What made this situation even more absurd was that the one who orchestrated it all—the man who had seized control of the Visual Department—wasn't even a member of the Five Great Noble Families.
With the Visual Department under his command, things had become much easier for both the Gotei 13's court army and Uehara Shiroha himself.
However, despite having gained this significant leverage, Uehara Shiroha did not immediately hand over Enrakyōten to Tsunayashiro Tokinada.
The time wasn't right yet.
He needed to wait.
Tokinada had not suffered enough.
He had not despaired enough.
The scene was not dramatic enough—not yet.
And so, Uehara Shiroha was simply biding his time.
There was no rush.
After all, his life had become increasingly comfortable as of late.
No endless work hours
No unnecessary troubles.
He was steadily growing stronger with minimal effort.
Life was good.
So, why hurry?
On this particular day, Uehara Shiroha was leisurely strolling through Rukongai, humming softly to himself.
Suddenly, the system prompt appeared before his eyes:
[Congratulations on completing your daily task: Strolling through Rukongai! Rewards: +1 Reiatsu, +1 Hakuda!]
Ah, perfect.
The moment the notification popped up, Uehara Shiroha felt a subtle shift within himself.
It was as if something had clicked into place—his Reiatsu had subtly strengthened, and his control over Hakuda had become even sharper.
It was a pleasant yet effortless improvement.
And then—
A gentle, fragrant breeze brushed past him.
A figure approached, her presence radiating warmth and confidence.
It was a stunning blonde beauty, her curves accentuated by the way she moved with effortless allure.
A single black beauty mark at the corner of her mouth only added to her charm.
It was none other than—
Matsumoto Rangiku, the Vice-Captain of the 10th Division.
Her signature playful smirk was already in place as she sauntered up to him.
Her voice was silky and teasing, carrying a seductive undertone:
"Commander Uehara, long time no see~." She tilted her head, her golden locks cascading over one shoulder. "Would you like to have a drink with me?"
She gestured toward a nearby establishment, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"There's a hot spring bar just around the corner," she added in an alluring whisper. "It's really great~."
Then, as if deliberately emphasizing her point, she leaned in slightly, her breath warm against his ear.
"It doesn't matter if you get drunk..."
She giggled.
"...because we can play fun games together~."
Uehara Shiroha's eyes flicked downward.
With the way Matsumoto Rangiku was leaning forward, her loose Shinigami uniform could barely contain her proud, ample curves.
If he just lowered his gaze—
He would be staring straight into an abyss far deeper than any Hollow's garganta.
"This woman is dangerous."
Uehara Shiroha's mind acknowledged the trap.
But outwardly—
His expression remained completely composed.
"Let's go."
A spark of playfulness danced in his eyes.
This blonde vixen might have looked mature, but mentally, she was just an eight-year-old brat who would happily dive headfirst into trouble the moment someone gave her an opening.
She needs to be taught a lesson.
Hot Springs Bar – Rukongai
The steam rose gently, curling into the air like soft, silken threads.
Matsumoto Rangiku stretched her arms, letting out a contented sigh as she sank deeper into the warm water.
"Ahh~ this is so nice!" she murmured lazily.
Her glistening skin, partially submerged in the hot spring, was on full display—her damp, golden hair sticking to her shoulders in enticing waves.
She made no effort to conceal the voluptuous curves that even her loosened Shihakushō could barely contain.
Ripples spread through the water as she turned to face him, her bright blue eyes filled with mirth.
"Don't you think so, Commander~?"
Across from her, Uehara Shiroha leaned back against the edge of the spring, his jade-like skin glowing slightly under the steam.
His eyes remained half-lidded, his demeanor completely relaxed.
"Yeah," he said lazily. "It's not bad."
Despite being just a simple hot springs tavern in Rukongai, the service here was impeccable.
Young women in elegant kimonos moved gracefully between the wooden platforms, tending to guests with polite smiles and refined etiquette.
The water temperature was just right, its gentle warmth easing the tension from one's muscles.
And now, two young and beautiful maids approached, balancing wooden trays in their hands.
With synchronized precision, they placed the trays on the water's surface, revealing an assortment of exquisite delicacies and several bottles of premium sake.
Matsumoto Rangiku grinned, lifting a small sake bottle.
"Cheers!" she said, raising it toward him.
Uehara Shiroha accepted, taking a slow sip.
The sake was decent.
Not the best—certainly not up to Hanamachi Street's standards—but for Rukongai, it was top-tier.
Matsumoto Rangiku, on the other hand—
She gulped down half a bottle in seconds.
Uehara Shiroha barely finished his first sip before she had already moved onto the second one.
