But not far away, a faint light seemed to appear, and a gate revealed a corner, beckoning him.
Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni sat cross-legged on the long corridor of the small courtyard, basking in the sun. Beside him lay his simple wooden cane, which housed Ryūjin Jakka. The old man watched the suddenly appearing gate and light in silence, his aged eyes narrowing as they suddenly flashed with divine radiance, startling the playing cats and raccoons into bristling their fur...
'What is it, Eijisai?'
Sasakibe Chōjirō, dressed in a high-collared shirt under his Shihakushō and sporting white hair with golden eyes—often appearing in Western-style attire—was tending to two pots of greenery as usual. Sensing a slight anomaly, he turned his head to look back...
The old man remained silent. He reached out a withered hand to his chest, feeling that heart which had survived over two thousand years of erosion. It was still beating steadily, but it suddenly skipped a beat. Lost in thought, Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni stared at the shimmering gateway before him and spoke slowly: 'Chōjirō, do you not see it?'
'See what?'
'The gate. It is right behind you.'
'?'
Sasakibe Chōjirō's brow furrowed. Knowing Yamamoto's temperament, he knew his Captain would not lie, nor would he ever deign to. If he said there was a gate behind him, then there was a gate!
The man calmly set down his watering can, then suddenly raised his hand and threw it toward the direction Yamamoto had indicated!
Thud!
The watering can passed directly through the shimmering gateway and flew toward Yamamoto. The old man reached out casually and caught it firmly in his hand.
'It seems it is not waiting for you.'
The gateway was right there, yet Chōjirō could neither see nor touch it. How many years had it been? Yamamoto did not know how long it had been since he encountered something that could pique his interest... something he could not see through at a glance.
Thump. For no reason, that heart, weathered by two thousand years of battle and frost, skipped half a beat again...
The old man touched his chest and tossed the watering can back to Sasakibe.
Then, trailing his long beard, he slowly rose. Midway, he gestured, and the cane concealing Ryūjin Jakka flew steadily into his palm. Then... Yamamoto's figure flickered as he bathed in the flowing light and disappeared into the gateway.
'I shall go and see for myself,' he informed Sasakibe.
Sasakibe bowed slightly, watching his Captain depart without the slightest worry. Firstly, it was his absolute confidence in Yamamoto. Secondly, if there truly were danger, then not just Yamamoto, but likely the entire Seireitei and even the Soul Society would fall... After all, for two thousand years, Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni had been the strongest Shinigami, the strongest individual in the Living World, Hueco Mundo, and the Soul Society, without exception.
However...
What Sasakibe did not expect was that while the Captain's soul had departed, his physical shell remained sitting cross-legged on the corridor, leaving him momentarily stunned!
It must be understood that Shinigami are singular lifeforms comprised of pure, high-concentration Reishi, unlike 'humans' who have a physical body as a vessel for the 'soul.' In other words...
Living beings capable of moving in the Seireitei—be they Shinigami, spirits from Rukongai, or even cats and dogs—are essentially souls by nature. Logically speaking... the phenomenon of a 'soul leaving the body' should not exist.
Yet, it was happening. Sasakibe frowned at the silent, eyes-closed Yamamoto. The old man was still basking in the sun as if nothing had changed, so...
Who or what was 'that' which had just left with the sword?
He could not figure it out. Sasakibe instantly lost interest in watering the flowers. He secretly heightened his vigilance and sat down beside Yamamoto, maintaining a watchful guard.
In a daze, amidst the hazy blur, Yamamoto also noticed the abnormality in himself. With a hint of curiosity, he stepped through the gate. Looking up, what met his eyes... was a 'dazzling' long sword!
The blade was straight, not a katana. Black flame patterns crawled along the surface. In terms of style... it was somewhat similar to the simple cane he held.
It was a cane when planted on the ground, and a sword when drawn!
And... as the old man slowly approached along the path where the light converged, he keenly sensed a wave of heat!
This heat scorched the air like boiling water, surging outward in layers. At first taste, it approached... ten thousand degrees!
'A sword wreathed in flames, condensing light...'
'Is he the one summoning me?'
Closer... Yamamoto finally saw clearly. Ahead was a lush green garden. In the garden, a youth with raven hair fluttering in the wind stood with his back to him, pointing his sword to the sky and absorbing the sunlight.
