"Ahh... my head hurts..." An office worker walked down the empty street with his briefcase in hand, wearily rubbing his temples. "What is going on...? Even the trains have stopped..."
"At this rate, I'll never make it to work..." He pressed a button on his phone, only to find there wasn't even a signal. "What the hell is... Ah!"
As he turned the corner, two men dressed in white came into view.
One of them even had two pairs of white, butterfly-like wings on his back.
They looked strange, but that was still better than seeing no one at all.
"Thank goodness, someone else is awake..." The office worker hurried over in relief. "Do you know what's going on?"
Sōsuke Aizen spoke. "...Don't come any closer."
The office worker stopped. Then he saw the severed limbs behind Sōsuke Aizen.
The people sleeping by the roadside had been hit by something. Large parts of their bodies were missing, just like...
Just like him now.
Sōsuke Aizen and Gin Ichimaru walked slowly past. The office worker swayed and collapsed to the ground.
A huge chunk was missing from the right side of his body, as if a round eraser had wiped it away. His right arm, right shoulder, part of his head, and part of his torso had all vanished without a trace.
"Those without Reiatsu perception may be unable to sense my power," Sōsuke Aizen said, not even sparing him a glance as he continued forward, "but their spiritual bodies still can't withstand it."
If Sōsuke Aizen had not deliberately restrained himself, even the ground beneath his feet would have crumbled apart, leaving him nowhere to stand.
But even with his Reiatsu suppressed, that overwhelming power still caused any weak life that drew too close to collapse.
The whites of Sōsuke Aizen's eyes had already been swallowed by pitch-black darkness. His gaze shifted toward a certain direction.
There, Tatsuki Arisawa asked Keigo Asano, who was following behind her, "Aren't you going to look for Kojima?"
"Yeah... I already did, actually." Keigo Asano sighed. "He hasn't been at school lately, and he won't answer his phone either. He's probably asleep somewhere right now. I won't be able to find him anytime soon."
"...Really?" Tatsuki Arisawa seemed a little surprised. "I thought you two had known each other since middle school. I figured you were really close."
"We are close... but distance matters too." Keigo Asano paused. "Or maybe it's because the distance is just right that we get along so well. That guy shuts himself away at the drop of a hat. If I barge in too close, not only will I fail to help him, I'll end up hurting him..."
Tatsuki Arisawa looked at Keigo Asano with mixed feelings. She had always thought he was just the loud, carefree type, but maybe that wasn't all there was to him.
In his own way, he was measuring and managing the distance between himself and others.
And while preserving those relationships, he was trying to bring that distance a little closer.
"Why are you looking at me like that...?" Keigo Asano looked away from Tatsuki Arisawa, a little embarrassed. "This really isn't the time to talk about stuff like that, is it?"
"Well... yeah, it's pretty boring." Tatsuki Arisawa waved it off. "We should..."
Her vision suddenly went black. A terrifying pressure descended without warning, as if everything around her lost its color in an instant. The air turned solid, pressing down on her body until she could barely breathe.
"Wh-what is this...?" Keigo Asano trembled and dropped to his knees. Cold sweat beaded on his cheeks, but instead of falling, it drifted upward under the influence of some unseen force. "What is this...?"
"You two..." Tatsuki Arisawa stared at the two figures slowly approaching. "Who are you...?"
"Not bad. You're this close and still alive." Sōsuke Aizen chuckled softly. "Muten Natsu's... classmates."
"I knew this day would come..." Tatsuki Arisawa staggered upright. "You're his enemy, aren't you? Don't even think about using me to threaten him." She turned and shouted, "Asano! Run!"
Keigo Asano struggled to stand. "Arisawa..."
"Hurry!" Tatsuki Arisawa screamed. "What can you even do by staying here?"
Keigo Asano clenched his teeth. He hesitated no longer and turned, rushing into an alley.
Gin Ichimaru had just begun to move when Sōsuke Aizen stopped him.
"There's no need to chase him. We'll start with her." Sōsuke Aizen corrected her calmly, "A threat? No. The threat I pose to him is already great enough. What he needs is loss."
There was no escape. Tatsuki Arisawa understood that perfectly.
