Seeing the situation deteriorate so rapidly, Hirako Shinji couldn't contain himself. "Oi, Amamiya! Are you certain Aizen hasn't activated Kyōka Suigetsu this entire time?! How is he dismantling them so effortlessly?!"
"Not once since the last coordinated assault. This is pure, overwhelming power," Amamiya Miyako stated coldly, his gaze never leaving Aizen. He then turned a sharp look on Shinji. "Hirako, why are you holding back your Bankai? Everyone is falling. If you don't use it now, the chance will be lost."
"It's not that simple!" Shinji shot back, frustration evident. "My Bankai doesn't discriminate between friend and foe! It's designed for one-against-many chaos; in a one-on-one duel, it's practically useless!"
"Use it. My Zanpakutō can nullify mental interference. If you act now, there's still a thread of possibility," Miyako pressed, aware of the true, devastating nature of Shinji's Bankai.
"Your sword can block mental abilities…? Right, Kyōka Suigetsu doesn't work on you. In that case… maybe there is a chance!" A spark of desperate hope ignited in Shinji. He subconsciously discounted Miyako's own combat role, categorizing the Vice-Captain as a support asset rather than a primary striker against a monster like Aizen.
He took a quick mental tally. Their remaining forces: himself, the still-unmoving Yamamoto Genryūsai, and Amamiya Miyako. Hachigen Ushōda was occupied stabilizing Hiyori's injuries in the distance. Kensei Muguruma and Mashiro Kuna had been dealt with earlier. Ichimaru Gin lurked on the periphery. Three people present met the minimum activation requirement for his Bankai.
Watching Aizen casually deflect and disarm Tōshirō Hitsugaya with a flick of his wrist, Shinji's resolve hardened. There was no more time.
"Aizen! Leaving me alive was your greatest error!"
"Oh? You intend to unveil your Bankai? By all means, demonstrate it," Aizen replied, his tone one of genuine academic curiosity. He harbored no fear; the vast gulf in their spiritual pressure meant Zanpakutō abilities often faltered, as Sōifon's Nigeki Kessatsu had proven.
"Bankai. Sakashima Yokoshima Happōfusagari!"
A vibrant, fuchsia-colored flower bud encased Hirako Shinji before blooming with a soft, eerie light, revealing him standing at its center. Aizen, out of habit, held his breath, but this ability did not operate through scent.
A ripple passed through the air. Aizen's sharp, analytical gaze dulled for a fraction of a second, then refocused—not on Shinji, but on Amamiya Miyako standing behind him. A serene smile touched Aizen's lips.
In that instant, Miyako moved. He drew his twin blades and lunged, not at Aizen, but at Hirako Shinji's exposed back.
Shinji sensed the movement and cried out in alarm, "You said it wouldn't affect you!"
Seeing his strike do no harm—the blades passing through Shinji as if through an illusion—Miyako immediately flashed away, appearing at Aizen's side instead, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
"My apologies, Aizen-taichō. He still perceived the threat," Miyako said, feigning chagrin.
"It is of no consequence, Miyako. I understand my former captain well. A petty ambush such as this could never truly harm him." Aizen's response was almost paternal, as if welcoming a loyal subordinate back into the fold.
Hirako Shinji watched, a cold dread settling in his stomach. 'I've doomed myself. My only remaining ally… has he been turned as well?!'
"Do not trouble yourself. I will—" Aizen began, intending to finish the statement himself.
In that moment of assumed camaraderie, Miyako struck. It was not a telegraphed move, but a burst of pure, focused intent. His blade flashed towards Aizen's neck.
Even Aizen, for all his preternatural calm, was caught slightly off-guard by the betrayal from a supposed ally. He could only bring his arm up in a desperate block. The razor-sharp edge of Miyako's Zanpakutō bit deep into Aizen's forearm, drawing a line of crimson—the first true blood Aizen had shed in this entire conflict.
The shock was not of pain, but of profound confusion. Why?
Having landed his blow, Miyako did not press. He disengaged instantly, putting distance between them.
"Sorry, Hirako. He reacted too quickly. The sneak attack failed," Miyako called out, his voice laced with false regret.
Hearing this, the tension in Shinji's frame eased slightly. So he was affected by the Bankai. He was trying to help, but Aizen saw through it.
"And…" Miyako watched as the last vestiges of fleeting confusion evaporated from Aizen's eyes, replaced by crystalline, icy clarity. Shinji's Bankai had been overpowered. That was why Miyako had retreated after a single strike; staying within Aizen's reach once his mind was clear was suicide. That Shinji's ability had affected him for even a few seconds was a minor miracle in itself.
Miyako's true goal had been to use the Bankai's momentary distraction to get close, to sense the state of the Hōgyoku within Aizen through the resonance with his own. The result was profoundly disappointing. His internal fragment had detected no activation, no ready fusion. Aizen was still waiting.
"I see. So that is the nature of your ability," Aizen stated calmly, examining the bloody gash on his forearm. The wound was already ceasing to bleed, his immense reiatsu accelerating clotting.
"How…? He shrugged off Sakashima Yokoshima Happōfusagari that quickly?!" Shinji's voice was thick with disbelief.
"Must I repeat myself? Your spiritual pressure, in my estimation, is negligible. That you managed to cloud my thoughts for a handful of seconds is an achievement in itself, Hirako Shinji." With that final, dismissive remark, Aizen vanished and reappeared behind Shinji. A single, precise slash to the back, and Shinji fell from the sky, joining the other defeated captains on the rubble below.
