After Aizen departed, Kensei didn't choose to sleep. Following the recent activity, his body felt unusually active.
"So this is the price of heroism?"
He muttered quietly, glancing at his Zanpakutō Kūkon nearby. He'd vaguely heard her trembling earlier.
Kensei slapped his forehead—he'd forgotten today's Jinzen check-in.
Damn Aizen, causing his steadfast pursuit of truth to frenzy like ocean waves.
Grabbing Kūkon, he assumed Jinzen posture, his consciousness sinking into that space belonging solely to him and Kūkon.
The tall Kūkon-sama already awaited. Arms crossed, her silver-white ponytail swaying with the surrounding space's rotation, her eyes fixed on Kensei with undisguised disgust and dissatisfaction.
"Didn't expect you'd still come."
Kūkon's voice carried clear disappointment—if Kensei were a Schrift D, he wouldn't notice.
"A bit late today, but I haven't forgotten training..."
"Training?" Kūkon snorted derisively. "I thought you'd already engaged in other 'training' tonight."
"Special circumstances. Sōsuke and I were discussing the Three Realms' future."
Kensei knew Kūkon bore considerable grudge against Aizen—a historical issue with no current resolution.
"And that discussion ended in bed?" Kūkon raised an eyebrow, her finger tapping Kensei's forehead. "Rather than waste time and energy on such matters, you'd better invest more effort in Zanpakutō training."
"Sōsuke insisted."
"She asks, and you just give?"
Kūkon's voice sharpened. Others she could tolerate—only that despicable Aizen she refused to accept.
"Is your will so weak? As my master, Soul Society's future Captain-Commander—is conquering lust so difficult?"
Kensei found herself her words increasingly strange. The one residing in his heart... wasn't that Kūkon? Was she insulting?
Noticing Kensei's gaze, Kūkon considered briefly, realizing her current status in his heart. She coughed awkwardly.
"In any case, you understand my concerns."
"We're doing this to minimize casualties when facing the Wandenreich."
"Hmph. Those rats hiding in shadows—why worry about them?"
Kūkon snorted, disdain evident. Once she fully released, such small fry were trivial.
"Yhwach, progenitor of Quincies—even after absorbing the Soul King, he couldn't withstand one hand from me."
"Kūkon... are you serious?"
Kensei's mouth twitched. Though he usually dismissed most enemies, facing Soul King-empowered Yhwach demanded caution.
"Do I seem joking?" Kūkon withdrew her hand, crossing her arms again. "Tell me—what is Yhwach's Almighty's manifestation?"
"Seeing futures, choosing futures, influencing reality... something like that."
Kensei considered. Yhwach's abilities were complex—immunity to harm, killing the Monk—a Shinigami who'd trained millennia—with a glance.
But specifics eluded him. Kubo's mess was too vast.
"And your Bankai?"
"Similar to Yhwach's."
Kensei's Bankai resembled Yhwach's Almighty. At best, that made them evenly matched.
"Not similar."
Kūkon extended a finger, calmly explaining the difference.
"Yhwach sees possible futures. I can choose futures that don't exist. Understand?"
Kensei nearly grew dizzy from her explanation. If they didn't exist, could they still be called futures?
"Moreover, I have room for further evolution. Yhwach does not."
Kūkon's words radiated absolute confidence and domineering. Listening, Kensei felt Yhwach was the Soul King's foundling while Kūkon was the true offspring.
Considering, Kensei asked what had long puzzled him: "If you're so powerful, why does Old Man Yama keep beating me?"
Kūkon looked at him as if he were an idiot.
"Next time, use Bankai on Old Man Yama."
Kensei suddenly understood. He'd been too strong all along, accommodating the old man. Otherwise, he might accidentally abuse an elderly.
Why hadn't anyone told him? He'd be Captain-Commander already!
"So stop worrying and focus on refining your power. Remember—with me, you need fear nothing."
"Osu!"
Kensei felt Kūkon's words like enlightening wisdom. Indeed, Hōgyoku and such were minor tricks. Self-strength mattered most.
From today—abstinence!
Kūkon watched Kensei's gradually determined expression, satisfied. Though she knew this enthusiasm would last three minutes at most, progress was progress.
Without further words, Kūkon began their daily dual cultivation—her unilaterally teaching advanced spatial manipulation.
Only when Jinzen ended did Kensei leave the inner world, head filled with knowledge.
Kūkon watched him yawn and disappear, the corners of her mouth curling slightly.
As Kensei's Zanpakutō, she wouldn't lie about major matters. But deeper secrets could wait.
Had tonight's provocation by Aizen not occurred, she wouldn't have made such impulsive declarations.
Still, fueling Kensei's desire to grow stronger benefited both—whether for future dangers or herself.
"Hmph. Aizen, enjoy your moment of triumph while you can."
Kūkon narrowed her eyes, gaze piercing outward, wondering if Kensei would appreciate her surprise when the time came.
Leaving Kensei, Aizen hastened to Las Noches' laboratory, her eyes fixed on rapidly appearing data on the screen.
Fresh samples were preserved in special containers. Aizen used these—more effective than Soul King fragments—to construct secondary Hōgyoku.
"More smoothly than anticipated. Has Kensei grown stronger?"
Aizen examined the nearly-complete secondary Hōgyoku. Compared to her original, this one was slightly smaller, its light dimmer.
In her pocket, the Hōgyoku pulsed in sync with her breathing.
Aizen withdrew it, feeling the spiritual pressure in her palm, smiling unconsciously.
"It seems you support my idea as well?"
The Hōgyoku flickered in response.
As its longest user, Aizen understood the Hōgyoku—a wish-granting device responding to surrounding hearts, but requiring users with potential to realize those wishes.
She knew the Hōgyoku crved the energy within Kensei—its finest nourishment.
"But not yet. Not until potential crises are resolved."
Aizen stroked the Hōgyoku, soothing it—and calming her own dangerous thoughts.
"Speaking of which... Kensei's Zanpakutō is rather interesting."
Recalling Kūkon's many confrontations, Aizen's lips curled into a mocking curve.
A being without even a physical form—daring to display hostility before her.