The gap in power was far too great.
"Only when he sees your corpse will he remember the loss he suffered back then." Sōsuke Aizen raised his hand. "And just as he did back then, he will use his power better."
Bang!
…
"Muten Natsu..." Retsu Unohana's jet-black hair streamed through the bloody mist. "Stand up."
Myōki stabbed into the ground to support him, and Muten Natsu slowly rose to his feet.
"Faster than I expected..." Retsu Unohana's gaze passed over Muten Natsu's shoulder and settled on the blurred figure behind him. "The Primordial Form is revealing itself."
Muten Natsu turned his head. Though it was still only a vague outline, he had fought the Primordial Form so many times that he knew it all too well.
A broad cloak concealed its face, and through the gaps in the cloak, white diamond-shaped plates of armor clung to its body.
There was no mistaking it. This was the Primordial Form that had killed him countless times in his inner world, and also... the power that belonged to Retsu Unohana.
"Even now, you still cling to pretty illusions. You still refuse to accept the reality in front of you, and you still refuse to fight me." Retsu Unohana flicked the blade lightly with her finger. "That's all right. Just hand your body over to me. I'll let you experience... the joy of battle."
The hand stretching out from the phantom behind Muten Natsu overlapped with the hand he used to grip his blade.
The next instant, Muten Natsu's body moved beyond his control. He swung Myōki and closed in on Retsu Unohana.
The blade with its exaggerated outer curve clashed against the blade with its slight inward curve. Between their collision, viscous Spirit Ink mingled with crimson blood.
Almost at the same time, the two swung their arms, pivoting on their bodies as their blade arms whipped outward and knocked aside the other's Zanpakutō.
Spirit Ink and blood scattered. In the thick blood mist, the two seemed to dance, the gales of their movements colliding and sending waves through the blood.
Their techniques were similar, but the subtle difference in the curvature of their blades created completely different effects.
Under the Primordial Form's control, Muten Natsu stepped through the blood and struck again and again with overwhelming force, each slash as if meant to split Retsu Unohana in two.
But in a continuous assault, the weakness of an inward-curving blade, its slower recovery, was exposed completely. By contrast, the Zanpakutō in Retsu Unohana's hand had a curve almost like a semicircle, and its special structure allowed it to return with astonishing speed.
Whether Myōki blocked it or it struck Muten Natsu's body, Retsu Unohana's Zanpakutō used the advantage of its curvature to glide smoothly through, dispersing his force and cutting open his flesh.
Myōki's wild swings were like a sluggish windmill, while Retsu Unohana's elegantly curved body was a gentle breeze, passing at ease through the flashing cold light of that windmill-like dance and carving up Muten Natsu's body as effortlessly as preparing ingredients.
Blood sprayed from his wounds, leaving Muten Natsu's body and merging into the phantom of the Primordial Form, making it steadily more solid.
As the blood churned, Muten Natsu's wounds healed with startling speed, returning to normal without leaving even a single scar, only to be cut open again by Retsu Unohana the very next moment.
Wounds deep enough to reveal bone opened and closed one after another. With the blood filling it in, the Primordial Form attached to Muten Natsu gradually became clearer, as if he had gained a blood-red cloak that covered most of his body.
In the places not covered by the cloak, pitch-black diamond-shaped armor plates appeared.
"Sink into it more. Entrust your body to me." Retsu Unohana spun, brilliant blade-light circling her body as she knocked Myōki away and split open Muten Natsu's chest. "Let me help you become even more joyful... together with me."
Retsu Unohana's eyes widened. The excitement in them rose higher and higher alongside the increase in Muten Natsu's strength and speed, and the corners of her lips lifted into an intoxicated smile.
A thousand years ago, she had already begun to grow bored.
Bored of the blade in her hand that cut down everything. Bored of battles she could never lose.
She was too strong.
So strong that... she had no opponent.
And now, Muten Natsu, whom she had raised with her own hands, was growing stronger and stronger through the wounds she dealt him.
He brought her the joy of harvest... and incomparable pleasure.
If it was Muten Natsu, then surely he could...
