Born in Seireitei

A few years after regaining the memories of reincarnation.

It was a sunny summer morning in the Soul Society, in the Okikiba family estate. In one of the rooms in the mansion's right wing, designed in a Japanese style.

Sitting on a large child-sized bed was a boy. The bed itself, adorned with numerous pillows and silk sheets in beige tones, screamed luxury—though by now, the boy was already accustomed to it.

To gauge just how used he had become to the mansion's opulence... well, let's just say that even if he stumbled upon a chest his own size, packed to the brim with gold, it would hardly raise an eyebrow.

Because, once, he actually did stumble upon one.

Since that momentous day in the library, he had grown, become somewhat sturdier, and lost much of his restlessness and fidgety nature. He no longer needed a nanny or servant to help him get ready in the morning.

The estate's servants were well aware of this and no longer disturbed him in the mornings. Nor would they dare wake him up if, say, he decided to sleep until noon.

Their sole responsibility was not to watch over the child, guiding or raising him—such behavior would cost them their heads. No, their role was merely to maintain the estate, keep the rooms immaculate, and cater to their masters' wishes.

And to be professionals in these roles, of course. Loyal and obedient. This alone sometimes left the boy bewildered—how subservient adults could become in the presence of a child.

Then again, not every child could order your execution and actually see it through with enough whining and tantrums.

He appeared to be about five or six years old. In his hands, he held a wooden toy. It was a new gift from his father: a simple creation consisting of a stick acting as a handle, a circular part, a string, and a ball. Essentially, it was a kendama-like toy.

The boy gave it a try, spinning it, and the room echoed with the sound of the ball hitting the wooden surface. The sound ceased, replaced by a puzzled child's voice:

"Seriously, does he think I'm an idiot or something?"

The boy swung the toy and flung it into the corner of the room. Something fell loudly. The neatly arranged pile of trinkets, meticulously stacked by the servants, turned into a chaotic mess of silly gifts. Balls, wooden toys, rag dolls, and toy weapons—all now lay in disarray.

Among the heap of so-called gifts, only one had earned the honor of standing on the flat surface of a dresser. A figurine, skillfully painted and almost lifelike, depicted a Shinigami ready for battle.

A well-known Shinigami—the Commander-General of the Gotei 13 and Captain of the First Division.

He was unmistakable. Bald head scarred from battle, a white beard reaching down to his knees, black robes, and a white haori draped over them, marked with the number "one" on the back. Slightly bent forward and poised to draw his blade for a signature iai strike, the art of lightning-fast unsheathing attacks.

Even to a child's eyes, the figurine was a masterpiece. And to throw away a toy depicting Yamamoto? That would be foolish—even reckless. After all, who in the Seireitei didn't admire the captains?

Even as a figurine, the intense gaze from beneath thick white brows sent shivers down one's spine. The unknown artist had captured the commanding presence of Yamamoto Genryūsai perfectly.

The rest of the toys were piled in the corner, where the servants constantly had to tidy them up after the boy threw yet another of his father's gifts.

A frustrated sigh escaped the small heir of the Noble Family, a display of his irritation. Despite letters asking for an end to the delivery of childish toys, someone from his father's entourage continued to send him this nonsense.

He already knew how it happened. His father likely uttered a phrase along the lines of, "Send the boy a gift, pick something out." And, within a day, young Sujin would receive something like this.

The child's dissatisfaction expressed in letters was dismissed as insignificant. After all, "You know how children are." If those complaints even reached his father at all. Sujin had never even met the man!

In fact, his father probably wouldn't recognize his son except in a portrait. Not seeing one's child for such a long time was unusual—even in the afterlife. But everything changed when one's work and duty intervened. Sujin's father was a Counselor.

Out of the millions of souls residing in the afterlife, only forty-six were deemed noble, wise, and righteous enough to govern the rest—to decide the fate of an entire dimension on behalf of the Soul King himself.

Such was the law of the Soul Society. And Sujin's father, Okikiba Ichirō, was an important cog in this mechanism, a part of it. What value did the whims of a barely reasonable child hold in comparison to such a duty and such an honor? Dust and laughter.

Sujin understood this himself. No one had ever heard a single complaint about it from the boy. He had been taught early on where his father worked.

The Central 46.

This was a governing body whose members lived for years in a special location, hidden behind barriers and guarded by Shinigami, deep beneath the Seireitei. They issued decrees daily, upheld laws, and remained impartial and isolated from society. No outside influence was allowed to affect the Council's decisions.

Authority flowed from within outward, never the other way around. No one dared dictate rules to the Central 46. They were the law and order, even for the great Shinigami.

Leave for a member of the Council was a rare and entirely voluntary affair. And it was clear that Sujin's father had no intention of taking a break from his duties, spending his time among his peers. Perhaps he loved power more than his son, or maybe he was just clinging to his position, refusing to let rival families take his place.

Despite the official claim that Council members' positions were for life, everyone knew that such posts could indeed change hands—through underhanded, sometimes bloody methods. At the very least, through intrigue and scandalous "exposures."

In the world of aristocrats, one needed to keep their ears sharp.

And since souls here were not mortals from the World of the Living, spending years on an important matter was as easy for them as mortals spending mere days.

