Kensei lay spread-eagled on his bed, staring at the ceiling, the corners of his mouth twitching with barely contained laughter.
"Hōgyoku wholesale..."
He murmured this almost-impossible concept, then rolled over, writhing and giggling on the bed like a worm.
His undignified behavior wasn't unwarranted. The mere thought of realizing yesterday's conception with Aizen brought visions of top Arrancars undergoing significant boosts, of top Shinigami receiving significant boosts.
When that day came, the Sternritter, Yhwach himself—all would be mere chaff before such power.
Maybe even Kensei Muguruma could solo James and the Superstar—a form of revenge, in its way.
"No. Can't celebrate prematurely. Must restrain..."
Kensei knew the dangers of premature celebration, but his shoulders shaking betrayed his inner glee. Finally, he surrendered:
"Heh, hahaha! Yhwach, victory is mine!"
Kensei even imagined seven or eight Hōgyoku floating behind Old Man Yama like seeker orbs—the old man could march into the Wandenreich and declare "no beef served."
Pity this vision was truly impossible. And if Old Man Yama actually received such enhancement, Kensei's future provocations would earn him beatings beyond imagination.
Better Old Man Yama retire early. The future belongs to youth like himself.
Kensei was so immersed in his wonderful future that he didn't notice his door opening.
Until a familiar calm voice sounded beside him: "Lost in thought? What brings such joy?"
Kensei jerked his head up to find Aizen standing by his bed, watching him with some exasperation.
"Oh! Sōsuke! Here for blood? Take it."
Naturally, Kensei couldn't admit to his fantasy. He quickly rolled up his sleeve, obediently extending his arm.
"Wait—where's your syringe?"
Kensei blinked, noticing Aizen's empty hands. Slowly, his gaze traveled upward to meet her meaningful eyes.
"W-Wait." Kensei instinctively shifted back. "It's blood they're drawing, right?"
Aizen didn't answer. She stepped forward, her fingers landing on his exposed arm.
"I never said that. That was your assumption."
Her fingers slid upward along his arm, eventually resting on his shoulder. She leaned slightly closer, her gaze locked on his like a predator's, the distance between them shrinking further.
"And didn't you say it yourself? Heroes don't retreat from battle."
Kensei's face fell. His own words had come back to bite him. "That's not true heroism..."
"Kensei. Why can the Hōgyoku rapidly replenish its energy? Why didn't I dismiss your mass-production plan out of hand?"
"Because... you possess the ability to mass-produce such nearly miraculous items."
Aizen's voice was almost against his ear, her warm breath brushing his skin, carrying subtle amusement. "In that sense, calling you a hero of the Three Realms isn't inaccurate."
As she spoke, her deft fingers had already unfastened his clothing—unhurried, smooth.
Kūkon emitted another dissatisfaction hum nearby. But in moments like these, who paid attention to a Zanpakutō's reactions?
"However, I should warn you: Hōgyoku choose their owners. Your vision of one per person is impossible."
Aizen's fingertip slid the fabric from Kensei's shoulder, her gaze lingering on his partially exposed chest, as if appreciating a perfect artwork.
Like Yoruichi with her peculiar tastes, Aizen had preferences—appreciating Kensei in such half-concealed states.
"To fully unleash a Hōgyoku's power, one must earn its recognition and fully merge with it."
Aizen's long hair brushed Kensei's neck as she leaned closer, bringing tingling sensation.
Kensei's mind worked hard to process her words. This seemed accurate.
In his memory, Aizen had initially embedded the Hōgyoku in her chest. After Mugetsu shattered it, deeper fusion occurred.
"Subsequent Hōgyoku won't match this one's power. Still capable of substantial boosting spiritual pressure."
"Then... could we just not make them?"
Kensei's voice came out dry. He silently cursed Aizen for not explaining earlier—he'd never have proposed mass-production.
He felt her slightly cool hand press against him, stroking with just the right amount of pressure.
"No."
Aizen's answer was decisive. She leaned over, completely enveloping him in her shadow. Those hands—usually conducting experiments or unleashing Kurohitsugi—now precisely stimulated his nerves.
Kensei opened his mouth, but words failed him. His body had already honestly responded; anything he said now would seem contrived.
"Relax. Don't be tense."
Hearing this, Kensei felt strange. Why was Sōsuke always dominant in these moments?
When would he ever get to hear battle cries?
Useless Hōgyoku! Why couldn't it grant this wish?
Aizen emitted a soft muffled sound. Her usually steady breathing began uncontrollably.
Even someone as rational as she couldn't spare superfluous thoughts now—only instinctively claimed.
Kensei saw rare emotional turbulence in her eyes, heard her increasingly short breath. Somehow, he found it amusing.
What do you know—maybe he was pretty capable.
Ebbing and flowing. Aizen bit down on Kensei's shoulder, like a carnivore marking territory.
After a time, her breathing gradually stabilized.
She pushed herself up, disheveled hair scattered across her shoulders. Aside from slightly flushed cheeks and moist eyes, she'd resumed her usual calm demeanor.
"That's enough for today. If subsequent needs arise, I'll find you."
"How cold."
Kensei pouted. Shouldn't those words come from him? Had their roles somehow reversed?
"So... when can we expect new Hōgyoku?"
"Wait for notification."
Aizen casually bound her hair. When she turned, worldly desires had vanished from her eyes.
"I feel like you're scheming against me."
"This is mutually beneficial."
Aizen straightened her disheveled clothing, leaning down to trace the bite mark on his shoulder. "You gain enhanced combat power against Quincies. I gain research samples. Isn't that right?"
Kensei's mouth twitched. It felt more like Aizen won twice while he lost everything.
Not only did his imagined scenario fall short—he'd paid dearly.
Aizen collected her preserved container. At the door, she glanced back at the prone Kensei: "Rest well. Leave follow-up matters to me."
Kensei lay on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Soul King. Why did you have to create Yhwach? Cause all this hard work.
Speaking of which—if he could sustain Ukitake's life and extract the Soul King's right arm from him... feeding it to the Hōgyoku might produce interesting results.