"Let us continue our dance. Listen to every word I say next with utmost care." Amamiya Miyako pressed the crossed blades of his Shikai against the gleaming length of Ichimaru Gin's Shinsō, his expression a placid mask, but his tone dropping into a grave, focused register.
Ichimaru Gin offered no visible reaction, his serpentine smile unwavering as he deftly parried the pressure, yet he channeled the entirety of his formidable concentration into Amamiya's whispered words.
"Do not allow your expression to falter. Although Aizen-sama's attention is presently occupied by the others, his gaze will still periodically fall upon us. We must make our clash appear genuine," Amamiya reminded him, their Zanpakutō singing a metallic chorus as they disengaged and clashed again in a shower of sparks. "In Hueco Mundo, when my arrow struck you, you deduced my Zanpakutō's ability, did you not?"
"So what if I did?" Gin replied, his voice a languid drawl, even as Shinsō extended with a shing of murderous intent, forcing Amamiya into a swift backstep.
"My Zanpakutō's power is to negate a Zanpakutō's function by temporarily isolating its master's spiritual pressure from it. However, upon achieving Bankai, this ability evolved. The arrows I loose can now form a permeable membrane of my own reiryoku around a target, one that selectively refuses the intrusion of external spiritual pressures. That is the true reason you remained unaffected by Kyōka Suigetsu's complete hypnosis."
"..." Ichimaru Gin's mind raced. The explanation fit the anomalous sensation he had experienced—a barrier, not a seal. It was a credible truth.
"And what purpose does sharing this serve me? What if I have already relayed everything to Aizen-sama?" Gin prodded maliciously, launching Shinsō in a lightning-fast, straight-line thrust aimed for Amamiya's heart.
A swift sidestep, and the blade whistled past. "Heh. Had you truly told him, I would not be standing here speaking with you now," Amamiya countered, his eyes sharp. "There is only one method to break the hypnosis of Kyōka Suigetsu: one must touch the blade itself before its release is complete."
This time, a fissure appeared in Gin's carefully cultivated composure. A minute hitch in his breathing, a microscopic widening of his slitted eyes—instantly suppressed, but it was there. This was a secret he had sacrificed centuries to uncover. How could this outsider possibly know?
"Oh? Aizen-sama's Kyōka Suigetsu possesses such a weakness? This is my first time hearing of it," Gin replied, his tone dripping with feigned amusement as he recalled Shinsō.
"But Aizen will never permit anyone close enough to attempt it. Therefore, my method provides the optimal path for your ambush. If you feign being neutralized by my power—if your Zanpakutō appears to be sealed from Aizen's perception—he will not scrutinize your subtle movements. You would not even need to stand at his side to employ your Bankai."
Amamiya understood Gin's profound, vine-like caution. Half-truths would not suffice; he had to lay the entire scheme bare.
"...Amamiya Miyako, I have no idea what you are implying," Gin finally said, his eyes opening fully to reveal piercing, cold blue irises. After a weighted silence, his familiar smile crept back. "Such fantastical notions."
In response, Amamiya did something inconceivable. With a subtle, inward focus, he momentarily relaxed an internal barrier. A peculiar, dense, and potent spiritual pressure leaked out—a flicker, barely a heartbeat—before it was sealed away once more.
"Ichimaru Gin, with your sensitivity, you recognized that reiryoku signature, did you not?"
"The… Hōgyoku?!" The shock was genuine this time, bleeding through his facade before he could smother it. He had been in close proximity to Aizen's specimen; the aura was unmistakable, though this one felt… different. Riper, somehow.
"The Hōgyoku Aizen has been seeking has resided within me all this time," Amamiya stated, his voice low and even. "I sought you out because you are the individual most capable of striking him down, and I am the one who can ensure that strike lands."
"Fascinating. So the key to Aizen-sama's ambition has been walking around inside you, Amamiya-kun. Are you not afraid I will shout it to the heavens this very moment?"
"Ichimaru Gin, there is a truth you may not know. The Hōgyoku possesses a will of its own. Its true function is not merely to blur the lines between Shinigami and Hollow. It materializes the innermost desires held within a heart. It grants wishes, provided one possesses the power to fuel them. This is why Aizen is so desperate to complete it—it is his ultimate catalyst to transcend the boundaries of a Shinigami." Amamiya sealed the Hōgyoku's aura completely, the dangerous flicker vanishing. Revealing it was a calculated risk, the ultimate gesture to earn a sliver of trust.
The explanation resonated. It finally provided a coherent logic to Aizen's centuries-long obsession. Yet, one monumental question remained.
