Meanwhile, in Karakura Town, Aizen continued his one-man war against a formidable assembly of captain-level Shinigami. The battle had reached its crescendo, with devastating attacks being exchanged on both sides.
Back in the Ice Palace, Uehara Shiroha was thoroughly enjoying himself. While receiving an expert massage from his two companions—one adult and one child—he watched this "real-life drama of Bleach" unfold with undisguised entertainment. The subsequent plot developments followed remarkably closely to what he had foreseen.
On the crystalline screen, Head Captain Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni found himself sealed with his own Zanpakutō through Aizen's machinations. Not one to be defeated so easily, the ancient warrior employed the advanced hakuda technique [Double Bone], using his bare hands to brutally hammer Wonderweiss after the Arrancar had sealed away his blade.
The sight of the shirtless, muscular old man standing amidst roaring flames was truly impressive—a bald warrior of incomparable might. In Uehara Shiroha's irreverent opinion, Yamamoto looked like a more powerful, battle-hardened version of Master Roshi from Dragon Ball.
However, even the Head Captain's formidable strength wasn't enough to overcome Aizen's sinister planning. The mastermind had deliberately designed Wonderweiss to self-destruct upon defeat, using the Arrancar as a living bomb to catch the old man off guard.
In the end, Yamamoto was forced to sacrifice an arm in desperation, containing the massive explosion with his own body to protect the real Karakura Town. Despite this valiant effort, he had only managed to injure Aizen, not defeat him.
As the strongest Shinigami in Soul Society, Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni's power was beyond question. The old man was essentially a "numerical monster" wielding what amounted to a nuclear bomb. His advantages were obvious to all, but so too were his limitations.
Ryujin Jakka, with its attack power rating of 927, was overwhelming in its destructive capacity—literally overflowing with heat that could reduce anything to ash. Yet for all its might, it was not invulnerable to countermeasures.
This was why, when facing Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni, intelligent opponents would invariably seek ways to neutralize or seal Ryujin Jakka. A frontal assault against such power would be suicidal, so the logical approach was to avoid direct confrontation entirely.
Nuclear bombs are indeed devastatingly powerful, but their effectiveness is negated if they cannot detonate or if their target is elsewhere when they do. This simple principle underpinned most strategies against the Head Captain.
It wasn't that Yamamoto was truly invincible or guaranteed victory in head-to-head combat. Rather, from a tactical perspective, avoiding his strengths and exploiting his weaknesses was simply the most reasonable and optimal solution.
Uehara Shiroha mused that the world of Bleach differed significantly from One Piece in this regard. Here, there weren't so many glorified head-on confrontations or dramatic power-ups mid-battle. The focus instead was on tactics and intelligence—finding ways to circumvent an enemy's strength rather than overpowering it directly.
In battle, there was no need to test oneself against the enemy's strongest point. Such an approach was fundamentally inefficient and tactically unsound. Even Yhwach, with all his overwhelming power, would eventually develop specific countermeasures against Yamamoto's Bankai rather than trying to overpower it directly.
Breaking an opponent's weakness was, in truth, the kingly path to victory. Therefore, as formidable as Ryujin Jakka and Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni were, they too had their flaws and vulnerabilities that could be exploited. Similarly, even Aizen's seemingly perfect Kyoka Suigetsu had its methods of circumvention.
Only someone like Uehara Shiroha, who possessed infinite trump cards and absolute strength across multiple dimensions of power, could be considered truly invincible—and only because his abilities could not be effectively targeted or countered.
As the battle continued to rage, Aizen was gradually approaching his limits. Even with all his planning and power, he was beginning to feel the insufficiency of his current form. The limitations of being a Shinigami were becoming apparent to him, driving his desperate desire for transcendence.
In the Ice Palace, after listening to Uehara Shiroha's analysis, Shihouin Yoruichi nodded in agreement and leaned comfortably against him, her body relaxed despite the chaos they were witnessing. She had been thoroughly convinced by his reasoning.
Thanks to Uehara Shiroha's timely advice, she had abandoned her initial impulse for revenge against Aizen. She recognized now that such a confrontation would have been disastrous.
Yoruichi wasn't performing poorly in her assessment of the situation. Rather, she had simply come to understand a fundamental truth: if the Zero Squad and Uehara Shiroha weren't rushing to intervene, why should she?
The fact that these immensely powerful individuals remained calm suggested that everything was proceeding according to some greater design. The situation, despite appearances, was not spiraling out of control.
