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Aizen's words froze the courtyard in silence.
Every eye shifted between him and Moyu, disbelief heavy in the air. None could deny Moyu's strength; his clash with Yamamoto earlier had already proven he stood among the strongest captains. That Aizen himself now extended an invitation to him was staggering.
Even Moyu blinked in surprise before answering with a faint smile.
"Your offer is generous. But compared to Hueco Mundo, I find Seireitei's air far more agreeable."
Aizen's lips curved in quiet amusement.
"As expected, you see through much. I thought I had paid you enough attention, but clearly I underestimated you. Though I moved to correct matters, you still slipped free from the board."
He chuckled softly, lowering his gaze as sunlight glinted off his glasses, hiding his eyes.
"When I sensed your Reiatsu—so unlike any other soul—I knew the implications were serious. Yet rather than caution, it sparked greater interest in you."
Moyu's heart stirred, his expression tightening. "So I was under your eye all along."
He recalled the first stirrings of suspicion: the whitening of the world, Masaki's descent into Hueco Mundo, the Espada's siege. Aizen's scrutiny had been constant, perhaps sharper than even Urahara's. To him, Moyu might stand as vital as the Hōgyoku itself.
Aizen's smile deepened.
"When did you gain the illusion of freedom? You have been under my gaze from the beginning. At the Academy, you avoided Kyōka Suigetsu's releases with uncanny precision. Later, your brilliance carried you above your peers. Szayelaporro's brush with death only confirmed my hypotheses. Even the fall of the First Generation lent proof."
None dared interrupt. The captains listened in tense silence, caught between shock and unease. Why did Aizen place such weight upon Moyu's existence?
"After Hueco Mundo, you must have suspected my design. Yet I overlooked something—her. That pure-blood Quincy holds deep meaning to you."
Moyu's brow flickered with displeasure, but Aizen pressed on, voice calm as ever.
"After that, I observed you and Urahara's schemes, content to wait for this day. For you are much like me, Mr. Moyu. High places are isolating. Look across the world and see—there is no one else of our kind. And if ever another is born, fate decrees they stand opposite, blades drawn."
His voice hardened.
"After all… there can be only one king."
Moyu's face remained composed, offering no reply.
Boom!
A thunderous crack split the barracks, drawing every gaze. Yamamoto's roar followed, laced with fury.
"Aizen! Answer me! Why did you slaughter Central Forty-Six?!"
For Yamamoto, who had devoted his life to guarding Soul Society, their destruction was intolerable.
Aizen lowered his eyes, his tone slow and cutting.
"Shouldn't you be grateful? I rid you of those decrepit relics."
"Ridiculous!" Yamamoto's rage surged, his Reiatsu spilling like wildfire, his hand tightening on Ryūjin Jakka.
"The captain's temper," Aizen said with faint amusement, "still as hot as your blade."
Moyu stepped forward, his dark Reiatsu rising. A black dragon burst from his aura, jaws yawning wide as it lunged at Aizen.
The explosion rocked the courtyard. Shockwaves of raw spirit energy ripped outward, hurling Kyōraku and Ukitake aside.
"Damn, that pressure… overwhelming!" Kyōraku vanished into Shunpo, narrowly escaping the surge. Above the First Division, the skies split into clashing colors, black and gold pressing against each other.
Gin narrowed his eyes to thin slits, his coat fluttering in the storm.
"What a sight… Moyu's Reiatsu stands shoulder to shoulder with Captain Aizen's."
Until then, few had even noticed Gin's presence. A captain crept behind him, intent on striking. After all, if Aizen could not be felled, then perhaps Gin could.
But Moyu and Aizen's clash did not last. Kyōraku and the others steadied themselves, flaring their own Reiatsu to reinforce the crumbling air. For a moment, Aizen seemed pressed, the tide against him.
Ukitake's eyes narrowed. "Aizen! Your game ends here. Surrender!"
But Aizen only smiled.
"Ends? No. The true performance begins now."
Confusion rippled through the courtyard. Surrounded by captains, under Yamamoto's gaze—how could he still speak of victory? Yamamoto had reigned as Soul Society's zenith for centuries, the strongest Shinigami of them all.
Yet the heavens themselves suddenly tore apart. A warped Reiatsu shuddered overhead.
"Fall back!" Kyōraku shouted, alarm sharpening his tone.
At once, the captains leapt clear. Aizen lifted his face skyward, lips curving.
"Perfect timing."
The sky split with a golden beam. Negación swallowed Aizen and Gin whole as the blue expanse shattered like glass. Bone-white claws ripped through the fissures, tearing reality apart.
One after another, titanic forms emerged. Black bodies, white masks, and hollow roars shook the air.
"Menos Grande?!"
Shock twisted the captains' faces. To see such abominations descending upon the very heart of Seireitei—the First Division itself—was a nightmare made real. Terror bled into the soldiers' eyes as their minds faltered. Could even the Gotei 13 withstand this?
The Negación expanded, the earth splitting beneath Aizen and Gin as stone rose, cradled within the beam. No strike could pierce it, no hand could reach through.
Kyōraku's expression hardened. "So… they escape after all."
Aizen looked down from within the golden barrier, eyes sweeping over the captains. His gaze lingered on Moyu.
"I must admit, Mr. Moyu," he said, voice carrying clear through the barrier, "you are Soul Society's greatest surprise. Different from those stagnant and shortsighted fools, your soul burns singular and bright. Because of you, the world is less dull… and more dangerous."
His eyes narrowed. "You are the most troublesome existence I've found. I look forward to our next meeting."
Yamamoto's glare was unyielding, his vow thunderous.
"Aizen! This old man will drag you to hell himself!"
Aizen's calm never faltered. "Still so prideful, Commander. But you forget. From the beginning… no one has ever stood above me. Not even God."
He lifted a hand. His black-rimmed glasses shattered into dust. With one smooth motion, he swept his brown hair back, gaze sharp and imperious.
"The throne of the sky lies empty. Its window of vacancy closes soon."
His voice rose, cold and absolute.
"From this moment forth…"
His eyes blazed with pride as he looked down upon them all.
"…I will stand on the zenith."
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