Bleach: The Fifth Division Captain

As foretold by Ouroboros, Seiya's strike found its mark.

His blade slashed through Kiganjō's shoulder, cutting through muscle, blood vessels, and tissue alike—only to be halted at the massive, bear-like collarbone.

Though Seiya had anticipated this, seeing it in reality left him with mixed feelings.

A pang of regret.

This was his one and only chance.

Kiganjō had been careless, failing to take him seriously. Seiya had poured every ounce of his strength into seizing this fleeting opportunity…

A perfect moment.

But alas, Seiya's power was limited; he couldn't fully cleave through Kiganjō's body.

And that was all there was to it.

As this thought drifted through his mind, a shadow darted toward him.

Before he could react, Seiya's curled body was struck by Kiganjō's hand, sending him hurtling away like an arrow loosed from a bowstring.

He spiraled out of control, crashing into a kimono shop by the street.

The force of his impact collapsed a significant portion of the building. Struggling to rise, Seiya ultimately slumped helplessly in the ruins, unable to move.

His body was numb, aching, and utterly paralyzed—even his fingers refused to budge.

Such was the price of pushing his spiritual pressure to its limits.

The term "dead weight" had never been more apt; Seiya had truly become vulnerable, at the mercy of others.

The Möbius loop remained unresolved.

But this was the extent of what Seiya could achieve—the critical point where the defiant could still muster a counterattack.

What outcome awaited him now?

The future beyond this point remained obscured, a murky haze.

As Seiya pondered, he heard it—the frenzied roar of Kiganjō outside.

"GAHHHHHH!"

Crap… he still sounds full of energy.

Seiya couldn't help but let out a wry smile. He wasn't surprised by the result.

After all, as someone with only a seated officer's level of spiritual pressure, wounding a Captain-level opponent to this degree was already beyond expectations.

He closed his eyes, resigning himself to fate.

Outside, Kiganjō clutched the wound on his shoulder, sweat pouring down his face as he bellowed furiously.

"What the hell are you all standing around for?! Get over here and patch this up!"

Being injured wasn't an uncommon experience, especially for someone who had clawed his way up from Rukongai. Normally, Kiganjō wouldn't be so rattled.

But this was different.

To be injured to such an extent by a no-name seated officer—it was humiliating.

Like being bitten by a rabbit, the shock and indignation were palpable.

Humiliation, frustration, and rage.

A chaotic mixture of emotions erupted from Kiganjō, spilling over onto those around him.

"Move it!"

The members of the 11th Division, finally shaken into action, scrambled to his side.

Seeing the blood gushing from his wound and the fumbling attempts of his subordinates, Kiganjō's face twisted into a grotesque snarl.

Useless garbage.

Those who couldn't aid him were trash. Those who dared to defy him were scum.

All he wanted was a drink and a woman—how had things ended up like this?!

He slammed his palm against a nearby subordinate's head.

The resulting screams, the spray of blood, and the scattered debris momentarily quelled his frustration.

With a slightly calmer expression, Kiganjō muttered, Enough. I can't waste time on this...

The real problem was that infuriating brat.

He turned to the still-stunned subordinates and barked, "Stop standing around and go drag that half-dead punk over here!"

But before he could finish his command, a commotion arose in the distance.

"Nobles are passing through! Captain, a high-ranking noble entourage is on its way!"

"What…"

Kiganjō shot an annoyed glance in the direction of the commotion. Sure enough, he saw a crowd parting to make way, people retreating to the sides of the road.

The procession of nobles was unmistakable. Such pomp and grandeur left no doubt about its authenticity.

There was no helping it.

As much as Kiganjō wanted to vent his anger, ensuring the nobles didn't witness his disheveled state took precedence.

If word reached Yamamoto, even a mild reprimand from the old man would be too much trouble.

"Fine! I'm leaving for now! Once the nobles are gone, drag that brat back to the division!"

Clutching his wounded shoulder, Kiganjō turned and stalked off.

The noble entourage approached as expected, their opulence almost dreamlike in its splendor.

Back at the ruined shop, Seiya stared blankly at the shattered ceiling above him.

The complications of blood loss made his breathing short and uneven.

Not good… if this keeps up, I'll go into shock. Someone… anyone… help me…

As his consciousness wavered, Seiya caught sight of a vaguely familiar figure entering the room and approaching him.

That faint, enigmatic smile…

There was no need to question who it was.

"Aizen… sensei…"

Before he could say another word, Seiya's vision went dark as he lost consciousness.

The first thing he noticed was the scent—subtle and sweet.

Opening his eyes, Seiya found himself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling.

A white blanket covered him, and a porcelain vase filled with flowers sat on the bedside table.

White gardenias…

The scent masked the smell of antiseptics, lending an air of refinement to the space.

Seiya sat up groggily, scanning the room.

Where am I?

It didn't resemble a sterile hospital—too warm, too elegant.

So where was he now?

As he pondered, the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears. A moment later, a sliding door creaked open.

A familiar yet unfamiliar figure stepped into the room.

Familiar because her image was iconic, unforgettable.

Unfamiliar because, technically, they had never met before.

She was a woman with a gentle and serene appearance, her long black hair parted in the middle. Draped over her shoulders was the haori of a Captain.

Her gaze swept the room before settling on Seiya.

Her smile, as radiant as blooming flowers, met his eyes.

"You're awake? That's wonderful."

"You've been asleep for three whole days and nights. Even I was a little worried. But knowing you're stable now should put Aizen-san's mind at ease as well."

"Ah, forgive me—I seem to have forgotten to introduce myself. This is our first meeting, isn't it?"

Her hands clasped together in front of her, her tranquil smile exuding warmth and peace.

"I am Unohana Retsu, Captain of the 4th Division."