XX-level Hokage

Aizen, the man who spent a century plotting, deceiving the entire Soul Society, and even breaking through the dimensional barrier to evolve to a completely new level, ultimately lost.

They were defeated by the "Grim Reaper" who always acted as an observer, treating the Three Realms as a chessboard for placing pieces.

The smoke of war seems to have dissipated, but everyone knows that some things can never be the same again.

The "change" that Aizen tore open had already cracked the established order of the Soul Society; and Mashiro's absolute power on the battlefield was like a deep mark, destined to rewrite the future of the Soul Society.

No one knew what this mysterious figure would do next. They could only watch in silence as she carried Aizen and walked step by step toward the central underground prison, her back exuding an undeniable sense of control.

Three days later, in the deepest part of the central underground prison in the Seireitei—the Avici Hell.

This is the darkest prison in the world of spirits, where there is no alternation of day and night, no echoing of sound, only eternal silence and coldness.

The walls are covered with ancient runes that suppress spiritual pressure, and the air is filled with negative energy strong enough to suffocate ordinary Shinigami. It is a place specifically used to imprison those who are extremely heinous, immortal, or cannot be executed.

Over the years, only a handful of people have been imprisoned here. But now, this darkness welcomes new "residents".

Aizen Sousuke was strapped to a specially made restraint chair, his limbs and torso bound tightly with dozens of black straps, each strap covered with densely packed sealing runes that embedded themselves into his skin like thorns.

Even worse, the light of "Binding Path No. 99 - Forbidden" flowed over his body. This highest-level binding path completely sealed off his spiritual pressure, suppressing his power, which once shook the three realms, within his body. His eyes were covered by a thick black cloth, completely blocking out the light from the outside world, leaving only his hearing and touch, magnified in this darkness.

Before him stood the newly reorganized Central 46th Bureau.

On the high platform, sixteen judges, dressed in solemn black robes, stood with cold and sharp expressions, a stark contrast to the corrupt and arrogant sages of the past.

They were the executors personally chosen by Captain-Commander Yamamoto, and were also beings who implicitly obeyed Mashiro—after all, the reconstruction of the Central 46 after Aizen's rebellion would have been impossible without the tacit approval of that "teacher."

The bell that signaled the start of the trial rang in the Abyss, the dull sound hitting the walls and bouncing back into Aizen's ears.

The lead judge stepped forward, his voice devoid of any warmth, as if reading a pre-written script: "The sinner Aizen Kakusuke has committed treason, deceived his superiors, murdered all members of the former Central 46, instigated internal strife in the Seireitei, colluded with Hueco Mundo, and attempted to overthrow the order of the three worlds... His crimes are too numerous to count, and the evidence is irrefutable. Do you plead guilty?"

Aizen listened and watched quietly, his face, covered by a black cloth, expressionless, as if the "sinner" the judges spoke of was someone else entirely. His breathing was steady, and one could even faintly hear the suppressed heartbeats of the judges on the high platform—a testament to their fear of his remaining power and their unease about the trial.

Seeing that he did not respond, the judge continued to read the verdict: "Given that you have merged with the Hōgyoku and gained immortality, you cannot be sentenced to death. By unanimous decision of the Central 46 Chambers, you are sentenced to 1,120,000 years of imprisonment, never to leave Avici!"

Twenty thousand years.

The number echoed in the vast emptiness, carrying a weight of despair.

For a Shinigami whose lifespan is only a thousand years, twenty thousand years is enough for a family to rise and fall, and for a piece of history to be completely forgotten; even Aizen, who has an immortal body, will sooner or later be consumed by madness in this eternal darkness and loneliness.

However, the moment he heard the verdict, a mocking smile slowly crept onto Aizen's lips.

The smile was faint, yet it revealed his usual arrogance, as if 20,000 years of imprisonment were nothing more than a brief respite for him.

“A mere twenty thousand years…” he murmured softly, his voice not loud, but clearly reaching the ears of every judge, “For me, who is about to stand at the pinnacle of time, it is but a fleeting moment.”

As soon as the words were spoken, the judges on the high platform instantly changed their expressions.

Some clenched their fists, some breathed heavily, and some couldn't help but want to shout—this man who had already fallen to the lowest level still dared to be so arrogant!

Just then, a languid female voice suddenly came from above the platform, piercing through the endless darkness, with a faint smile: "Oh? It seems that my student, even in this state, still has no remorse whatsoever."

Aizen's body stiffened abruptly, as if he had been nailed to the restraint chair by an invisible force.

That voice... he knew it all too well. It was Mashiro.

Although he was blind, his perception of spiritual pressure was exceptionally sharp; he could clearly sense a slender figure in the deeper darkness above the platform.

His figure was leaning against the railing, his posture seemingly lazy yet exuding the aura of a king ruling over the pass.

She was like an audience member, watching the trial she herself had directed, while she herself was nothing more than the most ridiculous character in this play.

