Yamamoto narrowed his eyes, stroking his long white beard with a hint of pride.
"I don't know about other Zanpakutō, but I know you used Ryūjin Jakka."
"The power of Ryūjin Jakka is something I am more familiar with than anyone. While the Reiatsu that forms the flames was completely different, the method of construction was exactly the same."
"I have been with Ryūjin Jakka for thousands of years, never apart, and I know it better than anything else. Did you really think you could fool me with such a petty trick?"
"Never apart? You mean… you sleep with your Zanpakutō every night, just like me?"
Masatsuki's eyes widened in realization.
So that's what kind of old man you are, Yamamoto! I totally misjudged you!
You're more like me than I thought!
No wonder he was able to enhance his Bankai through a thousand years of training.
Normally, a Zanpakutō's power is fixed, and its strength depends entirely on the user's Reiatsu.
But this old man—his Reiatsu had long since reached the absolute peak for a Shinigami, with nowhere left to grow.
The fact that he could further refine his Bankai over a thousand years spoke volumes about how deeply he understood Ryūjin Jakka.
A thousand years!
Masatsuki couldn't even imagine what it must have been like for Ryūjin Jakka to be stuck with this old man every single day.
He silently mourned for the poor Zanpakutō for a moment.
Yamamoto, seemingly angered by the remark, raised a fist and knocked it against Masatsuki's head—a familiar feeling.
Painful, but not harmful.
Yamamoto rolled his eyes. "I'm not like you, brat. I only use Ryūjin Jakka to warm my bed."
"…That sounds even worse!" Masatsuki scoffed, feeling like he could hear Ryūjin Jakka wailing in the distance.
Using a world-destroying Zanpakutō like Ryūjin Jakka as a bed warmer… Only this unreliable old man could come up with something so ridiculous.
Good thing it was Ryūjin Jakka—if it were Hyōrinmaru, the old man would've frozen himself solid while training his Bankai.
Speaking of which… if he remembered correctly, Hyōrinmaru was known as the strongest ice-type Zanpakutō.
And anything with the title of "strongest" shouldn't be ignored.
I wonder if Tōshirō Hitsugaya has been born yet… His hometown is in Junrinan, which technically falls under my territory...
Yamamoto, noticing his student's thoughts wandering yet again, shot him a sharp glare.
Masatsuki met his gaze without flinching.
The two stared at each other for a long moment before Yamamoto sighed.
"Masatsuki."
"Yes, Master?"
Seeing Yamamoto's serious expression, Masatsuki quickly set aside his joking demeanor and responded earnestly.
"Starting today…"
Yamamoto paused, tapping his cane against the wooden floor with a heavy thud before shaking his head.
"No, starting right now—your Zanpakutō is to be considered purely Kidō-based."
"Banshō Senran does not have the ability to imitate other Zanpakutō's Shikai. It merely allows you to use Kidō-based abilities of various attributes."
"If you must use abilities with distinct characteristics, then make sure to eliminate anyone who sees them."
"Whether you are deceiving others or deceiving yourself, you must remember this."
"Until the day comes when you attain strength equal to mine, never reveal its true abilities to anyone."
"If, before then, you tell someone about your powers, they must swear absolute secrecy. Otherwise…"
Yamamoto's eyes sharpened like blades, his entire presence radiating a terrifyingly murderous aura. The sheer intensity of his killing intent sent an involuntary chill down the spine.
Masatsuki knew that the killing intent wasn't directed at him, but at anyone who might become a threat to him.
And that was exactly what he wanted to see.
He had counted on the old man's protective nature—this was one of the reasons he had chosen to reveal his Shikai's true abilities.
If he kept hiding it, he would always be forced to hold back in battle, constantly worrying about slipping up.
And if his abilities were exposed in the heat of combat, it would be even harder to explain.
Better to come clean now.
He understood Yamamoto's personality well enough to make this choice—this was no reckless decision.
Masatsuki Aozaki pondered for a moment before furrowing his brows in confusion.
"But you were able to see through my Shikai. What if others can do the same…?"
"There are indeed others who could see through your abilities," Yamamoto said, shaking his head. "But they are not here, so you don't need to worry."
He was confident in this assessment—not everyone possessed the same level of understanding of their Zanpakutō as he did.
Most Shinigami focused primarily on Reiatsu, often adopting a "just learn how to use it" attitude when it came to their Zanpakutō.
It wasn't until he had reached the limit of his Reiatsu growth that he had begun to dedicate himself to truly mastering his Bankai.
Masatsuki Aozaki took a deep breath and nodded seriously.
Imitating another's Zanpakutō was undoubtedly a powerful ability—but it was also one that would not be well received.
If the Tsunayashiro Clan learned about it, they might turn against him entirely to protect the uniqueness of Enrakyōten.
And other Shinigami—very few of them would be comfortable knowing that their abilities could be copied by someone else.
Hiding his true abilities would not only make others lower their guard, but it would also make imitating Shikai much easier.
Yamamoto really was looking out for him in every way…
Seeing that Masatsuki had understood his meaning, Yamamoto felt slightly relieved and nodded in satisfaction.
This brat was usually unreliable, always stirring up trouble, never showing proper respect to his teacher…
But in some ways, he was eerily similar to himself from a thousand years ago—equally cunning and ruthless.
That kind of personality was a double-edged sword.
Fortunately, he wasn't someone who lacked loyalty.
Masatsuki had chosen to stay behind and fight Kenpachi Kiganjō just to ensure his subordinates could escape.
Cruel to his enemies, but devoted to those close to him.
The former had been the reason Yamamoto was feared a thousand years ago, while the latter had been something he himself had lacked.
Looking at the young man before him, Yamamoto's gaze unconsciously softened.
Perhaps this boy would surpass him one day.
As he was thinking, Yamamoto suddenly looked up toward the entrance of the dojo.
"I'm removing the barrier," he said as a reminder.
Seeing Masatsuki Aozaki make a quick "I'll keep my mouth shut" gesture, he tapped his cane against the floor.
The soundproof barrier surrounding the dojo dissolved into reishi.
With a swift whoosh, a figure appeared at Yamamoto's side, kneeling on one knee.
It was a member of the Inner Court Troop, responsible for delivering orders.
The troop member immediately spotted Masatsuki Aozaki, but suppressed their excitement, lowering their head. Though fleeting, admiration flickered in their eyes.
—This was Masatsuki Aozaki. The man who had killed Kenpachi.
The 2nd Division's 3rd Seat.
The pride of the entire 2nd Division.
Noticing Masatsuki's presence, the messenger did not immediately speak, instead waiting quietly for Yamamoto's command.
Yamamoto, seeing their reaction, was not displeased—if anything, he seemed rather pleased. Maintaining his usual stern expression, he said,
"No need to wait. Speak."
The messenger nodded and said in a low voice, "Reporting to the Captain-Commander, the orders have been delivered to all captains."
"Good," Yamamoto acknowledged. "Inform Lieutenant Sasakibe to make the necessary preparations. The captains' meeting will be held in one week."
"Yes!" The messenger bowed deeply before vanishing in a flash.
Masatsuki Aozaki tilted his head curiously. "Captains' meeting?"
"That's right," Yamamoto nodded. "And you will be attending as well."
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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