#central 46

Kisuke brushes that thought away as soon as it crosses his ever-working mind. If he is about to think like that, he will need to lock himself up in the first place. After all, he and Aizen have a lot in common. If not for Yoruichi's friendship and moral guidance, Kisuke could have ended up just like Aizen – putting his own ambitions and worldview above everyone else.

“So, how is our hero doing?” A familiar, confident voice pops up seemingly out of nowhere, accompanied by the lively, electrifying reiatsu showing up right behind him.

“Ah, you think too highly of me! I didn't do all that much,” Urahara laughs awkwardly, waving his hand and putting a carefree expression to his face. “I merely assisted with the sealing Kidō, that's all.”

“I meant Ichigo, smartass!” Yoruichi hisses right into his ear, giving him chills. “Seriously, though. He looks awfully blue for a guy who just saved the world.” She suddenly grows solemn. “What exactly happened here, Kisuke?”

He does his best not to sigh, as if it may betray too much of his own doubts about Ichigo's mental state.

“He will be fine.”

“You sure about it?” she quietly calls out the lie. “I can feel his spiritual pressure disappearing slowly.”

Kisuke thinks about the answer which he hopes he is right about.

“His powers do not define him. Even when he loses them, he will still have his friends. He can live a normal life – a human life. He is going to be just fine.”

Yoruichi looks at him, trying to find his eyes but for some reason he avoids her gaze. He wants to believe his own words, but the truth is, he is not so sure anymore.

“You did right, Kisuke,” she tells him, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “It was the right thing to do, training him, helping him to become who he was meant to be. He won't blame you for it.”

Urahara says nothing for quite some time, absentmindedly staring at the orange-haired boy who sits still on a solitary rock in the middle of what's left of the landscape.

“Yoruichi-san, I have a request,” he makes it sound like it's nothing special. “Let's stay in the World of the Living. I don't really want to be back at Soul Society just yet.”

“Yeah,” she grins. “Me neither.”

-#-

In the center of the golden circle of light sits a man strapped to a high-back chair by dozens of restraints. His body is covered in black straps from head to toe. He looks rather small for a self-proclaimed god, especially from up here.

Her seat is in the upper row, giving her an almost bird's-eye view of the courtroom. The powerful beam of bright, blinding light is focused on the defendant down below, leaving her and the rest of the Central 46 members under the cover of comforting darkness.

She remembers with uncanny detail the first time she sat here – in her father's chair. She was nervous, rightfully so, wriggling awkwardly on the uncomfortable, wooden surface. The impossibly tall walls and high ceiling of the Underground Assembly Hall seemed so intimidating to her back then.

She remembers how unbearable it felt for her to even be there, sitting in the same room, in the very chair where her father had been murdered. She couldn't even concentrate on the case and the voting. All she could think about was blood – her father's blood – the sticky red stains on that cursed chair, on the desk, on the shiny marble floor beneath her feet. Her hands were trembling, her stomach turning in revulsion. She vividly remembers the sickening sensation.

It was four months ago.

Now, when she recalls that day, she can see how shamefully weak and pathetic she was. It shouldn't have been fear she felt in that chair – it should have been rage, justified anger. Because the truth is, justice itself was spat upon by the criminal scum who dared to place himself above the law.

Yet, only four months later, here she is – sitting in her father's place in the central court hall, while below, in the circle of light sits this man – the one who murdered her beloved father.

She wants to take a good look at him – at the monster who slaughtered forty-six innocent souls in cold blood in this hall. She observes his calm, collected behavior and she can't believe it. He acts as if he's the one judging them, and not the other way around.

He even dares to smirk. The audacity of it. She can see his smug expression as clear as day from above. There is no fear in him, no remorse. The whole courtroom goes wild as he mocks them with his arrogant words for the last time, right before his mouth and eyes are sealed.

He is sentenced to 20,000 years in isolation, in the lowest level of the underground prison for extremely dangerous individuals. From behind the paper screen with her given number, Sakamoto Kana watches the Stealth Force agents taking away the traitor.

She clutches the desk with both hands, pressing so hard that her knuckles turn white.

“20,000 years in prison? That has to be a joke,” she hisses under her breath, letting out the bottled-up spite.

This whole trial is but a bad joke. This man deserves to die. And if they have no means to kill him at this moment, they should be working on developing them.

If there is any justice in the Soul Society at all, a heartless monster like Aizen Sōsuke should not be left alive!

-#-

The teeth of a handsaw tear through the flesh with ease, cutting straight to the bone. The subject's white ribs offer some resistance but with just a little more pressure, they too give way, allowing easy access to the innards.

A white hand reaches into the opened ribcage and pulls out a purple organ with a wet, splashing sound.

The liver of an Arrancar.

The scientist holds the organ in his bloodstained hand, examining it with his curious, yellow eyes. He smells it, then quickly turns his face with displeasure.

