Fujimiya Makoto had no idea that at the very moment he and his two companions left the Seireitei, another group was quietly departing through the White Path Gate within the court.
At the head of that group was Kyouraku Ogata.
At his waist hung a second pure-white Chūritō.
And it wasn't just him.
Every member of the group carried an identical, standardized short sword at their hips.
All of them wore cold, emotionless expressions, their movements sharp and precise.
They marched straight toward the headquarters of the Genryū in District 64.
At the front of the procession, a tall, snow-white envoy's banner fluttered.
Though by now, the conflict between the Genryū and the Seireitei had long escalated to a life-or-death struggle, the most basic wartime courtesies still allowed envoys from both sides to travel unhindered through each other's territories.
Even the most radical of the Genryū's common-born Shinigami wouldn't dare lay a hand on these envoys.
And this was precisely the loophole Kyouraku was exploiting.
From District 1 all the way to District 64, the group's numbers steadily dwindled.
By the time they entered District 64 and caught sight of the mountain range housing the Genji Academy's headquarters, only three remained beneath the envoy's banner—Kyouraku Ogata and two others.
The illegitimate son lifted his head, gazing at the sprawling buildings atop the distant mountains, and let out a faint sigh.
Before him, Okiba Genjirou had been waiting for some time.
"Lord Kyouraku."
"Master Genryūsai requests your presence for discussions."
Kyouraku Ogata gave a slight nod. "Lead the way."
...
The scenery of the Genji Academy could hardly be called opulent. Compared to the palaces and pavilions Kyouraku Ogata had seen, it was downright austere.
Even the Genryū's headquarters was little more than an ordinary dojo.
Occasionally, students could be seen moving about or training nearby.
Unlike Shiba Yozuru, who had little worldly experience, Kyouraku Ogata could immediately grasp the vast disparity between the Genryū and the Seireitei.
Specifically, the gap between those at the top and those below.
If an organization like this couldn't defeat the already-rotten Seireitei, that would truly be strange.
Kyouraku Ogata let out a self-deprecating chuckle.
As he entered the dojo, he found Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni seated firmly at the center.
There were no guards around him.
Or rather, the Zanpakutō at his side—Ryūjin Jakka, famed throughout the Soul Society—along with his fists, were the most formidable guards in the world.
Only after Kyouraku Ogata was seated did Yamamoto speak in a measured tone:
"What business brings Lord Ogata here now?"
As previously mentioned, the Seireitei and the Genryū were already locked in a fight to the death.
Or rather, the very purpose of the Genryū's existence was to purge the Seireitei entirely.
What more was there to discuss?
Yet Kyouraku Ogata remained utterly composed, replying with icy calm:
"I come in pursuit of peace."
"Speak."
Yamamoto gestured for him to continue.
Kyouraku Ogata's voice was devoid of inflection: "As the administrators of the Soul Society, the Kyouraku clan has reached a decision."
"From this day forward, the outer forty districts of the Rukongai's eighty districts shall be placed under Genryū jurisdiction. In exchange, you will release all the noble families held in your territories and allow them to return to the Seireitei. Should you agree, we may return to peace."
"The people will then be spared the suffering of war."
"Additionally, the Genryū may nominate five candidates to join the Central 46 as new sages."
"This is the Kyouraku clan's sincerity."
"I ask that you consider your subordinates, Master Genryūsai."
As Kyouraku Ogata's voice faded, Yamamoto instinctively furrowed his brow. The thick folds of his forehead creased, his eyes flickering with confusion, as if he couldn't comprehend what he'd just heard.
Finally, the middle-aged-looking old man let out a soft, derisive snort—not in anger, but in bitter amusement.
"Kyouraku…"
"Are you mocking me?"
The moment the words left his mouth, Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni's eyes snapped wide open.
In an instant, a terrifying beast seemed to materialize behind him, its killing intent so overwhelming it could shatter a person's mind in an instant.
Then, an oppressive spiritual pressure—so dense it distorted the very air—erupted from his body, turning the surroundings into a visible haze and plunging everything into darkness.
"My Genryū brethren have fought and bled for years!"
"And you dare to think that what I—what they—seek is mere authority?!"
"How dare Kyouraku insult me!!"
Yamamoto's roar was like a hammer to the chest, so deafening it felt as though it could crack open a skull. His furious expression made it clear he'd been subjected to an unforgivable slight.
At that moment, an ordinary person standing before him would likely have been crushed into pulp.
Yet Kyouraku Ogata, who had long since cast aside any fear of death, remained perfectly composed.
He simply looked at the old man with calm eyes and asked solemnly:
"So."
