"Stop right there!"
The instant Kyoraku Shunsui turned around, the sound of air tearing rang out once more.
Tosen Kaname's figure, clinging like a bone-deep parasite, once again blocked his only path forward. This time, his Zanpakuto was fully drawn, the tip of the blade pointed straight at Kyoraku Shunsui's brow, his tone severe to the extreme.
"Kyoraku Shunsui! This concerns the safety of Soul Society. Today, you must give all of us a clear explanation! Otherwise—"
"I already said it. Don't come bother me."
Kyoraku Shunsui suddenly raised his head. The lazy, carefree air he usually carried vanished without a trace, replaced by the terrifying pressure of a veteran captain of a hundred years.
However, before his words could finish, an abrupt change occurred.
Buzz!
The air changed.
If the previous second had still been the chill of a late autumn night, then in this instant, the entire space felt as though it had been thrown into the mouth of an erupting volcano.
The Reishi that had been calm all around suddenly became violently restless. Every breath drawn into the lungs turned scorching hot, as if it were about to burn one's throat raw.
The puddles of water left on the ground evaporated in the blink of an eye, letting out sharp sizzling sounds.
Feeling this bone-deep familiar and terrifying spiritual pressure, Kyoraku Shunsui's tightly wound nerves loosened for a split second, then his heart sank hard.
The old man finally arrived.
But the brutality and instability mixed into that pressure, and this subtle timing of his intervention, a strong sense of unease surged instantly in Kyoraku Shunsui's heart.
"Captain Tosen, what kind of explanation do you want my foolish disciple to give you?"
An aged, hoarse, yet still thunderously authoritative voice exploded in everyone's ears.
As the voice fell, a hunched yet iron-hard figure, wrapped in a surging heatwave, appeared out of thin air between the two of them.
However, when everyone saw clearly who it was, their pupils shrank sharply.
The current Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni bore none of the composure or dominance of the strongest Shinigami of old.
The First Division captain's haori that symbolized supreme authority was long gone. The Shihakusho on his upper body was torn to shreds, leaving his muscular torso nearly bare. It was covered in horrifying crisscrossing bloodstains and sword wounds, marks that could only be left by a life-and-death battle.
Though his presence was still powerful, it could not hide the weakness and exhaustion within.
Even his signature half-meter-long silver beard, once full of imposing dignity, had been sliced off by half, leaving him looking thoroughly battered.
This was… the result of fighting that gentlest of female captains?
"Captain-Commander Yamamoto!"
Tosen Kaname seemed unable to "see" the old man's overwhelming presence. He still gripped his sword tightly and spoke without restraint, his voice sharp and stern.
"Even if he is your disciple! Does that mean all the doubts and violations surrounding him can be ignored because of that relationship? If that's the case, then where is justice?"
Deathly silence filled the scene.
Tosen Kaname was blind. He could not see the Captain-Commander's expression, now so dark it looked ready to drip.
But the other captains could.
Yet what was intriguing was that within this silence, there was not much reverence for the Captain-Commander. Instead, there were traces of something else.
Looking at the battered state Yamamoto Genryusai was in, then looking at Rosse in the distance, who had also gone through a fierce battle yet still appeared calm and relaxed, even continuing to heal Aizen.
In everyone's heart, the balance was quietly tilting.
In the past, they revered Yamamoto because he was the insurmountable strongest.
In a Soul Society that seemed to speak of rules but in truth followed the law of the jungle, strength was the only truth.
But now?
Facing Unohana Retsu, the Captain-Commander had not only failed to finish things quickly, but had been beaten into such a miserable state, revealing the fatigue of a hero in his twilight.
By contrast, Rosse had just effortlessly crushed horned Hollow Ichigo, and even when facing Kurosaki Masaki, he had not shown the slightest fear.
The title of "the strongest" was already wavering. And when it came to ways of doing things, compared to Yamamoto's rigid, decaying, stability-at-all-costs dictatorship, Rosse's approach of shared benefits and easy coexistence clearly aligned more with the captains' interests.
People's hearts had already scattered.
"Rules? Justice?"
Yamamoto Genryusai's cloudy yet sharp old eyes stared fixedly at Tosen Kaname. Though Ryujin Jakka was sheathed, it still radiated suffocating heat.
"I do not believe that my foolish disciple would do anything that goes against the interests of Soul Society! Or is it that you, Tosen Kaname, are trying to teach me how to do things?"
The Captain-Commander's mood at this moment could only be described as terrible. As he spoke, the gunpowder-like stench of authoritarian anger could not be suppressed.
This time, being intercepted by Unohana had delayed him for several hours.
That battle was the most stifling fight he had fought in a thousand years.
It was even more stifling than when he had previously been ambushed at the end by Shutara.
Unohana Retsu's spiritual pressure was already the pinnacle of a Shinigami's limits. A thousand years ago, relying on the overwhelming destructive power of his Bankai, he could have easily suppressed her.
But this time, he had miscalculated.
Perhaps it was because his body had only just recovered and had not yet returned to its peak. Or perhaps that madwoman had become even more terrifying over the thousand years.
Until the very end, he could not completely kill her within her Bankai domain. He could only die again and again, endlessly consuming his own spiritual pressure.
In the end, with no other choice, the Captain-Commander could only drag this ruined body of his and forcibly unleash the final strike of his Bankai, barely shattering Unohana's Minazuki domain at the cost of mutual damage.
And that had only shattered Unohana's Bankai. It did not truly kill her.
No one understood this more clearly than he did.
If it had truly been a fight to the death, the current him was probably no longer Unohana's match.
Returning to the battlefield with a belly full of pent-up rage, he had intended to stabilize the situation. But what did he see?
No enemies in sight. The area around the Eighth Division reduced to ruins. Even a gate of the Seireitei wall had been smashed down.
At the same time, his own captains were pointing blades at one another. Several of them were clearly injured, looking as though a serious internal battle had already taken place.
For someone who regarded order and rules as life itself, this was the greatest irony and insult imaginable.
"Ara~ Ara~ Captain-Commander Yamamoto isn't even going to ask about what actually happened, and already wants to take someone away directly?"
At that moment, an extremely gentle yet spine-chilling female voice drifted out softly.
Everyone followed the sound, their hearts nearly stopping.
Unohana Retsu had arrived at the scene at some point, standing quietly right beside Rosse.
Unlike her usual dignified, refined demeanor, her hair was now loose, her captain's haori and Shihakusho stained with blood.
Those eyes that were usually narrowed into crescent moons were now slightly open. Within those emotionless pupils seemed to be reflected a Shura hell of mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
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