Chapter 36: The Captain-Commander's Art of "Wanting Both and More" Speech
Faced with Captain-Commander Yamamoto's doubt, the reporting subordinate confirmed once again:
"It is the Soul King's Divine Palm. Your subordinate definitely did not hear it wrong, because every time the prisoner attacks, he shouts the name of the move. As for his purpose in doing so, your subordinate is temporarily unclear!"
While the subordinate claimed not to know why Uryu Ishida shouted his moves, his slightly hesitant and uneasy expression made it clear he had his own ideas. This was exactly why he, a seated officer of the 1st Division, hadn't joined the pursuit. Instead, he had observed for a moment, turned tail, and rushed back to report.
Better safe than sorry. If Uryu Ishida truly had some connection to the Soul King, the consequences were far beyond what a minor officer of the Gotei 13 could handle. It was better to hand the responsibility—and the potential blame—up the chain of command.
Yamamoto had founded and led the Gotei 13 for a thousand years. Even if he had started as a "Killing Demon" who only knew slaughter, a millennium had tempered him into a political old fox. With a single glance, he knew exactly what his subordinate was calculating.
But Yamamoto didn't mind. In the vast Gotei 13, the only person without their own little schemes was likely Kenpachi Zaraki, whose head contained nothing but fighting. What Yamamoto cared about was the basis behind this officer's decision. He remained impassive, asking calmly:
"What makes you think it is truly the 'Soul King's Divine Palm'? And why did you emphasize this so heavily in your report?"
Under the weight of Yamamoto's presence, the officer lowered his head in fear but reported honestly: "The attacks of the Divine Palm leave no trace. They cannot be seen or blocked. No matter how one prepares, as long as the prisoner shouts, a person is blasted away. Up until the moment I left, not a single Soul Reaper knew what was happening. We aren't even sure... if the Divine Palm uses spiritual power at all."
Hearing this, Yamamoto understood.
The 1st Division served as the governing body of the Seireitei, coordinating internal communication for the Gotei 13. It was a political institution with high authority. They didn't recruit directly; they took seasoned elites from other divisions. These elites weren't necessarily the strongest fighters, but their insight and wisdom were top-tier. To climb to a seated position under Yamamoto's nose meant they were the best of the best—and when faced with the unknown, such people always thought a few steps further than others.
The unknown is the source of fear. An incomprehensible attack, coupled with that specific move name and recent events, made it very easy to link the situation to the Supreme Being. In fact, Yamamoto's first thought upon hearing the description was exactly that.
However, while he understood, Yamamoto couldn't help but sigh internally.
He had once been proud of the 1st Division's selection mechanism, but now he found himself shaking his head. A thousand years ago, faced with an unseen power or an unknown enemy, the Soul Reapers of the Gotei 13 would have charged forward with a roar, swinging their blades. As long as enough comrades died, they'd eventually gather the intel.
But Yamamoto knew it was no longer a thousand years ago. The Gotei 13 was no longer that group of murderous ghosts who would use any means for victory.
His mind wandered for a moment before he pulled himself back and fell into a heavy silence, contemplating how to handle this. Though old, he was not superstitious. Yet the recent series of events made him sincerely wonder if his luck—and the Soul Society's—had turned sour.
The mass time-reversal in the World of the Living? Only the Soul King was a viable suspect.
The mysterious blood-red vertical eye in the sky that neither eyes nor instruments could explain? Only the Soul King.
And now, a suspect from that event was rampaging through the Seireitei with a "Soul King's Divine Palm."
The more he thought, the worse his mood became, as he couldn't predict where this was going. Yamamoto knew the truth of the Soul King, but he was a "Royalist." Though he hadn't stopped the Nobles from erasing the truth, he had enshrined the principle of "Revering the Soul King" in the Academy's textbooks so every Soul Reaper knew why they fought.
He did this because he knew better than anyone that "King" was actually a slightly derogatory title for the Soul King.