"Seriously...Teacher." Aizen's voice wavered for the first time, a wave that contained resentment, fear, and a complex emotion that even he himself did not realize. He had always thought he was setting up the scheme, but he never expected that from beginning to end, he was just a pawn on her chessboard.

“Since you think 20,000 years is too short,” Mashiro’s voice remained calm and casual, as if she were talking about the weather, “then how about I add a dessert for you?”

Chapter 268: The Maid (Part 2)

Before he could finish speaking, a terrifying spiritual pressure suddenly descended.

This spiritual pressure was different from Aizen's rage and Yamamoto's scorching heat. It was formless and intangible, yet it carried the power of absolute "laws," as if it could control time and space. Aizen instantly felt that his body and consciousness were frozen by an irresistible force—not a physical freeze, but a "time displacement" at the root level.

"Blue - Sea of ​​Time".

Mashiro's voice, like a spell, echoed through the void.

Aizen's mind instantly went into chaos. He could clearly sense that the flow of time between himself and the outside world was being forcibly separated. A second outside was stretched infinitely long in his perception, perhaps a hundred years, or perhaps a thousand years. He felt as if he had been thrown into a boundless ocean of time, left to endure loneliness and darkness alone in the eternal flow.

"In this Sea of ​​Time, reflect on your actions, Aizen-kun." Mashiro's voice pierced through the barrier of time, landing deep within his soul. "If you can understand this, then time will begin to accelerate."

After he finished speaking, the terrifying spiritual pressure quietly dissipated, as if it had never existed.

The judges on the high platform quickly rose, bowed respectfully to the figure in the darkness, and then hurried away from the Infernal Realm—they dared not linger, much less ask what Mashiro had just done.

The heavy iron gate closed behind him, and the Abyss returned to its eternal silence.

Only Aizen was bound in the cage of time, feeling the years rushing past him, yet unable to touch anything. Deep within the Sixth Division's compound, in Mashiro's private garden.

This place was once a forbidden area of ​​the Central 46 Chambers, lush with vegetation, flowing streams and waterfalls, and filled with the faint scent of cherry blossoms. Since Mashiro took over the Sixth Division, this place has become her private palace, and apart from a few individuals, no one dares to set foot here without permission.

In the tea room deep within the courtyard, sunlight streamed through the paper windows, casting dappled shadows on the tatami mats. Mashiro knelt before a low table, a cup of freshly brewed matcha before her, its delicate aroma filling the air.

The person who brewed this cup of tea is Retsu Unohana, the former captain of the 11th Division and now the captain of the 4th Division. As a very white "old friend," he not only takes care of her health but also occasionally prepares tea and snacks for her.

Opposite Mashiro, a tall figure was kneeling stiffly.

Tia Harribel kept her head down, her long, golden hair cascading loosely over her shoulders, obscuring most of her face. Traces of bronze skin still lingered on her skin.

The wounds, though healed, bore the marks of battle, but the spiritual pressure was suppressed by an invisible force, preventing even the most basic Cero from being formed.

Those icy blue eyes held wariness, resentment, and a hint of barely concealed weakness.

On the battlefield of Karakura Town, she was mercilessly killed by Aizen—the "king" she once followed, who, at the crucial moment, did not hesitate to use her as a pawn.

Just when she thought she was about to disappear completely, Mashiro appeared beside her and pulled her back from the brink of death in a way she couldn't understand. Together with her three subordinates, she was taken back to Seireitei.

This cup of tea was brewed by Captain Unohana herself, using the unique Cloud Mist Tea of ​​Seireitei, with a very mellow taste. Mashiro picked up the teacup, took a small sip, and gazed at Haribel with great interest. Her eyes didn't seem to be looking at an enemy, but rather admiring a fine work of art. "Won't you try some?"

Heribel didn't move, her voice cold and hoarse: "What do you want from me?" She could feel that her spiritual pressure was being suppressed so thoroughly that Mashiro could take her life at any time if he wanted to.

But the fact that the other party didn't make a move made her even more uneasy.

Nothing special. "Mashiro put down her teacup, her fingertips lightly tracing the rim," she said. "I just find your body very interesting—among the Espada of Hueco Mundo,..."

Few have reached the level of Resurrection Blade, and your ability to control the water element is even rarer.

Upon hearing the words "the body is interesting," a flash of murderous intent crossed Harribel's eyes, and her hand unconsciously tightened around the hem of her skirt. She was the Queen of Hueco Mundo, and even as a prisoner, she would never allow anyone to humiliate her like this.

Mashiro, seemingly oblivious to her anger, continued, "You should also know that Aizen's farce is over."

She paused, her gaze falling on Halibel's tense shoulders, a meaningful smile playing on her lips: "This period of peace is so boring. I just happen to need a maid who can serve me tea and water and make my bed."

"A maid?!" Harribel suddenly raised her head, her icy blue eyes blazing with fury. "Don't even think about it! I, Tia Harribel, am the ruler of Hueco Mundo and will never be anyone's slave!"

