The iron door of the Secret Base closed behind him with a dull thud.
Yan Si followed the bluestone path toward Rukongai.
The afternoon sunlight slanted down, casting long, thin shadows in the gaps between the stones.
The wooden houses along the road were quiet. Occasionally, a resident poked their head out a window, only to retreat at the sight of his Shinigami uniform.
Hyorinmaru's words still echoed in his mind.
The true nature of the inner world.
When he had entered it before, he had seen that shattered landscape, the scattered floating landmasses, the volcano, and the sun and moon suspended high above. He had assumed it was simply because his head was full of all kinds of nonsense and never given it much thought.
Now he understood.
That volcanic continent represented anger. It had long been on the verge of eruption, magma churning within.
If he had not happened to encounter Hyorinmaru, the strongest ice-type Zanpakutō, which had instinctively suppressed the volcano upon entering, it would probably have erupted long ago.
Likewise, each of those other fractured landmasses represented a severed emotion.
The sun and moon in the sky represented desires that had been cut away.
The red mist shrouding everything was killing intent.
His inner world was a hell of emotions forcibly held in check, liable to collapse at any moment.
And he had been utterly oblivious.
Even when thinking things through, he had never questioned the abnormalities in his inner world.
Part of the reason was that his desires had been cut away.
The other part—
Yan Si's steps faltered.
Life had weighed him down for too long in his previous life.
He had grown used to tucking his emotions away, burying his feelings beneath reason, telling himself that anger was useless and complaints solved nothing.