Chapter 56: A Beautiful Powerhouse Body So Potent It Makes One's Spirit Soar
"My, my, what wonderful weather today. With a sun like that, it's a perfect day for drinking."
A middle-aged man with wavy brown hair tied in a ponytail, adorned with two flowery hairpins, sat lazily on the veranda of his division headquarters. He wore a pink, flowered haori over his uniform and a straw hat on his head. With a bit of stubble on his jaw and a rakish air, he sipped his sake leisurely.
As the Captain of the 8th Division, Shunsui Kyoraku was a man who had mastered the art of slacking off!
Just then, his best friend and Captain of the 13th Division, Jushiro Ukitake, walked over. Seeing Kyoraku still loafing at a time like this, Ukitake first let out a violent cough, wiping blood from his lips with a handkerchief, before frowning and saying:
"By tradition, every prisoner sentenced to the Sokyoku must be supervised by multiple Captains to ensure the execution goes flawlessly. Looking at you... do you not intend to go?"
Kyoraku tipped his hat slightly and smiled. "There's been too much going on lately. I'm exhausted. Even that stubborn old man didn't go today, so I figured I'd take this chance to sneak in some rest."
Ukitake remained silent, frowning. Others might be fooled by Kyoraku's frivolous exterior, but Ukitake, who had been his friend since their days at the Academy, knew better. Kyoraku seemed flighty, but he possessed razor-sharp insight, a deep understanding of the world, and unfathomable power. He was the favorite student of Captain-Commander Yamamoto.
This frivolous mask was partly Kyoraku's nature, but also a practical necessity. The Gotei 13 and the Nobles co-governed the Three Worlds, and all authority rested on Yamamoto. As the longest-serving Captain and the Commander's most trusted disciple, Kyoraku was effectively the second-in-command. In such a position, being a bit lazy and unreliable made everyone else feel safer. If he showed his sharp edges too clearly, many people wouldn't be able to sit still.
Ukitake didn't want to play word games. "Did someone come to talk to you recently?"
Kyoraku took a sip, not denying it. "Some old friends I haven't seen in ages found me. We talked about some quite... hair-raising things. But then, your house hasn't been empty of guests lately either, has it?"
At that mention, Ukitake couldn't help but sigh. The Ukitake family was a Shinto clan and part of the noble system. Despite having a Captain as its head, the family lacked manpower and was currently only a lower-to-middle noble house. However, due to the family's unique heritage, his home had been swarmed with visitors over the past few days.
Seeing Ukitake's sighs, Kyoraku put down his cup. "Forget those guys. Did the One-Eyed God say anything?"
The One-Eyed God (Mimihagi) enshrined by the Ukitake family was a manifestation of the Soul King's arm, possessing its own independent will. At this juncture, its existence was delicate.
Ukitake smiled bitterly. "The family held a ritual. The Great God gave an oracle. He said: 'This world is being watched by an omnipresent gaze, so He knows nothing. Don't bother Him unless it's urgent...'"
Ukitake hadn't told anyone else this oracle; he only spoke the truth to Kyoraku because it was too terrifying.
"An omnipresent gaze watching the whole world...?" Kyoraku tasted the words, then looked up at the sky. The heavens filled with blood-red eyes looked horrifying. "I expected as much, but hearing it put that way still feels like an exaggeration."
Ukitake laughed weakly. "The reality might be more exaggerated than you think. According to the One-Eyed God, the entire Seireitei is currently filled with invisible eyes. There's one right over my head, watching me twenty-four hours a day. And it's not just me; everyone with a shred of status in the Seireitei has an invisible eye over them."
Hearing this, Kyoraku instinctively looked up at the air above his head. He stared for a moment, then raised his cup with a lazy, rakish grin.
"I didn't expect a lazy man like me to be worth a twenty-four-hour audience. Well, care for a drink?"
Kyoraku held the cup out, but before he could pull it back, it was gripped by an invisible force and shot into the sky!
Ukitake and Kyoraku were both stunned. Then Kyoraku laughed, waving toward the sky. "Let's sit down for a drink together when you have time!"
There was no response, but both knew that the pair of eyes in the heavens was always there, always watching.
Ukitake asked, "What do you plan to do?"
Kyoraku knew what he was asking. As the number two figure in the Gotei 13, his attitude and actions were vital at a moment like this. Kyoraku simply covered his face with his hat and leaned back against a pillar.