Ignoring the fallen Visored, Aizen turned his full, undivided attention to Amamiya Miyako.
Ignoring Hirako Shinji's plummeting form, Aizen refocused his piercing gaze on Amamiya Miyako.
"Amamiya Miyako. You remain the first to draw my blood in this conflict." Aizen examined the crimson stain on his sleeve, his tone devoid of anger, simmering instead with a cold, analytical interest. Internally, his evaluation of the young Vice-Captain was being recalibrated upward.
"Is that so? The honor is mine," Miyako replied, a sharp, defiant grin on his face. He stood unflinching under the weight of Aizen's spiritual pressure. More critically, his gambit had yielded vital intelligence: Aizen had not yet initiated the fusion of the two Hōgyoku. The genuine wound, the flowing blood—it was irrefutable proof. He remained bound by a Shinigami's vulnerabilities. The narrow window for their plan, therefore, still existed.
This confirmation gave Miyako the confidence to proceed with his true objective: to plunder the Hōgyoku's energy at the critical moment of attempted fusion.
"Amamiya Miyako, you continue to be a source of unexpected surprises," Aizen mused, in no rush to attack. Instead, a genuine, if condescending, desire to recruit flickered within him. "What say you? Would you care to join me? With your talent, you are wasted in this decaying Soul Society. You should ascend with me, to the realm where a true sovereign should reside."
Miyako hadn't anticipated a recruitment pitch at this juncture, but his answer was never in doubt. From the moment the Hōgyoku had been entrusted to him, their paths were irrevocably opposed.
"My apologies. I find Soul Society... quite agreeable," Miyako lied smoothly, his refusal polite but firm.
"Do not be so hasty in your dismissal. As the first to wound me, I shall grant you a unique revelation. Concerning the true history of Soul Society, and its so-called deity... the Soul King." Aizen sought to shatter Miyako's perceived loyalty by exposing the foundation's rotten core. "When I departed, I stated it clearly: there is no one worthy in the heavens. If that thing can be called a god, then the very existence of Soul Society is the greatest farce."
Miyako knew exactly what Aizen referenced. The Soul King's current state was less a sovereign and more a lynchpin, a willing sacrifice to maintain the balance of the Three Realms—a future the original Soul King had foreseen and accepted. His will still permeated fate's flow. But even if Aizen understood this, Miyako knew the man would scorn such passive acceptance. In Aizen's cosmology, a true god should impose its will upon reality, not be subsumed by it.
"That which you call a god, the Soul King, is a complete absurdity. Because the Soul King is—"
Aizen's revelation was cut off, not by words, but by a cataclysmic eruption of spiritual pressure in the distance. It was a force so dense, so ancient and furious, it stifled speech itself.
"It seems a certain party is unwilling to allow me to continue..." Aizen remarked, turning his head slightly to observe the immense pillar of flame that now tore into the sky. A faint, amused smile touched his lips.
Miyako also looked toward the source—Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni. He released a mental sigh of relief. If the Captain-Commander waited any longer, I'd have to ask him directly: 'You expect a Vice-Captain to solo Aizen? Are you serious?' Though the Hōgyoku fragment had accelerated his growth abnormally, Miyako harbored no illusions about defeating Aizen alone, especially without unveiling his true, final trump card. That power was reserved for the moment of the Hōgyoku's attempted fusion, not to be revealed prematurely and risk forcing Aizen's hand.
"Enough! Sinner, Aizen Sōsuke!" Yamamoto Genryūsai's voice boomed as he arrived beside Miyako, his presence a tangible wall of heat and authority. He fixed Aizen with a stare that could melt stone.
"Has the Captain-Commander finally deigned to step onto the stage? Is it because all your Captains lie defeated, or because you fear the truth I was about to speak?" Aizen inquired, his tone laden with implication.
In Yamamoto's view, it was both. With the Captains incapacitated, leaving Miyako as the last line of defense was untenable. Furthermore, the old warrior recognized Miyako as a prodigy on par with Hitsugaya, a future pillar of the Gotei 13. He could not risk the young man's conviction being shattered by the horrific, necessary truths of the Soul King's existence. Some burdens were for the oldest shoulders alone to bear.
"Vice-Captain Amamiya," Yamamoto commanded, his voice leaving no room for debate.
"Captain-Commander. Your orders?" Miyako responded, his tone respectful and neutral.
"You will withdraw from this engagement. Your duty now is to evacuate the wounded Captains from this battlefield. This old man will handle what remains."
Understanding the finality and the protective intent in the order, Miyako gave a curt nod. "Understood." He immediately moved to disengage.
Aizen made no move to stop him. "We are alike in our appreciation for potential, are we not? That is why you cannot bear for him to learn of Soul Society's sullied foundations," he remarked to Yamamoto, a knowing smile playing on his lips. The fate of the wounded was irrelevant to his design. Once Yamamoto Genryūsai fell and the Ōken was forged, all else was trivial.
"Your prattle is meaningless!" Yamamoto's patience evaporated. He drew his Zanpakutō, the simple act causing the air to waver with intense heat. The release command was not a shout, but a declaration of absolute annihilation.
"Reduce all creation to ash. Ryūjin Jakka!"