"Aizen-taichō, it seems his little seal has worn off, hasn't it? Shall I… clean up the mess?" Ichimaru Gin offered, his voice a languid drawl as he rested a hand on his Zanpakutō's hilt.
"Don't talk nonsense, Ichimaru Gin," Amamiya Miyako retorted, his voice low and edged with a deliberate sharpness. "My seal is still very much 'effective' right now."
In that moment, Gin understood perfectly. The emphasis wasn't on the seal itself, but on its state. Miyako was telling him, without saying it aloud, that the effect—the clarity, the immunity to the hypnosis—was not only intentional but still active. The arrow had been a message delivered straight to its recipient.
"Is that so? Why don't I test it for myself, then?" Gin purred, slowly drawing Shinsō, its blade gleaming with lethal intent as he pointed it at Miyako.
"No, Gin." Aizen's calm voice cut through the tension. "Allow me to converse with Amamiya Miyako a little longer." Completely unsuspecting of the silent communication that had just passed, Aizen's focus was entirely on his test subject. In a blur of Shunpo, he vanished from his original position, reappearing at Miyako's flank, Kyōka Suigetsu slashing in a silver arc.
Screeech!
Miyako crossed his twin blades, Kōjin Zetsumei, intercepting the strike with a shower of sparks. What followed was a tempest of blows. Aizen's attacks were a cascade of precise, blindingly fast slashes. Miyako twisted and parried, his dual-wielding style a whirlwind of defensive motion, but Aizen's speed was transcendent. Even with his heightened reflexes, Miyako couldn't block everything. Yet, where the blade did land, it failed to bite deep, meeting an invisible, pliable resistance just above his skin—the adaptive reishi barrier.
"To maintain a seal on Gin's Zanpakutō for this duration… you should be proud, Amamiya Miyako," Aizen remarked, a scientist's curiosity in his tone. He was comparing it to the brief sealing from their last encounter, noting the improved duration.
"Indeed. The ability of your Zanpakutō… it forms a micro-thin, malleable film of reishi over your body, does it not?" Aizen deduced aloud, his attacks never ceasing. "This film filters external spiritual intrusions, which is how you resist my hypnosis. By modulating its density, you can mimic a Hollow's Hierro to deflect physical strikes. A fascinating, versatile defense."
Aizen was still holding back, treating this as a live dissection of an unknown power. He hadn't even used a fraction of his true speed or strength.
Miyako knew his primary goal—planting the seed of truth in Gin's mind—was accomplished. It was time to exit. He could feel other powerful reiatsu, drawn by the commotion, converging on their location.
"Hadō #78: Zangerin!" Instead of aiming at Aizen, Miyako crossed his blades and unleashed the destructive Kidō at the laboratory's outer wall. A towering crescent of annihilating light erupted, too vast and sudden for even Aizen to intercept fully. With a cataclysmic roar, a huge section of the white wall vaporized, exposing the endless desert night of Hueco Mundo.
"Attempting to flee?" Aizen didn't chase, but merely raised a hand. "Hadō #90: Kurohitsugi."
A box of swirling black energy, studded with torrents of destructive power, instantly materialized around Miyako. But from within the dark coffin, a flash of blue-white light erupted. "Reject!" Miyako's voice echoed, and the Kurohitsugi was violently split apart from the inside, shattering into fading reishi.
As Miyako burst free from the dissolving fragments, he found Aizen already standing directly before him, having closed the distance in the blink of an eye. His expression was placid, his slash deceptively simple. At this extreme close range, dodging was impossible. Miyako's barrier, momentarily focused on repelling the Kurohitsugi's internal pressure, was at its thinnest.
Shink!
Aizen's blade bit into Miyako's shoulder, drawing a line of crimson. The cut was clean, not deep, but it was a mark of failure. The price for using his Rejection ability outwardly was a temporary vulnerability in his personal defense.
Miyako gritted his teeth, ignoring the flaring pain. He didn't waste time re-establishing his barrier to full strength. Instead, he pushed reishi to his feet in a hybrid burst of Hirenkyaku and Shunpo, bolting for the jagged hole in the wall.
