Chapter 97: After the Departure
The golden pillar of light enveloped Aizen and Tōsen, along with the stone and earth beneath their feet, slowly rising upward.
“Could it be... a Gillian?”
Tetsuzaemon Iba, who was tending to his captain, looked up in astonishment at the black hole in the sky. Never had he seen so many Menos gathered together—at this number, even a vice-captain dared not claim certainty of dealing with them all.
“Numbers like this...”
Rangiku Matsumoto too looked up at the sky; the enormous dark silhouettes shifting around the opening were enough to make even her break a sweat.
If one insisted on counting their side's fighting strength, including the Captain-Commander, there were only five captains capable of battle. Yet facing this Aizen, who had gravely wounded so many captains, no one could be certain they could absolutely stop him.
“Kach...”
As the stone platform rose, sizable chunks began to crumble and fall, striking the ground with dull thuds, drawing everyone's attention from the Gillian back to Aizen and Tōsen.
“Trying to escape...”
Hisagi immediately drew his sword to pursue, but was stopped by Yamamoto Genryūsai.
“Hold.”
“Captain-Commander...”
“That is ‘Negacion’—the beam of light that Menos use to rescue their kin. Any Soul Reaper with combat experience against Menos knows well that once enveloped by that light, one is effectively in another space; those outside the barrier can no longer touch him.”
Yamamoto Genryūsai's meaning was unmistakable—there was no longer anything they could do to stop Aizen.
For a Soul Reaper of Yamamoto's caliber to admit such a thing speaks to how terrifying Negacion's defense truly was—a barrier capable of withstanding even the scorching flames of Ryūjin Jakka.
“Gah...”
Within the black rift, behind the mass of Gillians, a colossal dark figure suddenly appeared. What astonished everyone was not its size, but rather what sat upon its head—though its features were indistinct, the enormous single eye was unmistakably clear to all who beheld it.
“He's joining forces with Hollows...”
Ukitake, who had remained silent until now, stepped forward. The easygoing man's face was now utterly grim.
“Have you fallen, Aizen?”
“You are too arrogant, Ukitake.”
For the first time, Aizen felt a hint of pride.
“No one stood in the sky from the very beginning—neither you nor I, not even the gods. But the vacancy upon heaven's throne is coming to an end. From this day forth...”
He removed the glasses from his nose, crushing the object that had accompanied him for so many years into fragments. The Aizen of now was far removed from his former gentle image; though it was merely the removal of a pair of glasses, the man himself seemed utterly transformed.
Cold. Merciless.
“I shall stand at the summit.”
As his position rose steadily, the vista available to Aizen expanded, and soon the farthest reaches of Soul Society within his sight were gathered into his view.
“Farewell, Soul Society...”
“Farewell...”
The black rift closed as if nothing had happened, leaving behind only a murmured whisper that none but its speaker could ever hear.
“Captain Aizen...”
..............................
“Oh... the ryoka have already left?”
Chōjirō, who had just risen from his sickbed, raised an eyebrow at the visitor who had arrived unannounced. They had left several days ago—that slash from Aizen had really laid him up for quite a while.
“Isn't that perfect? With the intruders gone, your sister's execution has also been called off. Everyone's happy.”
Raising the teacup before him, Chōjirō grinned wickedly at the other captain, who had also just recovered—that eternal poker face.
“What's so perfect about it?”
“You really are rigid, little Byakuya...”
After the mastermind behind the scenes, Aizen, surfaced, Rukia's execution quietly came to nothing. The Central 46 were now in the midst of electing entirely new members, so all matters of the Seireitei were being decided by Yamamoto Genryūsai. In short, canceling Rukia's execution was a simple matter of a single word.
“Well, you didn't come here just to talk about this, did you?”
“Of course not. You haven't forgotten, have you, Sasakibe?”
Setting down his teacup, Byakuya fixed his gaze on the man, while Chōjirō remained unruffled, tapping the tatami beneath him in a steady rhythm and baring his teeth in a grin.
“Don't worry. A bout with you after your transformation—I've been wanting that too. Consider it exercise...”
“I'm rather looking forward to it as well.”
And so, Sōkyoku Hill.
“This was no easy thing to borrow from Old Man Yamamoto, you know...”
The Sōkyoku Hill, left disfigured by battle, was slated for repairs by Yamamoto—but Chōjirō had shamelessly wheedled it away, for reasons unknown.
Chōjirō shot Byakuya a sidelong glance, the meaning unmistakable—any damage is on you.
“Hmph...”
Understanding the intent in the other man's eyes, Byakuya gave a cold snort. Sums like this were nothing to the Kuchiki family.
“No need to warm up, little Byakuya. Let me see the true power of your transformed self right away.”
Seeing Byakuya draw his blade, Chōjirō likewise slowly unsheathed his zanpakutō.
“Just what I was thinking.”
Byakuya did not retort. He released his grip on the sword, letting the zanpakutō fall toward the ground.
“Bankai—”
No dull thud of the blade piercing the earth came; rather, as if it had been part of the ground all along, the zanpakutō sank directly into the soil, ripples spreading outward in rings.
“Shhh...”
With the sword's disappearance, numerous enormous blades materialized behind Byakuya, then all dissolved into fragments gleaming with a pink glow.
“Senbonzakura Kageyoshi.”
“Senbonzakura... as magnificent as ever.”
Watching the pink radiance automatically coalesce before Byakuya into a single mass of light, Chōjirō let out an admiring sigh, then raised his own zanpakutō.
“Bankai—”
“Shrrk!”
The blade, ordinarily of standard form, immediately transformed into that of a western rapier, and along its slender, supple length, lightning flashed and thunder crackled incessantly, deafening to the ear.
“Boom!”
This time, no bolt of lightning shot from the tip toward the sky. Instead, at the thunder of Gonryōmaru, dark clouds slowly gathered of their own accord in the heavens, swiftly blanketing the sky and blotting out the sun.
“Boom!”
Within the churning clouds, thunderous peals and blinding flashes appeared without cease. Even Byakuya could not help narrowing his eyes beneath such an overwhelming pressure.
“Kōkō Gonryū Rikyū.”
Imposing—
This was a bankai unlike anything he had ever witnessed; merely its presence and spiritual pressure already suppressed his own. Truly fearsome.
“Alright, let us begin.”
Chōjirō looked at Byakuya and raised his hand.
“It has been decades since I last instructed you—experience it once more!”