"Like I said, the sun is too bright. Perfect for slacking. Let's leave the rest to the 'motivated' old man."
Ukitake sighed, understood his friend's choice, and turned to leave.
Once he was gone, a girl wearing a school uniform, glasses, and braided pigtails stepped out from behind a pillar not far away. She was holding a gravure idol magazine. It was Lisa Yadomaru of the Visoreds, who had been Kyoraku's Lieutenant before her exile.
"Do you really intend to do nothing?"
Kyoraku's face was hidden by his hat. No one could see his expression, but his frivolous, lazy voice remained unchanged:
"Little Lisa, I appreciate you traveling all the way from the material world to tell me these things. I've verified the Void Tribulation. If the Lord Soul King wishes to do something, it is naturally a good thing. But the key to everything doesn't lie with me... it lies with that stubborn old man."
Kyoraku said no more, appearing as if he had fallen asleep. Lisa said nothing further and turned to leave.
Urahara's mission for the Visoreds was to communicate with their old acquaintances. Lisa had found her old boss, and the result was acceptable. Kyoraku wasn't openly supporting them, but this "staying out of it / slacking off" stance was the best support he could give.
In fact, after the Visoreds launched their networking offensive, many Captains had begun to waver. Especially Soi Fon of the 2nd Division—after Yoruichi visited her and they had a "sincere" communication, she was now fully supporting the Visoreds' movements.
Just as Lisa was about to leave, Kyoraku suddenly spoke:
"Little Lisa... the weather is terrible today. The sun is too hot. Be careful. You should head back to a cooler place in the material world for a vacation..."
Lisa said nothing, only waved her hand. Kyoraku leaned back against the pillar, looking fast asleep.
However, on his hands, which were folded casually over his stomach, blue veins were bulging with tension.
Others might think the high temperature was just due to a sunny day. Only Kyoraku knew that what was making the temperature in the Seireitei soar wasn't the sun in the sky...
But the gaze of a certain old man overlooking the city, filled with a ferocious battle intent!
"Old man... please don't destroy the Soul Society..."
A barely audible whisper drifted from Kyoraku's lips.
In a corner of the Seireitei, Retsu Unohana, Captain of the 4th Division, stood in the morgue. She gazed quietly at Aizen's body, her fingers sliding gently over the corpse.
Aizen's Complete Hypnosis could fool anyone, but it was hard to hide from Unohana. Eons ago, as the most unprecedented villain in the Soul Society's history, she had been subdued by Yamamoto and followed him to conquer the world and found the Gotei 13.
In that process, Unohana had experienced far too many battles. Even if her five senses were deceived, her sheer instinct was enough to tell her something was wrong. After personally inspecting the body several times, she was certain. This corpse that looked exactly like Aizen and felt exactly like Aizen was not the real man.
While she couldn't be sure of the whole truth, she smelled the scent of a conspiracy.
In any other time, she would have announced this. But now, she had zero interest in it. She remained silent. In fact, Unohana's attention wasn't on Aizen at all, because invisible "footsteps" were echoing in her ears.
Every step felt like the roar of the earth; every lift of the foot was the sweep of a storm! Step by step, they trod upon the hearts of everyone qualified to sense them.
A wild, sincere, pure, and powerful battle intent was sweeping through the Soul Society with unstoppable momentum. It was declaring its existence and announcing without reservation what it intended to do.
Fight!
No matter who the enemy was, how many they were, or what means they used—all were welcome. Because that majestic battle intent craved a world-shaking duel to decide the "Strongest"—a fight with no regrets, where everything was gambled on a fist.
Unohana appeared normal—gentle, quiet, and maternal. But her bright eyes, which looked as if they had fire burning within them, betrayed her inner impulse. In fact, if she hadn't suppressed herself with every ounce of her restraint, she would have already picked up her blade and rushed out to kill!
Unohana knew very well that this wasn't a fight she should participate in!
Years ago, she had lost the right to compete for the title of the Strongest. She was no longer the "First Kenpachi" who bathed the world in blood; she was just the Captain of a medical squad.
However, she was intensely interested in the result.
There were many reasons she had put down her blade. Meeting the current Kenpachi Zaraki and feeling her own weakness was one; feeling remorse for her bloodstained past and wanting to dedicate her life to healing was another. These were true reasons.
