen Kaname's jurisdiction, the Ninth Division had become noticeably more rigid and disciplined compared to when Kensei Muguruma had led it.

But that wasn't surprising.

Tōsen had always been the kind of person who pursued order and structure.

Using his authority as a captain and his personal connections, Seiya smoothly made his way past the division's security.

After exchanging casual greetings with a few familiar officers, he entered a heavily restricted area deep within the barracks.

The Ninth Division was responsible for internal security and intelligence operations, so their facility for classified research was one of the most tightly guarded places in Seireitei—second only to the Eighth Division's archives.

The atmosphere was dim.

Seiya passed through multiple checkpoints, verifying his identity each time.

Finally—

He arrived at a dimly lit underground chamber.

The room was sparsely furnished, its functionality prioritized over aesthetics.

Countless cables spread across the floor like gnarled roots, making it nearly impossible to take a single step without tripping.

More than a hundred surveillance monitors cast an eerie bluish glow, illuminating the space with a ghostly radiance.

And within that chamber—

Two figures sat with their backs to Seiya.

On the left sat Tōsen Kaname.

As always, his taste in fashion had changed. His current hairstyle was just as bizarre as the last time Seiya had seen him.

Noticing someone approaching from behind, Tōsen turned slightly, offering a brief nod in greeting.

After all, the facility had strict access protocols. Only those with clearance could enter.

But the other figure—

The one seated directly before the screens—

Slowly swiveled his chair around.

A familiar glint reflected off the lenses of his glasses.

That ever-present smile curled at the corners of his lips.

Aizen Sōsuke's deep, resonant voice carried a sense of amusement.

"Seiya-kun, I've been expecting you."

Seiya gave a polite nod.

"My apologies for the delay, Aizen-sensei."

There was no need for unnecessary pleasantries.

Without hesitation, Seiya stepped forward, grabbed a nearby chair, and sat down.

There were many things to discuss.

But if he were to prioritize by importance—

Then without a doubt, Shiba Kaien's situation needed to be addressed first.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak—

Aizen interjected with a sly smile.

"Seiya-kun, the Metastacia experiment was a complete success."

A glimmer of excitement flickered in Aizen's eyes, a rare display of genuine enthusiasm.

"It has fully developed the ability to merge with a Shinigami's essence, absorbing their power completely. This specimen possesses the unique ability to nullify a Zanpakutō's abilities."

Seiya's heart skipped a beat.

No way…

Before he could voice his thoughts, Aizen leisurely swiveled his chair back toward the surveillance monitors.

With an elegant gesture, he pointed at the central screen.

"See for yourself, Seiya-kun. Observe Metastacia's power in action."

"Brutal, cunning, and adept at exploiting its unique abilities…."

"The so-called Vice-Captain of the Thirteenth Division is utterly powerless against it."

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