The boy was very young, but also very sharp... as if hearing his footsteps, he turned his head to look back, across the flowing light. One old, one young; one leaning on a cane, one holding a sword as a staff. They stood in silent confrontation... silence filled Kukuroo Mountain at this moment...
'What is he looking at?' At eight o'clock in the morning, as spring transitioned to summer, the weather was getting hotter. Combined with... [Solar Eclipse] absorbing the sunlight and pushing out heatwaves... once Silva returned with the doctor in charge of the delivery, the man folded his arms and stood side by side with Maha.
He looked at the boy staring off into space in a certain direction and frowned slightly.
'I do not know,' Maha said, digging in his ear.
'Even Grandfather does not know?'
'Don't you also have no idea what your son's Nen ability is?'
Silva: '...'
Silence fell.
Maha looked quietly at Roy, ignoring his state, and simply said: 'Existence implies rationality. If the child does not wish to speak, you do not need to ask... He has his own ideas.'
'At least he is more decisive than you.'
Silva: '...Yes.'
The grandfather and grandson... one tall and one short, one burly and one withered, both shut their mouths simultaneously.
Not far from the window, Tsubone helped Kikyo down to rest. In the vast garden, only Roy remained, foolishly holding his sword. His consciousness was submerged; he saw the old man in the distance with a long beard, meticulously trimmed and braided, trailing on the ground. The old man nodded in greeting, showing no lack of etiquette.
'Roy Zoldyck.'
'Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni,' he replied.
'Are you practicing your sword?' Yamamoto narrowed his eyes at [Solar Eclipse]: 'What is its name?'
Roy felt the 'light' and 'heat.' At this moment, he no longer treated the sword as an extension of his arm, but rather as an extension of his 'life' and his 'inner visualization' reflecting off his [Ren]. He said softly: 'Solar Eclipse.'
'Solar Eclipse?'
What an ambitious name!
To hear the call of the Asauchi and learn its true name... it seemed this youth had already completely mastered [Shikai], or perhaps even... [Bankai]!
A bright light suddenly flashed in the depths of Yamamoto's aged eyes. With a movement of his wooden clogs, he flickered again, appearing beside Roy. Facing the ten-thousand-degree heat as if it were nothing, he commented seriously: 'A fitting name. Though... the temperature is lacking.'
'Zankensoki. Was that Shunpo just now?' Roy noticed Yamamoto's ethereal, flickering footwork. The man seemed to teleport, living up to the name of 'Flash Step.'
The boy's eyes shifted, and he smiled: 'Compared to you, sir, it is naturally not worth mentioning.'
Ryūjin Jakka, Ittō Kasō, Ennetsu Jigoku... extreme... nearly a hundred million degrees, close to the sun's surface... it was not a hollow reputation.
Yamamoto's gaze shifted as he turned his head: 'You know me?'
Being close, the old man could clearly smell the vibrant life force emanating from the depths of Roy's soul. In an instant, he deduced... his actual age could not be very great. In fact, he was tiny.
Perhaps it was old age, or perhaps the unique nature of Shinigami, but a century or two in the Soul Society could only be considered... young.
And the boy beside him was at most thirteen. Small. Very small. So small that his lack of experience and knowledge should have given him no chance to encounter him, or even... know that such a figure existed in Seireitei...
'I suppose you could say I know you.' He hadn't seen him before, but since they were meeting now, they were acquainted.
Roy did not wait for the old man to speak. Allowing [Solar Eclipse] to drink its fill of sunlight, he said candidly: 'I did not expect you to come. Before... I was only thinking about what it means to show gratitude to the Way of the Sword.'
Yamamoto was stunned. His withered hand, rubbing the cane, vibrated slowly as he looked at the boy: 'So, this is your realization?'
Roy was also stunned. 'Is there a problem?'
Yamamoto said nothing. He simply drew his sword, his Ryūjin Jakka. Boom! Surging flames shot into the sky!
An unparalleled spiritual pressure poured down!
In an instant, it overshadowed Roy and Solar Eclipse!
It was like a firefly facing the sun, an ant meeting an elephant. Yamamoto did not even use Bankai. Looking deeply at Ryūjin Jakka, he said softly: 'My sword's name is not as grand as yours, but there is one point where it is stronger than you.'
'Aaaah—' Desperate screams and howls suddenly erupted from Ryūjin Jakka... Roy was dazed for a moment, as if seeing hundreds of millions of dead souls struggling to crawl out of the blade. That visual impact made his heart waver, and he began to gasp...