But there were hidden ones too. In an era without order, simply "killing people" wasn't a crime. Even massacres were daily occurrences. What made Unohana's name so infamous was simple: she had killed more than a few Nobles. If not for that, how could such a name have been forged in that era?
Though those events were a millennium old, the Nobles recorded history in million-year increments. A thousand years was like yesterday to them. As the first-generation Captains died out one by one, it was time for her to stay quiet and live a harmless life, lest many others lose sleep at night.
But those things didn't matter. If the Soul Society was about to undergo a cataclysmic change—if the very foundation of the Noble Order was being shaken—then Unohana, as the General Director of the Female Soul Reapers Association and editor-in-chief of multiple gossip magazines, was very interested in the "tea"!
Listening to the invisible roaring footsteps marching toward the summit, a smile gradually touched Unohana's lips.
"Captain-Commander... I truly envy you. At your age, to have a young man chase you so passionately. Unlike me... I really have grown old..."
With that, Unohana looked down at her hands, shook her head slightly, and turned to leave.
After she departed, the corpse of the "Fake Aizen" behind her shattered into pieces. Despite her restraint, the stimulus of that world-shaking battle intent had caused her power to surge in response, and her leaking energy had pulverized the fake body.
Unohana didn't care. Aizen's death was forgotten. Now, she only wanted to find a front-row seat and see if those footsteps—like earthquakes, like hurricanes, like natural disasters—could crush the world held up by the Soul Society's strongest Reaper!
Ichigo Kurosaki, hands in his pockets, knew many were watching him. The gazes hiding in the dark were clear in his mind. But he didn't care!
His gaze was fixed only on the highest point of the Seireitei.
A gaze like a scorching sun fell from that peak, locking onto him and bringing a peerless heatwave intended to incinerate the world. Under this gaze, Ichigo even hallucinated; it felt as if every step forward was a step into Hell. At the end of that Hell, a blood-red sun surrounded by a sea of corpses was waking up, rising higher and becoming more ferocious and terrifying with every inch he drew closer. It made Ichigo feel the primal fear of death.
But so what? To practice his path to the Strongest, to use his will to reverse all "impossibles"—this challenge was necessary. It was destined.
Ichigo walked toward death and toward the title of the Strongest. His steps were slow but steady. Reaching the peak of the Seireitei, he saw the hunched, aged figure leaning on a wooden staff!
Young, sharp eyes met aged, deep ones. This was their first meeting, but Ichigo felt no sense of a stranger. Surely the old man felt the same. For the past few days, they had been watching each other every second.
Should I say hello? Ichigo wondered.
He quickly decided it was unnecessary. The greetings had already been exchanged over the last few days. So, once Ichigo came to a halt, he simply clenched his fists.
The old man said nothing. He untied the Captain's haori he had worn for centuries, removed his shirt, and straightened his back.
This was not the body of an ordinary old man. Lean, hard muscles condensed a terrifying power. Scars from blades and spears covered his frame like medals of a thousand years. His straightened back allowed his tall stature to erupt with a crushing pressure.
Ichigo admired Yamamoto's rugged body with the eye of someone appreciating a "beauty," then gave his review:
"Truly... a beautiful powerhouse body so potent it makes one's spirit soar!"
Captain-Commander Yamamoto responded to that sentence immediately.
With his fist!
Through the tearing air, Yamamoto's fist slammed brutally into Ichigo's stomach!
"Boy... since you find it beautiful, feel the strength within this beautiful body!"
Ichigo didn't answer. In that instant, he was blasted dozens of meters into the sky by Yamamoto's punch. Simultaneously, Yamamoto's figure vanished. He reappeared at Ichigo's side, grabbed his head, and stepped off the air as if it were solid ground. Like a meteor falling to earth, he accelerated his dive toward the ground!
With a thunderous explosion at the summit of the 1st Division, the buildings shook and the ground cracked!
The assault didn't stop. Amidst the rising dust, Yamamoto stayed low, pinning Ichigo's head to the ground and charging forward! Buildings were smashed through, and the earth was torn into a deep trench as if a dragon were carving its way through the world.
He didn't stop until he slammed Ichigo into a thick structural wall, embedding the boy deep inside. Then, Yamamoto coiled his arm, twisted his waist, and dropped into a low power-stance. Majestic spiritual energy exploded, compressed entirely into his fist, and slammed into Ichigo!
In the next second, the building completely detonated. Ichigo's silhouette shot out like a rocket, smashing through building after building!
End of Chapter
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