So? Will you choose to join Captain Aizen's ranks? Let me give you a little hint—Captain Aizen will one day stand high above the clouds, like a true god, not just a Shinigami wrapped in the robes of an executioner.
The terrifying killing intent crashed down like a plunge into the abyss, dragging Aoyama into a suffocating chill that seemed endless. Under that overwhelming presence, his will almost crumbled—his only instinct was to nod quickly and cling to life.
But he forced himself to compare. If Zaraki Kenpachi's spiritual pressure was like the raw, violent aura of a raging beast, then Gin Ichimaru's reiatsu was frigid—an endless, bone-deep cold that stripped away courage.
Facing Ichimaru's killing intent felt like standing on the razor's edge of death itself. Aoyama bit down hard on his tongue, using pain to tear himself free from the suffocating pressure. Through gritted teeth, he managed:
"I still prefer the Eleventh Division."
He had chosen to refuse. His only hope was that the Gotei 13 would sense something was wrong. Surely Chōjirō Sasakibe, waiting not far away, would notice. Even if Sasakibe wasn't a match for Ichimaru, his intervention might buy enough time to draw others' attention.
Gin's trademark smile froze. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his expression turned faintly regretful. He shook his head.
"Well, that's quite a shame then. I'll have to kill you. Honestly, I did admire you—I even thought about inviting you into my Third Division. But Captain Aizen's orders… those, I cannot defy."
Danger.
Raw, unfiltered danger.
The moment that feeling surged through his mind, Aoyama didn't hesitate. He flashed away with shunpo, narrowly avoiding a streak of light too fast for the naked eye.
Ichimaru's Zanpakutō, drawn in a blur, had extended a hundred meters in an instant. It was too fast to follow—just a faint glint flashing past the corner of the eye.
"My, I missed. Seems I really do need to practice with my Zanpakutō release now and then. If I fail once or twice, Captain Aizen might just kill me himself."
His smile widened.
"Careful now. The second strike's already on its way."
That blade—
It was short, little more than a dagger, yet it was the fastest Zanpakutō in Soul Society. Perfect for assassination.
Its release amplified speed and striking power. Like a whip, it could extend to a hundred times its length and lash out in the blink of an eye.
Aoyama hurled his Zanpakutō out. The Book of Monsters flipped open in his hands, and before the next strike could reach him, the massive, axe-wielding Kongō erupted forth.
But in that same instant, a chilling blade light surged toward him. His pupils contracted—he instinctively raised his sword to block.
Clang!
The sharp ring of steel filled the chamber. Danger echoed in the sound.
"Rooaaar!!"
Kongō slammed his chest with a fist, bellowing. With his war axe in hand, the summoned beast leapt high into the air and brought the weapon crashing down toward Ichimaru's head.
Fury burned through Aoyama as well. After two ambushes, he wasn't about to back down.
"Captain or not! I've fought Zaraki Kenpachi himself! You think you're untouchable? Then die!"
Boom!
The axe crashed down. Gin twisted aside at the last second, the ground shattering where he'd stood. Still, the blow gave Aoyama his opening.
In a blur of shunpo, he closed the distance. Murderous intent flared. Gin's smile returned, sly and chilling, as he lifted his short Zanpakutō.
"Shinso."
The blade shot forward, a spear of silver.
"Die!"
Aoyama's blade came down to meet it. Steel clashed—then the overwhelming force of Gin's Shinsō flung him through the wall of the Central 46 chambers, stone exploding around him.
But Aoyama wasn't fighting alone. Kongō, massive and unrelenting, roared and charged like an enraged bull, war axe raised.
Gin extended one hand, his lips murmuring the incantation:
"Hadō #31—Shakkahō!"
No chant, no delay—just raw, destructive kido.
A fireball erupted from his palm, slamming directly into Kongō's face. The beast howled as the blast hurled him backward, crashing into the rubble.
Outside, two figures had arrived, halting their steps to observe the chaos within.
Aizen Sōsuke watched with a faint smile.
"Truly impressive. His power is still raw, his techniques lacking polish… but just the fact that he can summon such a creature already sets him apart."
Beside him, Kaname Tōsen frowned.
"Lord Aizen, do you really believe that newcomer's Zanpakutō has the potential to grow into captain-level strength?"
"Oh, without question, Tōsen. Think about it—among the few who possess summoning-type Zanpakutō, how many aren't captain-class?"
"Summoning-type… yes. There's my late friend Kaien, and Kurotsuchi Mayuri of the Twelfth. Both captains, both wielders of such Zanpakutō. No wonder you value him so highly. That boy—Aoyama—his potential is remarkable."
Aizen chuckled softly.
"You're forgetting another. Captain Unohana of the Fourth also wields a summoning-type Zanpakutō. At first glance, it doesn't appear powerful, but she became a captain very early… and you know better than anyone how dangerous she truly is."
Tōsen's expression tightened as he remembered. Long ago, he had glimpsed Unohana's Zanpakutō—its release transforming into a massive, floating creature that could even heal wounds.
So the pattern was clear. Anyone whose Zanpakutō could summon creatures held the qualifications to become a captain.
And yet, Tōsen still struggled with doubt.
Even if Aoyama truly had captain-level potential, why was Aizen so intent on him? After all, Hueco Mundo already had its manufactured Arrancar… what need was there for another Shinigami?
Still—he had to admit. The boy had survived Zaraki Kenpachi's crushing spiritual pressure, had traded blows with Gin Ichimaru, and had achieved his Zanpakutō's release right after leaving Shin'ō Academy.
Talent like that came once in a million.
Aoyama himself, locked in battle, had no idea Aizen Sōsuke was already watching. But both Kongō and Gin had sensed the presence of their new audience.