Chōjirō Sasakibe stopped before the imposing gates of the First Division headquarters and stepped aside in silent indication.
Yanagawa crossed the broad threshold alone.
The interior was not as oppressively severe as he had expected—yet it felt deeper, more profound.
The vast space was dimly lit, the air thick with a solemn presence shaped by the passage of time and immense spiritual pressure.
Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto, the Captain-Commander, was not seated upon a raised dais.
Instead, he stood in the center of the hall—vast as a training dojo—both hands resting on his ancient staff, his back as immovable as a mountain.
“You’ve arrived.”
His voice, aged yet powerful, echoed through the hall.
As Yamamoto turned, there was no usual harshness in his expression—only the measured gaze of someone assessing a familiar presence.
“Yanagawa of the Kido Corps.”
“Captain-Commander,” Yanagawa greeted with proper formality—respectful, but without servility.
His eyes swept the room.
Aside from the two of them, no one else was present, not even Sasakibe.
“No need for such formality,” Yamamoto said as he stepped closer.
His weathered gaze settled on Yanagawa, and, unexpectedly, he began with casual inquiry.
“How fares the Kido Corps of late?
The maintenance of the Senkaimon, the stability of the barriers—these are the very foundations upon which the Seireitei operates.
Your responsibilities are not light.”
Yanagawa felt a flicker of surprise, though his expression remained composed.
“Thank you for your concern, Captain-Commander.
My colleagues each fulfill their duties.
Everything proceeds as usual.”
His answer was measured and proper—but his unease quietly deepened.
Yamamoto Genryūsai was not a man who idly concerned himself with the routine affairs of a technical division.
The Captain-Commander took a slow step, then shifted the topic.
“I did not summon you here today for any matter of my own.”
Yanagawa’s attention sharpened.
Here it comes.
Yamamoto turned slightly, his gaze falling toward a corner of the hall shrouded in shadow, where even the dim light failed to reach.
“The one who wishes to see you… is this individual.”
As if responding to his words, the empty darkness rippled like water.
No one stepped out from the shadows.
Rather, the darkness itself gathered and took shape.
A presence unlike any Shinigami within the Seireitei spread soundlessly through the hall—older, deeper, as though it brushed against the fundamental laws of the world itself.
The ambient Reishi seemed to grow heavy, subdued beneath it.
As the shadows receded, a towering figure clad in a monk’s attire emerged.
He was massive, broad-shouldered, dressed in simple robes, with a string of large, dark prayer beads hanging around his neck.
His features were rugged, yet his eyes held a depth of wisdom and age.
Simply standing there, he felt like a world unto himself.
Even Yamamoto’s overwhelming spiritual pressure—enough to suppress all of Soul Society, seemed almost… ordinary beside the aura this man exuded.
“Yanagawa of the Kido Corps.”
The monk spoke, his voice deep like a resonant bell.
It carried no oppression—only a strange, calm authority.
“And you are?” Yanagawa asked, maintaining courtesy, though his mind was fully alert.
Spiritual power flowed silently within him like quicksilver, ready to respond to any sudden change.
For someone to appear so effortlessly at the heart of the First Division, and to be treated this way by Yamamoto—their status needed no explanation.
“I am Ichibē Hyōsube,” the towering monk said slowly, his gaze steady.
“I come from the Royal Palace… the Royal Guard.”
The Royal Guard.
The Royal Palace.
Even with Yanagawa’s limited understanding of Soul Society’s upper hierarchy, those titles alone were enough to shake him.
They stood above the Gotei 13—directly serving the foundation of the world itself, the Soul King.
And yet, he was merely a Kido Corps member.
Why would someone of this level appear before him?
“Surprised?” Ichibē seemed to see straight through him, a faint, unreadable smile touching his lips.
“There’s no need for concern.
I haven’t come to question you… nor to judge you.”
He paused.
What he said next cracked the composure Yanagawa had maintained until now.
“I am here under the Soul King’s will… to extend an invitation.”
…An invitation?
From the Soul King?
Yanagawa froze.
This went far beyond anything he had imagined.
At most, he had expected that some of his unconventional research might have drawn attention—perhaps a warning, or an investigation.
But an invitation?
And from the Soul King himself?
Ichibē continued, his voice calm yet vast in presence:
“As for why the Soul King has taken an interest in you… even I don’t fully understand.”
He shook his head slightly, the heavy beads at his neck shifting with a soft sound.
“But the Soul King always has his reasons.
Perhaps there’s something about you… something even you haven’t noticed yet, that’s rather intriguing.”
His gaze swept over Yanagawa with unmistakable curiosity—like one examining a rare and unexpected discovery.
The sheer volume of information was overwhelming.
As Yanagawa processed it at high speed, a thought surfaced in his mind:
The Soul King has noticed me… for unknown reasons.
This world really is far more complex than it appears.
…And the Soul King certainly has a discerning eye.
Before he could speak, Ichibē continued in a tone almost casual—like introducing his own organization:
“The Royal Guard exists outside the Gotei 13, directly under the Soul King.
Our primary duty is to protect the Royal Palace.”
“The members… are those who have made great ‘creations’ in Soul Society—individuals recognized and elevated for their contributions.”
“‘Creations’?” Yanagawa immediately caught the keyword.
“Indeed.” Ichibē nodded.
“Those who invented the Shihakushō, established the foundational theory of artificial souls, built the communication systems, or pioneered essential paths in healing and restoration…”
“All of these are cornerstones that shaped Soul Society as it exists today.”
Yanagawa fell into thought.
He remained silent for a moment, not out of fear, but because, after the initial shock, he was rapidly regaining composure and weighing his options.
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