No matter how powerful Aizen might become through his transformations, he couldn't escape the invisible web of control that Uehara Shiroha had woven around him. The mastermind had become just another piece on Shiroha's cosmic chessboard.
Yoruichi understood that there must be compelling reasons why Uehara Shiroha had chosen not to take direct action yet. Similarly, the continued non-intervention of the Soul King Palace was telling.
As the former head of the Shihouin family, one of the Four Great Noble Houses, Yoruichi was privy to certain truths about the Soul King and the fundamental nature of their world—secrets that most Shinigami would never learn.
Throughout history, the Soul King had been revered as the supreme existence, his position unassailable and absolute. This wasn't merely a matter of tradition or respect—it was necessity. The world literally needed the Soul King to maintain its structure and balance.
As heirs of the great noble families, they were sworn to prevent the Soul King from "falling from the sky"—a metaphorical description for any threat to his position or existence. They had no choice in this matter. The preservation of the Soul King was equivalent to the preservation of reality itself.
For millennia, no one had possessed the ability or capacity to replace the Soul King even if they had wanted to. His role was unique and irreplaceable—or so they had believed.
Until recently, with the sudden emergence of figures like Aizen and Uehara Shiroha. For the first time in history, the Soul King's position as a god had become potentially unstable. Both Aizen and Uehara Shiroha had demonstrated capabilities that suggested they might possess the power to replace the Soul King should they choose to do so.
Yoruichi naturally opposed Aizen's ambitions to usurp this cosmic position. His methods were twisted, and his goals seemed more focused on personal power than maintaining the balance of worlds.
Uehara Shiroha, however, was different. If he were to ascend to such a position, Yoruichi saw no fundamental problem with it. After all, despite his mysterious origins, he had proven himself to be "one of their own"—someone who understood the delicate balance of the realms and didn't seek to destroy it out of mere ambition.
Nevertheless, caution was ingrained in her nature after centuries of service as the head of the Onmitsukidō. She turned to Shiroha, her golden eyes searching his face for reassurance.
"Are we really going to do nothing?" she asked, her voice betraying a hint of lingering concern. "Just watch as Aizen completes his plan? Be careful with your cat!"
The last part was a playful warning—a reminder that even a domesticated cat could turn dangerous if pushed too far. It was her way of suggesting that Aizen might yet surprise them if left unchecked.
"Even if the cat turns into a tiger, it's still fine," Uehara Shiroha replied with absolute confidence, his tone revealing not the slightest doubt.
As he spoke, he casually slapped away Nel's small hand as she attempted to secretly pilfer some snacks from their shared platter. The child-like Arrancar's eyes immediately welled up with tears, her expression suggesting she wanted to cry but didn't quite dare to in Shiroha's presence.
Noticing that Yoruichi still seemed somewhat confused by his relaxed attitude toward what should be a crisis of cosmic proportions, Shiroha nevertheless chose not to elaborate further. Some knowledge was better left unshared, even with allies.
To the average Shinigami, the Soul King Palace, Squad Zero, and the Soul King himself represented supreme beings beyond question or challenge. Even the four noble families, with all their accumulated power and privilege, couldn't openly oppose the decisions of Squad Zero.
Even Aizen, for all his revolutionary rhetoric and ambition, harbored special feelings toward the Soul King—a complex mixture of envy, respect, and resentment that colored his every action.
But to Uehara Shiroha, the Soul King was nothing more than an elaborate decoration—a figurehead whose symbolic importance far exceeded his actual relevance. The ancient being held no special meaning to him beyond being another piece in the cosmic game he was playing.
Creating the Three Realms and maintaining their separation was certainly an impressive feat, but it wasn't the Soul King's exclusive patent or unique ability. What the Soul King could accomplish, Uehara Shiroha was confident he could replicate in the future—and likely improve upon in the process.
More importantly, what the Soul King couldn't do—the limitations that had defined his existence for millennia—Uehara believed he could transcend.
When one reached the point where they could look down upon gods from above, those same gods became indistinguishable from mortals in their insignificance. The most revered statues were reduced to ordinary sculptures, their supposed divinity revealed as mere fantasy.
This was the reality as Uehara Shiroha perceived it—a perspective that few in any realm could comprehend, much less share.
He settled back comfortably, a small smile playing across his lips as he watched the battle continue to unfold on the ice screen. Let them fight their desperate battles and struggle against fate. He would wait patiently for his moment, secure in the knowledge that the true game had barely begun.