Witnessing the flames within Wonderweiss's remains reaching critical mass, Aizen remained utterly composed. His composure stemmed from a simple certainty: someone else was far more anxious than he.
If the entirety of Yamamoto Genryūsai's contained inferno detonated at once, not only would the Fake Karakura Town be utterly annihilated, but every severely wounded combatant would perish, and the collateral devastation would ripple into neighboring human cities. Aizen understood the Captain-Commander's psychology perfectly. Confronted with such a catastrophic choice, Yamamoto would never abandon his duty to protect.
He watched, a faint smile on his lips, as the old warrior threw himself without hesitation onto the glowing remains of Wonderweiss.
The flames erupted. Yet, the blast was contained, its radius shockingly small—limited to roughly the area of Yamamoto's original Jōkaku Enjō pillars. Even so, the concussive force leveled a vast swath of the surrounding urban landscape, sending buildings crumbling like ash.
In the center of a smoldering, glass-lined crater, Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto weakly pushed himself up on trembling arms.
"You… you wretched boy," he cursed, his voice a ragged whisper. A thousand years ago, he would not have cared about collateral damage; victory was all. But a millennium of leadership had instilled the weight of duty, order, and the sanctity of innocent life. To protect the Human World, he would make the same sacrifice a thousand times over.
"Truly worthy of the Captain-Commander. To compress the blast radius to such a degree… My thanks, Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto. Thanks to you, my new world remains unharmed." Aizen's voice was calm as he gazed down at the crater from its rim.
A fresh wave of fury surged through Yamamoto, but he forced it down. He had one gambit left. To lure Aizen into striking distance, he let his body slump back into the scorched earth, feigning utter exhaustion.
Aizen descended into the crater, his steps measured. He observed the fallen titan and slowly drew Kyōka Suigetsu.
"For one such as you, I cannot offer something as trite as mercy. You, who are as ancient as Soul Society's history itself, deserve at least to be sent off by my blade." It was, in Aizen's warped view, a final gesture of respect for the Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13.
As Aizen stood over him and raised his sword, the seemingly lifeless Yamamoto erupted into motion. His hand, swift as a striking serpent, clamped around Aizen's ankle with a grip of iron.
"Do not make me repeat myself, boy. Kidō is also among my mastered arts!"
For the first time, genuine surprise flickered across Aizen's face. He retained this much strength after containing that blast?
"Hadō #96: Ittō Kasō!"
A monstrous pillar of crimson fire, its form sharpened into a colossal blade, erupted from the ground beneath them, its searing tip swallowing Aizen whole.
From a distance, Amamiya Miyako watched the fiery sword pierce the sky. He hesitated no longer. Now. This is the opening.
The devastating pillar of flame persisted for several long seconds. When it finally dissipated, Aizen emerged, his robes singed and his usual immaculate composure slightly marred. A frown creased his brow as he looked toward Yamamoto's location.
"I still underestimated him. To sacrifice his own arm without hesitation to create that chance… and to inflict this much damage." He acknowledged the move with a sliver of grim respect.
"Bankai! Shinigeki no Kamiyumi - Jōka no Yumi!"
The familiar incantation reached Aizen's ears the moment he escaped the flames. Turning, he saw Amamiya Miyako already in his Bankai state, the massive black-and-white bow fully drawn, a terrifyingly dense arrow of spiritual energy aimed directly at his heart.
'This is no sealing arrow. This is meant to kill.' Aizen's mind raced. His defenses were depleted from weathering Yamamoto's final Kidō, and the Hōgyoku, overloaded from recent expenditures, was in a temporary state of stabilization. He braced himself.
"Bankai… Kamishini no Yari."
Just as Aizen prepared to take the shot, Ichimaru Gin made his move. His Bankai, Kamishini no Yari (God-Killing Spear), activated not with a shout, but with a whisper. The blade vanished, extending at an impossible speed—five hundred times the speed of sound—intercepting Miyako's arrow mere meters from Aizen's chest. The projectile shattered into harmless spiritual motes.
Aizen allowed himself a small, triumphant smile.
"Phew… That was close, Aizen-sama. If my Kamishini no Yari wasn't quite so swift, that arrow would have been… troublesome." Gin appeared at Aizen's side, feigning relief.
"Splendid work, Gin." The praise was genuine. Without Gin's intervention, Aizen would have been severely wounded. Ulquiorra's reports on the penetrating power of Miyako's Shikai arrows were concerning; a Bankai-level shot from that bow was an unknown variable Aizen had no desire to test firsthand, especially after being momentarily vulnerable.