"Oi," he raised an eyebrow, "you're drinking way too fast."
Matsumoto Rangiku pouted.
"Hey~ a beautiful woman is drinking with you, and you're not even excited?"
Her eyes shimmered mischievously, her skin slightly flushed from the alcohol.
She looked like a perfectly ripened fruit—tempting, luscious, and inviting.
But her tone—her playful words and actions—were childish, almost innocent.
Uehara Shiroha chuckled internally.
This woman… she really hasn't changed at all.
Their first "encounter" had been almost exactly like this.
Same setting.
Same flushed cheeks and teasing gaze.
And, of course—
Same reckless drinking.
The irony?
Despite her bold, flirtatious nature, Matsumoto Rangiku was one of the purest souls he had ever met.
She wasn't pretending to be innocent.
She truly was innocent.
The only downside—
She was extremely clingy.
Uehara Shiroha sighed, mentally preparing himself for the inevitable.
But before he could speak, Matsumoto Rangiku grinned mischievously.
She playfully nudged him under the water with her crystal-clear toes.
"Why so quiet?" she teased. "Are you not man enough, Commander~?"
That was it.
A predatory gleam flashed in Uehara Shiroha's eyes.
In one swift motion—
He stood up like a tiger, swooping forward to scoop Matsumoto Rangiku into his arms.
The blonde beauty squealed in laughter, wriggling as she playfully protested.
"You brought this on yourself," he murmured with a smirk.
The Next Morning – 10th Division
When Matsumoto Rangiku returned to her squad, the entire 10th Division immediately noticed something different.
Their Vice-Captain was absolutely radiant.
Glowing skin. Sparkling eyes. A noticeably good mood.
Even the female Shinigami couldn't help but ask—
"Rangiku-san! What skincare are you using?!"
"Why do you look so... refreshed?!"
Matsumoto Rangiku simply smiled.
Half a month had passed.
Inside Las Noches, within the grand Palace, Sōsuke Aizen sat upon his throne, nodding in satisfaction as he observed the newly promoted Espada standing before him.
Each of them radiated pride and power, their once-masked Hollow forms now bearing the refined appearance of Arrancar.
And yet—
Despite their newfound strength, they all looked upon Aizen with awe and reverence—like loyal subjects gazing up at a god.
The Segunda Espada, Pícaro, stood silently, his expression cold and unreadable. He kept his gaze lowered, never daring to meet Aizen's eyes directly.
The Tercera Espada, Dordoni Alessandro Del Socaccio, bore a striking resemblance to Dracule Mihawk with his distinguished beard. His presence exuded heroic confidence, and his loyalty to Aizen was etched into every fiber of his being.
The Quinta Espada, Sandavichi, was a petite yet captivating woman. Her piercing gaze burned with an intensity that bordered on obsession as she looked at Aizen.
The Séptima Espada, Moskda, stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his face twisted into a defiant scowl, exuding an air of unchecked arrogance.
As for the Cuarta Espada, Paid, and the Sexta Espada, Neros—
[*TL: I think this is not from the anime, but the prototype so the Espada is different from the one that will form in the future, I think its because most of them still defy Aizen and not fully join]
They were unique among the Espada, their existence shaped by specialized experimentation. Unlike the others, they had been the first to undergo the transformation into Arrancar, serving as prototypes in Aizen's grand design.
From a distance, Ichimaru Gin observed the scene, a knowing smile gracing his lips.
He had long since grasped Aizen's true thoughts.
These so-called Espada—for all their power and bravado—
Were nothing more than disposable test subjects.
No matter how loyal they appeared, Aizen did not see them as anything more than stepping stones.
They were inferior prototypes—imperfect failures who were merely filling the ranks until the true Arrancar army could be perfected.
And the moment that happened—
These proud warriors standing before Aizen today would be cast aside like trash.
Such was the fate of expendable pawns.
After the formal Espada assembly concluded, Aizen, Ichimaru Gin, and Tōsen Kaname gathered for their private discussions—a routine meeting where true plans were set in motion.
Tōsen was the first to report.
"Lord Aizen," he began, his voice even yet weighted with meaning, "there have been unusual disturbances within the Visual Department and the Tsunayashiro family as of late."
His blind eyes narrowed slightly.
"It is said that the sacred heirloom of the Tsunayashiro family has been stolen. From what we've gathered, it appears that Uehara Shiroha has already taken action against them."
Tōsen had been closely monitoring Uehara Shiroha's movements.
But despite his efforts—
He had found nothing suspicious.
If it weren't for Aizen's insistence that Uehara Shiroha was actually Ōtsutsuki Naruto, even Tōsen himself might have begun questioning their original assessment.
