"That's the Hōgyoku Cole mentioned!?"
"It just looks like a marble…"
"It can let a shinigami break the boundary with hollows?"
"Is that why Aizen betrayed the Seireitei — for this?"
All eyes locked onto the orb. No matter how they stared, they couldn't see what made it so special.
Yamamoto's eyes narrowed. Aizen spoke softly:
"I suppose none of you, not even the Head Captain, know my zanpakuto's true ability."
Captains frowned. As far as they knew, Aizen's zanpakuto was water-type, able to control currents. But his tone suggested otherwise.
Before them, Aizen raised his blade. Water shimmered briefly as he whispered:
"Kyōka Suigetsu. Its ability is complete hypnosis — to control the five senses."
Soi Fong scoffed. "Those substitutes just now were your illusions, weren't they?"
Gasps rippled. The fake Aizen trio still haunted their minds. Without Cole's reminder, Unohana's insight, and the decisiveness of Soi Fong and Byakuya, they never would've distinguished them.
"That? Merely failures," Aizen said calmly. "I was fighting the Head Captain, so the hypnosis wasn't perfect. Otherwise you'd never have noticed. Tell me… can you be sure the ones beside you are friend or foe now?"
Before their eyes, comrades shifted into Gin or Tōsen, then flickered back. Cold sweat prickled every neck.
Complete hypnosis. To control the five senses — in battle, it was nearly absolute. Your mortal enemy might appear as your ally. You might slash at empty air, only to die by Aizen's strike.
And then they noticed — Sasakibe lay beside Yamamoto, bloody and unconscious. Even the Head Captain had been caught.
Aizen's voice was certain. "So in the end, even the Head Captain falls to me."
Yamamoto drew out a small stone. Cole waved lazily.
"Oi, old man. Why bring that out? Didn't Urahara tell you to destroy it?"
Yamamoto crushed the stone in his hand — but it didn't break. Aizen stepped forward, blade raised for the Hōgyoku.
Yamamoto's fiery blade erupted.
"Ennetsu Jigoku!!!"
Flames roared. The two clashed, both striking the Hōgyoku at once.
The First Division, already ruins, was leveled further into scorched wasteland. Captains shielded themselves, watching grimly.
Even so, Aizen — still in shikai — was holding against Yamamoto's full power.
The Hōgyoku shot into the distance like a cannonball. Yamamoto slashed again, but Aizen had already vanished. Gin and Tōsen too.
Captains scanned frantically. Nothing.
Cole pointed lazily. "West side, six hundred meters, four meters off the ground. You're welcome."
Yamamoto wasted no time, swinging his fiery blade. A flash seared the night sky, forcing the traitors to reappear. Gin's robes burned at the corner.
"Captain Aizen," Gin said with a smirk. "That brat isn't under Kyōka Suigetsu. Should we take him out first?"
Aizen's eyes hardened. Cole turned away from his blade, unconcerned. Aizen's fury stirred — Urahara Kisuke. That man's meddling was the reason this boy could see through him.
"I should've killed you long ago…"
In the Human World, Urahara sneezed violently. "Strange… forty-three sneezes today. Jinta, maybe I caught a cold?"
Tessai frowned. "Feels more like someone's cursing you."
"Impossible. Everyone likes me. Even the Head Captain treats me kindly," Urahara said with a shrug, though unease gnawed at him.
Back in Seireitei, Cole kept calling out directions. "Southwest, three thousand meters. Chop Aizen's head off already!"
Yamamoto obeyed, cutting with furious power — until realization dawned. He had been swinging at empty spaces, chasing shadows at Cole's whims.
Veins bulged on his forehead. He turned his blade — straight at Cole.
"Oi! Ungrateful old man! I was helping you!" Cole yelped, enlarging his staff to meet the flames. Sparks burst like fireworks, dazzling the night sky.
Captains stared in disbelief. Was this an invasion? Or some bizarre festival?
Yamamoto lowered his blade. "Are you Urahara's disciple?"
Cole grinned. "That's right!"
Urahara sneezed again, slumping into bed. "I must really be sick…"
Yamamoto scowled. "That fool… training a disciple like you?"
Cole snorted. "Funny, he said the same about you. Claimed you've got a big temper, small skills, and would lose the Hōgyoku to Aizen anyway."
The vein on Yamamoto's forehead pulsed. "What else did he say?"
"Oh, that he'd come save your sorry hide himself. And that you should apologize to him when it's over."
Kyōraku and Ukitake groaned inwardly. This brat just threw Urahara under the cart.
Meanwhile, Urahara sneezed yet again, finally retreating to his room. "Tessai, don't bother me unless it's life or death. I'm definitely sick."
Yamamoto glared, blade ready to strike Cole down. But Cole had already bolted, staff swinging wide.
"Big! Big! Big! Big!"
The staff enlarged into a golden pillar, smashing toward a crowd of approaching shinigami — including Ikkaku and Yumichika.
"Old man! Block it!" Cole yelled.
Yamamoto had no choice. Flames surged as Ryūjin Jakka intercepted. Sparks showered the sky again.
Dust settled. Yamamoto's face darkened. To block a child's strike… and struggle. This brat's strength was truly abnormal.
Cole kept hammering the ground like pounding mochi before vanishing into the night.
Kyōraku sidled up to Ukitake, whispering with a grin.
"Ne, didn't the old man just look like a whack-a-mole?"
(End of Chapter)
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