His Schrift—the power of mass slaughter.
The more he kills, the stronger he becomes. The more powerful his victims, the greater his strength grows. A style that thrives in battle—growing stronger with every foe felled.
After revealing his identity, he immediately activated his Quincy medallion.
Just as Kujo Nozomi was about to draw her Zanpakutō, Yamamoto Genryūsai interrupted her.
"Leave this one to me."
Unohana gave a slight nod, and Nozomi had no choice but to sheathe her blade.
"Hmph! Old man! Bankai! Kōkō Gonryō Rikyū!"
In an instant, the skies above the Soul Society turned dark—thunder rumbled and lightning tore through the heavens!
A majestic palace formed of lightning loomed over the battlefield!
The familiar sight stirred Yamamoto's memories—it felt like seeing Chōjirō Sasakibe in his prime once more.
Well, Chōjirō isn't dead yet—just wounded...
Yamamoto slowly closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the memories of the past.
On the other side of the storm, Berci let out a maniacal laugh.
"Feeling nostalgic, are you? I heard it's been over two thousand years since that guy last used his Bankai! You should be grateful to me for letting you see it again!"
As Berci spread his arms wide, summoning down bolts of thunder onto Yamamoto, the old man stood motionless.
The terrifying lightning raged across his body—but he didn't move an inch.
As if mesmerized by the sight of that long-lost Bankai, Yamamoto's mind drifted back—two thousand years ago…
Back then, in the prime of his youth, Yamamoto Shigekuni had founded a school called Genryū.
He served as the Sōshihan, the head instructor. At the time, he bore a single scar on his forehead that looked like the kanji "丿"—and so, people started calling him "P-kami."
Though he disliked the nickname, it stuck due to its catchiness. The more he protested, the more it spread.
Many young warriors sought to join his school, including Chōjirō Sasakibe.
But unlike others, Chōjirō didn't just want to learn—he wanted to become Yamamoto's right hand.
Back then, Yamamoto didn't take him seriously, thinking he was just another hopeful rookie. He hated that Chōjirō insisted on calling him P-kami-sama.
To brush him off, Yamamoto said, "You'll never learn from me again!"
To his surprise, Chōjirō mastered Bankai in just a month.
And during their first real spar, he left a second scar on Yamamoto's forehead.
Although Yamamoto was impressed by Chōjirō's talent, he pretended otherwise, calling his Bankai "an infant's toy."
But Chōjirō didn't care. He vowed to devote his entire life to honing that Bankai until it became worthy of serving P-kami-sama.
From those words, Yamamoto recognized the young man's sincerity.
He allowed Chōjirō to remain by his side.
Soon after, the scars on his forehead formed a cross, and people began calling him "Cross-kami."
But Chōjirō refused the new nickname. He insisted, "Your name will always be P-kami-sama to me."
Yamamoto still didn't like it—but he had grown too fond of Chōjirō to drive him away.
Thus, he renamed himself: Genryūsai, Yamamoto Shigekuni Genryūsai.
Standing beneath the storm, the fire elder bathed in lightning and memories.
And then he opened his eyes.
Facing Berci's crazed laughter, with thunder lashing around him and failing to even leave a mark, he muttered:
"Chōjirō... You must be so angry right now. I understand. The Bankai you poured your entire life into... It was never just this weak!"
"All things in creation turn to ash—Ryūjin Jakka!"
With a furious roar, Yamamoto dashed forward—and in a single swing, reduced Berci to ashes.
Completely disintegrated—body and soul.
Sasakibe's revenge… was avenged with one blow.
Nearby, Hisagi Shūhei stood frozen, unable to form words.
Yamamoto approached him slowly.
"Do not fear. I will personally reduce every last one of these traitors to ash!"
His killing intent surged like an overflowing tide.
He vanished with a Shunpo, soaring like a meteor toward that familiar Reiatsu from a thousand years ago!
The massive spiritual pressure erupted like a sunburst across Soul Society!
It was a signal. A beacon.
All the struggling Shinigami and Captains looked up with renewed spirit.
Though Unohana now held the title of Captain-Commander, to them, the true pillar of the Soul Society was always this man—Yamamoto Genryūsai.
With a helpless smile, Unohana turned to Nozomi.
"That old man… still so hot-headed, even at his age. Come. Let's go meet this so-called King of the Quincy."
Nozomi nodded and released her Zanpakutō.
"Spin, Getsurin!"
