Several years later.
Seireitei, Eleventh Division Barracks.
"I'm telling you, it's definitely a little longer than an ordinary Zanpakutō! During a subjugation mission in South Rukongai last month, I saw exactly where the tip was when he released his Shikai. There's no mistake!" A bare-chested seated officer slammed a hand onto the low table, making the sake cups jump.
"Bullshit! How could it only be a little longer? I'd say it's a good deal longer than a standard Zanpakutō!" another seated officer immediately shouted back.
"Are you both blind? Why did I see a clear curve in the blade closer in than the tip of an ordinary Zanpakutō? It was obviously a short sword!"
The Eleventh Division was as noisy as ever that morning. Its rough-hewn seated officers had gathered together and were locked in a heated argument over the length and shape of their newly appointed Captain Murata's Zanpakutō. Neither side would give an inch, and they looked ready to draw their swords and settle things in the dojo if words failed.
In stark contrast to the uproar in the Eleventh Division, the Shin'ō Academy basked in the gentle morning light of early spring.
Beneath the bluestone walkway by the main gate, a breeze swept up the early spring cherry blossoms, sending them swirling in dazzling flurries.
Tender petals fluttered down, only to be trampled by the crowds of newly enrolled students passing to and fro, crushed into faint pink stains. The fresh scent of greenery filled the air.
Miyanou Fujimaru and Miyanou Matsuri stood side by side at the foot of the tall staircase. Both had changed into brand-new Shin'ō Academy uniforms, their blue-and-white and red-and-white hems stirring gently in the morning breeze.
Over the past few years at the Zhu Sibo estate, they had never