Aizen's original intention had been to absorb Coyote Starrk last, a final, potent catalyst. The Primera's proactive sacrifice, however, had merely accelerated an inevitable process. The unexpected outcome was the Hōgyoku's immediate reaction. Upon subsuming Starrk's immense spiritual pressure, the orb didn't just grow; it reached a state of acute saturation, glowing with a volatile, internal light. It now hovered on the cusp of completion. All it required was a brief period of stabilization, after which Aizen could initiate the fusion, transforming the artifact—and himself—into something truly perfected.
"Aizen…" The collective mood among the Shinigami and Visored was one of grim humiliation. They had been exerting themselves against phantoms, while their true enemy had casually attended to other matters, treating their combined might as nothing more than background noise. It was contempt of the highest order.
"What is the purpose of this charade…?" Shunsui Kyōraku was not angered by the disdain; it was a tactic he understood well. Instead, his mind, ever strategic, began dissecting Aizen's actions. He recalled Amamiya Miyako's earlier, cryptic warnings, and a cold dread began to coil in his gut. His visible eye scanned the battlefield with deliberate focus.
His gaze swept past the still forms of fallen allies, over the shattered landscape, and finally settled. Coyote Starrk was gone. Not merely defeated, but erased—no residual spiritual pressure, no body, nothing. Only the grievously wounded Tercera Espada, Tier Harribel, remained where she had fallen.
"Be on your guard!" Kyōraku's voice, usually languid, was now a low, urgent rumble that commanded attention. "The Primera Espada… he has already been absorbed by Aizen into the Hōgyoku!"
The revelation struck the others like a physical blow. They had been so focused on their illusory battle that they had missed the real tragedy unfolding beside them.
"He used his hypnosis to keep us occupied while he harvested the Arrancar…?"
"But when? When did he activate Kyōka Suigetsu?!"
"Does this mean… the Hōgyoku is already finished?!"
A soft, mocking chuckle drifted down from above. "My apologies. As a token of gratitude for your comedic performance, I shall endeavor to make your end swift." The slight upturn of Aizen's lips was devoid of warmth, radiating only glacial disdain. With the Hōgyoku thrumming with near-completion in his spiritual core, these lingering obstacles were merely dust to be brushed aside.
"Aizen!" Tōshirō Hitsugaya, his youthful face a mask of fury, was the first to break ranks, a streak of ice and rage shooting skyward.
"Hitsugaya-kun. Still so refreshingly impulsive. Is it the humiliation that angers you? Or perhaps…" Aizen parried Hyōrinmaru with a negligent flick of his wrist, his tone deceptively light, "…you are here to avenge my former lieutenant?"
The deliberate emphasis on the title was a masterful twist of the knife. Hitsugaya's mind flashed to Momo Hinamori—broken, bleeding, yet still defending this monster with her dying breath. White-hot fury eclipsed all caution.
"Bankai!" He pressed forward, spiritual pressure erupting in a glacial torrent. "Daiguren Hyōrinmaru!"
A wave of intense cold emanated from him, and he focused it directly on the blade in Aizen's hand, attempting to seal Kyōka Suigetsu itself in a cocoon of immortal ice, to deny Aizen any further chance of Shikai release.
Seizing the moment, the others attacked from all sides—Kidō, blades, brute force—a coordinated assault meant to overwhelm.
Aizen, however, continued to regard Hitsugaya with mild curiosity, making no move to evade. The converging strikes did not reach him. They impacted against barriers of shimmering, crystalline energy that materialized precisely in their paths, shattering the attacks into harmless bursts of light and sound.
"Is that Dankū?!"
"Impossible! Dankū can only block energy attacks, not physical ones!"
These were not mere Kidō barriers. They were complex, multi-layered shields—advanced derivatives of Dankū that Aizen could now conjure and position instinctively through the Hōgyoku's evolving power. The technique bore a disturbing resemblance to Amamiya Miyako's Sei no Ori (Holy Cage), both being elevated constructs born from the Eighty-First Hadō. Miyako's version, however, was interlaced with his unique Zanpakutō abilities, granting it a different nature.
"With your limited comprehension, such nuances are naturally beyond you. Kisuke Urahara would be a more fitting conversation partner on the matter." Aizen's grip on Kyōka Suigetsu flexed slightly. The encasing ice, the product of Hitsugaya's Bankai, spider-webbed and then disintegrated into glittering dust. The message was clear: even a Captain's ultimate technique was mere inconvenience now.
The attackers fell back, regrouping. Only Shinji Hirako remained disconcertingly close, having used the chaos to slip inside Aizen's perimeter.
"My, my, Hirako-taichō. Is it wise to stand so close? Weren't you the one cautioning others against rash approaches?" Aizen inquired, his head tilting as if genuinely curious.
