Chapter 121: The Death of Aizen.
Somewhere, sometime.
Even with his eyes closed, Gin could still see the flicker of firelight through his lids, shadows dancing in soft pulses. A faint warmth seeped through his clothes, slowly returning sensation to his limbs.
He opened his eyes to a narrow slit, his gaze sliding over the room with the quiet menace of a viper tasting the air.
Then he saw it.
A small figure sat beside a bonfire not far away. The moment Gin caught that spiritual pressure, his entire body went rigid. His hand struck the ground with a faint knock.
The sound startled the figure like a skittish animal. She snapped her head around.
Their eyes met.
For an instant, both of them froze.
"You're awake!"
…
Gin sat up without a word and scanned his surroundings.
The wooden hut was just as he remembered: painfully shabby, barely a shelter at all. On a winter night like this, it blocked almost none of the cold. The only way to endure was to wrap yourself in tattered clothes, huddle near the fire, and fall asleep right there when exhaustion finally won.
This was everyday life in the remote districts of Rukongai.
"Um… do you want something to eat?" the girl asked timidly.
Gin's eyes narrowed into their usual crescent slits, but this time the corners of his mouth did not lift. His expression looked colder than normal, yet there was a strange, unfamiliar trace of humanity in it.
Especially when he looked at the girl.
His heart wavered so violently it almost felt like someone dead had returned and sat down in front of him.
In truth, that was not far from reality.
The girl looked exactly like Rangiku. No, more than that, she looked like a younger Rangiku.
But the wild, weed like hair. The tattered clothes. The soot and grime on her face, probably from cooking. The caution and timidity around strangers.
It was hard to connect that image to the bright, elegant Lieutenant of the Tenth Division.
Even so, Gin knew.
In a sense, they were the same person.
"Did it succeed…?" he muttered.
Reflexively, he reached over his body, searching for what mattered. He found nothing. Both the blazing water mirror and his Zanpakuto were missing.
"…Your things are over there."
Young Rangiku pointed toward the corner.
Gin's eyes followed.
His sword and the blazing water mirror were there, set aside neatly. Relief loosened something in his chest. He started to move toward them, but the instant he shifted, a fierce pain stabbed through him.
Only then did he realize how badly he was hurt. His spiritual pressure was unstable, nowhere near its peak.
"The Captain Commander really didn't hold back," Gin thought. "Was he trying to chop me into a stump before taking me alive?"
Fortunately.
The plan had succeeded.
It began when he investigated the lead left by the dog headed Arrancar, Kesu, the one eliminated by Takeru and Ichigo. By accident, Gin discovered Arturo's existence.
Curiosity drove him further. He kept digging into Arturo's traces, and that trail led him to the blazing water mirror and the Shinto bloodline that had perished because of it.
The last holder's death felt wrong. Suspicious.
That suspicion became obsession.
If it meant killing Aizen and reclaiming what had been stolen, then no amount of preparation was too much.
While Aizen busied himself teaching his two disciples, Gin spent enormous effort searching ancient records in forgotten libraries, visiting ruined family grounds, and gathering every scrap of writing that mentioned the mirror.
Eventually, he uncovered the secret.
The blazing water mirror possessed the power to travel through space and time.
Its so called ability to absorb spiritual power was only preparation, no different from hoarding energy to open a path.
The required spiritual power was absurdly high. And the method of absorption was violent enough that it made sense people would mistake it for an offensive technique.
"In the battle a thousand years ago," Gin thought, "the last holder of the blazing water mirror knew that sealing Arturo meant placing the mirror inside his body."
"It would continuously absorb his spiritual power and neutralize him."
"But that method had a fatal flaw."
"Eventually, it would absorb enough power to awaken its true function."
"And when that happened, it would help Arturo escape, sweeping everything nearby into space time turbulence and causing consequences no one could predict."
"So she used her life to place a seal on the blazing water mirror."
"No matter how much spiritual power it absorbed, it would never activate."
"All the spiritual power would be consumed maintaining the seal itself, a closed loop."
"After she died, and with no identical bloodline to break the seal, it became almost impossible for the mirror to ever reveal its true power."
"But the clan that guarded the artifact had stood high among the nobility for ages."
"So traces of their 'genes' remained inside other ancient bloodlines."
"By using the lives of the forty six sages to mimic the last holder's method, the seal was broken."
"Spiritual power was collected while the Gotei 13 attacked."
"Then, during the retreat, it was activated while covering the rear."
"Overall, the plan worked."