However, the theft of a Tsunayashiro artifact was undeniable.
And there was only one person in Soul Society capable of such a feat.
Ōtsutsuki Naruto.
Aizen's lips curled slightly as he turned to Tōsen.
"Kaname," he said smoothly, "this is good news for you, isn't it?"
Tōsen's fingers twitched slightly, but his voice remained composed.
"Lord Aizen," he said, bowing his head, "I will not allow personal hatred to interfere with the greater cause."
His dedication to justice ran so deep that it bordered on paranoia.
Despite his seething hatred for Tsunayashiro Tokinada, he had restrained himself—choosing not to act against his sworn enemy.
On one hand, it was to maintain the integrity of their grand plan.
On the other—
It was to prove that his actions were born of justice, not revenge.
Watching this display of conviction, Ichimaru Gin—who had been listening in silence—let out a casual chuckle.
"Well, well," he mused, "that's certainly interesting."
His smile widened.
"It's terrifying, really. Uehara Shiroha stole the Tsunayashiro family's sacred artifact without even making a sound." His voice dropped slightly, as if feigning concern.
"With that artifact in his hands, he's going to be even more troublesome to deal with."
Then, his eyes glinted with mischief. "Lord Aizen… are you sure it's a good idea to let him continue growing stronger?"
Aizen's expression remained unshaken.
"Gin," he said with absolute certainty, "there is nothing to be concerned about."
His calm, golden eyes radiated the confidence of someone who controlled everything.
"Uehara Shiroha has become too entangled—whether with the Gotei 13, the noble families, or other forces, there are too many eyes watching him."
"If he were to suddenly disappear, it would draw unwanted attention to us."
"Besides…" Aizen's voice lowered, amusement dancing at the edges of his words.
"This so-called 'strongest genius' cannot be so easily defeated."
He had already delved into the records of the Great Spirit Book Corridor, studying everything about the Enrakyōten.
The fact that Uehara Shiroha had targeted it only confirmed one thing—
The man had begun to realize his own weaknesses.
Perhaps, he even intended to use Enrakyōten as a means to counter Kyōka Suigetsu.
How amusing.
It was clear that Uehara Shiroha still lacked a true understanding of both Shinigami abilities and their limitations.
After all, he was still under a hundred years old—his foundation was shallow.
Aizen knew his limits.
And now—
He had already devised multiple strategies to eliminate Uehara Shiroha when the time came.
Ichimaru Gin narrowed his eyes, his voice turning casual once again.
"In that case…"
A small smirk tugged at his lips.
"Why don't we target his weakness instead?"
His words were calculated, a deliberate test of Aizen's reaction.
"It's said that the Commander is particularly close with the Vice-Captain of the 10th Division…"
Aizen's smile widened.
"Gin, you're quite cold-blooded."
He chuckled.
"I recall that Vice-Captain Matsumoto is your childhood friend."
His gaze sharpened.
"And Uehara Shiroha—your former classmate."
Tōsen frowned slightly at the suggestion, though he chose to remain silent.
Gin, however, met Aizen's gaze with calm detachment.
"Lord Aizen," he said smoothly, his tone void of hesitation,
"I am a snake. Cold-blooded. Emotionless."
"My only purpose is to lock onto my prey… and devour it whole."
He closed his eyes briefly before reopening them.
"Though I do not wish to fight them… if they stand in your way, then they are my prey."
"And prey must die."
Aizen's approval was immediate.
"Well said, Gin."
But then—
His expression darkened.
"However, reckless actions will only provoke him. That would be… inefficient."
Ichimaru Gin exhaled softly.
"I understand."
Aizen's voice became commanding.
"For now—our priority is Hueco Mundo. We must fully conquer it."
"Soon… Soul Society will be ours."
"Yes, Lord Aizen," both Tōsen and Gin responded in unison.
Inside the tea room of the 13th Division's barracks, the scent of freshly brewed tea wafted through the air.
Seated at a low table, Kyōraku Shunsui lazily stared at the steaming cup before him, his expression unimpressed.
With a sigh, he reached into his sleeve, pulling out his signature wine gourd.
Uncorking it, he took a slow, deliberate sip before exhaling contentedly.
"Jūshirō," he said, glancing at the white-haired captain across from him, "your tea-making skills are certainly impressive…"
He tilted his gourd slightly.
"But I'm afraid they're wasted on me."
His smirk deepened.
"The fine wine I got from the old man in the mountains suits my taste far better."
Ukitake Jūshirō, seated across from him, chuckled lightly.
Despite his pale complexion, a trace of warmth returned to his eyes as he listened to his old friend's familiar antics.
