"Hi~ Hi~!!"
"Who's the sweet darling calling my name this time… Oh, it's you lot again?"
Oetsu Nimaiya's face nearly filling the screen stretched comically under the lens's distortion. Then, upon recognizing the figures on the other side, it snapped back to its usual composed state. He let out a wry, exasperated quip.
"So, what's the job this time?"
Across the divide, Tsunayashiro Mado, heir to the Tsunayashiro, glowered with a face black as thunder. His voice was a low, seething growl as he berated the God of the Sword on the screen, his expression twisted with fury.
"Oetsu Nimaiya!"
"You didn't uphold our deal at all!"
"You promised to hold back them yourself!"
"Our family delivered every forging material you demanded to the Royal Palace, just as you asked!"
"And now!?"
Mado's voice edged into hysteria, rising sharply, "They've broken through to District 3!"
"Where the hell are you?!"
"Huh? They got through?"
On the other side of the screen, Oetsu Nimaiya seemed mildly surprised. He flicked a booger away with casual indifference before continuing.
"Well, see, given the price you paid, this is about the best I could manage."
Mado's expression froze.
He blinked, bewildered.
"W-What do you mean?"
Oetsu's face was a mask of smug certainty as he counted off on his fingers, "Four star spirit stones, six spirit vein tributaries, one pouch of Soul King Powder, plus a handful of miscellaneous trinkets. Subtract my labor costs… all that adds up to just enough for me to craft you four Zanpakuto."
"I'm Oetsu Nimaiya... master craftsman who honors debts and friendships alike, the one and only seven six five four three two!"
"I said I'd help you once, and I don't go back on my word."
"But come on, weren't you just a bit too stingy?"
Mado stood dumbfounded. "W-Wait, hold on, weren't you supposed to step in personally?!"
"Hey!"
Oetsu's voice dropped, cold and sharp, "Let's get one thing straight. This whole mess started because you lot didn't listen to the Monk and screwed up the three worlds, right?"
"Plus, it's just me and the Monk up here in the Palace! You expect me to descend alone without that Monk's approval? What am I to you a fool? Or do you really think he's blind?!"
"And to top it off, to repay that measly favor from nearly a thousand years ago, I sent sixty of my beloved sweetheart bodyguards down to the Seireitei!"
"Sixty!" He flashed a 'six' with his hand, his voice rising. "Even the grandest debt should be square by now!"
Mado tried to protest, his voice booming, "That's not good enough! We agreed you'd handle it yourself! What use are some Zanpakuto and a guard squad?!"
"Whoa, hold up! Don't underestimate my blades!"
At that, Oetsu's tone leveled out, slipping into a faux-casual boast: "Sure, they're failures, but a Zanpakuto not far off from me stepping in myself."
"See, all I have to do is infuse a bit of my Reiatsu into them, and they'll spawn a clone that lasts about thirty minutes."
"With the scraps you provided, they'd hit roughly Tier-1 Reiatsu, don't even dream of Shikai or Bankai. But setting that aside, those four blades I sent down, paired with four Sayafushi? They could wipe the floor with all five of your noble families combined, no sweat."
"Too bad! If you'd coughed up something rarer back then, I might've juiced those blades up to the pinnacle of shinigami power! Tch."
"Come to think of it…"
"Isn't this all your fault?"
Oetsu slung the blame with a lazy swagger, sidestepping responsibility like oil off water.
"You… you bastard…" Mado's head spun with rage.
"Oh… shiiiiiiiiiiiet!!"
As if struck by a sudden thought, Oetsu's voice sharpened with urgency. His elongated face loomed back into the lens, barking.
"Hey, hey, hey!"
"Wait! You just said all four of those blades are toast, right?"
"Forget the Zanpakuto materials for now, those four Sayafushi they're holding? You haven't paid for them yet!!"
"Even if your family's about to be wiped out, settle my invoice first, you Tsunayashiro jerk! And don't forget the emotional distress fees for my sweetheart-"
Click!
Before that terrifying figure could escape Oetsu's lips, Mado slammed the Royal Palace communicator shut. His fist crashed onto the desk with a dull thud, a roar of frustration tearing from his throat.
"Damn that bastard!!!"
As he bellowed, on the verge of smashing everything in sight, a slow, weary sigh drifted from behind him, its timbre aged and gravelly.
"Enough, Mado."
Mado's movements stilled. With some effort, he turned to look back.
