Central 46, outer corridor, a faint tension hung in the air.
"Since that is the case…"
Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni slowly opened his half closed tiger eyes. In the depths of his clouded pupils, sparks seemed to flicker.
He did not draw his blade. He simply struck his cane heavily against the ground, producing a dull thud.
"Then this old man shall accompany you all, and together we will supervise Captain Rosse's actions."
He looked deeply at Rosse standing before him, his gaze complex and profound.
In that look was scrutiny of the young man's ambition, and a trace of expectation he himself was unwilling to admit.
Though in his heart he did not believe a word of Rosse's righteous speech, as an old man who had bound himself to rules for a thousand years, he truly wanted to see with his own eyes what lay behind this long sealed door.
He would not take the initiative to break the rules. Without summons, he would not force his way in.
But since Rosse had provided a legitimate reason and was willing to bear responsibility for this action, he did not mind going in to take a look.
As for punishment or reward afterward, that could be judged afterward.
"Captain-Commander, please."
Rosse bowed slightly, his movements elegant and unhurried. The gentle smile always on his face showed no flaw.
He stepped aside and gestured toward the tightly shut bronze gates of Central 46, then naturally took the lead and walked at the very front.
From the beginning, he had been certain Yamamoto would not stop him.
Because this old man who had lived for over a thousand years understood the true nature of this institution better than anyone.
Under normal circumstances, those cautious, even cowardly sages would never dare to make such nearly insane moves at such a critical moment.
Something drastic must have happened inside.
The stench of rot was already so thick that even the heavy bronze doors could not conceal it.
It was only because of the rules he had set with his own hands a thousand years ago that Yamamoto, even knowing full well, would never take the first step to cross the line.
But now it was different.
Rosse was the one breaking in, the villain violating the rules.
And Yamamoto was merely a law enforcer standing by to supervise in order to uphold justice.
This subtle shift of roles was the best step down Rosse had prepared for him.
'Since you refuse to push the door yourself, I will open the door to the truth for you.'
Creak!
Accompanied by a grating metallic sound that set teeth on edge, the magnificent bronze gates that seemed to separate two worlds were pushed open by Rosse as if casually.
Beams of light pierced the darkness, stirring up dust that had long settled in silence.
"Impudence!"
"Who dares trespass upon the sacred grounds of Central 46?"
"Insolence! Retreat at once!"
"….."
The moment the doors opened, a wave of air mixed with incense and stale decay rushed toward them.
Immediately after, furious yet hollow shouts echoed down from the high judgment seats, reverberating through the vast hall.
Rosse stood at the entrance, impatiently digging at his ear. The gentle mask on his face vanished in an instant, leaving only extreme indifference and coldness.
He lifted his head, those eyes that seemed to see through everything sweeping coldly across this magnificent and solemn center of supreme authority.
From his perspective, where was this some grand hall of judgment?
It was clearly a massive morgue filled with thick blood stench and rot.
Aside from the few Kyoraku family sages at the highest seats still shouting hoarsely, every other seat was occupied by figures in splendid white robes who appeared upright and dignified.
In truth, they were all corpses long since rotted and reeking.
To be honest, since Aizen had cleaned this place out, this was his first time personally stepping foot here.
After all, he and Aizen had always maintained an understanding. There was no need to inspect work in such an unlucky place.
But now… The climax of this play had arrived. These foolish puppets on strings had reached the time to exit the stage.
"Captain-Commander Yamamoto."
Rosse turned his head and glanced at the old man beside him, who was silent like a volcano on the verge of eruption. A trace of undisguised cold mockery curled at his lips.
"The situation is already clear, isn't it? This clumsy pantomime¹ might be enough to fool ordinary Shinigami."
He paused and met Yamamoto's burning eyes directly.
"But before you, I imagine this disgusting disguise holds no meaning at all."
"Hmph!"
Yamamoto snorted coldly. The aura that burst forth in that instant seemed to freeze the surrounding air.
He cast a meaningful glance at Aizen, who stood low key in the rear, then pressed both hands on his cane and strode step by step toward the center of the hall.
