At the same time, in the Soul Society—
In the barracks of the Gotei 1st Division,
a middle-aged man with a very conspicuous cross-shaped scar on his forehead and a severely receding hairline stood quietly at a high vantage point, overlooking the streets of the Soul Society as he listened to the report behind him.
This man was Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni, the Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13—the very top of the Shinigami hierarchy that protected the Soul Society.
However, the man known for his unyielding majesty, absolute strength, and overwhelming force to suppress enemies revealed a rare flash of surprise upon hearing the report.
"What?!"
"You said that brat Araki told that idiot Saito he's planning to come to the Soul Society in the next few days?!"
"Is your intel reliable?!"
Genryūsai asked in a deep, rumbling voice.
"It's absolutely true! This is what Captain Saito said after drinking!"
The man behind Yamamoto immediately lowered his head and answered respectfully.
"I see. You may go."
Yamamoto Genryūsai's lips curled slightly upward—clearly pleased. He waved his hand to dismiss the soldier.
"Yes, sir."
The 1st Division soldier, now permitted to leave, let out a quiet sigh of relief. Honestly, being near Yamamoto was too stressful for someone like him. Even though he revered Genryūsai as the patron saint of the Seireitei, it didn't make the pressure any easier.
"Lord Genryūsai really is kind. Brother Araki is finally coming to Seireitei to help you! Once he's here, your burden will definitely lessen."
Not long after the soldier departed, a young man with gray hair and matching eyes stepped out of the shadows of the 1st Division dormitory, smiling as he spoke.
"Chojiro, stop spouting nonsense. Since when did I ever need help from that foolish disciple, Araki?"
Yamamoto barked, clearly annoyed.
"Yes, yes. Lord Genryūsai is the strongest Shinigami in all of Soul Society. You couldn't possibly need Brother Araki's help…"
"But in the hundred years since leaving Genjijuku, it seems Brother Araki hasn't been doing too well."
"As far as I know, he's been scraping by in places like Rukongai—relying on his sword skills (or scamming fools) to live a strong (carefree) life."
"Lord Genryūsai, even if Brother Araki was a disappointment, as your former disciple, shouldn't you at least give him a proper place in the Gotei 13?"
Chojiro Suzugi's tone was playful, but he knew exactly how to navigate Yamamoto's temper.
"Hmph! Enough, Chojiro!"
"Since that foolish disciple of mine once trained under me, I can't allow him to disgrace my Genryū school by loitering around Yuhun Street like a vagabond!"
"I exiled him to Yuhun Street for a hundred years. I trust he's realized his faults by now! If he's finally figured things out and returned to Soul Society, I'll give him a chance."
Yamamoto's cold snort was quickly followed by a self-justifying declaration.
"Ah, yes, of course…"
"You only made Brother Araki buy ramen in Yuhun Street for a hundred years as a punishment," Chojiro said, nodding along.
If Chojiro hadn't known the full story—that Araki had quarreled with Genryūsai, fought him, and ultimately settled just one district away in Runlin'an, deliberately setting up a ramen stall to provoke Yamamoto every day—he might've actually believed Yamamoto's story.
Of course, Chojiro would never say such things aloud. After all, he'd served Yamamoto for many years and had long since mastered the art of silent obedience.
So instead, he simply gave Yamamoto a thumbs-up and said with a smile,
"Yes, yes! You're absolutely right!"
But there was one thing Chojiro knew better than anyone else—Araki held a truly special place in Yamamoto's heart.
After all, Araki was the only man in a thousand years to receive the Genryū Menkyo Kaiden, the highest license of the Yamamoto sword style—a true chief disciple.
Even if Araki had once infuriated Yamamoto to the point of nearly drawing his blade, in the end, Yamamoto couldn't bring himself to truly punish him. He simply let Araki wander.
Even after Yamamoto solidified his power in the Soul Society, he secretly ensured that Araki would be okay in Yuhun Street. He even found a money-bag to support him—someone naive, easy to fool, and able to fund Araki's life…
—That someone was Saito Furuobushi.
To make sure Saito could keep giving Araki money each month, Yamamoto even arranged for her to receive double the salary of other captains.
A truly doting parent.
Saito herself thought she was getting extra pay because of her exceptional performance and intelligence.
She had no idea that Yamamoto was simply afraid she'd get scammed by Araki and end up starving.
Sixth Division —
"Hehehe…"
"I have great news for you all—Araki hic... Araki promised me he's coming to the Soul Society!"
"He's going to be the Vice-Captain of the Sixth Division!"