Seeing the others had cleared the area, Shinji saw his chance. His Shikai's effect was indiscriminate, a chaotic wave that disrupted friend and foe alike. But now, with only Aizen in its immediate radius, it was perfect. A single graze could tilt the entire battle.
"Sakasama ni shiro, Sakanade!"
With his release command, the hilt of his Zanpakutō reversed, forming a ring, and five holes appeared along the blade's length. A subtle, sweet scent began to permeate the air.
Aizen observed the transformation with academic interest. "Oh? So this is the true form of your Zanpakutō. It is… unconventional."
"Yeah, well, thanks to a hundred years ago, I never fully trusted you. So you don't know my ability, and I never learned yours," Shinji retorted, a sharp grin on his face. "By the way… do you smell something sweet?"
Prompted, Aizen took a deliberate breath. "A scent. Poison? You believe such a mundane tactic would affect me?"
"Poison? Sakanade isn't something so crude, Aizen! Did you think only your sword could manipulate the senses?" Shinji's grin turned vicious. "Welcome to the inverted world!"
He flourished his blade. "Everything you see is now reversed—up, down, left, right, front, back. All of it, flipped. That is Sakanade's power!"
"Now!" he shouted to his fellow Visored. This was their rehearsed play, a move drilled for this very contingency. With only Aizen caught in the sensory field, it was a heaven-sent opportunity.
As one, the Visored surged forward. In their eyes, Aizen stood frozen, his perception utterly scrambled, a perfect target.
"I see. A most intriguing ability," Aizen mused, his eyes tracking the Visored's movements—movements that, in his inverted vision, came from entirely wrong directions. He flexed his fingers experimentally.
Then, with eerie calm, he turned his head and looked directly at Shinji, who was leading the charge from what should have been Aizen's blind spot. "To confirm," Aizen asked, his smile never wavering, "the reversal applies not only to vision but to spatial orientation as well? Where you see a cut coming from, where you intend to strike, where the wound manifests… all inverted?"
Shinji's blood ran cold. The triumphant grin vanished, replaced by stunned disbelief. It was impossible. He swung his blade anyway, betting everything that Aizen couldn't have adapted in mere seconds.
The next moment, Aizen's hand shot out, not to block the blade coming from the 'wrong' direction, but to intercept the true one. His fingers closed around Sakanade's guard with casual strength. With his other hand, Kyōka Suigetsu flashed in a simple, downward stroke.
A line of red opened across Shinji's torso. He gasped, staggering back, his grip on his Zanpakutō faltering.
"How…?!" The cry came from the other Visored, their assault faltering.
It should be noted that Shinji Hirako had drilled his fellow Visored extensively on Sakanade's effects, a painful process meant to ensure they could function as a unit even within its inverted world. The fact that Aizen had not only adapted within seconds but had also deduced the ability's exact nature and limitations was a blow that transcended the physical.
Aizen moved through their disoriented assault with the serene grace of a man taking a stroll. Kyōka Suigetsu flashed, not with lethal intent, but with surgical precision, leaving each Visored with deep, debilitating wounds that removed them from the fight. The slight, lingering disorientation from Sakanade was the only thing that stayed his hand from delivering final blows—a minute miscalibration in spatial perception that made absolute lethal force slightly less convenient.
Nevertheless, the Visored were effectively neutralized, leaving Hirako Shinji as the sole remaining combatant among them.
"What is there to be astonished about?" Aizen inquired, flicking a speck of blood from his blade. "It is merely a matter of recalibrating one's sensory input. That said, I do offer my compliments, Hirako Shinji. For a child's game, it was not entirely without merit. Had it been completely ineffective… you would already be dead." He sighed, a sound of genuine, patronizing disappointment. "A Zanpakutō that manipulates the senses. An intriguing concept, yet it remains a pale shadow when compared to Kyōka Suigetsu."
"This monster…" Shinji cursed under his breath, clutching his bleeding side. Behind him, Hachigen Ushōda was still frantically using Kidō to stabilize Hiyori Sarugaki's critical injuries. The rest of his comrades were down.
After a quick check confirmed the fallen Visored were alive, Shinji remounted his aerial position opposite Aizen. He was joined a moment later by Shunsui Kyōraku, who appeared beside him with a soft rustle of his pink kimono.
"How terrifying," Kyōraku murmured, his single visible eye fixed on Aizen. "To think there exists a second Zanpakutō capable of manipulating the senses. The world is full of wonders."
"Is that really what you're focusing on?" Shinji shot back, his voice tight with pain and frustration. "The fact that he dismantled my ability like it was nothing is what's truly terrifying!"
Indeed, the casual ease with which Aizen had overcome a never-before-seen ability and incapacitated an entire squad of Captain-class fighters sent a wave of icy dread through the remaining Shinigami. His power seemed less like strength and more like an immutable law.