"Is that so?" Mashiro's smile remained unchanged, and she simply snapped her fingers lightly.

The next second, the walls of the tea room suddenly rippled like water, and ripples spread out, revealing three familiar figures—Apache, Mi Rhodes, and Sun Sun.

They were imprisoned in a semi-transparent ghost-path cage, covered in wounds, their breaths weak, clearly having lost consciousness.

“They…” Harribel’s pupils suddenly contracted, her heart feeling as if it had been violently squeezed by a hand. These three subordinates were her only family in Hueco Mundo, beings she was willing to protect with her life.

"They are your sacrifice," and also your weakness. "Mashiro's voice was still as calm as ever, yet it was like the sharpest knife, piercing deeply into Helicer's heart.

"Now, I'm giving you two choices."

"First," Mashiro said, "kneel down and become my maids. Then they will receive the best treatment, and may even gain power stronger than before." "Second," a cold, emotionless glint flashed in Mashiro's eyes, "reject me. Then they will be sent to the twelfth..."

The squad became the perfect... experimental subjects for that madman, Mayuri Kurotsuchi.

"You!" Herribel's body began to tremble violently with immense anger and helplessness.

She looked at the three subordinates in the cage who were her only family and who depended on each other for survival, and then at the woman in front of her with a devilish smile on her face.

She knew she had no choice.

The pride of being a "king" is so fragile in the face of the responsibility of protecting one's family. For a long, long time.

Heribel slowly closed her icy blue eyes.

When she calmed down again, all the anger and resentment in her eyes had turned into a deathly silence and despair.

Slowly, she lowered her proud head, and then, her knees fell heavily onto the cold tatami mat in front of Mashiro. "I do."

She squeezed out these three words through gritted teeth, words that were enough to utterly crush all her dignity.

Mashiro looked at the former King of Hueco Mundo kneeling before him like a tamed mother leopard, and a satisfied, victorious smile appeared on his face.

Her gaze, unabashedly sweeping over Helibel's fuller breasts, made even more voluptuous by her kneeling posture, over her firm, rounded buttocks, and over her healthy, exotic dark skin.

"very good."

She reached out and gently stroked Halibel's long, golden hair, as if soothing a pet. "From this day forward, you will be my first maid, Makoto's."

Chapter 269: The Maid's Work (Part 1)

The first rays of dawn pierced through the windows of the Seireitei, made of centuries-old wood, casting dappled light on the tatami mats. Tia Heribel's bronze skin was gently caressed by the morning light; her eyelashes trembled slightly as she slowly opened her eyes.

The sight before her was so unfamiliar that it instantly tensed her nerves—it was neither the pale, dark moon that eternally hung in the sky above Hueco Mundo, nor the pure white skeletons of Las Noches.

Instead of a cold, icy ceiling made of stacked bones, it is an elegant Japanese-style room decorated in simple, auspicious colors and adorned with celadon vases.

A crisp and mysterious fragrance filled the air, much like the plum blossoms blooming after a snowfall. It was the scent of that woman, carrying a heart-pounding sense of control.

Harribel slowly sat up, the silk quilt slipping off her shoulders to reveal her smooth collarbone. She subconsciously raised her hand to her chest, where Aizen's Zanpakuto had pierced her, leaving a potentially fatal wound, but now it was as smooth as ever, without even a scar.

At the same time, she could clearly sense that the spiritual pressure that had surged within her like a vast ocean was being suppressed by an invisible and irresistible law.

The force was completely restrained, like a wild beast locked in a cage, unable to release even the slightest bit of its power.

"woke up?"

A voice, tinged with a hint of amusement and a touch of whimsy, drifted from outside the door, breaking the silence of the Japanese-style room.

The paper door was gently pulled open, and Makoto's figure appeared at the door frame. She was wearing a loose white silk nightgown, her long emerald green hair was casually draped over her shoulders, and her face, though without makeup, was still breathtakingly beautiful—her skin was as white as snow, and her brows and eyes carried a nonchalant laziness, yet concealed an undeniable strength.

She carried a rosewood tray with two slices of golden-brown toast, a soft-boiled egg, and a steaming cup of red wine.

The aroma of tea mingled with the fragrance of plum blossoms in the room.

"It seems my first maid is ready to begin her work today." Mashiro smiled faintly as she walked in with light steps, placing the tray on the low table by the window with the elegance of a noblewoman.

Harribel looked at her, her icy blue eyes swirling with vigilance and suppressed rage. She would never forget what had happened in the tea room yesterday—this woman had used the lives of her three subordinates as leverage to force her, the former Espada who once reigned supreme in Hueco Mundo, to kneel and swear the humiliating oath to become a "maid."

The pain of having my dignity trampled on still burns deep in my heart.

"Come here." Mashiro ignored the anger in her eyes and walked straight to the dressing table to sit down.