"Ito Fourth Seat, I have long admired you!"
The white-haired woman gazed into Ito Makoto's light purple eyes, a glimmer of something unreadable swirling within her own.
"I never imagined that a mere civilian Soul Reaper from Rukongai would attract the attention of the esteemed head of the Kasumi family. How terrifying," Makoto Ito remarked with mock exaggeration. His tone was light, but his expression remained unreadable—calm and detached, as if discussing something of no consequence.
With his current strength at the vice-captain level, he could easily reach captain-class if he unlocked even 30% of his body's spiritual pressure. In the Seireitei, there were only a handful of individuals he truly feared—the most formidable captains and, of course, Aizen's faction.
Simply put, as long as he didn't provoke the wrong people or seek his own death, he could move freely through the Soul Society without concern. The Kasumi family? Hardly a threat worth worrying about.
For those captain-level Soul Reapers without noble lineage—those who relied on their clans to survive in the Soul Society—offending the Kasumi family might spell disaster. But Makoto Ito was different. He had no family, no ties, nothing to lose. If push came to shove, he could simply kill this woman, defect from the Soul Society, and seek refuge in the Human World alongside Urahara Kisuke. His strength would continue to grow regardless.
And if things truly went south? His real body could simply reclaim this clone and create another. Would anyone even remember the name "Makoto Ito" then?
Despite his distant demeanor, the elegant woman before him showed no signs of displeasure.
"Allow me to introduce myself," she said smoothly. "I am Kasumi Yunkawa, the current head of the Kasumi family. My father was also from Rukongai—his surname was Itokai."
Makoto Ito's expression remained impassive, but beneath the surface, his mind churned.
Could this woman be the daughter of Itokai and Kasumi Yunchuan? But I found no trace of her in Itokai's memories.
Even as the revelation unsettled him, he showed no outward reaction.
"Lady Kasumi, do you believe there is some connection between me and your esteemed father?"
Kasumi Yunkawa chuckled softly.
"You misunderstand, Ito Fourth Seat. My father has been dead for centuries. It's just that you share his surname, hail from Rukongai, and even joined Squad Eleven. Your reputation as a prodigy precedes you. The number of coincidences intrigued me, so I simply wished to meet you. I hope you don't mind."
"So that's all it was. Lady Kasumi is too kind."
Though he maintained his composed front, Makoto Ito had already drawn his own conclusions. There was no doubt in his mind—Kasumi Yunkawa was Itokai's daughter.
Yet, with that knowledge came relief. It seemed his past actions hadn't been exposed. His thoughts briefly drifted to the mission where he and his real body had wiped out an entire expedition in Hueco Mundo, securing the Tarasuka Sword in the process.
The two continued exchanging polite words until Kasumi extended an invitation.
"Ito Fourth Seat, the Hunting Conference is about to begin. Why don't you watch it from my side?"
Makoto Ito declined with a slight shake of his head.
"I appreciate your generosity, Lady Kasumi, but that won't be necessary."
With that, he vanished from the carriage, rejoining the ranks of Soul Reapers assigned to escort duty.
Moments later, two figures leading the Kasumi family honor guards unfurled ornate screens. Instantly, the painted images of attics and courtyards leaped from the fabric, materializing into grand structures.
Boom!
With a thunderous roar, the previously barren land was transformed into an opulent estate. The nobles swiftly claimed their respective courtyards, while the Kasumi family entered the central pavilion.
Standing at a distance, Makoto Ito couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.
Interesting. Those screens must be some kind of spiritual artifact.
Once everyone was seated, an elder stepped forward. His aura was calm yet commanding.
"I am Yunjing, retainer of the Kasumi family," he announced. Though his voice was measured, it carried effortlessly across the vast hunting grounds, amplified by kido.
As his proclamation signaled the beginning of the Hunting Conference, several figures in white robes emerged, unfurling a massive projection screen.
And so, the event began.
As soon as the scroll was tossed into the air, it transformed into a streak of light, streaking across the vast wasteland. In an instant, hundreds of identical steel portals materialized, standing tall like prison doors, evenly spaced and perfectly uniform.
Peering through the portals, Makoto Ito quickly realized that the captives on the other side were all Hollows—massive and powerful, though not quite at the level of a Gillian.
What stood out, however, was their masks. Unlike the usual Hollows, these bore beast-like designs, similar to those used as mounts. Each mask was marked with black chain-like patterns, and the spiritual pressure of these Hollows was suppressed—barely a third of what it should have been.
"So the Hunting Conference is just a glorified slaughter?"
Makoto Ito was unimpressed.
"If they love killing Hollows so much, why not join the expedition teams? What's the point of playing games here?"
To him, the nobles were simply indulging themselves out of boredom.
As the arena was set, young nobles, who had been seated in their private courtyards, began making their way toward the steel portals. Among them were several figures dressed in Soul Reaper uniforms—active members of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads. These individuals were known as the "Chenlong Men," the noble elite who served within the Gotei 13.
As the contestants gathered, a massive, shimmering purple barrier rose around the field, forming a contained space reminiscent of a miniature Soul-Solidifying Membrane.
With a deep metallic groan, the prison-like iron doors creaked open.
Before the imprisoned Hollows could react, eager participants surged forward, rushing into the enclosed battlefield to begin the hunt.
Ordinarily, a Hollow slain by a Soul Reaper's blade would have its soul purified and dispersed. However, here at the Hunting Conference, though the Hollows did vanish upon death, their masks—marked with black chains—remained intact.
As the hunt progressed, noble participants collected these broken masks and hung them at their waists like trophies, proudly displaying their kill count.
From the viewing courtyards, elder nobles watched intently, observing their juniors' performance with keen interest. It wasn't just about strength—it was a competition, a means of determining whose heir would bring the most prestige to their house.
The raucous chatter of aristocrats filled the air, mixing with the sounds of battle in the arena below.
Makoto Ito, however, remained utterly uninterested.
To him, this level of combat was laughable—nothing more than a spectacle for the idle rich.
As he leaned back, bored out of his mind, the sky above the hunting grounds suddenly split apart.
A massive crack tore through the sky, spanning over a thousand meters in length, revealing the swirling darkness of a Garganta.
From the void emerged something monstrous.
A colossal, worm-like Hollow wriggled its way through the opening. It had no discernible facial features—only an enormous, gaping maw, from which thick, putrid mucus poured down like a waterfall.
And within that mucus...
Hundreds of Gillians tumbled out, their towering, masked forms landing with a resounding impact.
Makoto Ito's eyes narrowed.
"Is that a Fleur?"
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