Tsunayashiro Shogo sat calmly on the floor.
His eyes were closed.
Across his lap rested a simple, ancient tachi, its design stark and unadorned.
"F-Father…"
Tsunayashiro Mado's lips trembled as if struggling to find words.
Yet, beholding his father's current state, Mado found himself momentarily speechless.
It had been a mere two months since the day of his wrath, but Shogo seemed to have weathered decades centuries, even of relentless erosion.
Once a blend of black and white, his long hair had turned wholly silver. The vigor that once sharpened his features had dulled into weary age, his skin sagging in loose folds. In an instant, he'd transformed from a man of fifty into an elderly figure of seventy or eighty, akin to a human of the living world.
Tsunayashiro Mado gazed silently at his father.
For an entire month, Shogo had sat here, motionless, devoted to completing that secret technique without sleep or respite.
Now, with his voice breaking the silence...
It meant…
The technique was finished.
And the price, naturally, was the old man's life.
"To have delayed them this long is enough."
Shogo rose slowly from the floor.
Though his form bore the weight of age, the moment he stood, it was as if mountains of gravitas converged upon him. He strode forward with deliberate, unshakable resolve.
He opened his eyes, casting a glance at his heir, a faint sigh stirring within.
Compared to Ogata's fearless defiance in the face of death, Mado fell far short.
If only…
A fleeting, trivial thought crossed the mind of Shogo, a man already destined for death. He shook his head slightly, a wry amusement tugging at him.
"Father, give me one more chance."
Mado couldn't hold back his plea, "That rabble is still some distance from the Seireitei. At worst, we can hold out underground!"
"That bastard Oetsu said he could craft a Zanpakuto capable of unleashing a Shinigami's ultimate power."
"If we could wield such a weapon, even that wretch Yamamoto-"
"Fool."
With a single, curt rebuke, Shogo shattered his son's final delusions.
His voice was steady, "No matter how strong a blade, how could it ever rival a person?"
As he spoke, he lifted his gaze.
Above, in the underground chamber, heavy curtains hung like drapes.
Reflected upon them were scenes of four Oetsu Nimaiya falling to different shinigami.
The first perished beneath Yachiru Unohana's crimson blood blade.
The second was cleaved in half by Kinroku Izuhara's eerie spatial cut.
The third had his eye socket pierced by the blood-drenched Batsu'unsai Katori's naginata.
And the last…
Shogo's eyes lingered on that final curtain.
A tidal wave of fire, rolling forward like a mountain, crushed all feeble resistance with overwhelming might.
Sayafushi, a blade that can slice through high-density Reishi, was as insignificant as a grain of sand before a tsunami in the face of that sun-hot inferno. It vanished in an instant.
Then, even the 'blade'-forged body turned to ash in the blink of an eye.
Utterly powerless.
Shogo watched the figure at the fire's heart—a man in black, his hair styled in a traditional chonmage, exuding the air of middle age.
"Genryusai Shigekuni... Yamamoto "
All who stood in his path were reduced to cinders.
Shogo's gaze grew distant.
This was the foe he would end with his life.
"Ha… haha… hahahahaha!"
A sudden, hearty laugh burst from Tsunayashiro Shogo, unrestrained.
"Not bad."
Yet beside him, Mado's face was etched with sorrow as he witnessed the scene.
Clearly, this was a desperate gamble wagering family, life, and future.
Shogo strode toward the door.
As his son, Mado could only trail behind.
Pausing at the threshold, Shogo turned, his voice hoarse as he addressed his heir.
"Mado."
"It's up to you from now on."
At that moment, Mado's expression froze.
For the first time in centuries, he heard his father speak to him in a tone of plea.
With those final words...
Tsunayashiro Shogo stepped out the door.
…
The Genji School forces converged in North District 20 of the Rukongai, a coiled serpent of might stretching across the road, surging toward the Seireitei with unstoppable momentum.
Along their path, nobles great and small, commoners, even the beasts of the forests all fled in terror.
The oppressive weight of hundreds, thousands of powerful Reiatsu gathered in one place defied simple description.
Especially those marching at the forefront.
Leading the charge was none other than Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto.
Behind him followed a retinue of instructors and masters, drenched in blood.
Though Oetsu Nimaiya had spoken lightly, the toll exacted by his four blades and guard squad was undeniable both in pressure and casualties.
Wounded figures peppered the Genji School, some limping into battle.