At this moment, before seeing the truth with certainty, he still considered this a farce orchestrated by Aizen.
"Do not try to provoke this old man. Since I have come, I will make everything clear!"
Thud! Thud! Thud!
With each step, the sound of the cane striking the ground was like a heavy hammer slamming into everyone's heart.
Along with it surged an ever hotter, ever more terrifying spiritual pressure spilling from that aged body.
Komamura Sajin, Hitsugaya Toshiro and the others exchanged looks, their faces full of confusion.
In their eyes and perception, everything in Central 46 seemed normal.
The sages sat in dignity upon the high seats. The judges angrily questioned the intruders. Sandalwood incense drifted in the air, calming and steady.
What was wrong with this? What were the Captain-Commander and Rosse talking about?
Only Kuchiki Byakuya's cold eyes flashed with sharp thought.
Late last night, Aizen's warning about the mastermind who controlled the five senses now struck like lightning through fog. His nerves tightened instantly, and his hand was already resting on the hilt of Senbonzakura.
Buzz!
At the instant Yamamoto took his third step.
Without any warning, a visible golden red blaze of spiritual pressure erupted from him and swept outward.
It was the tyranny of Ryujin Jakka, and the wrath of the strongest Shinigami in a thousand years.
Yet the flames were strange.
Though they brought extreme heat capable of distorting space, making everyone feel burning pain on their skin, they did not ignite a single piece of wood nor burn a single sheet of paper.
This was spiritual pressure control at its purest.
It was compressing power capable of scorching heaven and boiling seas, condensing it and elevating it from physical destruction into a higher dimension of spirit particle eradication.
"Break… for this old man!"
With an aged roar, the condensed storm of spiritual pressure tore apart the thin veil covering the entire hall like an invisible giant hand.
The next second, before the horrified eyes of Komamura and the others, the scene twisted, melted, and collapsed like an illusion scorched by fire.
The golden ceiling grew mottled and dark.
The calming sandalwood scent turned into nauseating corpse stench.
Those sages who had just been condemning them righteously—
Their skin began to peel, their flesh shriveled. In the blink of an eye, their living faces turned into grotesque rotting corpses, sprawled across their seats as if wailing silently from hell.
The once solemn center of noble authority had become a terrifying mass grave.
The violent contrast in sight and smell made several captains feel physically ill.
"So this is the truth?"
Komamura covered his nose and mouth, staring in disbelief.
It was unimaginable that what they had just seen as normal had all been illusion.
When had Central 46 turned into such a hellish scene?
"As expected…"
Kuchiki Byakuya's gaze turned ice cold as he looked at the corpses and at the few living figures scattered among them.
Without exception, the few still breathing wore garments bearing the Kyoraku family crest.
Everything aligned.
Aizen had not lied.
The mastermind who could disguise corpses as living men, who could paint this hell as heaven, who possessed the terrifying ability to control the five senses…
'Is Kyoraku Shunsui!'
"Hmph!"
The blazing armor like spiritual pressure around Yamamoto continued to burn fiercely, the oppressive force making the air thin.
His eyes filled with towering fury locked onto the figure seated calmly at the highest judgment seat.
Having broken one layer of illusion, this confident old man never considered there might be a second layer.
Ever since learning of Aizen's Kyoka Suigetsu, he had been studying ways to counter it.
In less than a day, he found the most brutal and most effective method.
Compress Bankai level spiritual pressure within his body, using absolute quantity and quality to forcibly flush out and block any external spirit particles attempting to invade his senses.
In this state, though he sacrificed much of his attack power to maintain density, the level of his spiritual pressure had risen infinitely, even surpassing the monk of Squad Zero, nearly reaching the dimension of the Soul King.
It was absolute power that denied all lies.
Under suppression of this dimension, no Shinigami in Soul Society could deceive his five senses.
"Kyoraku Kei!"
Yamamoto's voice was low and hoarse, each word like it had been pulled from magma.
"For the scene before us, as elder of the Kyoraku family and former captain of the Gotei 13, what explanation do you have for this old man?"