"Why are you aware of my affairs?" Gin asked, his voice losing its playful edge, becoming as sharp and pointed as his Zanpakutō. His undercover mission was a secret buried deeper than any grave. No one, not even Aizen—who suspected disloyalty but not its specific, murderous intent—knew the true goal he harbored.
"You never informed Aizen of my Zanpakutō's ability," Amamiya countered instead of answering. "Why?"
"Who is to say I did not? Aizen-sama's strength is absolute. Knowledge of your paltry ability would hardly give him pause. Even without Kyōka Suigetsu, he could dismantle you with ease."
"A valid point. I do not dispute his monstrous power. But an Aizen fused with a completed Hōgyoku will ascend beyond even that. What you sense within me is but a fragment, yet it is more 'complete' than the one he carries. His is still maturing. If he merges with the true, perfected Hōgyoku, his power will become unimaginable. The Bankai you have hidden for a century, waiting for this very chance… it may fail to kill him."
Amamiya pressed his advantage, their blades meeting in a furious exchange that belied their conspiratorial whispers. "A half-formed Hōgyoku already grants him immense power. The finished artifact will be catastrophic. We cannot allow the fusion to occur."
Gin fell silent, his attacks becoming a relentless barrage of extensions and retractions from Shinsō. He was processing, weighing the odds, dissecting the potential trap. The source of Amamiya's knowledge was an alarming unknown, but the evidence—the resistance to hypnosis, the Hōgyoku's aura—was tangible.
"I do not require your immediate trust. Simply wait. The moment Aizen prepares to initiate the fusion will be our window. If you decide to act, give me a signal. A deliberate, committed strike against me with your Zanpakutō. I will interpret it. At that instant, I will envelop you with my Bankai's power, shielding you from Kyōka Suigetsu's influence."
Amamiya leaped back, creating distance. "Furthermore, the Hōgyoku within me can, at that critical juncture, interfere. It can siphon energy, destabilize the process, and prevent him from achieving a perfect merger. It is our only chance to rob him of his victory at the moment of his perceived triumph."
With a flourish, Amamiya threw his twin blades into the air. "Now, I will demonstrate. I will use my Bankai to shield you. For a time, you will be insulated from external reiryoku intrusion. Use it. Observe Aizen's battle. Witness his movements free from the lens of his illusion. Then decide."
Ichimaru Gin retreated several paces, his brow furrowed minutely. Trust was a currency he had spent sparingly for a hundred years. This was a monumental gamble.
"Bankai," Amamiya intoned, his spiritual pressure erupting like a sudden, localized storm. The ambient reishi in the air grew heavy. "Shinigeki no Kamiyumi - Jōka no Yumi." (God Arrow of Annihilation - Purification Bow)
The twin blades dissolved into shimmering particles of light and shadow that coalesced above him, merging into a massive, elegant longbow, one limb gleaming white, the other profound black. He drew back the intangible string, and a sleek arrow of condensed spiritual energy materialized, not aimed to kill, but to envelop.
He released it. The arrow flew towards Gin not with violence, but with a gentle, inexorable purpose, dissolving into a shimmering, barely-visible field that settled around the silver-haired captain.
Amamiya's colossal spiritual pressure flared unabated, a beacon demanding notice.
Across the ravaged battlefield, Sosuke Aizen, his sword resting casually on his shoulder, glanced momentarily towards the escalating duel. A mild smile touched his lips. "It seems the intensity of their conflict is finally reaching its peak," he remarked to the battered and bleeding Captains and Visoreds arrayed against him. "A fitting sideshow."
But his opponents—Hirako Shinji, who had just retrieved a grievously wounded Hiyori Sarugaki, Kurosaki Ichigo, who struggled to rise, and the others—could afford no attention to the periphery. Their despair was a palpable weight. Despite their combined might, they had not even grazed Aizen's pristine white robes. The battle before them was hopeless enough without dissecting another. The duel between Amamiya and Ichimaru Gin was just that: a distant sideshow in the overwhelming tragedy of Aizen Sosuke's dominion.
Within the newly formed barrier, Ichimaru Gin stood still, his senses recalibrating. The world did not look different, but it felt different. The subtle, pervasive pressure of Aizen's reiatsu, which always carried the faint, honeyed scent of illusion, was now filtered, held at bay by Amamiya's peculiar power. For the first time in a century, he was watching Aizen with truly clear eyes. And in the depth of those cold blue eyes, a calculation, colder and sharper than any blade, finally reached its verdict.