CHAPTER 367: CHAPTER 367: WHAT IF IT CONCERNS THE SAFETY OF THE SOUL SOCIETY?

"Is there anything else you need?"

Knowing that two of the most dangerous criminals—Mazuru and the Kenpachi Azashiro—had joined forces, Captain Yamamoto’s expression was grim. The storm of conspiracy brewing against the Soul Society weighed heavily on his mind. His voice was low, indifferent, even as he looked at Kyouraku Shunsui.

"There is indeed something."

Shunsui answered calmly. Then he smiled slightly and added, "After returning from Hueco Mundo, I suddenly remembered that a new tavern opened recently in Rukongai. Would you like to join me for a drink, sensei?"

"It might help lighten our mood a little."

Captain Yamamoto’s first reaction was to reprimand him—as he always had when Shunsui suggested something so casual in the middle of a crisis. But this time, the scolding never came.

He heard something else in his student’s words.

Shunsui never used the term "sensei". He had always called him "Old man Yama". Even in private. Especially in private.

Now, suddenly, he used a formal address. It wasn’t habit—it was intent.

Yamamoto narrowed his eyes and studied Shunsui’s face. Serious. No trace of the usual playful grin. He understood at once.

"Since you want to drink." Yamamoto said quietly, "This old man will accompany you."

He informed his lieutenant, Sasakibe Chojiro, then departed Seireitei alongside Shunsui. The sight of the Captain-Commander and the Eighth Division Captain walking together down from the white stone corridors into Rukongai turned a few heads—but they were, after all, master and student. It raised no true alarm.

Shunsui led Yamamoto through the winding outskirts of Rukongai. Eventually, they arrived at a modest tavern with no flashy signs or advertisements. The wooden eaves were slightly weather-worn, the paint faint and chipped. It was, by every measure, ordinary.

Yamamoto immediately understood—this was no pre-planned invitation. Shunsui had chosen it at random. This was about privacy, not pleasure.

They stepped inside, and Shunsui requested a private room. Once seated, Yamamoto didn’t waste time.

"Speak."

He kept his tone low, but it carried the weight of steel. There was no mistaking what he meant.

He hadn’t missed how unusual it was for Shunsui to bring him out here, away from the walls of Seireitei. After learning about Urozakuro’s ability to fuse Seireitei with Azashiro and observe everything within, Yamamoto was no longer so quick to trust the silence of familiar halls.

Shunsui’s voice dropped. "I pursued that arrancar woman into Hueco Mundo. There, I ran into him."

There was no need to say the name.

Yamamoto’s expression immediately darkened.

"I fought him. Used Bankai." Shunsui said, sipping quietly from the warm sake in front of him. "Still lost. He’s stronger than he was a year ago."

Yamamoto’s jaw clenched. "He is a traitor. Regardless of strength, his sins remain unforgivable."

That line—firm, unshakable—was his last pillar. He would not bend, no matter how far Mazuru’s power had grown.

Shunsui didn’t argue. He respected Yamamoto too much for that. Instead, he shifted the subject slightly.

"There was something else. Something he told me. I’m not sure if it’s true."

Yamamoto grunted. "There is no reason to believe a traitor’s lies."

"But what if it concerns the safety of the Soul Society?"

That made Yamamoto pause. His eyes, aged and sharp, narrowed.

Shunsui continued, "Do you remember the war... thousands of years ago?"

Of course he did.

Yamamoto had fought countless battles over the centuries. But the war against the Quincy—that war had seared itself into memory like a scar across time. It had been the most brutal campaign he had ever led.

"You’re not suggesting...?"

Shunsui nodded. "He told me the one you defeated... never truly died. That he survived. Hiding in the shadows. Waiting for revenge."

Yamamoto immediately slammed his hand down on the table.

*Thud.*

"Impossible!"

He had faced Yhwach with his own blade. He had seen him fall. He was certain.

But Shunsui didn’t flinch. "I know. That’s what I said too. But then he told me more. That the quincy remnants created a space within the shadows of Seireitei itself—a spiritual realm undetectable to our senses."

Yamamoto frowned. "...Do you have any proof?"

"No." Shunsui shook his head. "It’s all hearsay from him. But he mentioned a name—a man who might know the truth."

He whispered the name across the low table.

"...Urahara Kisuke."

Yamamoto’s face hardened further.

Urahara—brilliant, enigmatic, always two steps ahead. It had been Urahara’s plan that tipped the balance against Aizen in the last battle.

Even he hadn’t predicted Mazuru’s betrayal, but there was no denying his intelligence.

Yamamoto remained silent for a moment. Finally, he sighed.

"No wonder you brought me out here."

Shunsui nodded. "If what he said is true—if the shadow realm exists—then anything spoken inside Seireitei could already be compromised."

After what had happened with Kenpachi Azashiro, nothing seemed impossible anymore.

"If Seireitei’s shadow holds the quincy..." Yamamoto muttered, "Then the enemy is already inside the walls."

They could not act rashly. Could not speak openly. Could not even summon the full Gotei 13.

Shunsui leaned closer. "We need to get in touch with Urahara. Quietly."

Yamamoto gave a grim nod. "Captain Sui Feng can contact Shihoin Yoruichi. Use her to relay the message."

A few days later, far from the central axis of Seireitei, in the quietest stretch of Rukongai, three figures met beneath the cover of dusk.

Shunsui. Yamamoto. Urahara.

It was the first time since Aizen’s fall that these three minds sat together.

"Captain-Commander." Urahara greeted with his usual half-grin, fan fluttering. "It’s been too long."

*****

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