Yhwach slashed downward with his sword.
His blade cut from the upper right to the lower left, and the moment it descended, the world seemed to be consumed by pure white radiance.
All sound disappeared instantly.
It was as if both sound and color had been stripped away from existence itself.
In that silence, one drop of blood fell-then another.
Moments later, blood erupted in torrents, cascading like waterfalls across the shattered earth.
...
Over a thousand years ago, the Seireitei was engulfed in war much like the present time.
Seireitei was surrounded by several concentric walls. From above, the city appeared divided into circular layers-the first ring, the second ring, the third ring-each one enclosing the next.
At that moment, the upper portion of one inner wall had been obliterated by some unknown attack, while the lower portion was riddled with cracks resembling spiderwebs. It looked as though someone had taken a bite from a cookie, leaving the remainder fragile and splintered, ready to crumble at the slightest touch.
And that single "bite" stretched across tens of kilometers. No one knew what kind of attack could wield power of that magnitude.
Boom!
Flames burst toward the sky, rising tens of kilometers high.
Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni stood at the forefront of the Gotei 13, with the captains of the first generation assembled behind him.
Facing Yhwach's army of Quincy, the captains wore calm smiles. The glow of the inferno illuminated their figures, casting stark black-and-white shadows that radiated crushing pressure across the battlefield.
Unohana Yachiru, Captain of the 11th Division, charged first. Descending from the sky, she cleaved her enemy in half with one strike, blood scattering in fine arcs. Her eyes were cold, devoid of hesitation.
Zenjōji Arihime, Captain of the 12th Division, seized two Quincies with her massive hands and smashed their heads together. Bone and flesh burst under her grip as though crushed between millstones.
Saitō Furuo, Captain of the 6th Division, advanced next. Despite her gentle demeanor-an eyepatch and twin ponytails framing her face-her laughter echoed as her opponents vanished into mist and blood, leaving no corpses behind.
Obana Danjirō, Captain of the 5th Division, gripped his blade in reverse and swung once. Four enemies fell in two halves along his path. He was taciturn, but his sword spoke in deathly clarity.
Kanohara Takeunsai, Captain of the 8th Division, severed her opponent's arm with precision. She seemed to take grim satisfaction in dismembering her foes piece by piece.
Kinroku izuhara, Captain of the 3rd Division, adjusted his glasses as he approached his target. With clinical calm, he slit the Quincy's throat and stepped aside as the body collapsed.
Shihoin Chihiro, Captain of the 2nd Division, decapitated his opponent before the Quincy could raise his weapon in defense.
...
Millennia ago, the first generation of the Gotei 13 charged into battle without fear. Quincy corpses accumulated into mountains beneath their relentless advance. Yamamoto Genryūsai remained expressionless as he ascended that mountain of bodies toward Yhwach.
He walked forward like death incarnate, his every step crushing both Quincy and Shinigami alike beneath his sandals. The flames at his feet reduced flesh and bone to cinders, leaving only blackened remains behind.
What Yamamoto Genryūsai felt beneath his steps-whether grief, rage, or indifference-was unknown. What was certain was that he did not hesitate even for an instant.
At that time, to him, enemy or ally made no difference. Every soul was expendable.
Yhwach laughed, raising his cloak as he prepared to face Yamamoto head-on.
Before they could clash, movement stirred among the heap of corpses. It was Chōjirō Sasakibe. From below, he thrust his sword upward, impaling Yhwach through the chest. The blade entered white and emerged crimson.
Yamamoto followed without hesitation, cleaving downward with fire-infused fury. Flames erupted upward, stretching tens of kilometers into the air like cascading infernos, while the mountain of bodies detonated under the impact. The surrounding terrain was scorched to ash for thousands of meters in every direction.
...
Years passed-countless years.
When Kyoraku Shunsui was only a boy, he once discovered a painting inside a secluded room.
It depicted this scene:
On a background of pure white, red flames spread across the canvas. At the center stood the silhouette of one figure-black against the fiery backdrop. The figure's right hand extended outward, the tip of his sword barely visible beyond the flames.
His back faced the painter, his face hidden from view. No one could discern who it was that stood amid that burning world.
Suddenly, the door behind young Shunsui slid open.
"Hey! Shunsui, how many times have I told you not to barge into my room without permission?"
"It hurts! I'm sorry! I said I'm sorry already!"
"What kind of apology is that? You're not showing any sincerity at al-"
Although Yamamoto Genryūsai sounded harsh as he scolded him, the atmosphere between them carried warmth-more akin to that between father and son than teacher and student. It was discipline, not cruelty-a lesson wrapped in stern patience.
"I really am sorry," Shunsui said quickly. "It's just… that painting caught my attention. I was wondering, what's it about? Is that... the legendary God of Fire or someone like that?"
Yamamoto froze for a moment, releasing his grip on the boy's collar.
Shunsui rubbed his shoulder and grumbled under his breath, "Grumpy old man..."
Yamamoto's gaze settled on the painting. "No," he said softly. "It's... not the God of Fire. That was a monster that once appeared in Soul Society long ago. It showed itself during great calamity-but made that crisis even worse before it vanished. And if it should appear again... by that time-"
...
Rain poured down over Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni's head in the present.
His eyes remained half-open, his breathing shallow. Water traced the deep lines of his face, falling from his chin in silent drops. The old man who had faced every storm of battle now looked almost fragile-as though even his tears had mixed with the rain.
With a wet, muffled sound, blood spilled from Yamamoto's mouth.
Moments later, the upper half of his body separated cleanly from the lower half-only his legs remained standing.
"Perhaps… I will not return here again…"
...
Kyoraku Shunsui and Ukitake Jūshirō's eyes widened in shock.
"Old Man-!"
Shunsui shouted the words with grief breaking through his usual composure. Even someone known for his carefree demeanor couldn't disguise the pain now gripping his heart.
Robert Accutrone took advantage of that brief distraction, striking Kyoraku hard with his pistol and knocking him to the ground.
Yhwach stood in the rain, gazing down at the fallen Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni-the upper body lying motionless beside its severed lower half.
Even in death, Yamamoto's right hand refused to release his Zanpakutō's hilt.
"Even the leader of the Shinigami meets his end in tragedy… Yamamoto Shigekuni."
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