“Nemu!” he calls to his assistant. “Bring me a scale!”

The woman quickly prepares the equipment, letting him wait for just a second. This second alone is enough to trigger a hateful gaze in her direction.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi is a busy man, and he has trained the stupid, useless girl better than to make him wait.

“Could you be any slower?”

“I'm sorry, sir,” she lowers her head in an apologetic, obedient bow. “I'll work on improving my reaction time.”

“You better…,” Mayuri mumbles under his breath but he is too thrilled with his research on the Arrancar species to be bothered with punishing this sloppy Lieutenant of his right now.

His little trip to the World of Hollows turned out to be very rewarding as he obtained not one, but four dead bodies to experiment on. He got to test his superhuman drug. And if that wasn't already exciting enough, he also put one cocky scientist-wannabe in his place by proving him wrong, and running him through with a sword to his silly heart.

A delightful excursion indeed, but now it is time to work.

He places the dead Arrancar's liver on the scale and orders Nemu to fill the database with this new chunk of knowledge.

All of a sudden, there is a sound of tiny bells ringing amid the hum of the lab equipment. A black butterfly appears out of nowhere, gracefully flapping its small wings just to land on Nemu's right shoulder.

“Sir, a hell butterfly with an announcement for all captains and lieutenants,” she informs him, after receiving the message.

“Do you think I care?” he scolds her. “We have more important things to do than yet another captains' meeting!”

“But sir,” she insists, which makes Mayuri furious. He is about to snarl at Nemu for her stubbornness and hit her across the stupid face to teach her a lesson, when… “Central 46 announced their verdict in Aizen Sōsuke’s trial.”

Mayuri halts, his white, blood-stained hand still in the air.

“Well?”

“The former Captain of the Fifth Division was found guilty of a crime of high treason, murder of members of Central 46, assault on many ranked shinigami, and conducting illegal hollowfication experiments. He is sentenced to 20,000 years in Muken for his crimes.”

“Muken?” The scientist narrows his eyes as a cold, vindictive kind of anger twists his already scary features. “What a waste…”

Nemu simply nods, and the hell butterfly disappears from her shoulder. “I'm so sorry, sir. It looks like Central 46 did not consider your request to hand him over to the Research and Development Institute as an asset for your research.”

Mayuri grits his teeth. “They have no idea what they're doing. Such imbeciles they are…”

He turns away from Nemu, shoving both his hands into the pockets of his labcoat, smearing the white fabric with red.

He feels personally insulted by the senseless verdict, he knows he stated very clearly in his report that Aizen's vast amount of spiritual pressure is basically a perpetuum mobile, since the man cannot die, and it could be used to charge so many of his inventions. Not to mention that Gotei 13 could weaponize this power for themselves, instead of locking the source of it away, down where it cannot be used. What an inconvenience.

Fused with the Hōgyoku, Aizen is practically a new species – he should be studied! He should be laying here on Mayuri's dissection table, being cut open, limbs ripped apart, skin and meat stripped away to the bone until everything about him is known, measured, scientifically tested, and finally added to the database!

Mayuri would give away his right arm for a chance to get the infamous wish-granting orb for himself. The things he could create if he had it… But the moronic decision is made instead, and now, all that research material goes to waste in the dark depths of Muken!

Thankfully, Mayuri Kurotsuchi is a resourceful man.

Being the one responsible for developing and producing the restraining system for Aizen's trial, Mayuri made sure to implant a microscopic transmitter into the bindings. Thanks to that handy device, he should be getting constant readings on Aizen's reiatsu level. Any change, any anomaly or divergence will be noticed. And Mayuri will be prepared.

It's not much, but data is data – and it is always better than no knowledge at all.

He turns back to the table with his current specimen.

Without bold, forward-thinking individuals like himself, the seed of progress would never be planted into the hard, frozen soil that is Soul Society. That much is clear.

“Nemu, hand me a scalpel.”

“Yes, sir!”

Yumichika also has a very short PSA segment called “The More You Know.” Much like one of his columns in the Seireitei Communications, this show can be a bit of a mixed bag. Sometimes it’s legitimately good advice, like skin care hacks, reminders to file reports during tax season, or updates on what looks are in this season. Other times, “The More You Know” is just unbelievably wild rumors or misinformation about certain people and places. Sometimes the gossip contains grains of truth, but just as often they’re completely made up. Don’t cross Yumichika, or you may end up on this segment.

The crowning jewel of Soul SocietyTV is their version of House Hunters. The show has transcended international borders, and is now interdimensional. Rest assured, the format remains the same in this incarnation of the show, and the housing options as well as the prospective buyer wishlists remain just as baffling.

I think the Kuchiki quest looks like some kind of cephalopod, so I made this like 7 months ago. We had no earthly reason to use it and so never did, but I think this post is as close to one as we're going to get! Disclaimer: I have never actually seen Squid Game, just osmosed it.