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The Reiatsu net dissolved, and Sōkyoku Hill fell into dead silence.
Every face froze in disbelief. No one had expected Aizen Sōsuke—long declared dead—to be named the true murderer of Central 46.
What in the world had happened?
The instant the words sank in, the temperature around Yamamoto Genryūsai seemed to plummet. Even the flames wreathing Ryūjin Jakka flickered, then withdrew.
"Captain," Moyu asked with a faint smile, his voice calm, unshaken, "do we still need to keep fighting?"
He looked utterly composed, as though all unfolding events had already been accounted for. And indeed, they had. This was no product of cleverness—it was inevitability. As long as Aizen's ultimate objective was understood, his movements became simple, predictable. The corpses of Central 46 were destined to be discovered. Moyu had only arranged for Matsumoto Rangiku to be the one who delivered the truth, the timing staggered just enough to keep her safe.
Tousen Kaname's defeat had already driven Hirako Shinji underground; that alone all but guaranteed casualties. For Moyu, the only concern was Matsumoto's survival. Everything else was expendable.
"You seem to know more than you let on…" Yamamoto's deep voice rumbled as he sheathed his flames, Ryūjin Jakka returning to its dormant state. "What exactly is Aizen planning?"
Moyu exhaled, almost a sigh. "After all this, you still can't trust me? This is not my scheme. Too many threads converge here. And interrogation wastes time—the real task is finding Aizen's location."
Yamamoto closed his eyes briefly, then turned to the waiting figures of Kyōraku Shunsui and Ukitake Jūshirō. His tone was iron.
"Search for Aizen Sōsuke. Other captains have not yet reached Sōkyoku Hill. The old man demands an explanation."
The two long-time comrades exchanged a look. In their eyes was the same shock mirrored across the hill. Both lowered their heads and answered solemnly in unison.
"Yes."
Far from the hill, in the western streets of Seireitei, several figures were sprinting at full tilt.
At the lead, Madarame Ikkaku's bald head gleamed in the sun like a beacon. He barked over his shoulder without slowing.
"Idiot! You've already forgotten everything I drilled into you!"
Abarai Renji, struggling to keep up, frowned at the rebuke. Before he could ask, Ikkaku swung an arm back and cuffed him on the head.
"Never throw away the will to live! As long as you're alive, anything's possible! If it weren't for my uncle—and your friends—you'd already be nothing but scattered spirit particles!"
Renji fell silent, humbled. His heart carried both gratitude and dread. Gratitude for Ikkaku, Ichigo, and the reckless 11th Squad who had saved him yet again. Dread for what reckless meant—consequences ignored, rules shattered. For them, recklessness wasn't a habit; it was blood-deep.
"Oi, Ichigo," Renji muttered, hand to his aching head, "that Urahara Kisuke you keep talking about… is he really trustworthy?"
Ichigo scratched the back of his neck, brow furrowed in thought. "If not for him, I wouldn't have made it anywhere near the Repentance Palace. Honestly, I almost got cut down by Kuchiki Moyu—barely made it out alive…"
Renji nearly tripped, cold sweat breaking down his back. How could Kurosaki say something so deadly with that casual grin?
"One more step and you'd have been dead!" he wanted to shout.
Instead Ichigo just smiled, unbothered. "Doesn't matter. What counts is the outcome. Once we reach West Rukongai, Urahara can open a gate back to the human world. Then we'll be safe."
Suddenly, footsteps echoed from ahead. A lone figure blocked the street.
Renji's breath caught. "…Captain Aizen."
The group had yet to hear the truth unveiled on Sōkyoku Hill. To them, four were fugitives freshly freed, one dragged from execution. Now, in their escape, they faced the man once considered a model captain.
"Renji," Aizen greeted warmly, his smile soft as spring sunlight, deceptively gentle. "Seireitei has already issued hunting orders. All captains are moving to intercept. But I know a faster path to Rukongai. Come with me."
Renji's eyes widened in disbelief. "…Captain Aizen, you—"
Aizen extended his hand invitingly. "Come. I'll lead you out of Seireitei."
For an instant, temptation flickered. But Renji clenched his fists, bowing his head as he answered with firm resolve.
"Forgive me, Captain Aizen. I'm a criminal now. I won't drag others further into my sins."
His refusal was righteous. But a mocking voice slipped in behind him.
"How moving."
Every head whipped around. Ichimaru Gin stood there, foxlike eyes slitted in perpetual amusement.
"Captain Ichimaru Gin…" Ikkaku's hand went to his Zanpakutō, unease prickling through him.
"Seems Captain Aizen's offer was turned down," Gin drawled with his lazy smile. "Surprising."
Aizen adjusted his glasses, speaking as though to himself. "That's human nature. Renji was never one to be controlled. If he were… I would never have left him to the 11th Squad."
The words carried quiet weight, laden with implication.
"Sorry, everyone." Gin's arms lifted, sleeves falling back. White cloth spiraled outward like a serpent, coiling around himself and Renji in an instant.
Too sudden for anyone to react. In the blink of an eye, both were gone, swallowed by the Kidō.
Ayasegawa Yumichika's voice dropped, horrified. "…Thousand-Step White Serpent."
The advanced Kidō technique warped the users to predetermined coordinates. He knew its workings well—and what it meant.
Ahead, Aizen's fading image inclined in a smile. "Thank you for your help. Soon, you'll see. To be part of the new world… is an honor."
His figure shimmered and dissolved like mist under sunlight. By the time Ikkaku's blade slashed through the air, there was nothing left.
Back on Sōkyoku Hill, Kyōraku Shunsui turned to his lieutenant. His voice was steady but grim.
"Nanao. Sorry, but it's on you."
Ise Nanao gathered herself, nodded, then crouched low, palms pressed to stone as she chanted with precise cadence:
"Heart to the south, pupils to the north, fingertips to the west, toes to the east. Gather with the wind and scatter the rain. Bakudō 58: Kakushitsuijaku!"
The sigil flared beneath her hands. Black lines spread in a perfect circle.
Moments later her eyes widened, pupils tightening.
"I've found Aizen's location. He's… inside the First Division headquarters."
The words fell like a hammer. Silence claimed the hill.
The First Division building perched at the inner court's edge, high on a sheer mountain like a temple above all others. It stood as both seat of command and symbol of authority, visible across all Seireitei. Its importance was absolute.
Moyu stepped forward, calm as ever. His eyes met Yamamoto's.
"Captain. Earlier you demanded to know why I destroyed Sōkyoku. Now, I can tell you."
Yamamoto's aged voice was grave. "…Then speak."
Moyu's reply came slow, deliberate.
"You once told me the sky above Seireitei seemed always to be covered in clouds. I have sought the reason for that shadow. And at last I discovered it: Aizen Sōsuke has been weaving a plan to overthrow the world itself."
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