Perhaps this structure was what Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni had implemented after forming the Gotei 13. A millennium ago, when the Soul Society clashed with the Quincy, the Gotei 13 functioned as little else but a cold-blooded execution squad. Too many perished on both sides during that conflict. The skies were filled with corpses, and Yamamoto's flames burned long and hot without ceasing.
It was then, amidst the carnage, that he began to reflect on life for the first time-on what Seireitei ought to be-on what kind of world it should preserve.
Standing as the First Division Captain, he looked down upon the walled Seireitei and the vast Rukongai beyond it, home to tens of thousands of souls. He shouldered their endless karma-the intertwined causes and effects spun over centuries-because he was the leader of the Gotei.
Yuta stepped into the First Division barracks and was surprised to find Aizen Sōsuke following close behind.
"Aren't you afraid the Captain will find out and cut you down with his Zanpakutō?" Yuta asked lightly.
"The Captain's Ryūjin Jakka is indeed formidable. Even Yhwach from centuries past lost to him," Aizen replied with his usual smile. "It's unfortunate… quite unfortunate…"
With Kyōka Suigetsu's hypnosis already woven, most of Seireitei-and especially the Gotei 13-were under his illusion. He and Yuta passed through the First Division undisturbed. There were no guards; Yamamoto's overwhelming spiritual pressure was deterrent enough to any ordinary foe.
Yuta approached the Captain General's desk and placed down the documents in his hand. "I'm here to apply to join the Corps. I want to become Captain."
Yamamoto read over the papers and set them down. That Yuta was ahead of schedule didn't shock him-his spiritual pressure was already at captain-level-but to graduate and apply for captaincy after just days in the academy was rare. Stranger, even, was that he requested placement in the Kidō Corps. Kidō wasn't about innate strength; it required years of study. How many spells could someone master in less than a week?
Even if some viewed Yuta's actions as reckless youthfulness, Yamamoto believed reality would quickly instruct him otherwise. He rose from his seat and took Yuta with him, moving swiftly through flash step. Before leaving the barracks, he grabbed a wooden sword.
Their destination was the outskirts of Rukongai, where the surrounding terrain was sparse and lifeless. The faded vegetation and cracked ground added to the feeling of abandonment. In that silence, it felt as though the entire world had narrowed to just two people.
Facing one another were Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni-with his imposing figure, cross-shaped scar, and flowing white beard-and Hideki Yuta, robed in white with three swords at his hip. Chojiro waited at the perimeter, prepared but silent.
Yamamoto raised the wooden sword and held it horizontally. "All you must do is destroy this sword with Kidō. Use any method you see fit."
His eyes drifted to the three Zanpakutō at Yuta's waist. It was exceedingly rare. Most Shinigami only formed one. Even dual-wielding had been seen only in Kyōraku Shunsui and Ukitake Jūshirō-yet Yuta carried three. Clearly, there were details Yamamoto was not privy to, though he did not question further. Shoulders relaxed, he stood ready, as though nothing could move him from his place-not even time itself.
Potential flared in the atmosphere. One side-an immovable mountain forged over centuries. The other-a young man who had already been called abnormal by those who had seen him fight.
From the sideline, Aizen watched with folded arms. This match intrigued him far beyond any normal curiosity. Yamamoto, the undefeated veteran and the peak of Shinigami power in Soul Society. Yuta, the boy whose spiritual pressure could already defy classification.
It would be worthwhile to see if Yamamoto held hidden cards and how far Yuta could reach in this state. It was strategic intelligence gathering-and perhaps entertainment as well.
Yuta raised his hand slightly. "You're not even using Ryūjin Jakka? Isn't that overconfidence?"
Yamamoto remained straightforward and calm. "I'm not joking with you."
Spiritual pressure surged from his body with the declaration. The ground cracked beneath his feet, webbing out in jagged lines. The very soil of Rukongai trembled. Chojiro stepped back instinctively, overwhelmed by the pressure hanging in the air. It had been many years since he last saw Yamamoto act, and even now the weight of his power hadn't dulled.
Facing him felt no different than standing before the mouth of a volcano.
Wind roared around them, catching in the folds of their uniforms and pulling at Yuta's hair and Yamamoto's beard. Only Yuta and Aizen remained unmoved-unimpressed by the force that bent the trees and kicked up clouds of dust from dead earth.
"Old Man Yama really doesn't know how to enjoy himself," Yuta commented, calm as ever.
Yamamoto peered at him and nodded once. "Your spiritual pressure is decent."
He had heard from Kyōraku Shunsui that Yuta's spiritual pressure was at the level of captains. And indeed, there were variations even among captains. Yet here Yuta stood-still and composed under pressure that should have staggered most opponents. It was proof enough that he already stood among the top.
Yuta lowered his arm and spoke clearly. "Secret Hadō Number Three: Iron Wind Kill."
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