Chapter 232: For the Sake of Great Justice
Just as Yhwach sank into self doubt, Captain Commander Yamamoto, far away in Seireitei, fell into a turmoil of his own.
It was only natural. Anyone who could still think would feel confusion and hesitation. As long as one remained human, one would reflect, question, and measure their own choices against reality. Shinigami might appear transcendent, but at their core they were still people. They had emotions, society, systems, and doubts that could not be burned away by authority alone.
Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni had no regrets about his past.
He had never doubted that his bloodshed and slaughter had been for Seireitei. His life had not been defined by suffering or calamity. If anything, he felt an odd, bitter pain at how little regret he could find within himself.
Over the last thousand years, he had tempered his mind and character. He had guided the younger Shinigami, shaping them into what he believed Shinigami should be. He had watched the Shinō Academy, the institutions of learning, and the squads themselves. He did not feel he had walked the wrong road.
The wars that truly needed to be fought a millennium ago had already been fought.
A thousand years of rest after that, was it not only natural?
And yet, the problem remained.
He had failed to truly kill the great enemy from a thousand years ago.
He had believed the matter ended. He had believed he had annihilated that despicable foe completely. But he had not. The enemy had survived, then returned, then stood before him again.
Still, in a strange way, the wound that tore at him most was not Yhwach.
It was Aizen.
Aizen Sōsuke's betrayal cut deeper than any ancient enemy. Aizen did not approve of the Seireitei Yamamoto had built. He spoke as if he held better methods, better answers, better truths.
To Yamamoto, every Shinigami was his child, or at the very least his disciple. Now one of his disciples openly opposed his principles, his ideas, and the very foundation of everything he had maintained. Worse still, the Zero Division remained silent, unresponsive, as if the turmoil below did not deserve their gaze.
For an old man, it was like being struck by lightning.
He had lived by his beliefs. He had sacrificed everything he could for them. In old age, after he had sheathed his blade and stepped back, he had believed the matter finished. He had believed the world would finally settle.
Instead, he was being told that what he had done was fundamentally wrong.
How could Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni accept such a thing?
Of course he would not.
The Gotei 13 was his creation. The system was built under his hand. History recorded his sacrifices and achievements, all bound to a single ideal, to give everyone a better life, to turn a chaotic world into an orderly one.
He had delivered on his promises.
Yet the present outcome left him in torment. It was not only Aizen. After confirming that the concept itself might not be flawed, the signs of Chakra began appearing among Shinigami in other squads, even within Squad One.
It did not require much training. Anyone with the inclination could learn it. Like a peculiar plague, it spread through Seireitei, staining places Yamamoto had once considered pure with the mark of Chakra.
In Yamamoto's mind, Yhwach was merely an enemy destroyed a thousand years ago. Even if he returned, there was nothing to fear.
But Aizen Sōsuke's proposition, that power that could save the world, unlike the Soul King Palace or anything Seireitei currently understood, that was the true great enemy. The one that could overturn Seireitei from within.
His words were too beautiful.
So beautiful that even Yamamoto could not stop himself from wanting to believe them.
A power that could create a world through inner strength, love, and belief, was it not too perfect?
The spread of Chakra was not explosive, not yet. They were not living in desperate hunger for peace. But everyone yearned for a kind of equality. They no longer wanted to swallow their rage while nobles looked down on them from above. They no longer wanted to pretend this grotesque reality was acceptable.
To allow the Soul King to be sacrificed, then allow the vile scoundrels who had murdered him to rule arrogantly, was an unbearable truth to anyone who knew it.
And most ordinary Shinigami did not even understand the nobles' necessity. They only understood oppression. So they longed for equality, even if it arrived through upheaval.
Yes, they might not be facing a constant crisis of life and death, but was this world truly good? A world like a pressure cooker, where a wrong step could lead to some strange death in a forgotten corner, as if the world itself obeyed the logic of a rule based horror tale.
How could that be a utopia?
Countless low level Shinigami were eager to follow Aizen and burn this rotten world to ash.
People in wartime yearned for peace. Yet in this corrupted era, people called for conflict and suffering instead. Because only through ruin could they overthrow the invisible ridge pressing on their backs and finally feel alive.
