"Over? You believe this is over?! Don't be absurd!"
The voice that ripped through the air was both familiar and monstrously distorted—a guttural, grating roar emanating from Aizen's fallen form.
As the words echoed, a dense, violent, and utterly alien spiritual pressure erupted from the 'corpse,' saturating the air with palpable menace. Instinct screamed at them. Both Miyako and Gin immediately flashed away, putting distance between themselves and the source.
Aizen's body, chest cavernous and hollow, stiffly pushed itself upright. His head lolled limply, the connection to his shoulders nearly severed by the cellular dissolution of Kamishini no Yari's poison. He swayed like a marionette with cut strings.
Then, a viscous, milky-white substance began to seep from his skin, rapidly spreading to envelop his entire form, hardening into a grotesque, pulsating cocoon.
Within moments, the cocoon fractured with a sound like cracking bone. What emerged from within made both observers' blood run cold.
Aizen's face was now obscured by a bone-white mask, etched with chaotic, jagged black markings. Only a maw of exposed, savage teeth was visible. From his forehead, a pair of twisted, black horns erupted. His captain's haori and kosode had been shredded, replaced by patterns of inky darkness crawling across his torso. His previously short brown hair now flowed wildly down to his waist.
Most alarmingly, the arm severed by Miyako had regenerated completely. The wounds inflicted by Yamamoto Genryūsai's final Ittō Kasō had vanished. Even the gaping void in his chest, dissolved by Gin's poison, had shrunk—not healed, but stabilized into a dark, fist-sized hole that seemed to drink in the light.
The elegant, calculating Captain was gone. In his place stood a monstrous fusion of Shinigami and Hollow.
"Unforgivable…"
"Impossible… My Kamishini no Yari clearly…" Ichimaru Gin's usual smirk was absent, replaced by stark disbelief. His Bankai's poison should have erased Aizen's spiritual core entirely. How could he stand? And this form… what was it?
Amamiya Miyako, however, recognized it instantly. He had seen a similar, if less refined, transformation very recently. "It's Hollowfication. Look—his arm regenerated. That hole in his chest isn't just a wound; it's a Hollow's hole. This is high-speed regeneration, a Hollow's trait." His voice was low, tense. But the most chilling detail wasn't the physical change; it was the lingering consciousness. That roar of fury had been unmistakably Aizen's own will.
When Kurosaki Ichigo or the Visored first Hollowfied, their minds were submerged by bestial instinct. Aizen, despite this bestial form, seemed to retain full, lucid control. The monster's body was wielded by the genius's mind.
"To force me to this state… Unforgivable!" Aizen's voice was now a distorted, multilayered rasp, each syllable dripping with unbridled rage.
In his earlier research, Aizen had harvested samples from each Espada. The Hollowfication material refined from those samples was his insurance policy—a fallback to transcend his limits should the Hōgyoku path fail. Once the Hōgyoku's completion seemed assured, he had dismissed it as a crude alternative.
Yet, adhering to his meticulous nature, he had kept it. Now, that contingency had saved his existence.
He had never imagined he would be reduced to relying on this 'inferior' method. What Hollowfication could achieve, a perfected Hōgyoku could surpass exponentially. But with both Hōgyoku now seized—one by Gin, one by Miyako—his path to perfection was blocked. This brutal Hollowfication was a stopgap, a means to reclaim his flesh and power.
"Ichimaru-taichō, if you wish to live, hold nothing back," Miyako warned, his expression grim. Simultaneously, he began focusing his intent, preparing to activate his ultimate state using the latent power within him. His other hand, clutching the captured Hōgyoku, initiated a silent, urgent dialogue with the fragment within his own soul, beginning to drain its energy.
"Full power? Do you believe I will grant you another opportunity?" Aizen's masked face offered no readable expression. Then, he vanished.
This time, there was no telltale rush of air, no ripple of spiritual pressure to track. He was simply gone.
In the next fraction of a second, he materialized beside Ichimaru Gin. Kyōka Suigetsu—or perhaps it was now simply an extension of his clawed hand—flashed. Gin's arm, the one holding the stolen Hōgyoku, was severed cleanly at the shoulder.
"What…?!" Gin's eyes flew wide. Suppressing the shock and pain, he threw himself backward with a desperate burst of Shunpo.
"Sonído! That's why we couldn't sense it!" Miyako shouted. He had dueled enough Arrancar to recognize the distinct, vibration-less high-speed movement. Aizen's Sonído was flawlessly executed, surpassing even the Espada's.
Aizen's mask remained impassive. He plucked the Hōgyoku from Gin's severed grip and casually discarded the limb. The orb, as if drawn by a magnet, flew toward the Hollow hole in his chest. The flesh around the cavity writhed, extruding pale, tendril-like growths that latched onto the artifact, forming a grotesque, cross-shaped fixture that held it embedded directly over his spiritual core.
"Bankai! Kamishini no Yari!" Gin, gripping his remaining sword with his left hand, aimed the shortened blade at Aizen. Shinsō extended in a silver streak.
"Bankai! Shinigeki no Kamiyumi - Jōka no Yumi!" Miyako's massive bow reformed. He drew and fired a condensed arrow of negation in the same motion.