"You refuse?"
"What will you do about it?"
Yamamoto roared back at him.
Just as he possessed a steady, unshakable side, Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni—whose soul was the embodiment of the strongest fire-type Zanpakutō in all the Soul Society—also had the most violent and explosive nature in the world.
But Kyouraku Ogata's next move took the old man by surprise.
Still kneeling before Yamamoto, he slowly drew the Chūritō at his waist.
Yamamoto scoffed at first, but in the next second, Kyouraku Ogata suddenly reversed his grip on the blade and drove it toward his own chest with a whistling slash.
Yamamoto's eyes widened.
In the next instant, the old man's figure appeared behind Kyouraku.
His Asauchi had been drawn at some point.
His Shunpo—so fast it defied comprehension—outpaced even Kyouraku Ogata's hand movements.
With a single slash, he severed both of Kyouraku's wrists with flawless precision.
"You think you can kill yourself in front of me?"
Yamamoto muttered a curse under his breath, feeling nothing but disgust.
But then, Kyouraku Ogata's lips curled into a mocking smile:
"Master Genryūsai."
"Just as you are willing to lay down your lives to protect the lowly commoners of the Rukongai…"
"The Kyouraku clan also has reasons worth fighting for."
Hearing the steel in his voice, Yamamoto's opinion of him rose slightly.
But in the next moment, the Chūritō that had fallen with his severed wrists suddenly floated into the air.
The blade's tip shot toward Kyouraku Ogata's chest like an arrow.
Yamamoto swung his sword with a frown.
Yet the moment his blade descended, he realized—
It passed through empty air.
This wasn't a physical blade?!
In the next instant, the Chūritō plunged into Kyouraku Ogata's chest.
With great effort, he smiled at Yamamoto:
"My apologies."
"Master Genryūsai."
The moment the Chūritō pierced his chest, Kyouraku Ogata's body dissolved into countless fragmented Reishi particles, scattering into the sky like a storm of light.
The most basic function of a Chūritō was to disrupt the balance of a spiritual body.
Under these conditions, even a Reishi source at the level of a vice-captain could form a bomb many times more powerful than normal.
But his goal wasn't to kill Yamamoto.
In an instant, a colossal pillar of spiritual pressure erupted, engulfing the entire Genji Academy.
And that wasn't all.
The moment this spiritual pillar flared to life, similar pillars of energy lit up across the Genryū-controlled territories, all centered around West Rukongai's District 64.
Together, they formed a massive ring of spiritual energy, cutting off the area within.
Countless souls were caught in the crossfire.
The already-fragile barrier between worlds trembled.
In this meticulously planned operation, the boundary between two worlds was slowly torn apart, linked together by chains of Reishi.
The Kyouraku clan had been tasked with maintaining the boundaries of the Soul Society for generations.
Naturally, they knew exactly where the fabric of space was weakest.
At these special spatial nodes, all it took was fifty simultaneous large-scale Reishi reactions to carve out a limited pocket dimension.
Now, this area had become a massive "rift zone" where the Soul Society and Hueco Mundo overlapped.
A rift large enough to allow countless spiritual beings and Hollows to pass through.
This was the true mission of this illegitimate son.
...
"What's happening?!"
Fujimiya Makoto and his companions, who had already covered most of their return journey, looked up at the beams of spiritual light erupting in the distance and the dark fissures appearing around them, momentarily stunned.
Only Shiba Yozuru, familiar with the Dangai, recognized what was happening:
"Those are… Gargantas!"
"How could so many appear at once?!"
"Gargantas" were the countless "entrances" linking the Dangai to the three worlds.
But even Shiba Yozuru, who oversaw the Dangai, had never seen such a large-scale simultaneous emergence of Gargantas.
Only Chōjirō reacted immediately, staring into the distance:
"That's the direction of the Genji Academy!"
"Something's happened!"
"Makoto, Lord Shiba—full speed ahead!"
"Right!"
But the trio had barely crossed a mountain range when they froze at the sight before them.
A tide of massive Hollows surged forth from a fissure, an endless swarm stretching as far as the eye could see.
At its center were several Gillian over a hundred meters tall.
In the distance, a peaceful village stood in the path of the horde—only to be swallowed whole in an instant, with no survivors.
They had barely arrived before finding themselves surrounded on all sides.
As Fujimiya Makoto stared at the horrifying spectacle in stunned silence, Chōjirō stepped forward, his back to them, and said calmly:
"You two."
"Stay behind me."
The moment he spoke, arcs of golden lightning began crackling across Chōjirō's body.
His Asauchi transformed into a rapier.
"Pierce, Gonryōmaru."