The spatial rift returning from the Soul King's Palace to the Seireitei had the same accuracy issues as last time.
The moment Kensei and Kirio Hikifune stepped through, they felt their bodies lighten—and began falling.
Wait. Why did this scene feel familiar?
Kensei instinctively looked down. There it was—that familiar human-shaped hole in the roof.
Below, in the First Division barracks' study, Yamamoto sat at his new desk, uncharacteristically reviewing documents. Several days had passed since his unfilial student departed for the Soul King's Palace; he wondered how things were progressing.
Sensing something, Yamamoto set down his brush and slowly looked up.
Kensei and Yamamoto locked eyes.
"?"
For a moment, Yamamoto was frozen. He wanted to ask Kensei why he'd done this again. And wasn't there a proper Tenchūren for returning from the Soul King's Palace?
"Has Old Man Yama's place become some kind of fixed teleport point?"
Kensei was equally bewildered. Every time he opened a portal from elsewhere, he dropped onto Old Man Yama. Couldn't he ever land in some beautiful girl's arms?
The moment Hikifune emerged, she condensed Reishi from the atmosphere beneath her feet, standing steadily in midair.
She glanced down at Kensei, who made no attempt to stabilize himself, and guessed he was plotting some mischief against the Captain-Commander.
Leaving aside that air movement was basic Shinigami skill—the eager grin on Kensei's face said it all.
Kensei pressed one hand vertically against his chest, the other splayed wide, carrying astonishing spiritual pressure downward. He shouted at the stunned Yamamoto below:
"Old Man Yama! Have you ever seen a palm strike descending from heaven?!"
Hikifune's mouth twitched. She could already envision the scene enacted countless times throughout Soul Society.
Yamamoto would thwart Kensei's latest "master-slaying" attempt, then administer his loving iron fist.
Not wanting to get caught between this master-disciple duo, Hikifune decided to depart, leaving them to it.
Amplified by immense spiritual pressure, Kensei's descending palm hadn't even reached its target, yet the wind alone had already destroyed much of the roofing above Yamamoto's study.
Unfortunately for Kensei, Yamamoto wasn't the Fire Cloud Evil God; he wouldn't be pinned to the ground gasping for breath.
The old man rose leisurely, grasping Ryūjin Jakka—disguised as a wooden staff.
This student needed discipline. Left untended three days, and he'd tear the roof off. And here Yamamoto had been worrying about his safety at the Soul King's Palace.
Clearly, it would have been better if the Monk had locked him up there. At least he wouldn't cause trouble the instant he returned.
"Kensei Kenzuru! This old man will discipline his disciple today!"
Yamamoto limbered up briefly, gripping the staff's end like a baseball bat.
Today, he'd teach this little brat a lesson. Next time, the boy might draw his blade!
Having made up his mind, Yamamoto didn't even ask about Kensei's Royal Guard experiences. He just wanted to beat some sense into him.
Kensei's palm met Yamamoto's swinging staff. His descent halted abruptly; a tremendous force traveled up his arm.
"Uwaaaaaah—!"
Kensei flew backward, eyes squeezed shut, destroying Yamamoto's new desk and the documents upon it.
"Old Man Yama! No fair! Why so much force?!"
Yamamoto Shunpo'd after the flying Kensei, grabbing his collar and hauling him back to the wrecked study like one would a misbehaving husky.
"Wretch! Do you admit fault?"
"Yes, teacher. I was wrong."
Dangling from Yamamoto's grip, Kensei deflated, assuming a meek, apologetic posture.
Yamamoto nodded approvingly. His personality-correction fist still worked. That rascal Kyōraku had been straightened out the same way.
"And what exactly were you wrong about?"
"Teacher, my mistake was not going all out—giving you a chance to resist! I promise next time, I'll make it quick and painless!"
Yamamoto's face flushed crimson. His free hand clenched into a fist. This brat's ingrained wickedness exceeded Kyōraku's. Heavy blows were the only answer!
"Hey, teacher, wait! Look at this!"
Seeing the fist approaching, Kensei hastily unsheathed Kūjaku and thrust it toward Yamamoto.
The fist stopped a centimeter from Kensei's face. Yamamoto examined the Zanpakutō, then released his student.
"This is what you achieved at the Soul King's Palace?"
"Of course! A weapon specially forged against the Quincies!"
Kensei, now on solid ground, launched into an elaborate explanation of his newly-concocted anti-Quincy strategy: wide area of effect, high damage, easy to use—whatever sounded good.
Yamamoto felt complex emotions toward his youngest student. So the boy truly was preparing for the future.
Perhaps the Soul King hadn't lost his sight after all—hadn't actually entrusted immense power to a fool.
"Not bad. At least you haven't forgotten your duties."
Yamamoto felt genuinely relieved. Looking at Kensei's Shihakushō, he recalled their first meeting.
He'd thought this student would be Kyōraku 2.0. Compared to Kensei, Kyōraku was still an amateur.
"And this is the Monk's thank-you gift." Kensei produced the Ura Kidō principles, waving them before Yamamoto. "Want a copy, teacher? Boost your own power?"
Yamamoto took the scroll, unrolled it, and read a few lines. His usually closed eyes opened slightly, revealing a dignified expression.
The experienced Yamamoto recognized this thing's value and power deeper than ordinary Kidō.
That scheming Monk wouldn't give this to Kensei as simple thanks for recovering Ikomikidomoe. There had to be a deeper purpose.
"Very well. This old man will copy it first. Later, I'll teach it to you."
Yamamoto narrowed his eyes. If the Monk had embedded some means, he'd discover it after using it himself.
"Until I instruct you in Ura Kidō, refrain from studying it."
"Wouldn't have studied it anyway."
Kensei grinned. Those complex characters gave him headaches. Better to wait until Yamamoto and Sōsuke mastered it, then learn from them.
"Now get lost. And learn some maturity, or I'll hand the Captain-Commander position to Kyōraku."
After quickly copying the Ura Kidō principles, Yamamoto waved Kensei away before he could cause more frustration.
Kensei dismissed the threat with a contemptuous curl of his lip. This old fool—did he really think Kyōraku would accept? And even if he did, he'd probably hand it right back to Kensei.
As a teacher, not understanding one's own students is truly disheartening!
"Fine, fine. I understand."
Kensei tucked the scroll away. Maybe he shouldn't have shared this with Old Man Yama. Would the old man, still possessing both arms, fall for Yhwach's tricks?
Ah, whatever. He couldn't trouble Old Man Yama with something as minor as defeating Yhwach—that would be living off the old man.
As an ambitious man, Kensei would rather live off Sōsuke's soft rice than sponge off Old Man Yama!