Miyako landed before the two, his expression grim.
"A pity, Amamiya Miyako. That brief window was my last moment of vulnerability. Unfortunately, you are alone, while I have Gin at my side." Aizen's tone was one of theatrical regret.
Ichimaru Gin's decisive action had served its purpose. It eroded the last vestiges of Aizen's lingering suspicion. Using his Bankai to save his master at such a critical juncture was the ultimate display of 'loyalty.'
"Gin, Amamiya Miyako is yours to handle. I have other matters to attend." With only three combatants remaining, Aizen deemed it time to initiate the crucial process: the mutual fusion and stabilization of the Hōgyoku. The true individuals he wished to witness his ascension—Kisuke Urahara, Isshin Kurosaki—had yet to arrive.
"Hmm? Aizen-sama still has business? Amamiya-kun is the last enemy standing. Shall we not finish him together before you depart?"
"On the surface, he is the last. But I have every confidence you can manage him. As for me… I must prepare for the guests who have yet to make their entrance." Aizen's smile was knowing. He had not forgotten the lurking threats. "And I am… curious to see how much Kurosaki Ichigo has grown."
"Prepare?" Gin inquired, playing his part.
"Indeed. Preparation to fully master the Hōgyoku." With Gin present, Aizen saw no need for further concealment. He withdrew the glowing orb from his chest, its deep purple light pulsating gently. He then turned, beginning to walk away.
Yet, his guard was not lowered. Even with his back turned, he maintained the subtle, constant hypnosis of Kyōka Suigetsu upon Ichimaru Gin, warping his perception of direction and distance, ensuring Gin could not accurately pinpoint his true location for a potential strike.
"Yes, yes. Understood," Gin replied with a characteristic shrug, his voice a lazy drawl.
Seeing Aizen begin his retreat with the Hōgyoku, Miyako's resolve hardened. He moved to bypass Gin, aiming directly for Aizen's back.
Ichimaru Gin's hand shifted almost imperceptibly. The shortened blade of Kamishini no Yari pointed at Miyako. His eyes opened fully, revealing cold, light blue irises. Shinsō—the extension—vanished.
It reappeared not as a thrust, but as a wide, sweeping parry, its impossible speed and mass generating a concussive wave of force that slammed into Miyako and his massive bow, driving him back several paces.
"Heh…" Satisfied that Miyako was effectively pinned, Aizen continued his measured withdrawal, the Hōgyoku cradled in his hand, his attention already turning inward.
With Miyako occupied by Gin, and Gin safely under the influence of his hypnosis, Aizen believed the stage was finally, perfectly set.
After a few more moments of feinted clashes and spiritual pressure flares meant to sell the duel, Ichimaru Gin halted his attacks. He straightened from his languid posture, his eyes—now clear and focused—locking onto Amamiya Miyako. His expression was not one of intent to kill, but of cold, deliberate calculation.
Miyako understood. The signal.
The massive Shinigeki no Kamiyumi floated at his side. He drew back the intangible string. A unique arrow, not of destruction, but of containment and connection, materialized. He aimed it at Ichimaru Gin.
In that same frozen instant, Ichimaru Gin leveled the shortened form of Kamishini no Yari at Miyako.
They fired as one.
The arrows crossed paths. Miyako' projectile struck Gin in the shoulder, not with penetrating force, but erupting into a shimmering, protective membrane that instantly enveloped him—the spiritual barrier that would negate external reiatsu intrusion. At the same moment, Gin's Kamishini no Yari extended.
It did not aim for Miyako's heart or head. It pierced cleanly through his lower abdomen, a precise, non-fatal wound. Miyako gasped, his Bankai flickering and dissolving back into his twin Shikai blades as his spiritual pressure wavered. He clutched the wound and fell, tumbling toward the ruined ground below, his reiatsu dipping sharply.
"Oh? Resolved already? As expected of you, Gin." Sensing the sudden drop in Miyako's spiritual pressure from a distance, Aizen nodded in approval, his focus deepening on the Hōgyoku in his palm.
Ichimaru Gin remained standing, his back to Aizen. But beneath the folds of his sleeve, his hand shifted minutely. The tip of Kamishini no Yari, now retracted to its dagger-like form and invisible to Aizen's hypnosis-altered perception, was angled not where Aizen appeared to be, but at the precise coordinates of his true location, calculated in the split-second before the hypnosis fully took hold. The stage was set, not for Aizen's triumph, but for the betrayal he had awaited for a century. The god-killing spear was poised, waiting for its moment to strike the god.