Naraku Sora flicked his hand once, dismissed his Shikai, and looked coldly at the reishi on the ground as it scattered and collapsed, showing open disdain.
"Second-rate."
Since Tenken was in a manifested spirit-body state, even smashing him apart wouldn't cause truly serious damage.
At most, he'd need some time to regenerate on his own.
As for whether it would leave psychological trauma—Naraku didn't know.
He only handled "correction" for disobedient brats.
Sasakibe Chōjirō: "..."
He took back what he'd thought earlier.
This guy didn't resemble Genryūsai-sama at all.
That punch hadn't even hit him, yet it still made his scalp prickle.
Sasakibe clearly remembered Naraku's first visit to First Division—back then he'd still given off a harmless vibe.
Sure, he spoke bluntly, but it was precisely that unfiltered straightforwardness that the Captain-Commander had taken a liking to.
But how long had it been since then?
For Shinigami with their long lifespans, a few months was nothing.
And yet the blunt young man from back then had turned into something that made people's hearts shake.
Why?
Sasakibe couldn't help sinking into thought.
Meanwhile, after dealing with Tenken, Naraku charged into the other battle zones of the barracks like a dump truck plowing straight through, brutally "fixing" every rebelling Zanpakutō he found.
Blade up, blade down—reishi fragments everywhere.
By the end, the Zanpakutō spirits were terrified. Many went straight back to their Shinigami on their own and surrendered on the spot.
Compared to being cut cleanly in half or punched into pieces, surrendering voluntarily was… more dignified.
Naraku's overwhelming performance earned the Shinigami present unanimous respect.
In seniority, these elite officers were his "seniors," but in strength, they weren't even on the same plane anymore.
Zanpakutō spirits they couldn't take down no matter what they tried couldn't survive even a single exchange with Naraku—and even the aftershock of his attacks could make them fall apart.
At that level, envy didn't even arise.
Watching his back as he moved on, the squad members couldn't help but stare with something like admiration.
"Chōjirō-dono, where does Teacher usually spawn?"
When Naraku returned, the fighting in First Division had already ended, and Sasakibe had stopped thinking.
But upon hearing that question, Sasakibe felt his blood pressure spike.
"Naraku-dono. Mind your wording."
"Genryūsai-sama is usually in his private office handling work. In his free time, he drinks tea in the tea room. Occasionally he trains in the dōjō."
"Before today's abnormal incident, he should have been in his office the whole time."
Naraku gave an "oh," then Shunpo'd toward the office.
He'd been to First Division so many times he could walk the place with his eyes closed.
In a blink, he appeared in the office.
No surprise—the familiar bald head wasn't there.
There were no signs of battle. Even the documents were neatly filed and arranged on the shelves.
Yamamoto didn't seem to have been affected by the disaster at all.
Naraku checked several other likely "spawn points." Nothing.
He kept flashing through the broken corridors and rubble. More than a few squad members stared at him with renewed respect.
Even after resolving the crisis, he still wouldn't rest—still working diligently for Seireitei.
That's the model we should learn from.
At last, Naraku ran to First Division's detention area.
This time, he got a different result.
Kuchiki Kōga was gone.
The wall had been blasted open into a huge hole, the bricks along the edge showing melted traces—like rubber scorched by flame.
"Crap—Teacher won't think Kōga did all this, right?"
Naraku's face changed. He immediately Shunpo'd out of the jail.
But as he reached the main road, he ran into Sasakibe, who was frowning deeply.
Naraku was about to go over and ask for details Sasakibe might have missed when—
Suddenly, the distant sky shook.
A terrifying Reiatsu surged into the heavens like the sky collapsing, covering several kilometers in a heartbeat. A frightening tidal wave rolled outward.
The air around it visibly trembled.
A searing heat began drifting toward the barracks. Moisture in the air evaporated at high speed, leaving mouths dry.
Without hesitation, Naraku slammed his foot down and pushed Shunpo to the limit, streaking down the main road like a meteor toward the source.