Blood stained every one of them, to varying degrees.
Yet it was precisely this that lent them an even fiercer, more murderous aura.
All present understood one truth.
This was the final battle.
Breach the Seireitei, and seize control of the Soul Society.
Then, they would emerge as the victors of this war!
Buoyed by this resolve, every soul stood with fervor blazing in their hearts.
District 3.
District 2.
At last, they reached District 1 - Junrinan.
The moment they stepped into this region, what should have been the bustling heart of the Rukongai lay desolate, devoid of life.
A colossal wall of Sekkiseki, the Soul Society's final bastion, descended from the sky, encircling the vast Seireitei in an impregnable fortress of frost-white stone.
An invisible ripple pulsed outward from the Sekkiseki ramparts, enveloping the Seireitei in a protective membrane. Even mid-tier Kido above the 30s would scarcely scratch its surface.
"We swear to defend the Seireitei to the death!"
"No quarter for the rabble!"
"Offer our lives to the Soul King!"
Shouts rose in a relentless chorus from beyond the towering wall, grating on the ears.
Many among the Genryu forces craned their necks, gazing up at the monolithic barrier that seemed to blot out the sky.
For many, it was their first time here.
Yet within each heart burned an ineffable yearning for the world beyond that wall.
For tens of thousands of years...
Had the divide between commoners and nobles been reduced to this single barricade?
A nameless fire kindled in their souls.
Its heat seemed to radiate into Yamamoto's chest, igniting him in turn.
Makoto stood among the ranks, peering ahead.
Then, Yamamoto strode forward, overtaking the crowd toward the massive gate.
The gargantuan portal, akin to a mountain, dwarfed the lean, middle-aged figure less than six feet tall into a stark, oppressive contrast, like an ant challenging a tree.
Yet all knew the terrifying power coiled within that unassuming frame.
Yamamoto drew his long blade, stepping before the gate.
Silently, its edge transformed, igniting.
Ryujin Jakka.
He raised the sword toward the gate, a torch to set hearts ablaze.
Then, with unwavering resolve, he brought it down!
"Jōkaku Enjō!"
His distinctive, gravelly roar thundered forth.
A torrent of flames wilder and hotter than a tsunami erupted from his body. Crimson fire engulfed the wall, devoured the outermost barrier, and set ablaze even the Sekkiseki, with its Reishi-dissolving properties.
One man's power incinerated a city.
As for the gate barring his path? It was beneath mention.
The moment he stepped forward, the Sekkiseki gate melted like a curtain of water, consumed by the inferno.
He crossed with ease.
Countless nobles, Executive Militia soldiers, and clan militias shouting and clamoring atop and below the walls were reduced to charred husks amid piercing wails.
Simultaneously, the Genji shinigami surged through the gate like a tidal wave, scattering in all directions.
But as they breached the Seireitei...
Yamamoto's steps slowed to a halt.
He lifted his head in silence.
Atop the grand staircase of the Central Palace, an old man in plain robes descended with a blade in hand, his gait steady and measured.
Tsunayashiro Shogo regarded him quietly, a flicker of curiosity in his tone.
"Shihouin's brat should've already tipped you off about our trump card."
"Even so, you're determined to storm the Seireitei?"
"Yamamoto."
The old man knew full well the weight of his foe's presence here.
Yet…
"Unless I eradicate every last one of you, my heart will never rest."
Yamamoto spoke slowly, a trace of heaviness in his voice.
At that, a faint smile crept across Shogo's aged face.
"Indeed."
"You're more ruthless and decisive than anyone."
"That's why you're Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto."
Hearing this, Makoto's gaze dipped.
The next moment...
Shogo swung his scabbard sharply, striking the air with a heavy thud, as if a drumstick had met an invisible drum. A low, resonant wave rippled outward.
In an instant...
The scene before every eye flickered.
A vast expanse centered on the Central Palace...
The sky and earth shifted!
The ornate halls and palaces vanished.
In their place emerged a lush, verdant prairie.
Shogo's voice was grave.
"Here lies the burial ground I've chosen… for myself and all of you."
This was…
The Tsunayashiro's millennia-guarded secret.
The Valley of Screams - Kyōgoku.
***
Bonus Chapter:
100 Power Stones = 1 BC
300 Power Stones = 2 BC
500 Power Stones = 3 BC
700 Power Stones = 4 BC
1000 Power Stones = 5 BC
***
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