"But the power is too violent, too chaotic."
"Rather than a clean activation, it felt like a rampage."
"Is it because I'm an outsider? A drawback of forcing it open with a shortcut?"
"Or because I used it as a shield to absorb the Captain Commander's spiritual power, and then got slashed while doing it?"
"If the mirror's space time travel is real, then only me and a small group around me should have been transported."
"But right before it triggered… it felt like all of Las Noches was about to be dragged along."
"Was that a chain reaction? The Gotei 13 tearing up space over there?"
Thought after thought collided in Gin's mind.
He did not rush to retrieve his things.
Instead, he sat cross legged, wore his usual harmless smile, and started talking to the girl, gently, carefully, as if easing into a trap.
Before long, he pieced together the whole story.
"So you dragged me back here while I was unconscious and injured?"
"Yes."
"Why'd you do that?"
"Because… you look a lot like Gin."
Young Rangiku answered as if it were the simplest truth in the world.
"Gin picked me up back then. Now I ran into you."
"If you're a relative of Gin, then leaving you to die would betray his kindness."
…
Gin's spiritual senses swept the hut.
No second presence.
"The Gin you're talking about isn't here?"
"He's always been mysterious," she said. "Especially these last two days."
"I fainted for some reason, and then he brought me back. I asked what happened, but he wouldn't tell me."
"He leaves early and stays gone all day, so I had to drag you back by myself."
"…I'm sorry."
"Why are you apologizing?"
"I got your clothes really dirty," she said, glancing down at him. "They looked expensive."
"And I can't heal you."
"It's fine. Those are small things," Gin replied lightly.
Then she hesitated, and her voice dropped.
"You got hurt fighting someone, right? Will they come after you?"
Young Rangiku looked around, suddenly nervous, as if the shadows themselves might be listening.
Gin's smile stiffened for a heartbeat, then returned.
"I think… probably not?"
Even Gin did not fully understand the blazing water mirror's time travel mechanism yet. But even if everyone was sent to the same point in time, it did not mean they would land together.
Otherwise, he would not be sitting here, sharing firelight with his childhood friend.
The conversation stalled.
Silence crept into the room, thick and awkward.
Only the crackle of burning wood gave the hut any sense of life.
Young Rangiku pulled her knees closer, stared at the steam rising from the hanging pot, and asked softly, "Do you want something to eat?"
It was the second time she had asked.
In a place as impoverished as this Rukongai district, even though souls did not always require food, living resources of every kind were scarce.
Beyond the Fiftieth District, no one even wore straw sandals. People went barefoot.
And yet, she was willing to share her precious soup with a stranger she had saved.
Only because she thought he might be connected to someone she cared about.
It was easy to imagine how important that companion was to her.
Gin's smile dimmed again. He sniffed lightly, then asked with sudden curiosity, "That smell… is it wild vegetable soup?"
"You… you can tell?" Young Rangiku's eyes widened.
The wild vegetable soup bubbling in the hanging pot could be both food and water. It was cheap. A common choice for weak souls with spiritual power.
"I ate it a lot when I was a kid too," Gin said softly.
He leaned over, lifted the lid, and took a bowl, serving the soup with practiced ease.
Young Rangiku stared.
Even if he had eaten it before, it should not have looked like this.
This was not the familiarity of taste.
It was the familiarity of living here.
His small gestures, his way of moving, even his face, which looked like an older version of her companion, left her dazed.
"Here." Gin handed the first bowl to Young Rangiku.
"Thank you."
"You're the one feeding me," Gin said, voice light. "It's not your turn to say thanks."
"…I guess that's true," she said, then nodded firmly. "Then, let's eat!"
"Let's eat."
To be honest, it tasted awful.
No seasoning. Rough cooking. The wild vegetables were bitter enough to make your tongue curl.
But Gin ate it happily anyway, finishing every drop.
He stuck his tongue out at the bitterness, as if it were funny.
Just watching him made it easier to keep eating.
"Oh no!" Young Rangiku suddenly patted her warm belly and glanced out the window at the night sky. "I forgot to save some for Gin!"
"It's fine, it's fine," Gin said, already finished. He began using Kidō on himself, quietly mending what he could. "That guy will find something to eat on his own."
"He was doing fine before he picked you up, wasn't he?"
"He can take care of himself. No need for others to worry."
"I don't think he wants people worrying about him all the time either."
Young Rangiku did not catch any hidden meaning. She only frowned, suddenly angry.
