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After Moyu revealed part of the truth, silence deepened across Sōkyoku Hill.
None could have imagined that Aizen Sōsuke had begun weaving his design centuries ago. The Hollowfication of the captains all those years past had not been an isolated disaster but the first true step in his plan. Whether his hand reached back even further none could say, but realization struck the assembled captains and lieutenants like a hammer. The man they had trusted, gentle and kind in bearing, had worn that mask for generations.
At that moment, an immense Reiatsu swept over Sōkyoku Hill. All eyes turned toward its source. Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni opened his eyes, and in their depths burned a fire fierce enough to wither steel. His presence alone smothered the air, and for the first time in decades, the captains felt the weight of the strongest Shinigami of a thousand years.
"This has gone beyond deception or truth," Yamamoto's voice boomed, sharp as drawn steel. "The only task before us is to detain Aizen and prevent what comes next. We must strike with everything and cut down this traitor where he stands."
The words dripped with killing intent, a force so raw that even veteran lieutenants trembled. To brush against it was like standing beneath the shadow of a glacier, frozen in place by the inevitability of death. Instinctively, the weaker officers edged away from their commander.
"Moyu," Yamamoto's gaze sharpened, "you spoke of Aizen's Zanpakutō. If you know its nature, then you know how to counter it."
Moyu's voice was calm, steady. "Temporary immunity should be possible."
Yamamoto accepted the answer without question. His head turned, and he gave his order: "Captains—move to the First Division at once."
In an instant, their figures blurred and vanished. Captain-level Shunpo tore the air itself, leaving only the stunned lieutenants behind. All eyes turned toward the direction of the First Division's barracks, heavy with dread.
"I pray we are not too late…" someone whispered.
---
Within the First Division barracks, Abarai Renji stood paralyzed, facing the two men before him.
Even now he could not grasp what was happening. Since when had he become the center of Seireitei's turmoil? Why were two captains so intent on taking him away? What secret tied him to them? Some hidden grievance, or something more?
"Captain Ichimaru… Captain Aizen…" Renji asked hesitantly, "have I wronged you somehow?"
Aizen's lips curved in a gentle smile. "Not at all. It is only that something lies within you."
Relief flickered across Renji's face. If there was no personal enmity, then perhaps he was not in danger. In his memory, Aizen had always been gracious, a man of warmth. But the thought had barely taken root when agony tore it away.
He looked down in disbelief. An arm, gnarled with lines like dead bark, had punched straight through his chest.
"C… Captain Aizen…" Renji's voice quavered. He tried to gather his Reiatsu, but his strength drained away, swallowed into the hand that held his very soul.
"Though the execution failed to proceed," Aizen said evenly, ignoring his victim's gaze, "I prepared another method. This is the soul foreign-body extraction technique… the work of Urahara Kisuke."
His hand withdrew. Between his fingers glowed a gem of blue-black fire—the Hōgyoku.
"Remarkable," Aizen murmured, studying the jewel as though it were an insect in glass. He tossed Renji aside like refuse. "That such a thing could rest in so small a vessel…"
Renji gasped on the ground, still alive, soul intact. Aizen noted it with faint surprise. "Oh? The host remains unharmed. A flawless piece of craftsmanship. But you, Renji… are no longer useful."
He turned to his ally. "Gin. End him."
Ichimaru Gin's grin widened, eyes slitted to silver crescents. "An order I can't refuse." His Zanpakutō gleamed as he drew it, blade poised to strike.
Renji tried to rise, but his Reiatsu was hollow, bled dry. The slash descended—
Clang!
Steel rang against steel.
"The old man does not permit slaughter under his roof." Genshirō Okikiba stood between them, blade braced against Gin's strike.
Gin's grin never wavered. "Well, well. I overlooked the Third Seat of the First Division." He pressed harder, his strength forcing Okikiba's knees to bend. "My mistake."
Then the air shook. Several immense Reiatsu crashed down upon the barracks.
"Aizen!" voices thundered. "You cannot escape!"
Shunsui Kyōraku and Jūshirō Ukitake appeared, their twin Zanpakutō forming a cage of steel, hemming Aizen in on every side.
But Aizen's expression did not falter. The twin blades, the unity of Soul Society's most trusted captains—none of it moved him. His eyes, calm and superior, turned toward the approaching figure.
"At last," he said softly, "you arrive, Moyu."
The words dripped with quiet triumph. His gaze carried the air of a man who had already won.
"Have I not kept you waiting long enough?" Aizen's voice rang clear, carrying across the courtyard. "This rotten world of Soul Society—surely you too have found it distasteful. So tell me, Moyu…"
He extended his hand, smile gentle as spring sunlight.
"…will you join us?"
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