In the Seireitei, First Division barracks.
Today, the wind here was unusually loud.
It felt like the members had been cleared out in advance.
When Higashino Shuuichi stepped inside, the vast courtyard was empty.
Dozens of steps deeper in, he finally saw a familiar face: First Division's fukutaichō (vice-captain), Sasakibe Chōjirō.
"You're here, Shuuichi-kun," Chōjirō said.
"Hello, fukutaichō Sasakibe."
They traded the expected pleasantries, then, wordlessly, headed toward the taichō's lounge.
Along the way, the barracks remained hollow and still.
On normal days, Soul Reapers would stream through here. Now the place was deserted.
No doubt—something was off.
Shuuichi knew, but there was no backing out.
From the moment he'd entered the First Division barracks, a terrifying aura had locked onto him.
He didn't have to guess whose it was.
If he tried to run right now, in the current Seireitei, even Sōsuke might not be able to save him—and in all likelihood, Sōsuke wouldn't try.
All this ruckus for someone who was merely "missing" for a while?
Shuuichi walked half a body-length ahead of Chōjirō. He knew that wasn't an accident; Chōjirō meant it that way.
Guarding against whom?
Obvious.
He'd been summoned to First Division by Genryūsai Shigekuni in the tone of an order.
He hadn't even had time to check in with anyone he trusted—to learn how long he'd been gone, or what had happened in the Seireitei while he was away.
Which meant he was walking in blind.
Cold sweat ran down his forehead, drop after drop.
By the time he reached the door to the taichō's lounge, the collar around his neck was soaked through.
His mind spun.
"The sōtaichō (Head Captain) is inside, Shuuichi-kun," Chōjirō said, stopping five meters behind him.
A delicate distance. Back when Shuuichi trained under Retsu, five meters had been the sweet spot for his fastest, strongest slash—Nadegiri (Caress Slash). Beyond that, the effect dropped sharply.
Clearly, Chōjirō had done his homework.
No—wrong. Someone of Chōjirō's rank couldn't get Retsu to talk. Only the man even Retsu revered—Genryūsai—could make her divulge details willingly.
Shuuichi swallowed and took a tiny step forward. "Fukutaichō Sasakibe, does taichō Retsu know I'm back?"
As expected, Chōjirō answered while taking an almost imperceptible step back.
Not more, not less—exactly restoring the five-meter gap.
"Mm. Someone's been sent to inform her. By now, taichō Retsu likely knows."
He could have kept even more distance, but chose that sensitive number on purpose.
Maximum pressure.
This vice-captain—who felt like a "plot casualty" in the original flow—was nowhere near as weak as he'd seemed there. You don't stand at Genryūsai's side for centuries without real substance.
"I understand. I'll go see the sōtaichō now."
Shuuichi forced a smile.
Inwardly, he weighed his odds if he stepped in and opened double Bankai at once, striking Genryūsai unprepared with his peak form.
He pushed the door and saw the stern, immovable figure standing in the center.
The number in his mind dropped to zero.
Against Genryūsai—who had already arranged everything and would be the one calculating—what was there to struggle for?
I wonder if my reiatsu is "qualified" for Jigoku (Hell). If it is, then when Kurosaki Ichigo's son, Kurosaki Kazui, ventures there in the future, I might find a way back. If it isn't…
"Sōtaichō, I've returned."
Fine. He chose to go limp and spill it—lay his Hell trip on the table.
As long as he left out the dirty work he'd done for Sōsuke, there should still be room to salvage things.
At least this time he'd gone flying the banner of one of the Five Great Noble Houses—the Kabuma clan.
"How much do you know about Jigoku?"
Shuuichi hadn't expected it—the sōtaichō led with a straight punch before he could.
No circling.
"Soul Reapers or Hollows whose spiritual power is too great are sent to Jigoku when they die, becoming 'Sins' there. Among them, those who bear the heaviest sins receive new power from Hell and become Togabito (Sinners).
"Togabito are undying and unkillable. Their only task each day is mutual slaughter—kill other Togabito, or suffer the harshest torment and die themselves.
"And so, on and on."
Shuuichi laid out what he knew, woven with what he'd learned from Kuruyashiki Kenpachi—without reservation.
Judging by Genryūsai's attitude, he'd already sniffed out Shuuichi's purpose.
No point acting.
"Do you know the former Tenth Division taichō—Maki Kurando?"
