Soul Society. Seireitei. Squad One Barracks.
The wind howled louder than usual today—ominous, expectant.
It felt like the entire barracks had been cleared in advance.
When Higashi Shuuichi stepped onto the vast training grounds of Squad One, not a single soul was present.
He walked another few dozen paces inward before spotting a familiar face—Sasakibe Chōjirō, Vice-Captain of Squad One.
"You're here, Shuuichi-kun."
"Good day, Vice-Captain Sasakibe."
They exchanged polite formalities.
Without a word, the two of them began walking toward the Captain's private chamber.
The walk was silent. Empty halls. Echoing footsteps. No patrols. No foot soldiers. No aides.
This wasn't normal.
Shuuichi felt it immediately.
He also knew… there was no turning back now.
From the moment he entered the Squad One compound, a crushing spiritual pressure had locked onto him.
He didn't need to guess whose it was.
If he tried to escape now, even Aizen wouldn't be able—or willing—to save him.
All this… just because I was missing for a while?
Shuuichi walked half a step ahead of Sasakibe. He knew that wasn't an accident.
It was deliberate.
To keep him within optimal range—five meters.
That just so happened to be the ideal distance for his current strongest technique, Gentle Severance.
Clearly, Sasakibe had done his homework.
No—Yamamoto must have done the asking. Sasakibe alone wouldn't be able to extract this kind of information from Unohana.
Which meant… even Unohana had spoken.
Cold sweat began beading down Shuuichi's forehead, trailing down his neck, soaking his collar.
By the time he reached the doors of the Captain's chamber, his mind was racing.
"The Head Captain awaits inside, Shuuichi-kun."
Sasakibe stopped precisely five meters behind him.
Shuuichi swallowed. That was no coincidence either.
He took a small step forward, and asked carefully, "Vice-Captain Sasakibe, has Captain Unohana been informed of my return?"
Sasakibe, as expected, took a subtle step back—preserving that exact five-meter distance.
"Yes. A message has already been sent. She should be aware by now."
He didn't need to keep that distance.
But he chose to.
All part of the pressure being exerted—subtle, suffocating.
This was not the Sasakibe from the anime, killed too early to be meaningful. This man had survived under Yamamoto Genryūsai for centuries.
There was no way he was a weakling.
Alright, alright… time to walk into the lion's den.
Shuuichi forced a smile.
But in his mind, he was already calculating: what were his chances if he immediately used Dual Bankai, unleashed everything in a surprise attack?
He opened the door.
Saw Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni standing tall in the center of the room, expression unreadable, gaze like a blade.
And in that instant, Shuuichi's mental probability dropped to zero.
If this old man had planned ahead, calculated every step… there's nothing I could do.
Maybe I'll end up in Hell after all…
"Captain-Commander… I've returned."
Might as well go all in. Spill the beans. Say nothing about the dirty jobs he did for Aizen. Claim everything was under the Dōma Clan's orders.
At least, on paper, he was in Hell with noble sanction.
But Yamamoto didn't even let him begin.
"How much do you know about Hell?"
Straightforward. Blunt. Like a blade drawn without hesitation.
"When a Soul Reaper or Hollow possesses spiritual power beyond a certain threshold, and dies, they're sent to Hell. There, they become 'Sinners.'
The most heinous among them are branded and reborn as 'Jūnin'—the Accursed—granted power by Hell itself.
These Jūnin are immortal, bound in an endless cycle of slaughter. If they fail to kill, they're tortured. Forever."
Shuuichi gave it all up. Everything he'd learned, everything Kuryashiki Kenpachi had told him.
No point in hiding.
"Do you know Makizaru Jin, the former Captain of Squad Ten?"
The question caught Shuuichi off guard.
Makizaru?
Then it hit him.
Yamamoto had known about Makizaru all along.
Hell, he'd probably helped the Dōma family find him.
Of course—if the Dōma Clan laid out the pros and cons rationally, Yamamoto would absolutely approve, if it meant preserving order across the realms.
This man once ordered Mayuri to massacre civilians in Rukongai. He doesn't hesitate.
It made sense that he, not Sayako, Unohana, or even Aizen, had summoned Shuuichi first.
Who else but the true owner of Semiyobasa could sense its return from Hell?
"Yes, sir. Ten years ago, during the Dōma-Kasumiōji conflict, Captain Makizaru perished honorably."
Shuuichi steadied himself.
If Sayako was the one behind this, I trust she didn't mean harm.
"Wrong. Fifteen years. You were in Hell for five."
Yamamoto's eyes narrowed.
"Makizaru only spent half a day there. You spent five years.
Do you understand what that means?"
"Forgive me, Head Captain. I didn't expect to be there that long. I… don't know what it implies."
"Makizaru died because he accepted power from Hell. His body couldn't contain it. It disintegrated. His corpse was dragged back into Hell."
That shocked Shuuichi.
He'd always known the official story didn't hold up. But he never realized that Yamamoto himself had written off Makizaru as compromised.
No wonder there was no investigation…
"You're afraid I'll end up like him, aren't you?"
Shuuichi now understood the real reason for this meeting.
And that realization… oddly gave him comfort.
If he's worried, that means I'm still alive enough to be worth worrying about.
"Unleash your Bankai. Here."
No nonsense. Direct. Yamamoto had no patience for roundabout games.
In his mind, the most immediate sign of Hell's influence would be a changed Zanpakutō—like what happened to Makizaru.
Shuuichi had no choice but to feign hesitation.
"Here…?"
"Yes. Right here."
Yamamoto nodded with solemn gravity.
Seeing no other path, Shuuichi unsheathed his blade, bowed slightly, and—
"Forgive me for the spectacle, Captain-Commander…
Tactical Root Source — Bankai!"
An explosion of spiritual pressure erupted.
To Yamamoto, it felt like a mild breeze.
"No change?"
He had seen Shuuichi's Bankai before. It looked nearly identical—just a bit stronger. Maybe twice as much.
That wasn't unusual.
"As you see, sir. I can't speak to Captain Makizaru's case, but I followed every instruction the Dōma clan provided…"
Shuuichi then launched into a full report.
Everything he'd seen in Hell. Everything he'd done. The fight with the Ancient Hollow. The training under Kuryashiki Kenpachi.
The only thing he left out?
The request to find Jichirō Kenpachi in the World of the Living.
That detail, he kept to himself.
When Yamamoto heard the name Kuryashiki, and especially the details of his Shikai, his frown finally relaxed.
There's no way Shuuichi could've known that unless he really encountered him.
And if Kuryashiki was protecting him… then the kid probably survived intact.
Just as Shuuichi thought the danger had passed, Yamamoto made a surprising demand.
"You will duel me. Here. Now. Using the full extent of your training in Hell—including the Dōma construct.
And the Kidō you created with Kuryashiki. Use it all."
Wait—what? You're using me as a damn guinea pig?!
Shuuichi's mind spun.
Of course… he had heard from Sayako that the Dōma theory had never actually been tested.
Makizaru came the closest. But he failed.
If Yamamoto was in on it from the start, then this made sense.
He wanted to verify the theory himself.
But still—most people would use prisoners for a test like this. Not themselves.
This old man… really is the strongest Shinigami in a thousand years.
No wonder he keeps getting blindsided by dirty tricks. He never hides behind anyone.
Seeing Yamamoto this serious, Shuuichi couldn't refuse.
So he nodded.
Might as well get it over with.
He followed the Head Captain down—deep beneath the Central 46 compound…
To Muken. The eternal prison.
The place where even shadows are forgotten.