Facing such a terrifying interrogation that could make ordinary captains tremble, the old man on the high seat remained unusually calm.
"Yamamoto, since you have already seen through the curtain and witnessed the bloody truth, what need is there for further words?"
Kyoraku Kei sat high upon the judge's throne, looking down at Yamamoto.
In his cloudy eyes there was no fear, no regret, not even tragic resolve. Only calmness that had seen through life and death.
He slowly lowered the wrist wrapped with strange prayer beads, as if merely adjusting his clothing, then rose from the throne under everyone's gaze.
In that moment, his hunched body seemed to straighten, radiating the lingering might of a powerhouse from a thousand years ago.
His right hand slowly and firmly rested upon the hilt of an ancient Zanpakuto long worn at his waist.
By Central 46's rules, all sages were required to seal their Zanpakuto before entering. None had privilege to carry one inside.
But Kyoraku Kei had clearly already broken that rule.
Because this blade was prepared precisely for this moment, for this final grand act.
"Yamamoto!"
A nostalgic yet mocking smile curved at his lips, his aged voice loud and clear.
"When this old man stepped down as captain of the Third Division and retired behind the scenes, you should have been fortunate enough to witness my immature Bankai, should you not?"
He was a true living fossil of Soul Society.
By seniority, he stood three generations above even the nearly thousand year old Kyoraku Shunsui, the oldest and most core existence of the Kyoraku family.
If not for Shutara's appearance that wiped out Central 46, if not for learning of Shunsui's ambition, if not for hearing the grand plan that could elevate the family to the summit, this old monster who should have been resting in the ancestral land would never have emerged to sit in Central 46 again.
"Hmph!"
Yamamoto sneered, the flames around him burning even whiter.
"This old man does not recall your Zanpakuto. Scroll of Playful Lies, was that the name? Such a despicable ability to control the five senses."
At this point, nothing more needed to be done by Rosse or anyone else.
The perfect stage was set. The perfect audience was present.
With Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni, who could not tolerate even a grain of sand in his eyes and embodied absolute order, the other captains only needed to serve as silent and fair witnesses.
Witness this grand play arranged by Rosse, executed by Aizen, and starring the Kyoraku family.
"Yamamoto, your memory truly has not faded."
Kyoraku Kei sighed with emotion, nostalgia flashing in his eyes.
"The last time I used Bankai before you was nearly a thousand years ago, during my Third Division captain examination. Back then, you were far more oppressive than now."
As his words fell, the ancient Zanpakuto slid from its sheath inch by inch with a grating sound.
There was no dazzling light, yet the moment it left the sheath, the space within Central 46 seemed to warp slightly, and an indescribable absurdity settled over everyone.
"Since you remember Scroll of Playful Lies, why do you assume that what I showed back then was its full extent?"
Kyoraku Kei gripped the hilt, his gaze sweeping over Rosse, Aizen, and the younger captains below before fixing on Yamamoto.
"This has been my thousand year scheme. Everything was for the Kyoraku family to ascend to the summit of Soul Society. Since you have discovered it today, then let our blades decide."
"Everything for the glory of the family!"
With that decisive roar, a spiritual pressure filled with deathly aura and madness erupted from him. It was the final flare of life burning at its end, the last aria of an ancient Shinigami.
From the beginning of the plan, Kyoraku Kei had already prepared.
If discovered, he would take everything upon himself for Kyoraku Shunsui.
Based on his understanding of Yamamoto, as long as he was confirmed as the mastermind, Shunsui would be safe.
As long as Shunsui remained, as long as the true wielder of the five senses control remained hidden, the Kyoraku family would still have a future.
This was the final thing this elder of the Kyoraku family could do.
Under everyone's shocked and vigilant gazes, in a tone like chanting some eerie nursery rhyme, he loudly recited the forbidden release sealed for a thousand years:
"Pluck the tongue from the lying bird! Sever the strings of the dancing puppet! Sing! Perform! In this world of madness!"
"Bankai! Gigen Ema! (Scroll of Playful Lies)"
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