The heavy white doors slowly closed behind Yoriichi, shutting away that deathly still expanse of pure white, along with the incomplete god who had remained silent for hundreds of millions of years.
Outside the doors lay an entirely different sight.
This was still the domain of the Soul King Palace, but instead of monotonous white, there were magnificent buildings with solid steps and colonnades.
Ichibē Hyōsube stood not far away, his burly frame like a mountain. He casually rested his enormous brush on his shoulder, his face bearing that signature, hearty smile that seemed to see through everything.
As Yoriichi emerged, a barely perceptible gleam flashed through his large, seemingly guileless eyes.
"You have come out."
The monk's voice was as booming as ever, carrying a thick Kansai accent, as though the glimpse that could have overturned the entire history of the Soul Society had been nothing more than an ordinary tour to him.
Yoriichi calmly met his gaze and nodded in acknowledgment.
His mind had long since settled from the shock of witnessing creation, returning to its still, unruffled state, but the weight those memories carried had not faded.
Ichibē Hyōsube took a few steps forward. His enormous frame brought an intense sense of pressure, yet the smile on his face grew even friendlier.
"Well? Did you understand?"
His question carried an implication.
"More or less."
Yoriichi gave a noncommittal answer.
He had understood what flesh and blood had been used to forge this world's foundation, and he had understood the source of Yhwach's hatred.
But he did not believe the Soul King had shown him all this merely to help him understand an enemy's motives.
And the million-year-old monk before him clearly knew more.
Ichibē Hyōsube seemed to have anticipated this reaction. He smiled unconcernedly, then abruptly changed