Aizen did not give chase. He merely watched the retreating figure, a slight smile on his lips.
"Is this truly alright, Aizen-taichō?" Gin asked, sheathing Shinsō.
"It is of no consequence. The battle served its purpose. I now have a far clearer understanding of his Zanpakutō's mechanics," Aizen replied, examining a trace of blood on Kyōka Suigetsu's edge. "That wound will not heal easily. If he does not treat it, he will not escape Las Noches alive."
Through their exchange, Aizen had confirmed a critical limitation: Miyako could not maintain his absolute defensive barrier and simultaneously execute his powerful "Rejection" slash that broke Kidō. It was one or the other—a trade-off between perfect defense and potent offense.
"However, what I find curious is that Las Noches' sensors detected no anomalous reiatsu from him until he attacked," Aizen mused.
"There truly wasn't any, Aizen-taichō," Gin said, shrugging with feigned helplessness. "The monitors only showed Kurosaki Ichigo and his group. Perhaps Kisuke Urahara provided him with some new tool?"
Gin actively steered the speculation, his mind working furiously beneath his placid smile. Miyako's actions—the deliberate first shot at him, the seemingly futile assault—were a puzzle. The arrow hadn't been born from fear. 'Amamiya Miyako… this mysterious Vice-Captain who appeared from nowhere. What do you know? And why reveal this to me…?' Whatever the reason, Gin decided to guard this newfound clarity closely. It was a card only he held.
"I see. It must be that special cloak Urahara developed. We have utilized it ourselves; you are aware of its properties," Aizen concluded.
"Oh, that one? Aizen-taichō even used it to ambush Shiba Isshin back then. How terrifyingly effective," Gin recalled, his suspicion of Miyako's true aim deepening. If he had such a cloak, why reveal himself at all? Why make a point of targeting me first? That arrow was a delivery.
****
The first to arrive at the devastated laboratory was Tier Harribel. The Tres Espada, ever dutiful, had been on standby within the main palace rather than guarding a decoy tower.
"Aizen-sama. Are you unharmed?" she asked, her deep voice calm but alert, golden eyes surveying the damage.
"Harribel. It is nothing. A mere intruder managed to sneak into Las Noches. I require you to organize a search," Aizen instructed.
"Understood. I will mobilize the interior guards immediately." With a curt nod, Harribel departed, her reiatsu flaring as she issued silent commands.
Shortly after, Tōsen Kaname arrived, having settled the newly completed Wonderweiss Margela. "Aizen-sama! What has occurred?"
"Ah, Tōsen. A minor incident. An old acquaintance paid us a visit."
"A rather persistent one, Tōsen-taichō," Gin added with a smirk.
"An acquaintance…?" Tōsen's brow furrowed behind his blindfold.
"Indeed. Though, I suspect another is far more eager to meet him than you are," Aizen said, just as a wild, aggressive reiatsu spiked and rocketed towards them.
The next second, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez crashed onto the scene, his blue hair whipping around a furious scowl. He took in the wreckage, his eyes blazing. "That Shinigami! Where is Amamiya Miyako?!"
Hearing the name, Tōsen Kaname stiffened, then his face contorted with anger. "Ichimaru Gin! Aizen-sama entrusted you with monitoring security! How could you allow an enemy to infiltrate the heart of Las Noches?!"
"Now, now, Tōsen. Do not blame Gin," Aizen interceded smoothly. "Amamiya Miyako was equipped with a cloak that masks reiatsu. A tool from Kisuke Urahara's arsenal."
The explanation momentarily quelled Tōsen's outrage, but did nothing to dampen Grimmjow's impatience. The Sexta Espada was vibrating with predatory intensity, the scent of Miyako's spilled blood and fading spiritual trail calling to him like a beacon.
"Grimmjow," Aizen said, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "If you tarry too long, another may claim your prey."
That was all the encouragement he needed. With a bestial grin, Grimmjow turned and launched himself through the shattered wall, following the faint but unmistakable trail of blood and reishi into the labyrinthine depths of Las Noches, the hunt finally begun.