Chapter 64: The Headquarters of Heaven Media's Bleach World Branch
After the pillar of light dissipated, Ichibe Hyosube's expression was rather unsightly.
He turned to look at Captain-Commander Yamamoto. The old man still gripped Zanka no Tachi; despite being riddled with horrific wounds, his spirit remained fierce and majestic, standing tall like a god of war.
Ichibe raised his hand and began a chant:
"Ura Hadō: Hōjō no Inori (Hidden Way of Destruction: Prayer of Abundance)!"
A dense, misty green light bloomed from the Monk's hand and fell upon Yamamoto's body, triggering an intense healing effect. In an instant, the surface wounds on the Commander's body were restored as if new, though his severed left hand remained missing.
Ura Hadō was an exclusive skill of the Zero Division. Its essence lay in the application of the Soul King's power, placing it worlds apart from modern Kido in terms of both potency and effect. However, the fact that it was classified as a "Way of Destruction" (Hadō) indicated that it was more than just healing.
The overflowing life force immediately caused a slight mutation in Yamamoto's body; his nerves, vessels, muscles, and bones began to grow abnormally, forcing a muffled groan from his lips. Ichibe used this move not just for its speed, but as a subtle form of discipline.
Next, Ichibe reached out and gripped the charred blade of Zanka no Tachi. With a sharp swipe, blood splattered across the steel, forcibly reverting the blade to its sealed state.
"My, my, Yamamoto. You're at an age where you should know better than to get hot-blooded like a brat, even risking the order of the Three Worlds for it. How unwise. Worse yet, you actually lost. Can you still call yourself the strongest Soul Reaper of the millennium? Can you still carry the burden of guarding the Soul King? In the name of the Zero Division, I temporarily seal your Bankai as punishment..."
It was punishment, but also protection. Ichibe had sensed that the power within Yamamoto was spiraling out of control, preventing Zanka no Tachi from deactivating naturally.
Once the Bankai was released, Yamamoto could no longer hold himself up. He wobbled and fell backward. Shunsui Kyoraku and Jushiro Ukitake rushed to support him, but Yamamoto waved them off. He forced himself to stand straight, looking at the Monk with a raspy voice:
"I did indeed lose. I have lost the title of 'The Strongest.' But this is not the end... far from it..."
In a clash of raw power and will, the two might have been equals. But on every other level, the outcome was decided. Yamamoto's body was aged; it could be wounded, and it could die. Ichigo Kurosaki, however, had effectively beaten Death, manifesting as a miracle upon the earth.
At the moment Ichibe intervened, their conditions told the story: Ichigo's body was physically pulverized, yet his battle intent was a soaring rainbow; Yamamoto's aura was majestic, but his physical form was sustaining catastrophic damage. Had the Monk arrived a moment later, the result would have been self-evident.
Yamamoto might not have "lost" the fight, but he certainly would have died.
Ichibe wanted to say more, but seeing the sun-like, piercing gaze in Yamamoto's eyes, he swallowed his words and shook his head. "Fine. Have it your way."
Ichibe knew everything about Yamamoto. He knew he wasn't a character born invincible. He had suffered many soul-crushing defeats before growing into the man who held the title of the strongest for a thousand years. This defeat might not be a bad thing for Yamamoto, or for the Soul Society as a whole.
To the Nobles, Yamamoto was merely the founder and first manager of the Gotei 13—his status far below the million-year noble bloodlines. But to Ichibe, those Nobles weren't even worth a glance. In his heart, Yamamoto was the first "Soul Reaper King" of the Seireitei era, carrying the divine mandate to maintain the Three Worlds. As long as he didn't give up and could continue to lead, Ichibe was content; it meant less work for him.
"The fellow hiding behind Ichigo Kurosaki played a clever hand," Ichibe muttered, his tone growing heavy. "He took advantage of my descent to slip into the Soul King Palace, intending to offend the King. I don't know how he did it, but it doesn't matter. I'm heading back now to sever that rebellious palm reaching for the King..."
Despite his heavy words, Ichibe didn't look urgent. He seemed to have a trump card, certain that the intruder couldn't succeed so quickly.
"Little Yamamoto, remember what I told you? When the Zero Division calls, the Gotei 13 must shed its last drop of blood. We might not be there yet, but you had best be ready..."
With that, Ichibe stomped his foot and shot into the sky like a meteor, leaving behind a grim-faced Yamamoto.
As the pillar of light faded, the group led by Rukia found themselves in a strange land. No one cared about the location initially; all eyes were on Rukia.
The girl, wearing her bone mask and possessing a non-humanly muscular physique, still radiated an air of supreme dominance. Just standing there, she exuded a majesty that suggested no enemy could stand before her.