"How could I not worry! Going hungry is one thing, but what if he gets knocked out and kidnapped by bad people and forced to become some mountain bandit?"
…
Gin fell silent for a moment.
"…That's true," he said at last. "Then I'll go help you find him."
"Huh? Then I'll go with you!"
"No need," Gin replied smoothly. "I'm fairly familiar with this area."
"And what if he comes back, sees you're gone, and runs out looking for you again?"
"Ugh…"
"So you stay here. Don't go anywhere."
"…Fine."
Young Rangiku sat back down, reluctant.
She watched Gin pick up his sword, shrink the mirror and slip it into his sleeve, then turn toward the door.
"By the way," she said, suddenly realizing something, "we don't know each other's names yet."
"I'm Matsumoto Rangiku. What about you?"
"…Sorry," Gin said softly. "I forgot."
"Eh?! You can forget something like that?"
"I can't help it," he replied, smiling faintly. "As you saw, I just fought someone."
"It's normal to get amnesia."
"By the way… there's a high chance I'm not your companion's relative."
"…I guessed as much," Young Rangiku admitted. "You have a sword only a Shinigami would have, and that mirror is obviously not ordinary."
"And you're wearing expensive clothes."
"You must be a big shot from Seireitei, right?"
"Someone like that couldn't possibly be related to Gin."
"So you were lying when you said you saved me because you thought we were related?"
"…It wasn't exactly a lie," she said, looking down.
"I did think it was possible."
"But mostly, it's because you look so much like him."
"I couldn't just leave you to die."
The same reason.
But now it sounded completely different.
Gin murmured, "I see," pushed open the door, and vanished into the night.
"…Is he angry?"
For some reason, Young Rangiku's chest felt tight, uneasy, like he might never come back.
In the darkness outside, hidden among bushes.
Those eyes that were usually narrowed into thin, deceitful slits were wide open now, staring coldly ahead.
Not far away, several men in black kimono knelt on the ground, respectfully presenting an object glowing with a strange red light to an elegant man wearing glasses.
It looked like a tightly compressed orb of energy.
The watcher did not know what it was.
He only knew these were Shinigami, and they had taken something from his companion not long ago.
It was that glowing object, the one the man with glasses was now reaching for.
"That guy… is the leader," the watcher thought. "I have to…"
His vow stopped halfway.
A white light tore through the darkness like lightning, severing the man with glasses' fingers and forcing the glowing object to drop.
"Who's there… argh!"
The Shinigami drew their swords, shocked and furious, pointing in the direction the light came from.
Their vigilance meant nothing.
Their questions became their last words.
The white light swept across, cutting through the remaining Shinigami. Their upper bodies crashed to the ground, and a swath of trees behind them toppled in the same instant, dust exploding into the air.
A white figure dashed forward. The retracted white light shot out again, forcing the man with glasses to retreat.
The attacker did not chase.
Instead, he picked up the red object, inspected it briefly, then clenched it and tucked it into his robes.
"Sigh."
Gin, the one who had done it all, let out a quiet sigh.
"What's wrong?" the man with glasses asked, smiling. "Regret that you failed to kill me with a sneak attack?"
"If so, there's no need. I can see your goal was that discarded item."
"You have it now."
Though three fingers on his left hand had been cut off, he did not look shaken. He seemed composed, as natural as the night itself, as if heaven and earth belonged to his silence.
"No," Gin said, gaze flat. "I was thinking Captain Aizen has a wicked sense of humor."
"You clearly felt my spiritual pressure, but you pretended you didn't."
"…That's an interesting way to address me," the man with glasses said calmly.
"But more interesting than that is your… no, I should say your identical spiritual pressures."
His eyes drifted toward the bushes with mild curiosity.
His gaze met the peeker's.
The boy broke out in a cold sweat. He had been noticed long ago. And yet the man had pretended not to see him, right until Gin appeared.
With a rustle, the peeker fled.
"The person you wanted to protect is gone," the man with glasses said gently. "Now we can talk properly."
He tucked the Hōgyoku in his other hand into his robes, mimicking Gin's manner.
"Give me a break. I've chatted with 'you' more than enough," Gin said, raising his hands and putting on a troubled face.
"I don't want to waste any more brain cells dealing with you, Captain Aizen."
"Right now, I just want to kill you. That's it."
"Are you sure you want to fight me with a body that hasn't recovered?" Aizen asked, gaze deep.
"If I really am the Captain Aizen you claim, and if you really know me well…"
"Then you should know that even like this, I'm not someone you can easily kill."
