Chapter 17: An Adult's Choice
July 12: Cards, drinks, fishing.
July 13: Fishing, then drinks with the captain.
July 14: Fishing.
July 15: Mizuma, you can't keep wasting away like this. There are crises waiting for you to overcome.
July 16: Fishing.
"…"
On the sixth morning after returning from Hueco Mundo, Mizuma spent a moment reviewing his recent "schedule." He fell silent for a bit, then—without even realizing—his hand drifted toward the fishing rod resting by the counter.
No! Enough slacking off!
He smacked his own hand sharply, face dead serious.
Then he pulled out a sheet of paper and a brush, ready to finally analyze the situation, devise a chain of brilliant, interconnected strategies, obliterate the Central 46, flatten the Wandenreich, and ascend to the peak of life itself.
…Thirty minutes later, the ink on the brush had dried. He still hadn't written a single stroke.
True, danger loomed everywhere—but when he really thought about it, none of them were impossible to survive. His abilities were tailor-made for survival, after all. If he could just wait for Kurosaki Ichigo to reach god-tier status, swinging those two oversized cleavers from the gates of Heaven straight through to the end of the world, one-shotting Yhwach like an expired night-light…
Wouldn't that mean he could just coast his way to victory?
…Crap. This must be what they call, "When your mindset slides, the world suddenly feels full of options."
Somehow, his right hand had already grabbed the fishing rod again.
Mizuma hesitated, then glanced toward the window. The sun was shining. The breeze was warm.
Yosh—what a perfect day for fishing. Time to head out!
He cheerfully abandoned his earlier resolve and started humming as he picked up his full fishing kit, stepping toward the door—
"Mizuma, where are you going?"
A familiar voice cut through his plans.
Mizuma froze. His neck creaked around like a rusted hinge.
Standing in the doorway was Lisa—arms crossed, glasses gleaming with a sharp, cold reflection.
Crisis alarms blared in his head.
In the space of 0.1 seconds, Mizuma ran a mental audit of his recent activities. All good—no unfinished paperwork, no dereliction of duty. Officially, he was still recovering from "severe reiatsu exhaustion," so even the Central 46 wouldn't dare assign him work.
Which meant Lisa probably wasn't here to scold him…
Still, damn. He'd gone fishing so often that seeing Lisa now gave him the same dread he'd felt toward his homeroom teacher back in school. But on closer look—no reflection in her glasses, no angry posture, no stormy aura. Just a casual, everyday visit.
"Fishing," he answered smoothly, adjusting his expression into calm normalcy. "Found a river bend yesterday teeming with fish. Thought I'd try my luck again."
"Is that so?" Lisa sighed, spreading her hands. "Unfortunately, I'll have to stop you. The Captain sent me to fetch you to the Assembly Hall. Seems something important's come up—Captain Ukitake, Captain Hirako, and even Captain Urahara are already there. You'd better hurry."
"…That big a lineup?!"
"Something serious, obviously. So don't you dare sneak off." After that warning, Lisa turned briskly to leave. "I've still got to notify Kensei at the Ninth. You go change and get there first."
As her figure disappeared down the street, Mizuma looked down at the fishing gear in his hands and sighed, regretfully setting it back in the corner.
…Yeah, no chance.
He wanted both: office work and fishing.
Throwing on his shihakushō and strapping Ryugetsu at his waist, Mizuma shot into the air and sped toward the Assembly Hall.
---
Descending onto the main street near the hall, he landed gracefully and began walking the rest of the way.
If old man Yamamoto caught him flying indoors again, even Kyoraku would get an earful—so for a lowly Fifth Seat like him, best to behave.
Several familiar squad members greeted him along the way, and he returned each nod politely. Just as he reached the main gates, someone turned the corner—an unassuming man with glasses, carrying a neat stack of papers.
Aizen Sōsuke.
Smiling gently, arms full of documents, he radiated warmth and calm—like a harmless woodland creature. In the bloodstained world of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, Aizen was practically an angel, the picture of serenity.
To be fair, before his true colors were revealed, Aizen's reputation had been spotless. Even Hirako Shinji, who had long suspected him, was merely cautious—after all, who would suspect that this "if this were a mystery series, he'd die first"-looking guy was secretly a master manipulator with the slickest hair and the sharpest tongue in all of Soul Society?
From a distance, Aizen spotted him, waved, and walked straight over.
Mizuma's brow twitched. His mood plummeted instantly.
Great. Just my luck.
Knowing what Aizen really was made it impossible to play along with his polite nonsense. What was he supposed to do, waste brainpower exchanging small talk with this walking conspiracy machine? Was Kyoraku's sake not strong enough, or Lisa's face not cute enough, that he needed this level of suffering?
And yet… he couldn't just walk away.
A vice-captain greeting a Fifth Seat from another squad—ignoring him outright would be beyond rude.
"Good morning, Vice-Captain Aizen." Mizuma inclined his head politely, then gestured toward the papers. "Heading to the Assembly Hall as well?"
"Indeed. These are reports compiled by our division. I'm responsible for delivering them."
Aizen smiled faintly, the very picture of mild frustration. "Workload's been increasing lately—my subordinates are at their limits. Ah, speaking of which, I heard you were injured during your last mission, Watanabe Fifth Seat. I'm relieved to see you've recovered."
"Your concern is appreciated." Mizuma returned an equally flawless smile. "As it happens, I'm on my way to the Assembly as well. Care to walk together?"
"I'd be honored."
And so, the two men—each smiling, each thinking very different thoughts—stepped side by side into the Assembly Hall.
Their smiles were warm enough to make every passing squad member feel at ease…
If only they knew.
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〔TL〕
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