In an era of war, they were powerless.
In this so called good era of Seireitei, they were still powerless.
So what was the difference between good and bad?
That realization made Yamamoto's heart bleed.
He had been a cold and ruthless Captain Commander, the creator of rules. But if he truly lacked a heart, how could he have ever shown compassion for humanity? How could he have thrown his own body into a burst of flame, taking grievous injuries and stepping into a deadly predicament?
No.
The Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni of this later era was an eccentric old man, outwardly unyielding, yet filled with worries, and far easier to speak to than the devil he once was. Over a thousand years, the edges of memory blurred. Enemies and friends faded into the same distant haze.
He had transformed from iron hearted demon to the solemn elder Seireitei saw today.
If the world had remained peaceful, it would have been wonderful.
But the fact that it had not, was proof of internal rot.
Yamamoto would not evade that truth.
Yet he was no longer the one who truly held final authority.
The one who could make judgment for Soul Society, the one who sat above it all, remained unmoving.
Then, in this subtle moment of breathing room, Yamamoto Genryūsai felt it, a massive shockwave of reishi flames and Chakra, erupting from a place that should not exist.
It seemed Yhwach's abduction of Kurosaki Ichigo had forced a full clash between the arrogant Quincy King and Aizen Sōsuke. Who was winning, who was losing, it was unclear, but now the existence of the Wandenreich and the analysis of the Shadow Realm were placed squarely on the agenda of the Research and Development Department.
With that outburst, the researchers gathered an abundance of data. It became possible to deduce the Shadow Realm's internal structure and pinpoint the Wandenreich's location. If the timing was right, Soul Society could lead an assault at once.
Yet Yamamoto still could not move.
Before determining who held legitimate authority in Soul Society, rash action would only hand the enemy an advantage.
A great enemy from a millennium ago stood before him, even being pressed by the rival he despised, and yet he could not act freely.
That chronic torment made Yamamoto's reiatsu fluctuate constantly, heat rising beneath his skin like embers that refused to die.
But this was Seireitei.
This was Soul Society.
Legitimacy mattered above all else.
So, after confirming that Aizen Sōsuke had appeared in the Wandenreich and used some unknown method to expose it so thoroughly that it could no longer conceal itself, forcing it to spill reishi flames into the open, Captain Commander Yamamoto went personally to the underground base of the Research and Development Department.
"Oh? What a rare guest," Mayuri Kurotsuchi said, grinning behind his clownish face paint. "What exactly does Captain Commander Yamamoto wish to do here?"
"Prepare the tools needed to travel to the Soul King Palace."
Yamamoto struck his cane against the ground, the sound ringing like a verdict. His gaze locked onto Mayuri, cold and unyielding.
Mayuri was a true talent. He had no morals, no reverence for rules, no respect for the Soul King or the upper echelons. But in a moment like this, Mayuri was the only person Yamamoto could seek out.
Yamamoto did not believe Mayuri lacked such tools. Or even if he did, under this command, Mayuri would find a way to procure them quickly.
Because exploring taboos was Mayuri's fuel, perhaps the only fuel that truly kept him moving through Seireitei. He had come here to claw at the impossible until it bled open.
And the moment the Soul King and the means to reach the Soul King Palace were mentioned, a larger smile spread across Mayuri's painted mask.
"Tools for traveling to the Soul King Palace," Mayuri said, voice light, as if discussing a new toy. "I have not made many preparations. It is a forbidden matter, after all. However, I propose that I accompany you to the Soul King Palace, so I can adjust the instruments I have on hand at any time. Just to prevent any special accidents. What do you think?"
It was a clumsy excuse, transparent enough that even a bystander could see through it.
Yamamoto did not haggle.
"Very well."
His eyebrow lifted slightly, calm and severe. He gave his promise, then turned and walked back toward the Squad One barracks as if the matter were already settled.
He only wanted to know what the Zero Division was doing.
Nothing else mattered.
As long as he held the justification of Great Justice.
For Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni, as long as Great Justice existed, he was invincible.
.....
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