"Looks like I was sealed for too long," Arturo said slowly, "and the endless time erased every trace I ever left in Soul Society."
He rolled his stiff shoulders. Firecracker pops sounded from his joints as the free-floating reishi in the air gathered toward him like a siphon.
Gosuke could even hear the sound of flesh knitting back together.
"You youngsters have no idea what my true power is."
Like a shriveled sponge drinking water, Arturo absorbed reishi while his gaunt, dried-up body steadily filled out, his presence growing stronger and stronger.
"Back then, if multiple Shinigami hadn't ganged up on me and set a trap, I never would've lost."
"I was this close to ruling Soul Society."
His yellow pupils locked onto Gosuke as if he were a fine dessert.
"If you're that confident, Arturo-sama," Gosuke said evenly, "then come with me."
He lowered his eyes slightly, seeming to soften his stance—but his words held no surrender.
"I'm curious. A Vasto Lorde who nearly conquered Soul Society two thousand years ago… when he sees that kind of terrifying existence, will he still—"
"—run his mouth like this."
Arturo narrowed his eyes, staring hard at the unremarkable-looking man.
Judging by the reishi in his body, this man didn't seem that strong… so where was this baseless confidence coming from?
Had Soul Society changed in some incomprehensible way during Arturo's imprisonment?
Arturo put on the cloak Gosuke tossed him. Only after carefully inspecting it with his ability did he drape it over his lean body.
He'd been free only a short time, but with extreme regeneration and reishi absorption, he had already recovered a large portion of his strength.
The two left the dark cave one after the other and emerged beneath Sōkyoku Hill.
Arturo stood on the grass, arms spread, quietly savoring the feeling of freedom.
After two thousand years, he finally saw blue sky again—green grass, soil underfoot, breeze on his face, warm sunlight that felt almost pleasant—
And a doomsday scene like magma erupting.
Arturo's face froze. He stared toward the edge of Seireitei, disbelief flickering in his eyes.
What… was that?!
A sky-piercing pillar of fire erupted from the ground. Roaring heat rolled and churned, dyeing a corner of the heavens crimson, like an inverted sea of flame pressing down.
Heatwaves swept out. The earth trembled—like the true end of days.
Even from thousands of kilometers away, the dryness and heat could still be felt in the air.
"That is the power of the current Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13," Gosuke explained with quiet awe as he looked at the reddened sky. "And it is also the man who sealed you—the strongest Shinigami in Soul Society today…"
"Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni."
Arturo's pupils shrank. He almost couldn't believe his ears.
That man he'd nearly beaten two thousand years ago… had become this absurd?
When he focused, he could sense it—the heat in the atmosphere carried the same "flavor" as Yamamoto Shigekuni back then.
Only now, Yamamoto felt a hundred times stronger.
Arturo drew a deep breath and forced the hatred in his chest down.
Revenge would have to wait.
Picking a fight with something that monstrous right now would only end worse than it had before.
Follow your instincts.
"Arturo-sama," Gosuke said calmly, "you understand my earlier point now, don't you?"
"Compared to your era, today's Soul Society is packed with monsters. One misstep and you'll die in a ditch."
Arturo remained silent.
"Before you take revenge on the Captain-Commander, recover your original strength."
"Two thousand years of sealing—your losses aren't just physical. Your soul's been worn down too, hasn't it?"
Gosuke said it lightly, like it didn't matter.
But Arturo's slight change in expression confirmed it was true.
"At the very least, our goals align."
"Come on. Don't keep the lord waiting."
Gosuke strode over the loose rocks, walking in the direction opposite the sky-high fire pillar.
Arturo watched his retreating back, something subtle flashing in his eyes. He suppressed the tangled emotions in his chest, thought for a few seconds, then followed.
In this terrifying, unknown era, even a former king of Hueco Mundo needed allies to survive.
And not long after the two left…
In the shadow beneath a tree, the air rippled like fish-silk. A faint glimmer of Kidō surfaced, and a black figure slowly emerged.
Behind flat lenses, calm eyes watched the silhouettes disappear into the distance, thoughtfulness flickering in them.
"An existence with no records… looks like I'll need to check the classified archives inside the barracks."
"Good thing Shinji Hirako got beaten badly enough. Otherwise, accessing documents with that high a clearance would be a pain."
Yamamoto's expression was grim to the extreme.
"Boy. Watch your mouth."
"If I find you're lying, it won't just be a million sword swings under a waterfall."
Naraku patted his chest confidently.
"Teacher, do I look like someone who lies to elders?"
"…You do."
Short. Sharp. Straight from the heart.
After a few seconds of silence, Naraku sighed helplessly.
"You misunderstand me too much. I'm actually a very honest person."
Yamamoto ignored the nonsense and pressed, voice heavy.
"Spit it out. What exactly happened? What do you know?"
Naraku sorted his thoughts and spoke seriously.
"That blade's name is Enrakyōten."
"A legacy artifact of one of the Five Great Noble Houses—Tsunayashiro."
"It's the oldest Zanpakutō in Soul Society's history. Its origins can even be traced back to the founding era."
Yamamoto frowned.
It sounded absurd… yet strangely credible.
A million-year-old noble house like Tsunayashiro keeping things ordinary Shinigami had never even heard of—things beyond imagination—was completely plausible.
The real question was: how did this brat know something so secret?
As if reading Yamamoto's thoughts, Naraku pointed at the custom Shihakushō on his body.
During the earlier fight, the outfit had been burned nearly halfway away by scorching heat—yet it had regrown as his Reiatsu recovered.
Like a living creature.
"Shutara Senjumaru, huh?"
Yamamoto's realization showed on his face.