Retsu Unohana shifted her body, and blood sprayed from the wound on her shoulder.
Ignoring the wound as it healed, Retsu Unohana turned to look at Muten Natsu behind her. "You've finally... started moving on your own."
"You taught me all of my Zanjutsu." Muten Natsu tightened his grip on Myōki and held the blade horizontally in front of him. "But your Zanjutsu... was designed for your blade. It doesn't completely suit me."
"So you broke free of the Primordial Form's control and attacked according to your own judgment." Retsu Unohana touched the spot where she had just been cut, but only felt her fully restored Shihakushō. "Ever since I saw you use the Hell Flames, I've been looking forward to this day."
Muten Natsu turned slightly sideways and withdrew Myōki into his left arm. "Do you... really like fighting that much?"
"I learned the art of healing so I could enjoy battle forever." Retsu Unohana also turned sideways and raised her left arm. It was her preparatory motion before an attack. "I love battle... enough to die for it."
"Then I..." Muten Natsu paused. "Then I... will give you what you want."
A sharp flash of blade-light broke free from flesh and blood, bursting with killing intent as it cut through the blood mist toward Retsu Unohana.
His step landed heavily in the blood.
…
Bang!
A small Reiryoku sphere exploded above Sōsuke Aizen's head, releasing a fierce burst of firelight.
"You look like you're in trouble, Girl. At times like this, you should call for a hero!" Under everyone's astonished gazes, the famous super-popular spirit medium of the new century, the Messenger from Hell, the hero of countless children, Don Kanonji, made his dazzling entrance. "SPIRITS ARE ALWAYS WITH YOU!"
Even in such a hopeless moment, Tatsuki Arisawa still felt utterly speechless at the sight of this mustached middle-aged man with black dreadlocks, a perfectly curled mustache, black sunglasses, and an over-the-top cape.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, viewers! Your Don Kanonji... my Don Kanonji... and everyone's Don Kanonji... has finally returned!" He crossed his arms over his chest. "Wahahahahahaha!"
"You..." The flames went out, leaving Sōsuke Aizen completely unharmed. "Who are you?"
"Eeh!" Don Kanonji drew out the sound dramatically. "An ignorant Boy who doesn't know who I am! Don't you watch television? Very well, allow me to introduce myse-"
Boom!
It was like thunder crashing down over his head. The terrifying Reiatsu made Don Kanonji tremble, and he nearly lost his footing.
"Go on," Sōsuke Aizen urged. "Assuming you can withstand my Reiatsu."
"Run..." Tatsuki Arisawa forced herself to warn him. "You're no match for him!"
"That's no way to speak to a hero." Don Kanonji raised the staff in his hand. "A hero never runs away!"
Gripping his staff with both hands, Don Kanonji charged toward Sōsuke Aizen without hesitation. "SPIRITS STICK!"
Whoosh!
A figure descended even faster, stopping Don Kanonji in his tracks.
"I finally made it..." Rangiku Matsumoto panted. "Aizen... Gin..."
"Oh..." Sōsuke Aizen looked intrigued. "I didn't expect you to be the first one to arrive here."
"Hurry up and run." Rangiku Matsumoto warned Don Kanonji, "I'll handle them. You two get out of here right now."
"What are you talking about?" Don Kanonji was certainly not going to retreat. "I..."
"You're too damn loud! Stop yapping and get moving!" Rangiku Matsumoto kicked Don Kanonji away. "If you don't, I'll rip out your mustache, burn your hat, and smash those weird glasses with one punch!"
"I... I understand..." Don Kanonji took two steps back and was about to help Tatsuki Arisawa up, only to find she had already stood on her own.
"You're..." Tatsuki Arisawa recognized Rangiku Matsumoto. "Where's Muten?"
Rangiku Matsumoto avoided her gaze. "Go..."
"When you said you made it... did you mean in time to let them escape, or in time to stop me from destroying Karakura Town and creating the Ōken? Never mind. Neither is right, actually." Sōsuke Aizen had no intention of stopping Don Kanonji and Tatsuki Arisawa from escaping. He looked at the silent Rangiku Matsumoto. "What's wrong? Don't you like talking to me?"