Aizen, in his Hollowfied state, moved with eerie, minimal effort. He tilted his upper body, letting Gin's lightning-fast extension whistle past his mask. For Miyako's arrow, he merely raised a single index finger.
A point of crimson light gathered at its tip and discharged instantly.
A Cero?!
Miyako stared, shocked, as the signature Hollow energy blast met his spiritual arrow. Instead of piercing through, the two forces collided and detonated in a violent burst of light.
Before the explosion had even cleared, Aizen was in front of him, Kyōka Suigetsu raised for a lethal downward slash. The speed was monstrous.
'Too fast…!'
Miyako had no time for a complex defense. Instinct took over. Manipulating ambient reishi, he formed a solid blade of light in his hands, crossing it desperately to block Aizen's strike. At the same time, he mentally commanded his Bankai, Shinigeki no Kamiyumu, to shift its aim point-blank at Aizen.
Seeing the construct of light, Aizen simply poured more of his grotesque, hybridized reiatsu into his sword. Spiderweb cracks instantly raced across Miyako's light blade.
"Bakudō #99, Part 1: Kin!"
As the blade threatened to shatter, Miyako's Bankai fired at point-blank range. The arrow transformed mid-flight, dissolving into chains of spiritual energy that solidified into black leather restraints and enormous, binding nails, attempting to pin Aizen in place.
"Now!" Miyako shouted to Gin.
An incantation-less Kin could not unleash its full power. Miyako knew it wouldn't hold—likely not even for a full second.
The black bindings fully enveloped Aizen for a single heartbeat. Then, with the sound of tearing canvas and shattering steel, they exploded outward, shredded by raw power. Aizen's distorted form stood revealed once more, unharmed.
He swung again. Miyako wrapped his Zanpakuto's unique negation ability around the light sword, reinforcing it just enough to parry, though the impact sent shockwaves of pain up his arms.
Aizen, holding Kyōka Suigetsu one-handed, pressed down relentlessly. Realizing he couldn't immediately cleave through the reinforced construct, his other hand shot out, clamping onto Miyako's shoulder with crushing force. Miyako's defensive barrier prevented the claws from piercing flesh, but he couldn't wrench himself free from the vise-like grip.
Then, a point of deep red light began to gather at the tip of one of Aizen's twisted black horns, swelling rapidly into a Cero aimed directly at Miyako's face. In an instant, it was fully formed, ready to vaporize him at point-blank range.
Miyako braced himself, preparing to unleash his negation field at maximum output, though the sheer oppressive force of the gathered energy made him doubt it would be enough.
Shink.
A familiar, clean sound. Ichimaru Gin's Kamishini no Yari—not extended fully, but in a short, precise thrust—speared through the air, piercing the bicep of the arm holding Miyako. A segment of the blade, following its lethal function, fragmented and remained embedded in the wound.
"Shine, Kamishini no Yari."
As Gin uttered the command, Aizen's arm from the elbow down dissolved into nothing, the poison acting instantly. Miyako tore free from the disintegrating grip and flashed away.
The Cero fired, missing its mark by inches. The beam lanced through the space Miyako had occupied and carved a canyon of utter annihilation through the ruins behind him, the thunderous roar of vaporized stone and collapsing structures echoing for miles.
"That was… too close," Miyako breathed, appearing beside Gin, his heart hammering against his ribs. "If you'd been a fraction slower, that would have been more than a serious injury."
"Just 'serious,' huh? If it were me, I'd be a smear on the wind…" Gin replied, a bead of cold sweat tracing a path down his temple. His condition was deteriorating; blood continued to pulse from the stump of his severed shoulder, pooling at his feet.
"Aizen's behavior is off. Have you noticed he's speaking less and less?" Miyako observed, watching the Hollowfied figure standing motionless amidst the rubble.
"Yes. Captain Aizen loves to monologue. This… silence isn't like him. Is the Hollowfication affecting his mind?" Gin speculated, his eyes narrowed.
"I believe so. So far, he's only used basic sword strikes and Hollow abilities—Cero, Sonído, regeneration. No advanced Shinigami techniques. No complex Kidō, no intricate swordplay, no strategic feints. His power and regeneration have skyrocketed, but his combat intelligence has degraded." Miyako analyzed swiftly. "It's a perverse silver lining."
It seemed Aizen's consciousness was struggling against the invasive Hollow nature. This forced, emergency Hollowfication under mortal wounds clearly carried a severe cost: the erosion of his brilliant, calculating mind.
In the distance, the horned, masked Aizen let out a low, bestial exhalation, a plume of cold mist in the air. The flesh around his dissolved arm stump writhed and bubbled. In moments, bone extended, followed by muscle, sinew, and finally skin, culminating in a fully regenerated, clawed hand.
"High-speed regeneration, as expected…" Miyako's expression darkened. Countering this ability was notoriously difficult, and with Aizen's monstrous spiritual reserves, how many times could he repeat the process?
The newly reformed Aizen slowly turned his masked head. His hollow, empty gaze fixed on them. Then, without a sound, he vanished from sight.
"He's coming!"