The Sinners in Hell are immortal. That's an iron law down there.
So the "graduation exam" Kuruyashiki set for Higashino Shuuichi was only this: defeat Ikeda Kōsuke and successfully carve a divine sigil on him.
Now that Shuuichi had done it, Kuruyashiki would naturally handle the cleanup.
A mere Ikeda Kōsuke, plus a few ancient Hollows—nothing more than food for the maw of Kuruyashiki's Zanpakutō Shikai (initial release).
"With your reiatsu (spiritual pressure) at its current level and the way you're using it, once you're back, you're more than qualified to be a captain."
Shuuichi didn't tell him why he was still a lieutenant.
So Kuruyashiki assumed it was simply because Shuuichi couldn't yet beat the other Captains of the Gotei 13.
From Kuruyashiki's point of view, that was possible.
But after this round of special training, he felt Shuuichi could go back and challenge one of the weaker Captains without issue.
"I'll do my best to try, Captain Kuruyashiki!"
Shuuichi answered with genuine gratitude.
"Good. You can return anytime now. If you stay longer, I've nothing more to teach. As you are, you've reached the extreme edge of what your current reiatsu ceiling allows."
The more Kuruyashiki looked at him, the more satisfied he felt.
A pity he himself was stuck in Hell—otherwise, if he were still in the Seireitei, he'd absolutely drag Shuuichi into his Eleventh Division.
Kuruyashiki had no idea that a certain Kenpachi had already tried that once—and got refused by another Kenpachi.
"Understood, Captain!"
Shuuichi bowed deeply again.
No exaggeration: the progress he'd made under Kuruyashiki far surpassed what he'd managed in the previous decades combined.
Training without worrying about consequences, without interruption—no "sneaking practice" from the past could compare.
If before, Shuuichi had been a middle-lower "decorative" captain-class at best, now he could stand toe-to-toe with those Captains of decent real strength.
At the very least, if he ran into that development-squad Captain of the West Administration again—Kapu Holmes—he definitely wouldn't look so miserable this time.
"Cross the world's far shore—Seyabasa!"
Left hand gripping Seyabasa, Shuuichi opened the gateway to the other side.
When he stepped through and fully returned to the Seireitei, Kuruyashiki watched the spot where Shuuichi had vanished and let a wry smile tug at his mouth.
"I hope next time we meet, Shuuichi-kun, you bring me a surprise or two~"
He had a hunch. A Soul Reaper with Shuuichi's clear goals, willing to embrace monotony and grind day and night for them—reiatsu ceilings could hinder him for a time, but would never be a permanent wall.
It wouldn't be strange if, the next time they met, Kuruyashiki had to look up to him.
Elsewhere—blinding sunlight, fresh air. The cloying suffocation that had clung to his skin in Hell for so long vanished all at once.
Shuuichi was finally back in the long-missed Seireitei.
The place he landed, however, wasn't his home as he'd expected.
No matter. With a simple bit of Kidō (demon arts), he set up a visual screen; then he sank into his inner world.
For the first time in ten years, his Zanpakutō was calling him.
Inside—everything had changed.
Normally, he appeared within an old-style study: shelves on all sides packed with books; a low desk at the back; a grass mat behind it; and the man in a white cloak—the cultured embodiment of his blade—sitting there in quiet poise, waiting for him to speak.
It had been like that the first two times. Not now.
Shuuichi appeared outside the study. A familiar gray lay all around. His body, not yet used to the Seireitei's dryness, was dragged back into that suffocating feel.
If he didn't know for sure this was his inner world—and if he couldn't sense the faint spiritual link to his Zanpakutō from the little thatched hut ahead—he'd have thought he'd fallen back into Hell.
Was it always like this outside the study? Or did the trip to Hell change the scenery?
He couldn't tell. He'd never tried leaving the study before.
He pushed the door open. His Zanpakutō spirit was in its usual place.
He scanned the room, then let out a small breath.
Good. Inside, nothing had changed.
Otherwise, he'd have to rethink the "conditions" for unlocking his Bankai (final release).
He stepped in and stood before the man who embodied his blade.
"I wasn't sure this would earn your approval," Shuuichi said, "but when I came out of Hell and felt you call me, I understood."
The man watched him, smiling, waiting.
"I used to think the unlock condition required me to be the core executor of a grand plan—broad scope, many players, outsized impact.
"But your call made it clear: the key isn't scale; it's whether the stratagem actually secured concrete power for me. If yes, you recognize it as used 'right.' If no, the plan is worthless to you. Isn't that so?"
The man didn't answer. Instead he asked, "Then, Shuuichi-kun—do you know why I called you in this time?"
Shuuichi suppressed the urge to beat this riddle-lover like he would Aizen.
"'Borrow the board to build momentum; with small force, raise great force. The wild swan comes to land; its pinions serve for ceremony.'"
He was glad he hadn't forgotten The Art of War he'd browsed almost daily in his previous life.
"I haven't formally used the result yet, but the outcome's obvious.
"Hell's power is akin to Quincy arts and Fullbring—systems not built by the Soul King—outside pure reiatsu rules, near rule-type abilities.
"So even with my own level capped by a ceiling, I can borrow Hell's power to erupt, briefly, with strength far beyond my norm.
"That is the parallel war stratagem—'Blossoms on the Tree.'"
"It seems you're quite familiar with the process."
The man rose from the mat. A Zanpakutō appeared in his hand.
Only this time, a third of its tip had turned ashen black, like cinders—where once it burned a uniform flame-red.
"What's this?"
For all his centuries in the Seireitei, Shuuichi couldn't place it.
"Accept this power~"
The man offered no further explanation.
Shuuichi frowned, drew his own Zanpakutō, and touched blades in the air.
In moments, the top third of Shuuichi's blade darkened to the same ash-black.
At the same time, a strange packet of knowledge flooded his mind.
It was information on Ikeda Kōsuke's Zanpakutō Bankai: the true name, the new release phrase, its effects—everything.
"What does this mean?"
"'This tree bore no flowers; yet flowers bloom on its boughs. Whence came the blossom? Beneath the blade, fragrance.'"
The line fell, and Shuuichi understood.
Blossoms on the Tree needed borrowed power to strengthen him. That power couldn't come from nowhere—so his Zanpakutō had simply stolen a slice of Seyabasa's permissions. The link that should have been completed between Seyabasa and Ikeda Kōsuke had been rerouted to his own blade.
In other words, within Hell his Zanpakutō had secretly opened a backdoor to Hell by using Ikeda as the medium.
Even if he returned Seyabasa later, he could still tap Hell indirectly through Ikeda Kōsuke's Zanpakutō ability.
Functionally similar to using Seyabasa—but Seyabasa would never add the other man's Bankai onto him.
Back then, Maki Kurando gave up his own Bankai to trade for Ikeda's.
Blossoms on the Tree was different—more direct. A forcible requisition.
It could layer Ikeda's Bankai directly onto Shuuichi himself, without first discarding his own.
Of course, at his current reiatsu, double Bankai would be body-breaking. How long he could maintain it without coming apart was anyone's guess.
But there was no doubt: this was the strongest trump he'd ever held.
Against rule-like power such as Hell's, even monsters like Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni or Aizen Sōsuke—if struck unawares—would take real damage.
In short, after centuries clawing forward, Shuuichi finally had a sliver of capital to insert himself into the very top tier of battle—
—even if that window of threat would be very, very brief.
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