"Ara," Gin said, smiling. "When you say it like that, it makes people want to try."
"…Indeed," Aizen replied. "Forbidden things always provoke desire."
"And forbidden knowledge often hides truths no one expects."
Gin drew his familiar long sword. Aizen watched him with quiet interest.
Gin's eyes opened slightly. Light blue pupils, sharpened into killing intent condensed for more than a hundred years.
"Bankai… Kamishini no Yari."
Blazing white spiritual pressure tugged at the air until it roared. Gin's clothes fluttered as if wind had been born from nothing.
"As expected of a Captain level expert," Aizen murmured, "and not just any Captain."
"A Bankai level attack."
"No wonder even I was accidentally injured."
"Still that leisurely?" Gin teased. "Don't think the strike from before was the full power of my Bankai."
"Its maximum length can reach thirteen kilometers."
"Even if you run now, it's too late."
"Thirteen kilometers," Aizen repeated, thoughtful. "An astonishing number."
"To extend a blade that far, the weight alone would be difficult to withstand."
"But that won't make it impossible for me to respond."
As he spoke, a white light shot at him.
Aizen tilted his head as if he had already seen it coming. He stepped aside with calm precision, dodging the downward slash as well.
Dust exploded. Impact rippled.
But it was all swallowed by the barrier formed from his spiritual pressure.
"I guessed right," Aizen said. "The most dangerous part of your Zanpakuto isn't its length."
"It's its speed, specifically its extension and contraction."
"You boasted about the length to pull my attention away."
"As expected of Captain Aizen," Gin said lightly. "You saw through it."
"In that case, I won't hold back."
"Kamishini no Yari: Butō Renjin!"
The short blade held before Gin's chest fired again and again like a storm. White light, many times faster than sound, formed a ruthless sheet of strikes, slicing and piercing the space in front of him.
Even a mountain would be riddled with holes, then carved into fragments.
"Bakudo #81: Dankū."
Aizen cast high level Bakudo with ease. A transparent barrier formed instantly.
It lasted only seconds.
The storm of attacks pierced through at a single point, shattering Dankū like glass.
"Is it over?" Gin asked, staring at the forest ahead that had been reduced to nothing.
In the next moment, six rods of light locked his body.
Aizen was behind him.
"How long will you pretend?" Aizen's voice was calm. "You know that kind of attack can't kill me."
"And I know you're waiting for me to use Kyōka Suigetsu."
"I can make a bolder judgment."
"You not only know Kyōka Suigetsu's ability, you also know the method to break it."
"That's why you didn't touch my body with your blade."
"You held it in your hand to draw my attention, just as I do."
"Meanwhile, you used Kidō to secure victory."
…
Gin's expression froze, then he let out a bitter laugh.
"Oh my. How terrifying."
"I got played in the palm of your hand."
"I surrender. I surrender."
"Surrendering so soon?" Aizen sounded mildly disappointed.
"I feel like you still have moves you haven't shown."
"At any other time, I might let you use them, out of curiosity."
"But now, I'm more interested in you as a person."
"Bakudo #63: Sajō Sabaku."
Golden chains erupted from all directions, binding Gin. They wrapped his body tight, leaving only his head exposed.
"You're always this cautious against someone weaker than you?" Gin asked.
"Caution toward an unknown expert who managed to wound me is respect," Aizen replied.
"I think you should be proud."
"…Indeed."
Footsteps approached from behind. Gin understood Aizen intended to end it, to strip him of any chance of resistance.
Anesthetic. A Kidō seal. Maybe severing his limbs.
Either way.
"I should be proud," Gin thought.
Without warning, a brilliant white light burst from Gin's back.
"What…!"
Aizen's pupils constricted.
He had remained vigilant, but he did not expect Gin to still have strength for a counterattack like this.
The extension speed was faster than before.
And the angle was wrong, fired from behind.
At less than two meters.
Aizen managed only half a step.
The white light skewed slightly. It did not pierce his heart, but it tore through his chest and severed his spine.
…!
Aizen reacted instantly, raising his blade to sever the white light and prevent a follow up slash that would split him open.
But the white light had already retracted.
Of course it had.
It had been fired from Gin's back.
Which meant Gin had aimed it through his own abdomen first, using his own body as a shield to pierce himself before striking his enemy.
If Gin tried to finish with a downward slash, he would disembowel himself as well.
Mutual injury became mutual destruction.
"Ugh!"