Yamamoto stood beside the boy, sword held vertically. With a swipe of his hand, he forcibly wiped away the dead souls. He turned his head to Roy and said calmly: 'It is better at killing than yours!'
'Kill!' The shout was like a thunderclap on flat ground.
Roy's nostrils flared. Though standing in the garden, his consciousness flickered, and he felt as though he were in a sea of blood and a mountain of corpses. Beneath his feet lay charred bodies burned by fire, some so badly their features were indistinguishable.
Fortunately, Yamamoto did not seem to have the intention of making things difficult for him. He sheathed his sword, which turned back into that ordinary simple cane. As the gate imprinted with the 'towering demon' in Roy's sea of cognition closed... the figure turned into specks and slowly dissipated...
At the end, only a final deep glance and a lingering sentence remained, echoing in Roy's ears for three days, refusing to fade...
'I do not understand gratitude; I only understand slaughter. Boy named Roy, if we meet again one day, perhaps you can show me otherwise...'
Creak...
The light gate vanished.
Yamamoto's consciousness returned. Opening his eyes, he was back in the familiar courtyard of Seireitei.
'Meow.' Under the corridor, an orange cat and a raccoon sat side by side, watching him curiously. Beside them was the vigilant Sasakibe Chōjirō...
Recalling Roy's appearance, the old man trailed his white beard on the floorboards of the corridor, lost in thought. Snapping back, he said softly to Sasakibe: 'You were right. I... should take a disciple.'
Sasakibe: '...'
He was stunned for a while.
The last time he mentioned it, it was just a joke. Now, he asked curiously: 'What did you see inside?'
Yamamoto looked up at the sky. The sun was bright and warm. A sharp light flashed in his piercing eyes: 'Light... a very bright beam of light...'
Then Yamamoto closed his eyes and said no more.
Sasakibe was left in the dark. Seeing this, he did not ask further. He picked up the watering can and began watering the flowers again. Just like the Zoldyck servants, after Roy sheathed his sword and returned to his senses, they entered the garden to repair the lawn and tend to the flowers.
[SYSTEM: You have triggered a realization in swordsmanship through 'gratitude,' attracting the gaze of Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni. You had the honor of debating the Way with him and witnessing Ryūjin Jakka. Swordsmanship +1000]
[SYSTEM: Current Swordsmanship: LV4 (41570/100000)]
The panel popped up, and the notification sound faded.
Basking in the sun, Roy used [De-materialization] to decompose [Solar Eclipse] into a wisp of Nen, returning it to himself. He carefully savored the words Yamamoto had spoken. After a moment, he looked up and took a deep breath.
A stretch of tidal flats appeared beneath his feet, and he reappeared in the hallway.
Maha looked over at the right time: 'Have your answer?'
Roy's gaze passed the old man, and he nodded slightly to Silva. After a moment of thought, he replied: 'I originally imagined that 'gratitude' should lean toward my internal 'visualization,' but later...'
'I found that I seemed to have overlooked a very serious problem.'
Silva: 'What problem?'
'Slaughter!' Roy's expression turned solemn: 'The Way of the Sword is not just about gratitude. It is also about slaughter. Or rather, slaughter is the true nature of the sword!'
Ryūjin Jakka is but a single blade, yet it can bury a billion souls. Roy felt that since he was born with consciousness, the number of people he had killed... was too few... far too few...
So few that although Yamamoto did not say it, he could overshadow him just by drawing his sword...
Roy felt that if they met again, he at least... could not lose so miserably. At the very least, he needed to show some progress!
'Hmm... as an assassin, you are indeed unqualified,' Maha agreed.
'Then kill more.' Silva brushed past Roy's shoulder, heading upstairs to see Kikyo: 'Once Killua is born, you can go wherever you want and kill whoever you please.'
'Alright.' Roy watched Silva leave, then resumed his steps, walking toward the training room.
Step... Step... The boy had visibly grown taller. His shadow cast on the ground was longer than Maha's.
The old man stood with his hands behind his back, watching him leave. For a moment, he dazed, as if seeing... the Zigg of the past, who had plunged into the Dark Continent like a stubborn mule without looking back. He softly called out to the boy: 'Since you are back, go and see Zigg.'
Roy paused and nodded solemnly.
It went without saying.
He was going too!
And while he was at it... he would kill... until he killed... a god!
---
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