Sujin had already noticed this. The people here were in no hurry to live, to develop, or to make swift decisions. They preferred to take their time and think things through thoroughly. Because time was something everyone here had in abundance.

After all, what's the rush when you're already dead?!

Especially here in the Seireitei, the most protected place in all the Three Worlds. Everyone in the Soul Society dreamed of living in the city of the Shinigami, no matter their role. The only place safer might be the Soul King's Palace.

In short, the souls here had no reason to hurry. And, annoyingly enough, it made perfect sense.

The commotion in Sujin's room did not go unnoticed. The sliding door shifted slightly, and a green eye peeked through the gap. Seeing that the boy was looking directly at him, the servant flinched and opened the door fully. On his knees, bowing his head, a young man waited just outside the thin partition.

"Let them know I'm awake," Sujin said calmly. "Have breakfast prepared. I'll come to the main hall myself; there's no need to bring it here."

"It will be done," the servant replied, quieter than a mouse.

The door slid closed just as quietly as it had opened, sealing without the faintest sound. This was one of the reasons Sujin appreciated the estate's servants—they were silent and never asked their masters foolish questions. Loyal, unobtrusive, and quiet. And, most importantly, diligent.

Each one strove to embody the qualities of the perfect servant. And why wouldn't they strive to be the best? For a chance to serve one of the Noble Families outside the White City, many would gladly eliminate their rivals and even their rivals' kin without a second thought.

It was wealth, honor, and status—but most importantly, it was security and a peaceful, well-fed future.

When a Noble Family faded into obscurity, its servants disappeared from history along with it. Either through ritual suicide or by retreating into the wilderness, never speaking of their past and guarding their former masters' secrets as tightly as an iron lock.

Such were the customs here. Sujin had already grown used to them... especially since, behind the sweet facade of a child, his mind was anything but childlike. This wasn't unusual for the more intelligent souls here, but certainly not at his age.

Thus, Sujin kept his mouth shut more often than not, keeping even sharp objections to himself. By now, he had grown accustomed to it, though a couple of years ago, it had been tough.

Not tough in the sense of holding his tongue, but in simply adjusting to these customs, this culture, and even this different era.

From what he could infer, the World of the Living was currently in the late Middle Ages. Which meant that the Soul Society still adhered to customs and systems rooted in antiquity. Change wasn't welcome here; this place had its own unchanging culture, long-standing traditions, and established order.

Adjusting to all that was no small feat. But, truth be told, it would have been far harder without the mind of an adult in a child's body. Without the attention of his relatives and under the indulgent supervision of the servants.

To put it plainly, Sujin was allowed to do anything he pleased, as long as he stayed within the estate's walls.

The heirs of Noble Families clearly grew into very spoiled individuals... with time and the stern threat of the law smoothing out their rough edges. Although, in some aristocratic families, children were raised with strict discipline from a young age.

But not in the Okikiba family.

From birth, Sujin had been free to do as he pleased, receiving nothing more than gifts and silent approval for his antics.

Had his grandfather lived here, things would have been different; the man was of a harsh temperament. Whenever he visited—once every six months, for a couple of days—a normal child would have been driven mad by his lectures and uncompromising instructions. But the grandfather didn't live here, and that said it all.

Once, at the age of four, Sujin even made the servants play knights and horses with him, riding on their backs in the courtyard. He had even enlisted others to join in so he wouldn't be bored alone. This was back when Sujin was still testing the waters, unsure how far he could push his whims. The servitude of the estate's staff could bewilder anyone from a modern era.

He, a small child, had made grown men and women carry him around on their backs in a mock jousting tournament. And to say "made" was a stretch—he had simply said, "I want to," and that was it.

Sujin had expected many outcomes—up to and including a caning from his grandfather. At the very least, he thought his nanny, the woman who shadowed him in those days, would have scolded him for treating adults this way in front of their peers.

But nothing happened. Not even a slap on the wrist or a stern word about not treating grown adults like this.

The wild customs of this era… everyone seemed to take it as a mere child's whim, a harmless game. Through the servants' later conversations, Sujin discovered that some aristocratic children did far worse things behind their estates' walls—things that would challenge both morality and even the law.

Perhaps if he had ordered the servants to fight to the death for his amusement during dinner, his grandfather might have intervened and brought consequences. But as long as Sujin didn't go too far, he was free to live as he pleased.

For now, he could simply enjoy being a spoiled, wealthy child.

It would be different if the family were larger, but there were only three of them. They weren't an ancient Noble Clan with centuries of history, so they didn't need elders or strict family codes.

The family's nobility stemmed from his grandfather's distinguished service in the Gotei 13 and was upheld by the political power of his father, the Counselor.

Eventually, perhaps when Sujin was ten, his father or grandfather would concern themselves with his education and instilling the skills expected of a noble family's heir.

His mother had peacefully passed on to reincarnation a year after his birth, and he had never even heard of a grandmother. There were no uncles or aunts, either.

Thus, he was left entirely alone, with only himself for company.

Yet, in the quiet and solitude, the boy's expression was anything but sorrowful. Instead, his face bore a smile.

Because, truthfully, this situation suited him just fine.

And who wouldn't be pleased to be reincarnated into such a family, with such promising opportunities ahead—especially if they had the wits to make use of them? Certainly not him.