Fifteen minutes earlier.
When purple reiatsu erupted from deep within the Kuchiki family estate, the sky was still dark.
At first, that reiatsu was only a thin pillar of light piercing the night.
Then it began to expand.
The pillar widened from one meter to five, then ten. Its color deepened from pale purple to dark purple, until it looked viscous.
Reiatsu shot skyward and burst apart hundreds of meters above the ground, spreading outward into a layer of purple clouds that covered the entire Noble District.
Seconds later, the clouds continued to expand, crossing the boundaries of the Noble District and spreading toward the rest of Seireitei.
All of Seireitei lay beneath a shroud of purple reiatsu.
The air grew heavy.
Ordinary squad members felt as though they were submerged in water. Every breath took effort.
The souls in Rukongai fared even worse. Many dropped straight to their knees, clutching their heads and groaning in pain.
And the faces of some older Shinigami-those who had lived through the massacre decades earlier-changed instantly. They remembered this reiatsu.
They remembered that blend of resentment, raging fury, and an almost twisted obsession.
Kuchiki Kyōka.
That name rose like a ghost from the depths of their memories.
On the top floor of the First Division Barracks.
Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni stood at the edge of the veranda, both hands resting on his cane.
His eyes remained fixed on the Noble District, on that purple pillar connecting earth and sky. Flickering purple light reflected deep in his pupils.
A strong wind stirred his white beard and broad Captain's Haori.
But he stood like a mountain, utterly motionless.
"Sasakibe."
Chōjirō Sasakibe, standing behind him, immediately stepped forward and bowed. "Captain-General."
"Notify every division." Yamamoto did not turn around, his voice steady. "No one is to approach