Sasakibe didn't even have time to stop him before he vanished from sight.
...
At the edge of Seireitei, on an endless stretch of wilderness.
Kuchiki Kōga stared tensely at the elderly figure before him—an old man with a cane, looking almost ordinary.
But the heat pouring off him was suffocating.
Kōga had been sitting quietly in his cell, with no intention of escaping.
He trusted both his father-in-law and the Captain-Commander to clear his name.
Yet after several days, the barracks suddenly erupted with unfamiliar—yet faintly familiar—Reiatsu waves, followed by deafening killing cries.
Just as Kōga was about to question the guards, a terrifying presence appeared inside his cell.
—
—
Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni.
The old man's face was dark, as if something terrible had happened. His low voice filled the cell:
"Kuchiki Kōga. Answer me—why did you command Muramasa to incite chaos within Seireitei?"
Kōga's mind went blank.
Command what?
Incite what?
Muramasa had been in the cell with him the whole time!
"You won't answer? Fine."
A gold-red flame flashed in Yamamoto's eyes.
"Just now, the Central 46 issued a secret order."
"Strip First Division Special Unit Captain Kuchiki Kōga of all spiritual power. His Zanpakutō Muramasa is designated the source of the upheaval—destroy it along with him!"
"This order will be carried out by my own hand!"
Kōga's pupils shook violently. His face filled with disbelief.
"Captain-Commander!"
"I've been in this cell the entire time. I went nowhere—these two senior guards can testify!"
"And Muramasa—he hasn't used his ability even once. There's no way he caused chaos in Seireitei—!"
Yamamoto lowered his gaze and placed his old palm on the bars.
With a skin-crawling melting sound, the bars twisted like rubber and collapsed to either side, opening a wide entrance.
"At this point, nothing you say matters."
"According to the order delivered through the Onmitsukidō, nine divisions have experienced Zanpakutō rebellion incidents of varying severity."
"In the Central 46's understanding, Soul Society cannot have two Zanpakutō with identical abilities."
"Therefore, they have deemed you the culprit, Kuchiki Kōga."
Despair surfaced on Kōga's face.
As someone who worked with Yamamoto often, he understood this old man's nature better than most.
If you merely angered Yamamoto, you might get scolded or punished.
But if the Central 46 issued a secret order—then this man, who had guarded the ancient order for a thousand years, would reveal terrifying, suffocating ferocity.
Some in the Gotei called him stubborn, rigid, an old fossil who followed rules without flexibility.
But Kōga knew the truth.
It was precisely that unchanging steadfastness that had spared Soul Society countless unnecessary disputes and calamities.
He never imagined he'd be on the receiving end of it.
"Captain-Commander, I—"
Kōga kept trying to explain.
But suddenly, a figure in a white robe appeared beside him.
Without a single word, Muramasa raised his right hand the instant he manifested—Whisper activated immediately.
Ripples of Reiatsu spread and enveloped Yamamoto.
"So this is your Zanpakutō, Muramasa?"
Yamamoto lifted his eyelids. Burning eyes settled on the two.
"A powerful ability indeed. No wonder they consider it a threat."
"But if this is all it can do… you'll be disappointed."
The moment the ripples struck Yamamoto, Muramasa's face changed.
If an ordinary Shinigami's mental defense was a wooden door, then the old man's was a mountain piercing the clouds.
Even if there was some mind-sealing technique involved, the gap was still outrageous.
"Kōga, run!"
Muramasa turned, fired a sword-pressure blast that shattered the wall, and shouted:
"I'll buy you time!"
Kōga looked at Yamamoto—wrapped in scorching Reiatsu—then at Muramasa struggling desperately. He clenched his teeth and Shunpo'd through the opening.
Muramasa poured everything into his ability, trying to gain even a little more time.
But the moment Kōga's back vanished from sight, Muramasa froze in shock.
Under Yamamoto's gaze, Muramasa shattered like a mirage and disappeared.
Yamamoto snorted.
"What a straightforward idiot. Wasting my breath."