"Then we'll be the strongest Division in the Gotei 13, second only to that old man Yamamoto's First Division! Cheers! Ton ton ton…"
Saito, captain of the Sixth Division, was ecstatic as she drank from a large jar of sake. Around her, her Division's soldiers lay sprawled on the ground, all dead drunk.
However, in her drunken joy, Saito didn't notice that a soldier from the First Division, dressed in black Shinigami robes, was perched on a beam in the dormitory—taking frantic notes and recording every word she slurred.
Eleventh Division — Sword Dojo
In the center of the dojo stood a stunning woman with a graceful figure and an elegant face. Her long black hair flowed down her back, and she held a wooden sword with perfect poise.
Surrounding her were powerful Shinigami warriors, each radiating killing intent.
"Come on, then~"
After a few tense seconds of confrontation between the woman and the soldiers, she whispered just one word:
"Kill!"
In the next instant, the surrounding women—her subordinates—shouted in unison and charged at her with raised blades.
"Hehe~"
Faced with such a fearsome scene, the woman only let out a light laugh. In the blink of an eye, she swung the wooden sword in her hand—its speed like a flash of lightning—toward the soldiers.
"Pah! Pah! Pah!"
With the sharp sound of wood striking flesh, the soldiers were instantly knocked back. At the center of the flurry stood the beautiful woman, completely unharmed. Her black hair fluttered in the wind stirred by her blade, while her attackers all lay on the ground.
"Too weak. These guys can't even stir my fighting spirit."
"Is there no one in this world who can match me?!"
She looked down at the fallen soldiers, her expression devoid of joy. Her sharp eyes, once fierce, now held a flicker of melancholy. She turned her gaze toward the window of the dojo, silently hoping that somewhere in this vast Soul Society, someone strong enough to rival—or even defeat—her would appear.
"The captain is just too powerful..."
"Of course she is. She's a woman who bears the title of Kenpachi—the strongest Shinigami after Captain-Commander Yamamoto."
"I guarantee there's no one alive who can beat her."
As the woman stared longingly out the window, aching for a worthy opponent, the Eleventh Division soldiers—groaning as they stood back up—muttered in admiration and awe.
To them, this woman was the strongest being in existence, their idol, their guide.
For she was the legendary first captain of the Eleventh Division, the original Kenpachi—the one who had once overwhelmed all sword schools in Soul Society with a single blade:
Unohana Yachiryu.
"So lonely..."
"I just want to meet an opponent who can truly satisfy me..."
Unohana's voice was soft as she listened to her subordinates' praise. Her gaze became ever more distant.
Meanwhile...
Rukongai, East 37th District – Ryugan.
In a desolate forest, Araki sat cross-legged on the ground, his Zanpakutō in hand.
This was the place he had carefully chosen to learn Bankai.
It was also the place where Yamamoto Shigekuni had once trained to master the Bankai of Sasakibe Chōjirō. It marked the turning point in Yamamoto's evolution—from Shijisai to Shizusai, and finally to the name known across Soul Society: Genryūsai.
"Then, Ruriko... here I come."
Closing his eyes, Araki let his consciousness sink deep—into the spiritual space where his Zanpakutō resided.
Suddenly, a soft, androgynous voice greeted him:
"Hey~ You've returned, my 'King'..."
"Are you here for Bankai this time?"
"Your spiritual pressure is barely acceptable, but Bankai is not so easily attained~"
In the vast inner world, a green-robed figure appeared. Their gender was ambiguous, their age indiscernible—neither fully boy nor girl, neither child nor adult.
Araki smirked.
"ROOM... Piercing Wave!"
Without waiting for more words, Araki raised his Zanpakutō. Channeling his fruit ability, he unleashed his strongest attack directly toward the spirit.
"Bang!"
In a blinding flash, a 4,000-meter-long sword shot forward, piercing straight through the spirit's chest like a divine spear.
The Zanpakutō spirit's eyes widened in disbelief.
"I've never seen such an unethical 'King'!"
They coughed, glaring up at Araki.
"Well, now you have!"
"Enough nonsense. Tell me your true name—your Bankai!"
Araki looked down coldly at the spirit he had tricked and skewered. He wasn't here to beg.
Most Shinigami treated their Zanpakutō like honored masters, humbly requesting their true name through spiritual harmony.
But not Araki.
His path to Bankai began with overwhelming force. If the spirit refused, he fought it into submission.
Even if it was his own Zanpakutō, Araki would never allow arrogance.
And as for any consequences? He didn't care.
Because in the face of absolute strength—everything else was meaningless.