"Shunsui," Ukitake said, shaking his head, "you better hope our teacher doesn't hear that—or you'll be in for a lecture."
Kyōraku grinned, unfazed.
"Ahh, he won't mind," he drawled. "The old man knows me too well."
Ukitake's smile lingered for a moment before fading slightly.
Lately, his mood had been weighed down by the issue surrounding Ginjō Kūgo—a matter that had left a bitter taste in his mouth.
However, sitting here, sharing a drink with an old friend, his burden felt a little lighter.
Still, he couldn't help but notice something odd about Kyōraku's demeanor.
"You seem to be in a rather good mood," Ukitake observed. "Are you finally caught up with your duties?"
Kyōraku let out a melodramatic sigh.
"I've come to terms with the fact that official duties are never-ending," he admitted.
Then, his smirk returned.
"But that's not why I'm in a good mood today."
He leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly, as if sharing a juicy piece of gossip.
"The sacred artifact of the Tsunayashiro family was stolen."
Ukitake blinked.
Kyōraku chuckled.
"They've been running around in circles trying to find the thief."
Kyōraku had always been at odds with the Tsunayashiro family.
It wasn't just a matter of principle.
No—his hatred for them was deeply personal.
Long ago, this disgusting noble family had coveted the sacred artifact of the Ise family.
Their relentless coercion had led to countless tragedies, shaping the history of Soul Society in ways most would never understand.
And now?
They had grown even more arrogant, throwing their weight around, persecuting smaller noble families like predatory beasts.
So yes.
Hearing that they had lost something precious?
It was incredibly satisfying.
"Did they catch the thief?" Ukitake asked, his brows furrowing slightly.
Despite his disapproval of the Tsunayashiro family, he was not one to gloat over misfortune.
Rather, the idea of a mysterious thief capable of infiltrating one of the Five Great Noble Families was deeply unsettling.
If someone like that existed…
What else were they capable of stealing?
Kyōraku sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"No, not yet," he admitted. "This thief is something else entirely."
He leaned back, gazing at the ceiling in thought.
"After all, escaping from the Five Great Noble Families unscathed? That's no small feat."
He wasn't exaggerating.
Even though the Five Noble Families had declined over the years, they still possessed powerful hidden trump cards.
The Shihoin family's divine artifacts.
The Shiba family's secret techniques.
The Tsunayashiro family's lost relics.
Each of them guarded things that were far from ordinary.
And yet—
This mysterious thief had slipped through their fingers like a shadow in the night.
Who could it be?
Ukitake and Kyōraku discussed possible suspects, but the truth was—
They had too few clues.
Ukitake believed it must have been an inside job, orchestrated by one of the noble families.
After all, only a noble would have the information and resources needed to pull off such a heist.
Kyōraku, however, had a different theory.
"The thief might even be from the Tsunayashiro family itself," he mused.
But in the end—
They reached no definitive answer.
The only thing that was certain—
The legend of a mysterious thief was beginning to spread through Soul Society like wildfire.
Meanwhile – Urahara's Store, Karakura Town
Inside the dimly lit shop, Urahara Kisuke sat deep in thought, his fan tapping lightly against his chin.
"A mysterious thief, huh?"
His lips curled into an amused smile.
"How interesting."
Beside him, a figure lounged carelessly, lazily munching on a rice cracker.
Shihoin Yoruichi.
"You're thinking too much, Urahara," she said between bites.
"If that guy already went after the Tsunayashiro family, that means he's on our side."
She leaned back, resting her hands behind her head.
"Relax. No way someone like that would be an enemy."
To Yoruichi, anyone who targeted the Tsunayashiro family was automatically a good person.
Simple as that.
Besides—
She had a deep connection with Uehara Shiroha.
They had history.
They were comrades.
She trusted him.
Urahara raised an eyebrow.
"That's funny," he teased. "I remember you being the most hostile toward Uehara Shiroha not too long ago."
Yoruichi rolled her eyes, tossing another rice cracker into her mouth.
"People change," she muttered.
Urahara chuckled, then waved his fan with a dramatic sigh.
"Well, well, I'm not worried about him working with Aizen."
He leaned forward, his expression growing more serious.
"As for whether or not he's an enemy…"
His eyes gleamed beneath the shadow of his hat.
"Let's just say—we're not qualified to be his enemies."
Urahara Kisuke had helped Uehara Shiroha develop various special equipment.
He had provided him with technology and knowledge—not out of obligation, but because he understood the truth.
There was no need to be concerned.
Because Uehara Shiroha was far beyond the reach of ordinary battles.
His game was being played on an entirely different level.
And for now—
All they could do was watch from the sidelines as the legend of the mysterious thief continued to grow.
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