Under the watchful eyes of everyone, the torrent of spiritual energy belonging to Aizen Sōsuke surged wildly, shooting upward into the sky.
Just as he had previously stated—Aizen had no intention of requesting an audience.
They were challengers.
All they sought was to drag the "king" from his lofty throne down to earth, to see him as an equal—nothing more.
As the sky began to subtly distort from the upward force, members of the Gotei 13, though still brimming with fighting spirit, ceased their resistance after Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni relinquished command.
Unohana Retsu helped the old man down to begin healing his wounds.
Kyōraku Shunsui temporarily assumed command and issued a firm command to those still standing.
"Stand your ground, everyone!"
"Those who can still move—use every ounce of spiritual power to contain the fallout from their power!"
"It may sound disheartening, but this is all we can do now—at the very least, let's avoid further innocent casualties!"
To shout such unhopeful words in a crisis takes its own kind of courage.
At least, Sui-Feng and Byakuya Kuchiki wouldn't have managed it…
You could say this is what makes Kyōraku suited to be the second-generation Captain-Commander in the original story. Perhaps the Central 46 had an eye for talent after all.
Seiya's thoughts drifted momentarily before his eyes refocused.
Beside him, Aizen still held his hand toward the sky, but his expression had subtly shifted.
"…"
Joy?
No, not quite.
Seiya clearly saw it—the cerulean torrent of Aizen's spiritual energy shattered upon impact with the heavens.
As if struck by an invisible force, the once-solid formation of energy exploded in a chaotic spray, layer upon layer crumbling like a collapsing tower—until all that remained was debris scattered across the air.
Even Aizen, the very source of the power, couldn't hide a subtle shift in expression.
Before he could speak, the sky above split open.
A round, O-shaped void appeared in the firmament—like a deep sea trench suspended in the ocean sky, its depths impenetrable.
No one could see what lay beyond it.
It looked like a gateway to another world—as if crossing through it would lead directly into the unknown.
Aizen furrowed his brow.
Then, moments later, a knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Seiya, this looks like an invitation to us."
A force that could repel Aizen's torrent had now made a move of its own.
A statement of confidence.
A blatant provocation.
And their answer?
Seiya met Aizen's gaze, then calmly lifted his head.
Besides heading for that royal throne in the sky…
"There's really no second choice, is there?"
"Of course not, Seiya."
From behind, Gin Ichimaru and others instinctively stepped forward—but the torrent of spiritual pressure surged silently, blocking off the Arrancar.
Just as planned.
The Arrancar army had always been a means to an end—a way to counter the Gotei 13.
This next battle would not be their stage. It was, above all, a deeply personal affair.
A longstanding wish was about to be fulfilled. By all accounts, this was a moment to celebrate—a victory for their faction.
But Aizen Sōsuke had never believed that subordinates were entitled to share his glory.
He had always walked alone, never finding a kindred spirit.
In the original timeline, he was the same.
Even knowing Gin was plotting against him, he entertained the game, savoring the thrill of danger like it was his only joy.
But in this altered timeline, Aizen had changed—if only a little.
Because now, he was not alone.
Seiya Arima stood beside him. A comrade. A pupil. A kindred soul.
The world was vast.
But even a single worthy companion was enough.
"Let's go, Seiya."
To that final destination.
They exchanged a smile and moved forward, shoulder to shoulder.
Scattered spiritual particles trembled, broken shapes fusing violently into stronger forms.
Stairways appeared in the sky, layers upon layers, as if welcoming two new sovereigns to ascend.
A cerulean torrent circled them like loyal guards escorting new kings to the throne.
Though they moved slowly, the sight from below was like something sacred.
Momo Hinamori stared blankly at Seiya's retreating form, murmuring:
"Captain… you've…"
"…gone too far ahead, haven't you?"
He grew fainter.
Blurred, like a faded photograph.
Captain Arima… Where are you going?
Nearby, Isane also stared up in stunned silence. Compared to Momo, she was more reserved.
She simply clutched the front of her uniform to steady her shaking heart.
