Scorching heat surged outward.
The moment Yamamoto released his Shikai, all of Sōkyoku Hill was instantly engulfed in a wave of blistering air.
Everyone nearby was forced to feel it as well.
"Head-Captain Yamamoto, how about we change locations?"
Shimo smiled casually, not a trace of tension on his face.
Hearing this, Yamamoto swept his gaze around and said in a low voice:
"You still have the presence of mind to think of that?"
The words had barely fallen before he vanished with shunpo, leaving Sōkyoku Hill behind.
Shimo followed him.
The two soon arrived at a more secluded area.
"Your actions grieve this old man," Yamamoto said, his removed haori dancing in the wind.
"Why must you challenge the world's justice?"
His spiritual pressure was slightly weaker than moments earlier—he still wanted to persuade him.
Shimo could tell.
"Head-Captain, is the 'justice' you believe in truly justice?"
Before Yamamoto could reply, Shimo continued:
"The so-called 'justice of the world'… is it just the justice of the Central 46?"
"Or the justice defined by forty wise men and six judges?"
Yamamoto's breathing halted for a moment.
The unshakable determination on his face flickered with a hint of doubt.
"But you still chose to stand in opposition to justice."
Shimo smiled, raising the corner of his lips.
"If something called 'justice' is defined entirely by others…"
"Then that justice is not worth following."
BOOM—!
Terrifying spiritual pressure erupted across the empty plains.
Facing Yamamoto Genryūsai—Soul Society's strongest Shinigami in a thousand years—
Shimo had no intention of holding back.
His spiritual pressure exploded outward in its entirety.
At that moment, everyone in the Seireitei felt his power.
Countless Shinigami looked toward the sky,
as if another sky had descended upon the old one.
A suffocating weight pressed upon every heart.
—
Inside the Fourth Division barracks—
Unohana paused mid-treatment, turning toward Sōkyoku Hill.
A rare trace of worry crossed her calm and gentle face.
"This is… Shimo-kun's reiatsu."
—
On the streets of Seireitei—
Kyōraku Shunsui and Zaraki Kenpachi, locked in battle, also halted their blades.
Zaraki's wild grin froze slightly.
He muttered:
"That guy… Shimo's gotten this strong?"
Shunsui's expression darkened.
"It's not just Shimo's reiatsu…"
"The one he's fighting—Has old man Yama gone insane?! Why would he attack Shimo?!"
Shunsui abandoned the fight entirely, launching into shunpo toward Sōkyoku Hill.
Zaraki hesitated only a moment before following—battle was battle, and he craved it.
Ishida Uryū and the others stared blankly.
"So… what do we do now?" Orihime asked anxiously.
Uryū adjusted his glasses.
"To Sōkyoku Hill. Ichigo is definitely there."
The group followed after Zaraki.
Yamamoto, sensing the overwhelming spiritual pressure crashing toward him, was genuinely surprised.
"You truly defy expectations, Kyōraku Shimo."
"Your talent may surpass even that of your senior, Shunsui."
"With reiatsu this strong…"
A flash of realization crossed Yamamoto's eyes.
"Is this why you refuse to obey Central 46's justice?"
Shimo chuckled softly.
"Head-Captain, I'm not someone who disregards rules."
"Quite the opposite—I respect rules more than most."
"As for today's actions… I'll give you a proper explanation afterward."
Yamamoto exhaled slowly and ran his hand along Ryūjin Jakka's blade.
Flames roared to life.
"In that case… this old man must take you down."
He swung Ryūjin Jakka overhead.
The sky itself scorched, the clouds burning away—the oldest and most powerful fire-type Zanpakutō laid bare its fangs.
Shimo frowned faintly as the heat crashed over him.
His spiritual pressure instinctively coated his body, blocking the worst of the flames.
He knew his own limits well.
Spiritual pressure could buffer the heat—but pure physical endurance?
Not enough.
And against Yamamoto, he could not rely on his usual durability.
As Soul Society's strongest Shinigami, Yamamoto stood on a different plane entirely.
"Suspend the space… Akatsuki."
Shimo's expression sharpened, giving Yamamoto a respectful seriousness.
Voidlike distortions curled around his blade.
Blood-red traces pulsed along its center.
The pitch-black hilt tightened beneath his grip.
Compared to before, Akatsuki's released form had subtly changed.
Shimo guessed it was because his spiritual pressure had grown stronger, and the Zanpakutō evolved along with it—similar to Hitsugaya's Hyōrinmaru.
"Impressive," Yamamoto said.
"No wonder they call you the most gifted Shinigami of the millennium."
Shimo blinked in mild surprise.
"No need for that look," Yamamoto said.
"As one who has witnessed Soul Society's long history, I speak only the truth."
Shimo laughed lightly.
"Then thank you for the praise, Head-Captain."