"Yes, I don't deny that," Kyōraku conceded airily, though his mind was racing at a furious pace. As one of the oldest and most experienced Captains, he recognized in Aizen a genius that dwarfed even prodigies like Hitsugaya. His power, intellect, and sheer, unflappable composure formed a perfect, daunting whole.
'Countermeasures… we need a flaw, a moment of distraction,' Kyōraku thought. Under ideal circumstances, his Bankai would be the answer. But the battlefield was still too crowded with allies; its area-of-effect would be catastrophic. He was forced to rely on the tricky, conditional games of his Shikai. 'But will he grant us the opening to even play?'
His gaze flickered to the distant, intense clash between Amamiya Miyako and Ichimaru Gin. Miyako was their only confirmed counter to Kyōka Suigetsu, and he was thoroughly pinned down. A risky idea began to form.
"Excuse me, everyone," Kyōraku said softly, almost apologetically. "Could you indulge me for just a moment?"
"Kyōraku-taichō?"
Without further explanation, he vanished from sight, employing a swift Shunpo so fluid it barely disturbed the air.
…
In their carefully choreographed duel, both Ichimaru Gin and Amamiya Miyako were marking time, conserving strength while awaiting the war's inevitable conclusion. Both privately believed in Aizen's ultimate victory, but for starkly different reasons.
Gin felt it first—not a sound, but a subtle, deadly shift in spiritual pressure behind him. He twisted his body on instinct. The razor-sharp kiss of a blade grazed his arm instead of piercing his back. He flashed away several paces, a line of red welling up on his sleeve.
Shunsui Kyōraaku materialized from the shadows of a nearby ruined building, one of his twin swords held low and wet with blood.
"Captain Kyōraku?" Amamiya Miyako feigned surprise, lowering his bow slightly. The interruption was unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome to his own plans.
"My, my, how frightening. To launch such a vicious sneak attack…" Gin's smile remained, but his narrowed eyes glinted with cold annoyance. The blood dripping from his arm onto the cracked ground was proof of the attack's near-success. Had both he and Miyako not been peripherally monitoring the main battle and noted Kyōraku's disappearance, that strike might have been fatal.
Kyōraku had foregone using Kageoni (Shadow Stitching) for this initial gambit. Revealing that particular Shikai ability to Aizen's watchful eyes this early would ruin its value for a later, more critical moment.
"Yo, Amamiya-kun. Fighting this slippery fellow all by your lonesome seems like such a waste of your particular talents," Kyōraku said, his tone conversational as he stepped to stand loosely beside Miyako.
Leaning in slightly, his voice dropped to a confidential murmur only Miyako could hear. "Let me confirm one more time. You can make someone immune to the effects of Kyōka Suigetsu, is that correct?"
"In my Bankai state, yes," Miyako affirmed quietly. "I can erect a spiritual membrane that filters external reiatsu intrusion, which includes the hypnosis."
'Is he asking me to act as a spotter? To call out when Aizen activates it?' Miyako pondered. 'But that's nearly pointless. Under complete hypnosis, they wouldn't trust anything I say or do. The warning itself could become part of the illusion.'
"Is that so? What a remarkably useful ability your Zanpakutō possesses," Kyōraku mused aloud, then continued in the same hushed tone. "Then, Amamiya-kun, I want you to disengage and return to the others. I'll handle our friend Gin here. Your role won't be to fight Aizen directly. Just keep your senses focused on him. Pay attention to the moment he activates his Shikai, and… warn everyone."
"Captain Kyōraku, with all due respect, that's not feasible. Under complete hypnosis, any warning I give—verbal, visual—could be part of the illusion. You wouldn't be able to trust it. I might even become a target for our own side."
"Ah, I'm well aware of that, of course," Kyōraku said, a hint of a smile in his voice. "But there must be *a* way to send a signal, don't you think?"
"A signal?" Miyako was genuinely curious now.
"The battles of Shinigami are battles of reiatsu. Spiritual pressure itself can convey intent, can it not? A specific, deliberate pulse… a pattern."
Miyako's eyes widened slightly as understanding dawned. "You can't mean… like a Dankū?"
"Precisely!" Kyōraku's smile became more pronounced. "A sudden, localized, and visible eruption of defensive Kidō from your position, aimed at no one. A barrier that serves no purpose but to be seen. Aizen can manipulate senses, but he cannot make a real barrier we all see not exist. Its sudden, inexplicable appearance would be the warning bell."
"But Captain," Miyako countered, his voice grave. "Sealing Kyōka Suigetsu is only one part of the problem. Aizen's own power, even without his Zanpakutō's hypnosis, is monstrous. You know that."
"I do," Kyōraku acknowledged, his single eye glancing back towards where Aizen hovered, a patient god awaiting their next move. "But robbing a master swordsman of his favored blade is still a worthy gambit. It forces him to fight on slightly less perfect terms. And in a battle against a foe like him, even the slightest imperfection is a window we must try to pry open."