Shuuichi blinked.
Maki Kurando?
He quickly pieced it together. Whatever had happened back then with Maki hadn't been kept from Genryūsai. It might even have been Genryūsai who helped the Kabuma track Maki down.
Given Genryūsai's nature, that made sense.
To keep balance and peace across the three realms—if the Kabuma laid out the pros and cons plainly, he'd likely agree.
You could see it later, when he ordered Mayuri to kill Rukongai civilians.
If that was so, it made sense that Genryūsai was the first to find him. Who could sense his return from Hell faster than the true master of Seyabasa?
"I know, sōtaichō. Ten years ago, on the night the Kasumiooji family rebelled en masse, taichō Maki fell with honor."
He felt a little steadier.
A certain pure, pitiable girl's face floated to mind.
If it was her, Shuuichi believed she would never harm him deliberately.
"Wrong—fifteen years. You went to Jigoku and stayed five full years. Back then Maki Kurando stayed half a day."
Genryūsai shook his head.
"Do you understand what that implies?"
Shuuichi bowed. "My apologies, sōtaichō. I didn't know I'd be inside that long—and I don't grasp the implications."
"Maki Kurando accepted Hell's power. His body couldn't withstand it. He ran amok and died, and even his corpse was dragged into Jigoku."
Shuuichi stiffened again.
He'd only known the Seireitei kept quiet about Maki's death. He hadn't known Genryūsai had already privately concluded this cause.
No wonder the later investigation into the Kasumiooji uprising never probed Maki's cause of death.
At this point in time, aside from Shuuichi—a traveler—and Sōsuke—the man who peeked at the Great Spirit Book Corridor—few in the Seireitei knew of Hell at all.
It was understandable that Genryūsai didn't want others to know.
"You're worried I'll end up like taichō Maki?"
So that was the real reason he'd been called.
If that was it, he might be safe.
"Release your Bankai (Final Release) here."
No wasted breath. Straight as ever.
In his experience, a prominent sign of Hell's erosion was a substitution of one's Bankai.
But that was because Maki had lacked the strength to bear it.
"Here?"
Shuuichi knew he was fine—but he had to react with proper "confusion."
"Here," Genryūsai said, solemn.
With that second confirmation, Shuuichi drew his Zanpakutō, bowed slightly toward Genryūsai, and said, "Then—my apologies, sōtaichō. Bingfa Suyuan… Bankai (Final Release)!"
His reiatsu flared dozens of times over as he completed Bankai.
To Genryūsai, it felt like an itch.
"No change at all?"
He'd seen Shuuichi's Bankai before. Now, after the release, there was almost no difference from what he'd observed—only that the reiatsu was twice as strong.
Not a problem.
"Yes, sōtaichō. I don't know taichō Maki's situation back then—but in Jigoku, I followed the instructions from the Kabuma noble to the letter…"
He then recounted everything he'd seen and done in Hell—openly—including meeting Kuruyashiki Kenpachi. He omitted only Kuruyashiki's request that he search the Human World for Azashiro Kenpachi.
Hearing that name—and the description of Kuruyashiki's Shikai (Initial Release)—the sōtaichō's brows finally eased for the first time since Shuuichi had entered.
Given Shuuichi's station, he shouldn't have had any chance to know of that former Eleventh Division taichō—let alone his Zanpakutō's Shikai ability.
And with Kuruyashiki's strength, protecting Shuuichi in Hell would be trivial.
Just as Shuuichi thought he was in the clear, Genryūsai made an outlandish request.
A match—with conditions: use the Kabuma's "concept" as designed, and, as much as possible, use the kidō he had co-created with Kuruyashiki.
So I'm the lab rat? Testing whether the Kabuma's concept is dangerous?
Shuuichi could guess the thinking.
He'd already heard from Kabuma Sayako, the Kabuma maiden, that theirs was only a proposed concept—no one had ever executed it.
Maki had come closest.
If the sōtaichō was a party to the plan, his concern was natural.
Ordinary logic would say: find a few death-row inmates and test the danger on them.
Genryūsai, though, was walking in himself…
Well. That was the confidence of the strongest Soul Reaper in a thousand years. No wonder folks later played him dirty.
The old man really did everything himself.
Since the sōtaichō had "invited" him so warmly, Shuuichi couldn't keep demurring.
He nodded meekly and followed Genryūsai down into Muken (Infinite Hell), beneath Central 46.
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