"If it were Naraku, that brat would've broken out the moment he sensed my Reiatsu."
Yamamoto paused, sensed the direction, then Shunpo'd after Kōga.
Not long after, he caught Kōga at the wilderness edge.
"Surrender, Kuchiki Kōga."
"You have nowhere left to run."
The old man leaned on his cane as if his legs were weak, calmly watching the tense young man, and let out a faint sigh.
Sometimes, people with extreme temperaments easily tunnel into dead ends.
Compared to a certain brat who could instantly grasp intent at crucial moments, Kōga really was… lacking.
No wonder Kuchiki Ginrei was so harsh with him.
Facing that calm old man and the suffocating pressure, a thought rose in Kōga's mind:
If Naraku Sora were here, what would he do?
Running was impossible. With Kōga's Shunpo, he probably couldn't even get out of Yamamoto's attack range.
So if that was the case… the only option was to fight.
Kōga's eyes hardened. His low, hoarse voice echoed over the wilderness.
"At this point, I know words are meaningless."
"But I will never admit to something I didn't do—even if judgment is issued."
"I, Kuchiki Kōga, have never done a single thing that betrays Seireitei!"
He drew his sword.
A purple pillar shot into the sky, whipping up violent wind.
Yamamoto shook his head and sighed. Scorching Reiatsu surged, warping the air, filling it with seared heat as moisture evaporated rapidly.
Muramasa appeared beside Kōga as well.
Even if his ability was useless against Yamamoto, Bankai could still multiply a Shinigami's power five to ten times. Any advantage mattered.
But when Muramasa focused on the old man, he sensed something—Yamamoto's attention wasn't entirely on Kōga.
As an illusion-type Zanpakutō, Muramasa was extremely sensitive to mental fluctuations and could often spot weaknesses in subtle places.
In his perception, Yamamoto kept glancing toward the barracks direction, as if waiting for someone.
Muramasa found it strange.
Yamamoto seemed to notice Muramasa's sensing, and immediately withdrew that stray focus, placing all attention on the two before him.
"If you insist on resisting…"
"Then bear my wrath."
Whoosh—
The white captain's haori rose on the wind and drifted to hang over a distant stone peak.
Yamamoto tore off his undershirt, revealing a scar-laced body. Heat poured off him like a volcano on the verge of eruption.
As he stretched, joints ground with a terrifying sound like a bowstring tightening. Muscles swelled grotesquely, scars twisting, and a pressure like a collapsing mountain surged outward.
Just as the two sides were about to clash, a voice suddenly rang out:
"Kōga, hold on! I'm coming to save you!"
Kōga whirled in shock and saw a figure blazing with momentum streak across the wilderness like a meteor, carving a brutal mark through the grass.
Muramasa noticed something else: when Yamamoto sensed that incoming Reiatsu, the old man looked… relieved.
A thoughtful glint passed through Muramasa's eyes.
Naraku Sora crashed into the battlefield like a falling star. Heat swirled around his upright figure, high temperature spreading instantly.
Old and young—on that point, the resemblance was obvious. One look said "same line."
"Teacher, give me some face, yeah? Let Kōga go first."
Naraku grinned. "I can prove the Zanpakutō rebellion has nothing to do with him."
Seeing that smug face, Yamamoto's irritation flared. The cane stabbed into the ground suddenly shed its outer shell, revealing a Zanpakutō with an ancient aura between them.
"Central 46's secret order—no one's plea matters!"
The instant he gripped the hilt, a roar exploded. A terrifying pillar of fire rose from the ground and punched into the sky, wiping out the clouds in an instant and dyeing the heavens crimson—
Like an upside-down sea of flame.
Even under the rolling heatwave, Naraku kept his eyes on Yamamoto's face—and when he saw the slight upward tug at the old man's mouth, realization hit.
He bellowed:
"Yamamoto is old and senile—blind and incompetent, framing the innocent! Today I rebel against this bastard!"
As the words fell, another fire pillar shot into the sky, adding even more heat to the red heavens.
~~~
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