Kisuke Urahara was the first to speak. He looked at Rukia with an expression that could only be described as having "watched his dog get kicked."
"Miss Rukia Kuchiki... First, I won't deny that your performance was very bold. But I have one question: if you wanted to ascend to the heavens and create a 'Muscle-Man Era,' that's fine. But why did you have to drag us along when you left!?"
Shinji Hirako and the other Visoreds shared the same pained expression. Their exile had been a necessity; if possible, they had wanted to return to the Gotei 13 as "rehabilitated" officers. By being whisked away as "accomplices" by Rukia—who had just declared a revolution in front of the Monk and Yamamoto—their chances of a peaceful return were now effectively zero.
Aizen, Tosen, and Gin looked equally complex. They were prepared to reveal their true colors, but only when their plan was ready. Now, they had been "kidnapped" into a getaway before they could even say their best lines. Aizen, usually so high and mighty, felt a profound "egg-ache."
But Aizen quickly composed himself. As a mastermind, unexpected turns were part of the game. He pushed up his glasses and smiled gently:
"Regardless, Miss Kuchiki, I must thank you. You allowed us to avoid a premature confrontation with the Zero Division. However, if you have any more 'magnificent' plans, please do let me hear them. This level of spontaneity makes things quite difficult for me."
Rukia's response was simple. Her massive frame rapidly deflated, and her arrogant gaze returned to its cool, refined state.
"I am just a normal, refined lady who occasionally suffers from sleepwalking," Rukia said flatly. "I was asleep just now, so I know nothing. If you have questions, please consult the Demon Muscle Man or the Soul King..."
She wasn't lying. If she had a choice, she would never have performed that "Hair-Slick Ascension" in public. She wasn't looking to "socially die" that quickly!
Urahara felt the sting of a "Clown Boomerang." If he could do it again, he'd hide the Hogyoku in a septic tank before he ever sealed it inside Rukia. Strangely, Aizen felt the same: if he could restart, he'd rather send Kaname Tosen on a blind date with Ichigo than let the "poised and elegant" Rukia go to the World of the Living.
Urahara turned his attention away. "Well, questions aside, Ichigo-kun, are you alright?"
There was no answer. He turned to see that Ichigo had become "Ichigo-Slime," lying on the ground as a heap of shredded meat. Every piece was sprout-ing tiny buds of flesh, trying to recompose. Urahara sighed, finding Ichigo's performance increasingly non-human.
He instinctively pulled out a scalpel to take a sample, but Aizen stopped him.
"This is not the time for research. We can do that in my lab later. I have professional equipment to better 'treat' my dear friend. For now, I think figuring out where we are is more important..."
Urahara looked around.
Towering floating islands. Elegant palace clusters. And... bizarre, writhing dark tentacles and faint screams? It was a scenery that was almost intoxicatingly macabre.
Urahara rubbed his eyes and looked again!
They weren't tentacles. They were eerie, disastrous Shadows spreading across the islands and buildings like living things. The core of this spreading darkness was the soaring white tower at the center of the islands.
The tower wasn't white anymore. It was covered in a thick, sludge-like shadow that throbbed and contracted like a living organ. Countless blood-red eyes emerged from the darkness, spinning manically.
As Urahara stared at the tower, the eyes on the tower stared back at him! There was no mental pressure—in fact, the gaze felt strangely "warm"—but the sheer wrongness of the image made him physically uncomfortable.
Then, a majestic, holy voice echoed:
"My dear actor-angels! Welcome to the former Soul King Palace. I have just completed its 'acquisition' and transformed it into the New Heaven under Heaven Media. I'm currently 'renovating' it into the branch headquarters for the Bleach world. It's a bit noisy; I hope you don't mind..."
Urahara, normally the most composed of men, found himself speechless. Especially when he saw a legendary blacksmith of the Zero Division struggling against a tsunami of shadows in the distance, only to be swallowed whole. He adjusted his bucket hat to hide his eyes and muttered:
"Are you sure you 'acquired' the palace and are 'renovating,' and not 'invaded' the place to start some 'Evil God Descent' ritual?"
"Urahara Kisuke, your doubt wounds me. We've dealt with each other a few times; do I look like that kind of person? Well... congratulations. You guessed right. Or part of it. Some things that are quite 'unpleasant' for you are indeed approaching and descending..."
At that moment, the Monk reached the Soul King Palace. Hovering in the sky, he looked at the shadowed landscape with a face full of helplessness:
"That damn bastard... he loosened the lid of Hell that quickly!?"
End of Chapter
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