Yamamoto raised a hand, stopping his words.
"I merely state facts."
"Begin."
"Show this old man the true strength behind that terrifying reiatsu."
Shimo didn't modestly decline.
"Then I'll start—Hitotsume: Nadegiri!"
A horizontal strike tore through the air, space freezing around it, aiming straight for Yamamoto's vitals.
Yamamoto's eyes widened.
He reacted at lightning speed, raising Ryūjin Jakka.
Heat wrapped around him instantly.
Shimo's speed—his attack power—
exceeded Yamamoto's expectations.
BOOM!!
Their blades collided with a thunderous impact, shockwaves bursting outward and extinguishing the flames that had set the plains alight.
"You dare use my sword style against me."
Yamamoto's muscles surged, raw power coursing through Ryūjin Jakka.
"Bold indeed, young one."
He gripped Ryūjin Jakka with both hands, flames surging—then unleashed the exact same technique.
Hitotsume: Nadegiri!
Fiery sword pressure roared toward the world, strength enough to cleave the sky.
Shimo activated his ability—space congealed into a viscous mire.
The blazing slash slowed, its power sinking under the stagnant gravity.
Yamamoto raised a brow.
His spiritual pressure exploded again.
Ryūjin Jakka accelerated—rushing straight toward Shimo's brow.
But Shimo merely lifted his blade and blocked it.
"Exceptional," Yamamoto admitted.
His strength increased once more.
Then—
Flames surged upward—A whirlwind of fire erupted from the ground, a blazing tornado rising to the heavens.
Everyone near Sōkyoku Hill saw the sky engulfing inferno.
Shunsui froze mid-step.
"The old man really has lost it…"
Two figures running through the forest, Yoruichi and Soi Fon—also stopped abruptly.
"That's the Head-Captain's technique," Yoruichi said, face serious.
"This fight ends now. I'll go check the situation!"
"I'm coming too!" Soi Fon said immediately, anxiety flashing in her eyes.
Meanwhile, a figure streaked through Seireitei—Unohana.
Her expression was cold, eyes locked on the blazing column of fire.
The tornado swallowed Shimo completely.
Its range was so vast he hadn't even had time to shunpo away.
Feeling the rotating inferno draw near, Shimo couldn't help admiring it.
"As expected of the strongest and oldest flame-type Zanpakutō."
"If unleashed fully, it could probably destroy all of Seireitei…"
But Yamamoto was restraining himself, mindful of the Seireitei's existence—releasing shikai only because he couldn't go Bankai here.
"Unfortunately for you," Shimo said calmly,
"holding back makes this technique useless against me."
His voice echoed from inside the flames.
Yamamoto remained unmoved—and intensified the flames.
The tornado tightened, compressing the space inside.
"Limitless Sword: Wuji Hisetsu (Boundless Secret Snow)."
Yamamoto's eyes widened in disbelief.
Snow began falling from the scorched sky.
"Snow…? Before Ryūjin Jakka's Shikai…?"
His confusion was answered instantly.
Each snowflake that touched the flame—
severed it.
A blizzard of cuts sliced apart the fiery tornado.
In an instant, the towering inferno vanished,
shredded cleanly.
"So it's a sword style…"
Yamamoto nodded slowly.
"It seems my evaluation of you must rise yet another level."
Shimo emerged from the scattering embers unharmed.
"You flatter me, Head-Captain."
Shunsui and the others finally arrived—
just in time to witness Shimo cutting apart Yamamoto's technique.
Their shock was immeasurable.
Someone was matching Yamamoto, in Shikai, blow for blow.
With neither showing obvious fatigue.
"Old man Yama!"
Shunsui shouted as Yamamoto raised Ryūjin Jakka again.
"What did Shimo even do?!"
"Is it worth going this far?!"
Yamamoto hesitated for the briefest moment.
"Kyouraku Shimo obstructed my pursuit of a criminal—trampling justice underfoot."
"No more words, Shunsui."
"If you wish to block me as well, this old man will not hesitate."
The Head-Captain's overwhelming authority filled the air.
Even facing everyone present, he would enforce his justice.
And yet—
Seeing so many gathered behind Shimo
made something inside him ache faintly.
Perhaps… perhaps the old man was the one mistaken?
Why was everyone standing on the opposite side of 'justice'?
Tension filled the air again.
A clash was moments away—
Until—
A net of spiritual pressure descended over all of Seireitei.
Shimo recognized the signature.
Bakudō #77: Tenteikūra.
"Captains and lieutenants of the Gotei 13,"
came a cold, trembling voice.
"This is Byakuya Kuchiki of the Sixth Division."
"The situation is urgent."
"Everything I am about to say—is the truth."
There was something wrong with his tone.
Even his spiritual pressure seemed unsteady.
"Central 46… has been completely slaughtered."
"The killer is—Aizen Sōsuke."
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