[Seven Days Later]
A continuous rain that had lasted three full days finally came to an end, as if even the sky of Soul Society had completed its final mourning for the old man's departure.
When the first ray of morning light pierced through the heavy clouds and fell upon the freshly turned soil of Sokyoku Hill, an unprecedented grand funeral finally drew its heavy conclusion.
There were no elaborate eulogies, and no hypocritical wails.
Tens of thousands of Soul Reapers, dressed in the most solemn black mourning clothes, spread across the streets of the entire Seireitei like a black tide, extending all the way to the foot of that barren hill.
They stood in silence, merely lowering their heads in unison, offering the highest respect toward that direction.
The strongest Soul Reaper, who had suppressed Soul Society for two thousand years and founded the Gotei 13, the man named Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni, had finally, on this morning, completely become a cold line of text in the pages of history.
His tomb was deliberately placed by Rosse at the very summit of Sokyoku Hill.
That was one of the highest points in Seireitei, and also the place where Captain-Commander Yamamoto burned away the last spark of his life.
The terrain here had once been completely vitrified by that extreme heat, but under the reconstruction of spiritual particles by Rosse and the others, it had returned to its original appearance as a barren hill.
Only the enormous execution frame, the Sokyoku, was gone. In its place stood a massive obsidian tombstone, uncarved, retaining the rough texture of the raw stone.
Only a single name was left on the monument. There were no additional inscriptions.
Captain-Commander Yamamoto rested here quietly, sleeping forever at the highest point of Soul Society.
While alive, he had been like an untouchable blazing sun, overlooking this land with absolute violence and authority, using his own strength to suppress all chaos and sin deep within the shadows.
Even in death, he chose this place closest to the sky, closest to Seireitei, to become an eternal beacon.
The wind blew across the mountaintop, lifting several yellowed fallen leaves and sending them swirling down before the black tombstone.
It almost seemed as if one could still faintly hear the old man's deep and stern voice echoing through the wind.
The flames had gone out.
But the land that had once been warmed by his embers and scorched by his fire had nevertheless welcomed a new morning. One without a sun, yet one that still had to keep moving forward.
The afterglow of the old era had completely faded.
And the shadow of the new era was silently spreading from behind this tombstone.
The funeral music gradually faded. The wind carried a chilling stillness.
At the highest point of Sokyoku Hill, in front of the newly erected black tombstone of Captain-Commander Yamamoto, a far more important ceremony, one that concerned the future of Soul Society, began quietly.
This was a moment of transition between the old and the new.
Under the breathless gaze of the remaining nine captains, eight vice-captains, and the tens of thousands of Soul Reapers behind them, Matsumoto Rangiku, her expression solemn, held a neatly folded white haori in her hands and walked step by step to the front of the formation.
There, Rosse stood with his back to the crowd, hands behind him as he faced the Captain-Commander's tombstone.
"Captain," Rangiku called softly.
Though quiet, her voice carried clearly across the silent mountaintop.
Rosse slowly turned around.
Under the gaze of the deceased Captain-Commander's spirit, and beneath the intertwined looks of expectation, confusion, and fervor from every Soul Reaper present, Matsumoto Rangiku stood on tiptoe, snapped the haori open in her hands, and with almost reverent solemnity draped it over the man's shoulders.
Whoosh!
The white haori fluttered loudly in the wind.
It was not the traditional First Division Captain-Commander's haori.
Rosse had no intention of abandoning the Tenth Division, nor did he intend to become the captain of the First Division.
It was still the familiar Tenth Division captain's haori. However, beneath the black "ten" character on its back was embroidered a crimson-gold flame blade emblem.
That was the Ryujin emblem, a symbol that only the Captain-Commander was qualified to wear, implemented two days earlier with the unanimous consent of all captains.
This was their final tribute to the old man.
In this matter, Rosse had never been stingy about giving the greatest respect to a defeated opponent.
After inheriting this position, he would raise this haori as his banner and lead this inevitably decaying world toward the end that he had already predetermined.
The moment that haori symbolizing the highest authority in Soul Society settled upon his shoulders, Rosse's presence changed subtly.
No longer the gentle and composed Captain Rosse.
But a true king who held the power of life and death.
Clang!
The Zanpakuto left its sheath, its cold light like snow.
Before everyone, Rosse raised the blood-stained blade high and pointed it toward the sky now cleared of clouds.
His voice was not passionate, yet it struck every heart like a dull thunderclap.
"Everyone."
"From this day forward, I will assume the position of Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13."
Rosse swept his gaze across the crowd, his eyes sharp as blades.
"From this moment on, all of Seireitei will enter the highest level of wartime readiness."
"We do not need meaningless sorrow, nor weak prayers. When facing those enemies who trampled our dignity and murdered our leader, there is only one answer."
"A blood debt must be repaid with blood."
BOOM!
Those brief words were like a spark falling into a barrel of oil that had long since dried, instantly igniting the emotions suppressed throughout the crowd.
"Fight!"
The first roar came from the old man who had just been weeping at the grave.
Sasakibe Chojiro suddenly drew his Gonryomaru, his eyes bloodshot, the final loyalty of the remnants of the old era and the burning fury of vengeance.
"Fight!"
Next came Kenpachi Zaraki's beastlike laughter and the sound of his blade leaving its sheath, followed by Kurotsuchi Mayuri's excited shriek. Not only in response, but also in anticipation of countless experimental materials.
At that moment, regardless of their individual thoughts, every captain and vice-captain was swept up in the torrent and drew their blades.
"Fight! Fight! Fight!"
Tens of thousands of Soul Reapers erupted all at once.
Thousands upon thousands of Zanpakuto left their sheaths simultaneously. The collective ringing of blades and the thunderous roars merged into a visible white wave of sound that shot straight into the sky, scattering the last remnants of clouds.
Since the founding of the Gotei 13 a thousand years ago, the word "Soul Reaper" had represented untouchable nobility and absolute dominion.
In their history, the arrogant Quincy had been annihilated, and the endless Hollows of Hueco Mundo had been suppressed.
They had grown accustomed to being hunters.
Not prey.
Now the balance had been broken.
Their strongest Soul Reaper had been killed, and worse, he had died by the hands of one of their own.
The fear and humiliation of falling from the clouds were, under Rosse's simple incitement, instantly transformed into pure killing intent and fighting spirit.
Even if it was to protect the position they had clawed their way up to from the Rukongai.
Even if it was merely for survival.
They were willing to become the blade in the hands of this new Captain-Commander and tear apart any enemy who dared challenge them.
Amid the deafening roar of the word "fight," Rosse slightly lowered his eyelids, concealing the faint indifferent smile in his eyes.
'Subarashi!' ('Wonderful!')
'From this moment—'
'Soul Society belongs to me.'
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