"His Majesty commands, please follow me, honored guest."
When Sajidriz spoke, he seemed completely oblivious to the soldiers collapsing around him. His tone and expression were cold, his single eye fixed intently on the monk.
"Oh! Thank you."
Yet, the monk's reaction was surprisingly hearty, or perhaps... naive?
Sajidriz thought, saying nothing, and simply led the way.
Guiding Hyōsube to the grand hall,
the room was empty save for a long, snow-white table used for noble meetings.
Colored glass by the wall cast a stained-glass glow, illuminating one side of the room while casting shadows elsewhere.
Members of the Sternritter stood like lowly guards along the pillars on either side of the hall, their gazes cold and faintly threatening as they watched him.
But as Yhwach's footsteps echoed from the doorway, they averted their eyes, straightening their postures.
To everyone present, His Majesty Yhwach was their undisputed 'God.'
Yhwach stood at the doorway for a moment, as if waiting for something.
Even before arriving today, he had 'seen' what was about to unfold.
To avoid this 'outcome,' he had led the Quincy in relentless relocation across several cities, day and night. But no matter which direction he turned, the result was always the same.
—His 'power' would be sealed today.
Yet, even he couldn't see the process of his own 'sealing.'
It was as if this 'foresight' was being strongly interfered with by some force.
And so, upon seeing Hyōsube Ichibei, even Yhwach himself couldn't help but doubt his own power.
But...
since it couldn't be avoided, he would face it head-on.
As if having come to terms with everything, Yhwach closed his eyes, then opened them again.
As a ruler, even in such circumstances, he must maintain his dignity.
Yhwach entered the hall and took his seat at the opposite end of the table.
After a brief exchange, Hyōsube Ichibei's voice continued, just as Yhwach had 'known':
"I have only one purpose here."
"To sign a non-aggression pact between the Light Empire and Soul Society, Yhwach."
The monk smiled at him: "Your power is far too dangerous."
"If left unchecked, it could easily destroy all of Soul Society."
Though the details differed slightly,
the monk's tone was just as Yhwach had 'known'—arrogant and detestable.
"...To prevent the destruction this power could cause, let us set boundaries!"
"This is deceit."
"Do you think you can control me with that hand?"
"Or do you think I'm some ignorant child you can fool, Hyōsube Ichibei?"
Yhwach, seemingly tired of listening, suddenly opened his eyes.
In the whites of his eyes, two pupils moved up and down.
"Oh dear."
Hyōsube Ichibei's voice paused: "What troublesome eyes."
Before the words faded, Yhwach's figure shot across ten meters, stepping onto the table and charging toward the monk.
But a massive left hand hovered above the table, blocking Yhwach like an impassable chasm.
His body, like a sword, plunged into it.
Yet, the hand, now reduced to foam, closed tightly, pinning Yhwach in place.
Hyōsube Ichibei's voice echoed from afar:
"However, you're right."
"In the face of the Soul King's true power, you are indeed as weak as an ignorant child..."
"These eyes of yours will never open again before you die."
"Live carefully, Yhwach."
As the voice sounded, the monk, hands tucked into his sleeves, walked toward the door.
Several Sternritter figures suddenly charged toward Hyōsube.
"Stop!"
But Yhwach's voice rang out abruptly.
He covered his eyes, gazing in Hyōsube Ichibei's direction.
Yhwach silently watched Hyōsube Ichibei's figure disappear into the distant corridor, feeling the power within him that was now sealed. A hint of mockery crept into his heart.
'Do you see, Father?'
'Your all-powerful strength is completely beyond your own control...'
'You, who sacrificed everything for this world, becoming a lifeless stone, do you truly still have a reason to exist?'
Yhwach questioned repeatedly in his heart.
Both questioning the already deceased Soul King and questioning himself.
He knew clearly why Hyōsube Ichibei had come to meet him.
He could also sense the darkness and greed lurking deep in the monk's eyes.
The more anchors stabilizing the world, the better.
If he followed that path, the fate of his father, the Soul King, would be his own future.
Could he accept such a future?
"..."
"Never."
"Even if the cost... is accepting death once more."
...
Fujimiya Makoto lay quietly in bed, his hands folded over his chest.
The Hyorimaru rested on his chest.
His expression serene, he performed kenzen.
Since the founding of Seireitei, this was one of the rare holidays he could enjoy, days of doing nothing truly blissful.
Team duties had all been dumped on the unfortunate 'Former 8th Division, 5th Seat.'
Of course, there was a valid reason.
Having just achieved shikai, he naturally needed a long period to teach the broken sword cake-shop-style sweet techniques, ensuring smooth cooperation in the future—since achieving complete shikai, the broken sword seemed to allow him to enter and exit the kenzen space at will.
As for revisiting certain films etched in his memory within the script world... that was another matter.
But today, before Fujimiya Makoto could begin kenzen, the broken sword's childish voice suddenly sounded in his ear.
The reminder was incredibly swift.
[Fujimiya-kun!]
[Something's coming in from outside!]
What was it?
Fujimiya Makoto instinctively withdrew from kenzen.
When he opened his eyes, he saw a small origami crane perched on his windowsill.
He paused.
Until he sensed the spiritual traces enveloping the crane, he realized whose message it was.
Unfolding the paper, there was only one line of hurried, brief text.
[The neighboring palace is unresponsive, suspected to have left Soul Society, a first in a millennium.]
Fujimiya Makoto's pupils constricted instinctively.
The 'tool' he had planted beside Niba Niiyoru had finally borne fruit.
But it brought no good news.
Fujimiya Makoto walked barefoot to the window.
The crane in his hand dissipated into scattered light in the fine spiritual traces.
His expression grave.
The war horn was about to sound.