But she quickly pulled herself together.
Looking away from the sky, she shouted to the others:
"The battle isn't over! Gather the wounded—I'll treat them!"
Her words served as both a personal vow and a wake-up call to the others.
The war wasn't over.
The enemy's forces had plummeted in strength.
Perhaps this was their only chance to wipe them out in one stroke?!
Urahara Kisuke and the Visoreds pulled back to the outskirts—their concern was not victory, but the safety of the human world.
After all, this was more than a temporary base to them—it was home.
"Urahara, can you hold off the worst if things go south?" asked Shinji Hirako.
Urahara let out a rare sigh.
"You're putting me in a tough spot, Hirako-san…"
"So, I'll take that as a 'not really,' then."
Shinji turned to the others and shouted.
"You heard him! It's rough, but this is our job—our responsibility! We can't back down now!"
No grand speeches needed.
They'd long since been discarded.
And yet they understood perfectly.
Meanwhile, Kyōraku Shunsui quickly checked with Unohana on the Captain-Commander's condition.
When he learned Yamamoto would survive, everyone exhaled in relief.
Had Yamamoto perished… the morale hit could've shattered everything.
"At least we dodged that bullet…"
"So what now?" Sui-Feng asked.
Komamura Saijin barked a reply.
"We fight with everything we've got and take back our honor!"
Ukitake Juushirou countered with caution.
"That might not be wise. They haven't attacked. Any rash move would just waste lives."
"So we just stand here and watch?!"
"Not quite…"
Kyōraku rubbed his temples. Just managing this half-gathered crowd was already exhausting.
He couldn't imagine how Yamamoto did it for centuries…
—I'm really not cut out for this job.
He sighed quietly, adjusted his mood, and then raised his voice.
"Alright, alright. Let's calm down and—"
Kyōraku's Debate Club, commence!
Compared to the chaos of the Gotei 13, the Arrancar were oddly calm.
Their rulers may have departed, but the upper echelon remained. They maintained order.
"So what should we do now…?" asked Coyote Starrk, the Primera Espada, glancing toward Tōsen and Gin.
He addressed them directly.
"What's your take on this?"
Gin spoke first.
The disappointment on his face flashed briefly before he masked it with his usual fox grin.
"You're asking us now? Doesn't really matter anymore. Aizen's left us behind… even us."
Not being taken to the heavens—that said it all.
"You're free now. What you do next is your call."
"I won't speak for Seiya. I'm just the messenger."
"No matter the outcome, your original purpose has been fulfilled."
So go. Seek your meaning.
This was the final assignment Seiya had left for all the Arrancar.
Now, spoken again through Gin's voice.
"Find your reason for being. Fill the void inside."
Most of the lower-ranked Arrancar blinked blankly at the philosophy.
Fighting, eating, sleeping—what more did they need?
But the upper ranks felt it deeply.
Tier Harribel stepped forward, bowed deeply to Gin, and said:
"Thank you for the strength you've given us. I will find my purpose."
Hers was the aspect of 'Sacrifice.'
She was among the few who would lay herself down for others.
So human it was almost frightening.
Gin simply stepped aside, avoiding her thanks.
"No need to thank me. I just passed the message."
"If you must thank someone…"
He paused.
"…then hope they both come back alive."
Harribel nodded, turned, and left. She had no love for battle.
Her dream was a quiet life with her subordinates.
As one led by example, others followed.
Those who loved battle? They ran right back into it.
As for peaceful types…
Well, in Hueco Mundo, peace was a fantasy. Gentle souls got eaten.
Baraggan Louisenbairn snorted coldly and turned away.
"I'm going back!"
Rebellion in his bones, submission never sat well with him.
Gin expected nothing less.
And then…
He looked at Starrk and asked with a smile:
"What about you, Primera?"
Starrk was silent, thoughtful.
Then sat casually on an energy barrier and said—
"I… hate being alone."
If he returned to Hueco Mundo, it would be empty again.
So he'd stay here.
Because here, at least… things were lively.
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Powerstones?
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