Aizen retreated, clutching his chest, forcing distance. His eyes locked onto the fragments of white light on Gin's body as the golden chains fell away.
No.
They were not simply collapsing.
They were being absorbed by something.
"Huff… ha…"
Gin dropped to one knee. Sweat drenched his forehead. Blood soaked the front of his robes. He looked like he might topple at any breath.
"Even if you broke my Kidō," Aizen said, breathing controlled, "the result hasn't changed."
"That's right," Gin replied softly. "Everything is developing exactly as I predicted."
"The true ability of my Bankai, Kamishini no Yari, is neither its length nor its speed."
"In the instant of extension and retraction, a tiny fragment remains inside the enemy's body."
"Its essence is a deadly poison that dissolves cells."
"What… did you say?" Aizen's composure finally cracked.
"I know how cunning you are," Gin continued, voice steady despite the blood, "but your mind, the kind that sees through everything and therefore accommodates everything while looking down on all…"
"That goes beyond cunning."
"So I only needed to show you something that interested you."
"And you would abandon the idea of killing me, choosing instead to restrain me, cautious."
"But no matter how cautious you were, you could never imagine I had a trump card that could absorb spiritual power."
"Even Kyōka Suigetsu would be nullified."
"Whether you use it or not, as long as you dare to approach…"
"I can break free and drive the fully released blade through your arrogant chest."
"It doesn't matter that it missed your heart."
"The poison dissolves cells across the entire body."
"You…" Aizen roared, fury finally bleeding through. "Just who are you!"
Gin forced himself upright, not even turning his head.
"Kill him," he said quietly. "Kamishini no Yari."
That was his answer.
He was nobody.
Just the blade meant to kill Aizen.
A massive hole dissolved in Aizen's chest.
With an expression tangled from bewilderment, frustration, and a faint trace of relief, Aizen collapsed.
…
Gin sheathed his blade and searched the body in silence.
He retrieved the unfinished Hōgyoku and Kyōka Suigetsu, and a complicated weight settled in his chest.
After learning the blazing water mirror could travel through space and time, his first thought had been to change past and future.
He had prepared for that.
Now, the one he wanted dead was dead.
But would history truly change?
If time corrected itself, if their actions did not interfere, or if this world was nothing more than a dream, a false product…
Then he had to consider how to maximize what he had gained.
For example.
Taking Aizen's soul, his blade, and the Hōgyoku, then seeing what would happen.
Perhaps it could become the key to truly killing the real one.
Even so, Gin still wanted it to end here.
Because after the Muramasa incident, Aizen had become even more unfathomable.
Even if Gin could rely on the blazing water mirror to break Kyōka Suigetsu, it was still difficult to tell truth from illusion.
Gin had seen it with his own eyes.
Aizen carried one Kyōka Suigetsu on his person, and another was left in Las Noches.
One of them was certainly fake.
If the blade could be fake, what about the man?
What if the one who died here was also fake?
Killing such an Aizen was a task beyond imagination.
"So it would be best if you could just die like this," Gin murmured.
With a heavy heart, he processed the corpse and collected the soul.
Then, dragging his severely injured body, he started to leave.
After only a few steps, his knees buckled and he nearly collapsed.
"Huff… huff…"
Two powerful enemies in succession. Injuries layered on injuries. His body was at its limit.
"Are you all right?"
Someone jogged over.
…
Gin looked up.
A young face, painfully familiar, came into view. A hand reached out to support him.
For a moment, Gin was dazed.
"You…" he rasped. "Why did you come back?"
"…I wanted to see if there was a chance to kill that person."
"I see," Gin said softly. "Persistent, aren't you."
He forced himself to produce the glowing object and held it out.
"Take this. Go back with it."
"As for me… don't worry about me."
The boy's eyes widened the moment he saw it.
"…!"
He accepted it carefully, about to speak, only to find Gin had already lost consciousness.
The boy stared at that familiar face.
It looked like a grown version of himself, soaked in blood, drained of strength.
Just seeing it stirred an involuntary empathy in his chest.
"Don't worry…"
Then he paused.
"…Huh?"
The boy looked up at the sky.
As expected, it would snow for the next few days.
…
His expression hardened into determination.
He hoisted Gin onto his back, gathered everything he could carry, and began walking, step by step, back the way he came.
Not long after, snow began to fall.
Pure white.
Like the uniforms of Las Noches.
It buried the traces of a battle that should not have existed.
And the one who should not have been buried walked through wind and snow, back toward the warmth of that wooden hut.
.....
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