Existing since the era of chaos for over a million years, even the five Great Founders who betrayed Him and stole the power of creation had eventually died out—falling to infighting or old age. Only Ichibe Hyosube, who used the Soul King's power to rebuild his flesh, remained.
Yet the dismembered Soul King lived on, unchanged, seemingly capable of lasting another million years or for eternity. The Soul King was not a King; from the moment of His birth, He was a God—the Immortal Supreme God.
Yamamoto had always treated this God with respect, even awe. He knew deeply that even as a "vegetable," the Immortal Soul King was a being he could never rival. It wasn't a gap in power, but a fundamental difference in existence.
Yamamoto knew he would die eventually, by blade or by age. When he died, the Captain-Commander would be replaced, and the next would die too, until one day in the far future, the Gotei 13 would collapse and a new era would begin. This wasn't a prophecy, but the inevitable cycle of history.
In a million years, countless brilliant powerhouses and eras had been born and turned to dust, their names forgotten. But the Soul King would always exist, overlooking the mortal world.
Yamamoto's stance was built on this. He revered the Soul King and upheld the order he created in His name. His attitude was like a commoner talking about "The Heavens"—possessing basic awe and gratitude, but never truly expecting to have actual contact with the Divine.
Thus, he never expected the Soul King to "twitch" during his tenure.
The atmosphere in the hall grew heavy. No Captain dared interrupt his thoughts. Some of the less mentally resilient Captains even began to feel nervous themselves. Finally, Yamamoto spoke:
"The nature of this matter is serious, but for now, he is merely an escapee. We must not overreact. We must resolve this quickly, yet we must also think carefully and handle certain... links... appropriately."
Hearing this, even his Lieutenant of a thousand years widened his eyes. It sounded like a political drama from the material world. It was a classic "I want this, and that, and also this other contradictory thing" speech. It wasn't Yamamoto's usual style, but several Captains soon caught the scent.
They couldn't NOT investigate, but they couldn't REALLY investigate. They couldn't ignore it, but they couldn't REALLY control it. They needed a result, but they couldn't let the prisoner REALLY confess. The nuances were essentially a high-level reading comprehension test.
In the end, Yamamoto didn't clarify. He simply appointed Byakuya Kuchiki as the head of the pursuit, gave him a meaningful look, and ended the meeting abruptly.
Even the stern Byakuya offered a bitter smile, though he understood the logic. The prisoner was his catch, and the Kuchiki family, though slightly declined, was still one of the Great Noble Families. Their handling of a Soul King-related matter would appease the other Nobles.
After the meeting, Yamamoto returned to his quarters. He didn't rest; he stood silently before a painting on his wall.
The scroll depicted a demon surrounded by towering flames, standing atop a sea of corpses. His student, Shunsui Kyoraku, had once asked who the demon was. Yamamoto had told him it wasn't a painting, but a seal—containing the fiercest demon in the Soul Society's history. If the seal were broken, the Soul Society might be destroyed.
In truth, the painting wasn't of a demon. It was Yamamoto himself a thousand years ago, bathed in blood. But he wasn't wrong: his bloodthirsty, cruel fighting spirit had long been sealed away.
Staring at the reflection of his past self, Yamamoto seemed to hallucinate. He saw the demon slowly turn and grin at him, a whisper echoing in his ear:
"You, who once killed the Son of the Soul King, Yhwach... you've always wanted to know if you could kill the Immortal Soul King too, haven't you?"
Yamamoto's expression didn't change. As the strongest Soul Reaper who had carved out an era with a single blade, how could he not have harbored ambitions to point his sword at the heavens? But he had never acted on them, for simply protecting what his hands could reach had already exhausted him.
Even now, he realized certain thoughts had never vanished; they had only been buried deep.