Now merged with Inaba Kagerōza's spiritual energy, her Zanpakutō had evolved.
As Nozomi spun her blade, she and Unohana vanished—teleporting directly to the battlefield.
They arrived just as Yamamoto, wreathed in flames and spiritual pressure, landed behind the one holding Kenpachi in his grasp…
"The thousand-year gap ends today, Yhwach. I've come to end your life."
"Oh? Yamamoto Shigekuni, is it?"
In an attempt to protect their Emperor, members of the Sternritter rushed forward.
But as Kyōraku once said—Yamamoto's strength defies logic.
Before they could even land a strike, three Sternritter—each comparable to Byakuya—were instantly reduced to burning husks by Ryūjin Jakka's flames.
Yhwach looked upon their charred remains with disdain.
"Fools. Interrupting my fight was always going to be their doom."
His utter disregard for his subordinates disgusted Yamamoto.
Without a word, he swung his blade.
Yhwach countered with Blut Vene—and his Quincy cross transformed into a black dagger.
Exactly what Yamamoto had been waiting for.
Time to unleash everything—
"Bankai—Zanka no Tachi!"
The flames vanished.
Only a scorched, broken blade remained.
Even smaller than Ichigo's initial Bankai.
Byakuya (offscreen): Why am I being mentioned again?! I'm already down!!
Haschwalth, watching from afar, frowned.
But Yhwach narrowed his eyes.
"Do not be fooled. This is no ordinary Bankai. That blade contains the totality of his flames. One swing—and all is reduced to nothing."
"A sword of apocalyptic fire."
Hearing his enemy's words, Yamamoto spoke with quiet pride.
"That's right. A thousand years ago, you saw this Bankai once. But tell me, is what you see now truly the same as before?"
"Let your body be the judge!"
The moment Zanka no Tachi was unleashed, Captains across the Seireitei began to suffer.
Moisture vanished from the air. Throats went dry. Skin cracked.
Unohana looked on grimly.
"If he uses that Bankai too long, the whole Soul Society will burn."
But there was one upside—
Hitsugaya's stolen Bankai was now useless.
Cang Du, who had taken Daiguren Hyōrinmaru, could no longer wield it—because the atmosphere itself held no more moisture.
At least Hitsugaya wouldn't have to fight his own Bankai anymore.
Yamamoto stepped forward and slashed at Yhwach.
But the blade only cut through his cloak.
Strangely, no flames burst forth.
Where had the fire gone?
Puzzled, Yhwach evaded the next slash with Hirenkyaku—but the ground where the blade struck disintegrated into nothingness.
Gone.
A deep, scorched crater remained.
Realization dawned.
"The flames… They've all been sealed into the edge of his blade!"
"Correct."
"This is no longer a sword of fire and flame. This is a blade that contains an infinite, absolute heat, concentrated into a single point."
"Zanka no Tachi: Higashi—Kyokujitsujin!"
Even the strongest Quincy defense—Blut Vene—couldn't withstand it.
With a smirk, Yhwach scoffed.
"Pathetic. All that power—what's the point? I'll just avoid your blade and kill you from a distance!"
He lunged.
But his Quincy dagger vanished mid-swing—disintegrated in an instant.
Yamamoto smiled.
"Didn't I just say? This is only the East."
"And if there is an East…"
The flames surged.
Armor of fire cloaked Yamamoto from head to toe.
"Zanka no Tachi: Nishi—Zanjitsu Gokui!"
Fifteen million degrees.
The flames that now adorned his body were no longer flames—but divine incineration.
It was as if he wore the sun itself.
Haschwalth's voice trembled.
"That's impossible… At that temperature, the human eye shouldn't even see the flames…"
No. Not illusion.
He soon realized—
It wasn't fire. It was Yamamoto's Reiryoku, so dense and powerful it took visible form.
Ultimate offense.
Ultimate defense.
The fire god now approached Yhwach with unstoppable force.
The King of the Quincy trembled—his eyes dry, his throat cracked, his legs paralyzed.
"What's wrong?" Yamamoto growled. "Out of tricks?"
"You can flee—but I'll catch you. I'll slaughter you."
Yhwach's pupils shrank.
Perhaps it was fear.
Perhaps survival instinct.
He gathered his energy and fired a massive Heilig Pfeil at Yamamoto.
But with one lazy swing of his blade, the arrow was erased.
"Useless."
(End of Chapter)
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