Even though Shutara Senjumaru briefly thought of that person, she had no intention of seeking him out.
The man she remembered from the past no longer existed.
Even if certain techniques, tools, and fragments of legacy had been passed down from him, all lingering ties had been severed long ago—terminated the moment she ascended to the Royal Guard (Zero Division) and discarded her former identity along with the garments of the Gotei 13.
Her return to Seireitei had one purpose only: to bring Hikifune Kirio to the Royal Guard and oversee her promotion.
Outside of that duty, Senjumaru intended no contact with anyone.
She was now a being of the Soul King's Palace, and the Zero Division and the Gotei 13 were not meant to intermingle. The two systems existed under completely different laws, purposes, and spiritual responsibilities.
She had just finished reaffirming this to herself when everything changed.
That same night, a pulse of spiritual energy—one she had not felt in decades—rippled through her hidden quarters within the 12th Division.
Senjumaru froze.
"This… impossible."
A faint mist gathered before her, swirling like the breath of a corpse. A figure half-real and half-illusory formed inside it.
In a hoarse whisper, the apparition spoke:
"Rukongai… District Three."
The mist dissipated instantly, and the figure vanished as if swallowed by the surrounding shadows.
Senjumaru stood completely still.
"…This is—the power of Shibito."
Back then, when she served in the Gotei 13, she had been at the side of that man.
She knew the ability of his Zanpakutō better than anyone.
Shibito — "The Dead."
A Zanpakutō whose ability allowed its wielder to manipulate the dead themselves.
Any being that died under its blade became bound to the sword, a corpse-servant compelled to obey.
Most Shinigami would've used such power solely in battle, but he had mastered it to an absurd degree:
– to command the dead to perform daily work,
– to deliver messages,
– even to execute delicate tasks requiring precision.
But the sword should have disappeared with its master's death.
A Zanpakutō dies with its wielder—this was a fundamental rule of the Soul Society.
Yet tonight, Shibito still existed.
"Then… could he be alive?"
The thought struck her heart before she crushed it.
No. His death had been confirmed.
Senjumaru herself had attempted—more than once—to reach his remnants, but every attempt failed.
There was no chance of resurrection.
Which meant the continued existence of Shibito could only have one explanation.
The Tsunayashiro Clan.
A noble family capable of preserving Zanpakutō through forbidden means.
In the distant past, they had once safeguarded a Zanpakutō belonging to one of their ancestors despite the wielder having perished—proof that they possessed the forbidden methods necessary to sustain such impossibilities.
"Then the person who summoned me… is someone from Tsunayashiro?"
Had they been watching the Soul King Palace's descent?
When the Royal Guard traveled between realms via the Tenchūren, the passage of the 72 barriers always created a window during which the barriers remained open.
To a keen observer, that anomaly would be noticeable.
Senjumaru continued to puzzle over it.
Regardless, the message had been sent directly to her using the unmistakable aura of that Zanpakutō.
Emotionally and logically, she could not ignore it.
Her transformation within the Soul King's Palace—her bones reforged by the Soul King's power, her Reiatsu elevated to a state beyond Captain-class—had detached her from the world.
The captains she once served beside now seemed like children compared to her.
And yet—this one remnant of the past still reached her.
She left Seireitei quietly and crossed into Rukongai.
Rukongai — District 3
A calm region of hills and flowing water.
By Rukongai standards, one of the happier, safer districts.
The moon hung bright overhead as the evening wind stirred the tall grass.
There, standing alone beneath the silver light, was a figure wearing a pristine white captain's haori—its back emblazoned with the black kanji for "Eleven."
More shocking still, he carried two Zanpakutō:
one sheathed at his waist, the other held openly in his hand.
The blade he held pulsed faintly with red light, as though fresh blood flowed across its steel.
Senjumaru appeared soundlessly behind him.
Her golden eyes immediately fell on his haori—
and on the sword in his hand.
She had not expected this.
She had assumed a member of the Tsunayashiro clan awaited her.
Instead, it was him.
The man she had resolutely decided not to face again.
"…You?"
For the first time in centuries, Senjumaru's voice carried genuine emotion.
The man turned slowly.
He did not sheath the blade.
His expression was unreadable as always.
"Senjumaru. Long time no see."
Gosuke Shigure.
Ever since completing the research on the Artificial Souls (Gikon) with Hikifune Kirio, Shigure had known the Royal Guard would take notice.
He knew Kirio would eventually be recruited.
And during the long interval in which nothing happened, he waited.
Because the matter of the *other Zanpakutō—Shibito—*required the knowledge and resources of the Royal Guard.
He had expected Tenjirō Kirinji or Ōetsu Nimaiya to be the ones to arrive.
But when he sensed that familiar Reiatsu…
Shutara Senjumaru.
Her.
His past.
A severed tie that had never truly died.
When he finally admitted that truth to himself, he sent the message.
The bonds of a past life could not be cut so easily.
He had thought that reincarnation—rebirth—would wipe away all connections.
But some ties simply refused to break.
Senjumaru had waited for him for a very long time.
And he had failed her.