Arima Shinya had died at the hands of Kiganjō.
The miracle did not occur, and the flow of fate was not reversed.
Like a corroded and rotting law, unchanged over thousands of years — invisible though it may be, the sound vividly described this fact.
And that awareness was reflected in Tōsen Kaname's eyes.
Accepting reality requires a process, but even before he could rationalize it, Tōsen had already reacted instinctively.
Every muscle in his body tensed in an instant, and with his lips slightly parted, he took half a step forward, almost like a conditioned reflex.
— Kaname, what do you intend to do?
Aizen's voice sounded behind him, calm and unwavering, as if nothing could escape his control.
— As you can see, I will…
— Take revenge?
Aizen's tone carried a slight irony. His demeanor remained serene, but there was a trace of melancholy in his voice.
— Even someone who cannot see with their own eyes is slower to perceive things than we are… Kaname, you are losing your composure.
The reprimand was not meant to offend — immediately after saying it, Aizen smiled gently and continued:
— So, shall we review a little of what was taught at the Academy?
— Spiritual power represents the quality and density of a person's soul. Through the energy it radiates, a Shinigami can judge another's strength.
— At the same time, by sensing the fluctuations and oscillations of this power, another important fact can be discerned.
— The opponent's state of life or death.
Aizen advanced slowly, stopping at the edge of the rooftop.
— Tell me, didn't you feel it? This spiritual pressure that hasn't weakened at all, but is instead growing stronger and stronger.
Raising his left hand slightly, Aizen closed his fingers as if trying to grasp something invisible in the air.
His gaze softened, but an indescribable emotion — almost ecstasy — sparkled in his eyes as he murmured softly:
— So this… is Shinya-kun's power.
— Perfect… absolutely perfect.
And indeed, it was the pure truth.
Arima Shinya's spiritual pressure had not disappeared.
On the contrary — at that moment, it expanded, swelling like a wave about to engulf everything. His spiritual power covered the entire street, as if his body had been shattered and dissolved within the Seireitei itself.
They had never witnessed anything so magnificent.
And considering the level of spiritual power he had displayed before, it was clear he had not yet reached the Bankai stage.
Thus, the answer was evident — this was his full initial release, the true form of his Zanpakutō.
So… where are you now, Shinya-kun?
I truly want to know.
Aizen spoke in an almost dreamy tone:
— The true name of this blade…
⸻
Before his eyes, there was only darkness.
His body seemed submerged in a dense, sticky substance — viscous, suffocating, with no direction or escape.
Did I die?
Then… what is this place?
As he pondered, Arima Shinya heard a familiar voice.
— Why didn't you run?
It was a voice he had never heard before, yet somehow it felt absurdly familiar.
There was a strange sense of intimacy…
— Why did you do something so dangerous?
— You're a coward, aren't you? Not the type to seek battle like others.
— Even before fighting, you always trembled with fear… how can someone like that face a true warrior?
The scene before him began to regain color.
Little by little, shades of black and white intertwined, forming an image before Arima Shinya — strange, yet not repulsive.
It was a little girl wearing a Shinigami uniform, barely reaching his waist.
Long hair, round face, big eyes.
If she grew up in peace, she would undoubtedly be a beautiful young woman.
But the expression of disdain etched on her face completely destroyed any trace of delicacy.
She seemed to carry contempt in her very soul, staring at Arima Shinya coldly, her voice sharp and unhidden.
— I know everything. I see everything.
— You are more scared than anyone, hate to take risks. When you talk about dreams, all you want is a girlfriend, to live laughing, enjoying life…
— So why don't you just run?! Get away from danger! Go somewhere no one can find you! No one would blame you for it!
— Isn't that what you really want?!
The outburst was long.
It sounded like a scolding, but deep down, it was more like a lament.
Arima Shinya listened in silence until finally, his expression trembled slightly.
And he answered softly:
— …I'm sorry.
— Huh?!
The Zanpakutō is the manifestation of the heart.
Before these abstract entities, the blade's owner cannot hide anything.
And precisely because of this, Arima fully understood what she meant — the simple fact that she revealed herself to him allowed him to comprehend her feelings.
Their hearts were connected in that moment.
— You… were protecting me, weren't you?
She didn't want to see him bleed.
She didn't want to see him injured, nor struggling in agony.
She was the reflection of his own weakness — the personification of all the worries, fears, and anxieties he had accumulated.
Her expression melted in an instant, as if struck at the most sensitive point.
Her head lowered, and soon low sobs followed.
— I can't help it! It's your fault for being so weak!
— Watching you die and suffer, again and again… I was already going insane!
— If you're so useless, then you shouldn't want to be a hero! We just needed to live peacefully! No one would blame us for that, right?!
Seeing the little girl cry, stomping her feet, Arima Shinya simply crouched calmly.
He extended his right hand and placed it on her head.
— Thank you for your effort. I didn't realize all my weaknesses had been passed onto you.
In the simulated futures, Arima Shinya had died countless times.
These stacked deaths had generated an accumulation of negative emotions that had been corroding the spirit of his blade.
That was why, until now, Arima had only been able to manifest a fraction of his true power.
It was unfair.
He had enjoyed the benefits of his Zanpakutō without ever bearing the weight of its pain.
— Sorry…
And then:
— …Thank you.
The palm of Arima Shinya descended gently, opening before her.
Seeing the tear-streaked face lift, Arima Shinya murmured with a small smile:
— From now on, let's fight together, Yumi.
— Idiot!
The little girl jumped and punched him in the head.
It hurt.
— I already told you, that's not my name!
Her face more alive than ever, she jumped up and sat on his shoulders.
With renewed energy, the soul of the blade lifted its face and shouted to the heavens:
— At this point, there's no use arguing anymore!
— Hey!
— Sing loudly, my name!
The name "Yumi" represented the concept of "the bow reflecting a serpent's shadow in a wine cup" —
a metaphor for the fear caused by illusions created by the mind itself.
An illusory shadow, an ephemeral reflection —
just like the image of the ouroboros, the serpent devouring its own tail.
Everything Arima Shinya had seen so far was merely a "contour."
But now…
I have shed my skin and ascended like a dragon.
His name is…
— The one who stirs seas and shakes the skies,
— the one who reveals his true majesty and dispels all disturbances of beings.
— Sāgara Ryū (Oceanic Dragon of Sāgara)!
(End of Chapter)
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