Chapter 111: The World of Tsukuyomi
As Uchiha Itachi activated his Mangekyō Sharingan, his gaze locked onto Aizen with an absolute, chilling finality.
"Now," he stated, his voice devoid of all warmth, "you will witness the true power of the Uchiha clan's eyes."
His eyes closed for a brief moment. When they opened again, they bled an intense, palpable wave of power.
Pupil Technique: Tsukuyomi!
"The illusion of Tsukuyomi," Itachi explained, his tone as cold as the technique itself, "can only be broken by one who shares my bloodline and possesses these same eyes."
"The moment your gaze met mine, your fate was already sealed."
Aizen's brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of reaction in his otherwise composed demeanor. Yet, deep within his pupils, a cunning intelligence remained, watching, calculating.
The world flickered.
The blue sky vanished. The Konoha filled with the smoke of battle disappeared. In less than a heartbeat, the entire world was wiped away into nothingness.
Silence and darkness descended.
They now stood in a space of utter deadness, a realm stripped of all color, existing only in stark black and white.
"This is...?" Aizen murmured, opening his eyes to observe the oppressive darkness around him.
The feeling was strangely familiar, reminiscent of the Bankai, Suzumushi Tsuishiki: Enma Kōrogi, wielded by his former subordinate, Kaname Tōsen. Within that domain, all senses but touch were stripped away, leaving the victim only the ability to feel pain.
"So this is the power of the so-called Sharingan?" Aizen mused, a spark of genuine admiration in his eyes. "To be able to create a complete spiritual space... you have truly surprised me."
With the power of Kyōka Suigetsu, he could perceive this for what it was—an illusory realm. Yet, he remained perfectly calm, facing the unknown with an unshakable composure that bordered on boredom.
There was a reason for his confidence. A critical fact remained hidden from Itachi: long before the Mangekyō Sharingan had been activated, Aizen had already, and silently, released his Shikai. In this clash of supreme illusionary powers spanning two worlds, Aizen Sōsuke had already made the first, unseen move.
Swish—
In an instant, the empty space around Aizen was filled with figures. Dozens, then hundreds, all wearing the black cloak with red clouds of Akatsuki. And every single one of them bore the face of Uchiha Itachi.
This legion of Uchiha Itachis stood perfectly still, their presence lifelike and utterly disconcerting.
"It is rare to find someone who can remain so calm after being pulled into my Tsukuyomi," said the Uchiha Itachi standing directly before Aizen, a sharp tantō held loosely in his hand.
"However, no amount of composure can save you now. In the world of Tsukuyomi, I control space, time, and all matter."
A faint, cold smirk touched Itachi's lips as he lunged forward, the blade in his hand stabbing toward Aizen with blinding speed. All of this happened in the space between heartbeats.
Clang!
Aizen brought Kyōka Suigetsu up to parry, but a shocking thing occurred. The legendary Zanpakutō, capable of cutting through anything, now showed a visible crack. With a second, effortless swing from Itachi's tantō, Kyōka Suigetsu shattered into countless glittering fragments.
"How... is this possible?" Aizen's eyebrows rose in a show of disbelief. The quality of his sword felt as light as a feather, as fragile as paper.
"I told you," Itachi stated flatly, pressing his advantage. "In this world, I control the quality of everything."
The sharp blade thrust forward, aimed at Aizen's now-defenseless body.
Aizen's eyes narrowed. He attempted to retreat using Shunpo, but found his body was as heavy as a mountain, his feet seemingly rooted to the spot. He could not move an inch.
Thump!
The blade pierced cleanly through Aizen's torso. A spray of crimson blood flowered in the monochrome air.
"This space is completely under my dominion," Itachi declared, his voice echoing in the stillness. "For the next seventy-two hours, I will continue to stab you, over and over, until the moment you bleed out and your mind breaks."
As his words faded, another Itachi appeared behind Aizen, its own blade lancing out to pierce his back.
Stab after stab, the relentless blades cut into Aizen's body from all directions, administered by the countless copies of Uchiha Itachi. The scene was one of utter brutality.
Under the absolute mental control of Tsukuyomi, Aizen had nowhere to hide. It felt as if a mountain was crushing his shoulders, making the simple act of lifting a foot an impossible struggle.
Scarlet blood splashed with every flash of a blade. As time stretched on, the wounds on Aizen's body multiplied, covering him in a grisly map of bloodstains. Though this was an illusion, the sensation of pain was one hundred percent real.
Each piercing strike brought with it a heart-rending agony. Even Aizen, with his immense willpower, could not completely suppress the pained expressions that flickered across his face.
Stab. Stab. Stab.
"This is the power of the Mangekyō Sharingan," the thousand Uchiha Itachis spoke in unison, their voices a haunting chorus. "This is the power of the Uchiha clan you were so curious about."
"It is because you are too obsessed with the minor details right in front of you, that you fail to see the larger truth. True power transcends all rules, predictions, and imagination."
"This... is the power of Tsukuyomi."
For seventy-two hours, the stabbing continued without cease. Aizen, immobilized, endured an eternity of suffering. The pain was real, and it was excruciating.
When the seventy-two hours finally ended, Aizen closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was back in the real world.
No time had passed.
Aizen still held Kyōka Suigetsu, which was whole and unbroken. Uchiha Itachi stood before him, his Mangekyō Sharingan fixed coldly upon him, awaiting the inevitable mental collapse that should follow three days of endless torture.
However, Aizen did not fall. Instead, a faint, knowing smile touched his lips.
"Uchiha Itachi," Aizen said, his voice perfectly steady, echoing Itachi's own words back to him. "As you said, one can become too attached to the things right in front of them, causing them to overlook the truth. Real change cannot be predicted or perceived so easily."
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