Between heaven and earth, silence reigned.
Every being present—captain, lieutenant, or seated officer—stood frozen, their gazes drawn to the word "mountain" burning darkly on Aizen's chest.
The jet-black strokes seemed etched into his very flesh, not written but carved into existence itself—like ink that had bled into the fabric of a white scroll, destined to remain for eternity.
Aizen's gaze fell upon the character, a flicker of memory stirring within his vast consciousness. Something about that writing… felt familiar, like a shadow long buried in time. Yet he could not recall when or why.
"Suli…"
Sui-Feng's whisper broke softly through the still air. Images surfaced in her mind—days long past, at the Shin'ō Academy, when the boy would quietly kneel on the polished floors, tracing lines with patient, deliberate strokes.
At first, she had only been curious. Later, as their bond deepened, she had grown used to it—believing it a simple pastime, a way for him to calm his mind.
But now she understood.
It was never mere calligraphy.
It was practice.
Decades of it.
Every brushstroke, every motion—all to prepare for this moment, when he would write that word upon the most invincible being in existence.
Yes… she had seen that word before.
It had been a farewell gift from Aizen to Su Li, long ago. And now, the boy had written it back upon him—a word returned, not as sentiment, but as judgment.
"...What does it mean?" murmured Kyoraku Shunsui, his tone thoughtful as his hat shadowed his eyes. "Is it… a power that requires written words as its medium?"
Urahara Kisuke, standing a short distance away, mirrored his posture—arms folded, eyes glinting. "It could be a form of Kidō. A ritual seal, perhaps… or a word-based incantation. The written characters act as conduits."
Both men, minds razor-sharp, arrived at the same hypothesis.
But this time, even their genius was misled.
Renji's eyes gleamed with fiery devotion as he stared at his captain. "Captain Su Li…" he breathed, his gaze so intense it could pierce steel.
Rukia, standing nearby, whispered, "What… what technique is that? What is he doing?"
"Write!" Renji snapped, not even turning to face her. "He's writing, can't you see?!"
Rukia fell silent, half exasperated, half awed.
Meanwhile, Aizen's expression darkened as he examined the word on his chest. For the first time in his long existence, he felt the sting of humiliation—of being marked.
The word "mountain" struck something deep within him, but he had no time to dwell on it. He poured the Hōgyoku's power into his body, forcing regeneration, but the mark refused to fade. It could not be rewritten.
For the first time, Aizen realized the terrifying truth—Su Li had the power to nullify infinite regeneration.
That meant he could die.
A faint sigh stirred in Aizen's heart, though his lips did not move. He had once believed that with immortality, patience would be his greatest weapon. He could wait out eternity, crush resistance beneath inevitability.
But that advantage had been stripped away.
Now, the battle had returned to balance.
He could kill the boy—or be killed by him.
It would be decided not by power, but by will.
He raised his gaze once more, calm giving way to renewed ferocity. His Reiatsu burned like wildfire. There would be no retreat, no hesitation.
Victory must be his.
He had climbed too far, shed too much, transcended too deeply to lose now.
He recalled the murmurs of Shunsui and Kisuke. They believed Su Li's technique required time—to write, to form, to complete.
Then that would be his window.
He would strike before the writing could be finished.
Resolve hardened.
His spiritual pressure surged, roaring upward like a volcanic eruption.
Aizen's voice was quiet but sharp as glass. "Come then, Su Li."
A faint blue radiance began to gather within him, swirling like condensed lightning.
It was his newest power—the Radiation Collapse.
An evolved form beyond even the Cero Oscuras, its destructive force could rend mountains and evaporate seas.
The Shinigami coalition trembled as they felt it, dread gripping their hearts. If that light were unleashed toward them, they knew not even a trace would remain.
Sensing their fear, Su Li turned his head slightly, eyes calm and unreadable. He took a single step forward.
In that instant, Aizen's jaw parted—
Boom!
The world turned blue.
The Radiant Blast erupted upward, piercing the clouds, a spear of energy splitting heaven itself.
Yet it harmed no one.
Because Su Li's hand was already beneath Aizen's chin, tilting his face skyward.
His other hand moved once more across Aizen's chest.
One stroke, then another.
Each motion was faster, surer, more fluid than before—no longer cautious, but masterful. The boy wrote as if the entire world were his paper and Aizen's body his canvas.
No one even looked at the light tearing through the heavens. All eyes fixed on the black markings forming beneath Su Li's hand.
When he withdrew his fingertip, another word had appeared beneath "mountain."
It was the word "outside."
The strokes were bold and brilliant, glowing faintly like sunlight streaming through storm clouds.
The dual characters—mountain and outside—radiated silent authority, their combined pressure sending ripples through the battlefield.
And at that very moment—
Far away, within the Dangai Precipice World—
Kurosaki Isshin and Kurosaki Ichigo were running side by side, their feet pounding across the twisting, floating pathways.
"Oi, Dad! Where are we even going?" Ichigo shouted, irritation breaking through his confusion.
Isshin said nothing, his expression uncharacteristically grim.
"Hey, I'm talking to you—" Ichigo began again, but Isshin suddenly drew his Zanpakutō with a sharp clang.
"They're coming," he said quietly.
"...What?"
The ground beneath them trembled violently. Then, with a deafening crash, a massive figure burst forth—a monstrous Precipice Guardian, its countless tendrils writhing as it barreled toward them.
Ichigo's eyes widened. He still remembered the terror of their last encounter, when he and Orihime barely survived.
"Run, Dad! Run!"
But Isshin didn't move. His stance remained unshaken, his eyes locked on the oncoming beast.
"Watch closely, Ichigo," he said, voice calm but resolute. "I'm going to show you something."
He raised his blade high.
The creature lunged.
And Isshin spoke—
"Getsuga Tenshō."
The roar of his Reiatsu shook the void. A crescent of pure light carved through the air, vast and blinding.
Boom!
The attack struck the Precipice Guardian head-on, the impact splitting the world in two.
The monster howled, twisting, disintegrating under the crushing wave of power until it shattered completely, scattering into motes of nothingness.
Ichigo stood frozen, breath caught in his throat.
The man who had always laughed, shouted, and fought with reckless ease… now stood before him, blade lowered, eyes steady and grave.
"Ichigo," Isshin said quietly, turning to face his son. "This is what I wanted to teach you."
He lifted the sword again, the edge gleaming with blue-white light.
"The Final Getsuga Tenshō."
Ichigo's heart pounded violently, the echo of his father's words reverberating through his chest—just as, far away, Su Li's brush continued to write the fate of gods.
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