(T/n: Hi! Long time no see! Sorry for the quick hiatus! I was pretty burned out from irl matters, i was even planning to upload a new chapter for "the dance of love" but being burn out kinda.. fucked me up.. btw, 5 chapters for today! 1 chapter an hour!)
Chapter 187
Hirako Shinji's eyes darkened in the shadows, and injuring Sarugaki Hiyori was like touching his reverse scale. His expression grew sharp, filled with a killing intent directed toward Aizen Sōsuke. No… he had come with the intent to kill Aizen from the very beginning.
"Very good. After a hundred years, I finally see that look again."
Hirako Shinji, who had once been betrayed by Aizen and forced to watch as his comrades and himself were turned into Vizards, carried that same look of hatred now.
"Hirako Shinji, if you hate me, then attack me," Aizen said calmly.
Shinji gritted his teeth. "I can…"
With a smooth motion, Aizen opened his haori, revealing the Zanpakutō at his side. "I will even draw my sword for you."
"Hiyori is in your hands, Inoue," Shinji commanded abruptly. Inoue Orihime gave a firm nod and stepped forward to take her.
Watching this unfold, Aizen spoke with a faint edge of surprise. "I didn't expect you to entrust her to a human girl."
"You who have no true companions could never understand the meaning of trust, could you?" Shinji's voice cut sharply as he glared toward the sky.
From above, Aizen's eyes were cold. "Trust? Is it not simply dependence disguised with noble words? Such weakness is unnecessary."
Shinji scoffed. "And yet you surround yourself with subordinates. How did you make them follow you? Surely you used sweet words to deceive them into loyalty."
For a moment, as Aizen regarded Shinji from above, there was something unreadable in his eyes-almost pity.
"You are mistaken," Aizen replied evenly. "I have never asked anyone to trust me. I say only 'follow me,' never 'trust me and follow me.' I remind them constantly not to trust anyone, including myself. Yet the sad truth is that few can truly live by such words. All living beings instinctively trust those they believe stronger than themselves. If they do not follow them, they fear they cannot survive. To escape that weight, they entrust their will to those stronger than themselves. The stronger do the same, and so on. From this cycle is born the one who stands above all… the king."
---
Yuta stepped into the aura of death radiating from Baraggan. His figure was swallowed within it, vanishing completely from view. From the outside, no one could see what was happening inside, and those watching could not help but tense with unease.
Orihime clasped her hands tightly to her chest. She hadn't expected Yuta-san to enter Baraggan's ability range head-on. Could he withstand Baraggan's aging aura?
Kuchiki Rukia, standing on the edge of the battlefield, felt her grip tighten on her Zanpakutō, prepared to intervene at any moment. Matsumoto Rangiku's expression grew tense as her gaze locked onto the aura consuming Yuta. Unohana Retsu, watching quietly, kept her eyes focused on him as well.
Yuta… you must not die.
Though she had never crossed blades with him yet, Unohana could not suppress the anticipation that stirred within her heart at the thought of one day fighting him-a man capable of defeating Zaraki Kenpachi. That thought alone made her blood stir faintly with long-buried excitement.
---
Within the aura, Yuta's vision shifted. His spiritual eyes dissected the power surrounding him. To him, Baraggan's aging aura was no longer an unknowable force but rather a structure of countless threads unraveling one after another.
It felt as though he had fallen into a vast ocean. Bubbles rose past him with soft gurgles as his body sank deeper.
His gaze shifted to his hands. His right hand looked normal, untouched by decay. His left was skeletal and lifeless, eaten away entirely.
The ocean itself seemed divided down the middle. On one side was clarity and sunlight, warm water surrounding and protecting his right. On the other was endless darkness, suffocating and cold, where his left had already withered into bone.
The division was absolute-like a boundary between life and death itself. His body reflected this: flesh, bone, organs, even his face were split between vitality and decay. One eye was whole, the other an empty socket of bone. Even his brain seemed divided cleanly along the line.
This… was the power of aging.
He studied it quietly, feeling the erosion creep slowly from left to right. Unless he adapted to it before the decay spread completely across his body, he would lose everything.
Yuta shifted his position, aligning himself with his head raised above his feet, putting priority on protecting his mind from the spreading decay. For him, facing Baraggan's power was not a matter of defeat but an opportunity-to understand and absorb this ability for himself. Even if he were reduced to bone, he believed his blood outside could restore him.
Above, both Aizen Sōsuke and Tōsen Kaname turned their gazes toward Yuta, silently acknowledging the weight of what he was attempting in Baraggan's aura.
The erosion crept on. Bit by bit, Yuta's leg crumbled, his hand vanished, part of his lungs dissolved into nothing.
Outside, Baraggan roared with cruel laughter, his skeletal features twisting with arrogance. "Hahaha! I am the king! My ability is absolute! None can oppose me! All of you are ants-pitiful ants!"
His spiritual pressure surged outward violently, his aura swelling until it expanded several times larger, pressing down on the battlefield with crushing weight.
"Yuta… is dead!"
"No one who enters the range of my ability leaves alive!"
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