In Urahara's contingency plans, Yamamoto always had a spot. The reason was simple: Had the strongest murderous ghost truly turned over a new leaf? Had he truly vanished? No one dared say. Not even Yamamoto himself.
While Yamamoto was in the midst of self-interrogation, Uryu Ishida was facing his own on the other side of the Seireitei.
"Soul King's Divine Palm, 6th Form: SHATTER THE SEAL!"
With Uryu's shout, an invisible "Divine Palm" slashed forward, slamming into the Kido barrier and carving a path for the bloodied Uryu.
Since escaping the Central Prison, Uryu had been in constant battle. Though the Divine Palm had blasted through several waves of Soul Reapers, this was their home turf, and their reinforcements were endless.
Uryu's throat was hoarse, and safety was nowhere in sight. Worse, the pursuing Soul Reapers had learned; they stopped engaging him head-on, instead bombarding him with long-range Kido and bizarre tools.
But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that while running, a thought suddenly bloomed in Uryu's mind:
"While my grandfather's blood-grudge is important... shouldn't I have come better prepared? Fighting like this... it's going to huuuurt..."
Realizing what he was thinking, Uryu's only recourse was to clench his fist and punch his own stomach, beating the "Female" thoughts back down. It was painful, but effective for a moment.
However, he knew it was futile. The "Female" in his heart was stubborn—and apparently a masochist. The more he hit himself, the faster the thoughts returned. He was forced to flee while simultaneously beating himself up. Most of his current injuries were self-inflicted. He had even developed "tips and tricks" on how to punch himself more effectively.
Having found a brief moment of breathing room, Uryu realized that even if he didn't get caught, he was going to beat himself to death at this rate. He screamed: "Observer! What did you do to me?! I... I'm losing control of myself!"
Mo Yu replied: "I won't deny I have a part in this, but honestly, you can't blame me for everything. This has to do with you as well."
Uryu yelled: "You bastard! Don't tell me every man has a little girl living in his heart, and mine just happens to be an extroverted troublemaker!"
"I need to correct you. I don't know about other men, but the one in your heart is definitely not a 'girl'—it's a submissive 'weak uke'! Look, I'll be blunt: a certain interference force triggered your inner 'femininity,' giving you that persona. But the persona isn't strong enough to cause this. The real reason is that you have, unknowingly, resonated with and nurtured that persona..."
Uryu wanted to argue. He was bleeding, fighting through thousands of miles of enemy territory—how could he be a "weak uke"? He was tougher than any iron-blooded man! But Mo Yu continued:
"What does it mean to be a 'weak uke'? It means being a coward, being soft, being prone to retreating. You've fought hard, but how many times in your heart have you felt afraid? How many times have you thought of giving up? I don't need to say it; you know it's true. you can act tough with me, but you can't lie to your heart. And your inner 'Female' grew because of it."
Uryu was speechless. Yesterday he was a normal Quincy; today he was a world-destroyer escapee being hunted by an entire dimension. Feeling a bit afraid was only natural! But the enemy was closing in. He just wanted to know what to do.
"The solution is simple. You're already doing it: use Purity to beat it. If you haven't destroyed the 'Female' in your heart yet, it's just because your Purity is far from enough!"
Uryu roared: "I feel like I'm about to have a psychotic break! Is that not 'mad' enough for Purity?! Or do I need to add Ichigo's weird 'Keke' catchphrase and speak in triple exclamation marks to count?!"
Mo Yu paused. He hadn't expected Uryu to have such a warped understanding of Purity despite having touched its realm. He shook his head and prepared to "guide"—er, manipulate—him:
"You think acting crazy equals Purity? You've got it all wrong. Purity is the anchor and the engine of a powerhouse. The anchor is the condensation of your life; the engine is the force that drives you forward. Everyone's Purity is unique. Ichigo's mindless, unstoppable, predatory Purity belongs only to him. In my view, you have already possessed your own Purity for a long time... you've just forgotten what it is."
End of Chapter
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