That made everything a lot more reasonable.
Shutara Senjumaru, a Royal Guard candidate, could ride the Tenchūren to the Royal Palace at any time. If her research hadn't held her back, she might've left Soul Society years ago.
And Naraku—this "oddity" who had fallen from the sky—had somehow caught her eye so completely that she wouldn't even allow him to be transferred out of Central Underground Prison.
She'd been to the Royal Palace. Knowing secrets no one else did was only natural.
So Naraku learning about Enrakyōten from her was also natural.
The logic clicked into place with neat, satisfying certainty.
Yamamoto narrowed his eyes and chose not to dig further.
After teaching Naraku for a while—and with thousands of years of experience—he could still tell whether someone was lying.
This brat was unruly, sure, but he wouldn't fabricate something like this.
Yamamoto stared at Naraku, brows knit.
"Even if what you said is true, it doesn't prove Tsunayashiro is behind this."
"Kuchiki Kōga still can't clear the suspicion."
"If it happens again, I will still carry out the order."
Naraku nodded, not arguing.
"And Tsunayashiro is one of the Five Great Noble Houses," Yamamoto added. "Even with irrefutable evidence, convicting them would be difficult."
"They can scapegoat anyone, then use their authority to fish that person out of prison—without even spending a day behind bars."
No one who dealt with the Central 46 more than Yamamoto understood the nobles' nature better.
And Tsunayashiro was among the worst.
That was why Yamamoto despised them.
They abused noble power to do whatever they pleased, looked down on Shinigami, and treated law like dirt.
Naraku grinned, confidence overflowing.
"So, Teacher—I have a plan!"
Yamamoto shot him a sideways look and snorted.
"You have a plan too?"
Naraku's eyes flared. He seriously suspected the old man was taking out his "acting" irritation on him. He should've thrown a few more Hadō earlier.
This plan really was Naraku's—Aizen wasn't the one who came up with it.
Mainly because Aizen didn't know Tsunayashiro possessed Enrakyōten, a blade that could copy other Zanpakutō abilities, so Aizen's assumptions were skewed.
Aizen believed Tsunayashiro had used some illusion-type method or soul-related technique to manipulate Kōga and trigger the Zanpakutō upheaval.
So, the priority would be finding Kōga and removing the negative effect.
If Yamamoto got there first and executed Kōga—
the Zanpakutō riot might end, but Tsunayashiro's goal would also be achieved.
With Kōga dead, the Kuchiki faction would lose influence in the Council.
Tsunayashiro's power would swell—until nothing could check it. Before long, Soul Society would become a one-man dictatorship.
So no matter what happened next, the most important thing now was to save Kōga.
Fortunately, Yamamoto wasn't some muscle-brained brute.
The moment the Zanpakutō rebellion began, he sensed something was off. He sealed his own mind, held back deliberately against Kōga, and waited until Naraku arrived.
"Teacher, my idea is simple," Naraku said under Yamamoto's suspicious stare.
"If Tsunayashiro wants to muddy the waters, then we'll grant their wish."
"Ride this wind and make the commotion bigger—big enough that every noble is forced to sit up."
"When people get chaotic, they panic. When they panic, they make mistakes."
Yamamoto's half-lidded eyes showed surprise.
"I understand."
"But the disorder must remain controllable. If it spirals out of control… I will personally intervene."
Before letting Naraku execute anything, Yamamoto had to clamp limits on him.
Otherwise, with Naraku's outrageous nerve, he might actually storm the Tsunayashiro estate and start chopping.
Naraku nodded solemnly, agreeing.
"But you'll have to 'suffer' a bit," he added.
"…?"
That night, a furious Yamamoto returned to the barracks, his scorching Reiatsu nearly melting the buildings.
Soon, news spread through Seireitei: the Captain-Commander had personally acted, yet the culprit—Kuchiki Kōga—escaped.
In the office, Sasakibe Chōjirō calmly drafted an arrest order to send to the other divisions.
"Chōjirō," Yamamoto asked, holding a steaming cup of tea, brows pinched so tightly they nearly became one line. "Do you think that brat's plan is reliable?"
Sasakibe recalled the earlier chaos—Naraku descending like a god and punching Tenken into pieces.
From every angle, that scene had looked exactly like Yamamoto.
He thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"Genryūsai-sama… Naraku-dono may not look serious most of the time, but when it matters, he's dependable."
Yamamoto nodded, looking out the window at the starry sky. A quiet melancholy rose in his chest.
Naraku hadn't been able to find Kōga quickly. That brat's Kidō ability was absurd—even the remaining reishi traces were wiped clean.
So, with no leads, Naraku decided to borrow some external power.
"Aizen!"
The moment Naraku stepped into Aizen's private room, he saw a tense, grim face.
Before Naraku could speak, Aizen said seriously:
"Sora. Things just got complicated."
Naraku froze.
…
"This afternoon, when you went to First Division, I went to the noble district."
"I happened to see Eleventh Division Captain—Kenpachi Gosuke—coming out from deep inside."
"Out of curiosity, I followed him… all the way to near Sōkyoku Hill."
Aizen then described everything he had witnessed beneath Sōkyoku Hill.
"After returning to the barracks, I immediately checked the archives."
"In a file with the highest classification level… I found the relevant information."
Under Naraku's curious gaze, Aizen spoke each word clearly:
"The one unsealed was the former King of Hueco Mundo—Arturo Plateado."
"A Vasto Lorde who achieved Arrancar transformation on his own."
~~~
Patreon.com/Weze_
— You can read more Chapters in my Patreon Page! please vote, comment, share this, or visit my Patreon Page and join the Free Membership!