Deep within the underground training ground.
Yoriichi Tsugikuni sat cross-legged on the ground, his Zanpakuto laid across his lap.
Ichigo's shouts kept coming from the distance, along with the thunderous clash of blades.
Yoriichi remained unaffected.
He closed his eyes, resting his hands lightly on the scabbard as his breathing gradually steadied.
His consciousness sank deeper and deeper.
After an unknown amount of time, the sounds around him vanished completely.
When Yoriichi opened his eyes again, he had arrived in an unfamiliar world.
An endless expanse of black water stretched beneath his feet.
Its surface was still, without a single ripple, yet it clearly reflected the sun in the sky.
That sun was enormous.
Golden-red light blanketed the sky, illuminating the entire world.
Yoriichi looked down at himself.
He wore neither a Shihakushō nor the uniform of Karakura First High School, but a dark red haori.
These were clothes Yoriichi Tsugikuni had once worn.
"You finally came."
A calm voice sounded behind him.
Yoriichi turned around.
A man stood a short distance away.
His face bore an extremely close resemblance to Yoriichi's, with a flame-like Demon Slayer Mark on his forehead, long black hair tied in a high ponytail, and a crimson sword at his waist.
Only his eyes were different, a pure gold.
Yoriichi looked at him and asked, "Are you Hekyō?"
"Yes."
The man walked slowly over and stopped before Yoriichi.
"And I am also you."
Yoriichi showed no surprise.
Hekyō was not a Zanpakuto born from an Asauchi, but had appeared together with his soul.
It had always been a part of him.
"Is this my inner world?"
"To be precise, it is our world."
Hekyō looked up at the sun in the sky and said calmly, "That is your soul, and also my power."
Yoriichi followed his gaze.
Within the sun, three distinct points of light were faintly visible.
Two were already very bright, but the third was shrouded in mist, its exact appearance obscured.
"What are those?"
"Your memories."
Hekyō reached out and lightly tapped Yoriichi's forehead.
Boom!
Countless images instantly flooded Yoriichi's mind.
He saw an ordinary person living in another world.
Going to school, working, coming home, occasionally reading manga and watching anime, living a life without many ups and downs.
That was his life before he crossed over.
Then the images changed.
A child with a Demon Slayer Mark on his forehead was born.
He possessed the Transparent World from birth, and at seven, he picked up a wooden sword and easily defeated an adult swordsman.
Later, he took up a real sword.
Facing the evil demon that treated lives as food, he unleashed the purest sword strike of his life.
Twelve sword forms were completed in an instant.
Even centuries later, that demon still lived in fear of that strike.
Yoriichi Tsugikuni's life was long, yet also short.
He possessed the greatest strength in the world, yet he had failed to protect his older brother, or his wife and child.
Even at the final moment of his life, he had still failed to accomplish what he wished to do.
The images ended there.
Yoriichi stood where he was, silent for a long time.
Those memories were not unfamiliar.
They felt more like something that had belonged to him all along, only stored deep within his soul, now finally recovered.
"So who exactly am I?"
Yoriichi looked at Hekyō.
"Am I the person who crossed over here, or the swordsman who failed to fulfill his mission?"
Hekyō did not answer directly.
"Who do you think you are?"
"Yoriichi Tsugikuni."
"Then that is enough."
Hekyō raised his hand and gripped the sword hilt at his waist.
"Your name does not decide who you are, nor do your memories. The one who can truly decide is who you are now."
Yoriichi nodded.
The answer was simple.
But he understood it.
Whatever lives he had lived in the past, the person standing here now was Yoriichi Tsugikuni.
Hekyō drew his sword.
As the crimson blade emerged, the temperature throughout the inner world rose rapidly.
"Next, there is one more thing to give you."
Yoriichi looked at the sword.
"What?"
"His swordsmanship."
Hekyō stepped forward.
Without any Reiatsu or warning, the crimson blade was already before Yoriichi.
Yoriichi twisted aside to dodge, but the blade still left a small cut on his cheek.
So fast.
It was not that the speed was too great to follow, but that there was not a single unnecessary movement.
Drawing the sword, stepping forward, striking.
The three movements seemed to happen simultaneously.
Yoriichi raised his right hand, and Hekyō, which had lain across his lap, appeared in his grasp.
Clang!
The two crimson swords collided.
The next instant, Hekyō turned his wrist slightly, sliding his blade along Yoriichi's and straight toward his neck.
Yoriichi retreated half a step, avoiding the blade.
Hekyō followed again.
Dance.
Blue Heaven.
Blazing Sun Red Mirror.
Fire Wheel.
One sword form followed another without the slightest pause between them.
Yoriichi kept blocking, while countless memories, both strange and familiar, surfaced in his mind.
How his fingers should apply force when holding a sword.
How his lungs should work when breathing.
And from what angle he should deliver the simplest strike when facing different enemies.
These things could not be taught through words.
They were instincts left in Yoriichi Tsugikuni's body and soul after countless battles.
Now, they had all returned.
Their figures continually crossed over the water, sparks flashing one after another as their blades collided.
Until, at one moment, Yoriichi suddenly stepped forward.
His body reacted before his mind.
He twisted aside to evade the slash, his blade sweeping upward from below and stopping before Hekyō's neck.
Hekyō's sword also stopped over his heart.
"Not bad."
Hekyō sheathed his sword.
The final barrier in Yoriichi's mind shattered with it, and vast combat memories flooded into the depths of his consciousness.
He closed his eyes.
A moment later, he opened them again.
His expression remained calm, but his grip on the sword had changed subtly.
If the Yoriichi of before had merely been able to use those sword forms, only now did he truly possess all of that swordsman's combat skills.
"Can I achieve Bankai now?"
Yoriichi asked.
"No."
Hekyō's answer was blunt.
Yoriichi fell silent for a moment.
It seemed Bankai really was not that simple.
Hekyō looked toward the sky.
The three lights still existed separately, showing no sign of merging.
One belonged to the ordinary person from before he crossed over.
One belonged to the fifteen-year-old boy of this world.
The last belonged to Yoriichi Tsugikuni, who had taken swordsmanship to its pinnacle.
"You have his memories and instincts, but you have yet to truly accept his life."
Hekyō said calmly, "The three sets of memories remain separate, and you have not found the reason you truly wish to wield your sword."
"When you no longer distinguish which one is your true self, Bankai will come naturally."
Yoriichi looked up at those three points of light.
He understood now.
To master Bankai, he had to fully merge the three lives and understand his true heart.
This was not something that could be accomplished through battle alone.
"I understand."
Yoriichi sheathed his sword.
"You are not in a hurry?"
"No."
Yoriichi looked at Hekyō, his tone unwavering.
"Rukia's execution is tomorrow."
"Shikai is already enough."
Hekyō watched him for a while, then suddenly gave a faint smile.
"Indeed."
The sun in the sky trembled slightly, and the entire inner world began to dissolve.
Yoriichi closed his eyes again.
When he opened them once more, he was still sitting deep within the underground training ground.
Hekyō, lying across his lap, trembled gently, as though responding to him.
From the distance, Ichigo's roar followed immediately.
Yoriichi looked up and glanced over.
It seemed Ichigo's training was going smoothly too.
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