Inside the big warehouse space, the Visoreds fell utterly silent.
It wasn't that they had nothing to say—Cole's "ants vs. higher dimension" explanation had simply stunned them speechless. Ants—those lowly lives that crawl everywhere and beg for crumbs; usually they wouldn't spare them a glance. Yet in Cole's mouth, their lives were no different from ants.
Just how strong had Aizen become for Cole to answer like that? Had he already stepped onto the Heavenly Throne?
After a long while, Shinji finally managed, dry-voiced, "You've seen Aizen Sousuke's reiatsu with your own eyes?"
Cole thought about it. He had "seen" it in the anime's line of fate; that counted. He nodded.
The Visoreds felt even more suffocated. They had hidden and schemed for a hundred years specifically to repay Aizen for ruining them. And now Cole was telling them Aizen wasn't even in the same dimension.
How were they supposed to take revenge?
Another long beat passed before Kensei forced out, "One whole dimension above—what kind of level is that?"
The word "dimension" was too vague. Was it "invincible," or merely "incredibly strong"?
Cole rubbed his chin, expression slightly odd. Truth be told, even he didn't know exactly how high Aizen's peak sat. In that state, only Kurosaki Ichigo, under Saigo no Getsuga Tensho (Final Moon Fang Heaven-Piercer), had crossed blades with him—and that setup appeared only once. After that, whether it was Genryusai Yamamoto, the Royal Guard, or the Wandenreich's Yhwach in the Thousand-Year Blood War, nobody carried that "dimensional" framing forward. No matter how wild the power scale got, both sides could still sense each other's reiatsu. In other words, Aizen and Ichigo's clash sat on a broken tier of its own, and nobody really knew the exact level.
Seeing Cole not volunteer a number, Shinji drew a long breath to steady himself and asked slowly, "Then in your view, who's stronger right now—Aizen or the Captain-Commander?"
"Aizen versus the old man, huh…" Cole rubbed his temples. One was a villain who had pierced the ceiling of dimensions; the other was the world of Bleach's living capstone. Hard to judge—more so because those two had never truly fought. Yamamoto had made that big entrance—and then, before he could even bankai, he'd been baited into losing an arm and knocked out of the battle; he ended up basically a stage prop.
After thinking it over, Cole gave the most neutral call he could: "I feel like the old man edges it—provided he doesn't get careless and goes straight to bankai."
That "dimensional break" framing only appeared once. Yamamoto's invincibility, however, had been shown for real. If he hadn't been set up again later, with Zanka no Tachi (Remnant Fire Sword), he might have chopped Yhwach into sashimi.
"So the Captain-Commander is still probably stronger?" The Visoreds finally let out a breath—but unease lingered. This was only Cole's estimate, and it had taken him a good while. The biggest worry: the Captain-Commander was too old; a thousand years of being undefeated had calcified his thinking—stubborn, rigid, unbending. Otherwise, he would have sniffed out Aizen's danger back during the hollowfication incident.
The Visoreds talked it through and set a course. Shinji said gravely, "Cole, the four of us are heading to Seireitei to discuss this thoroughly."
Kensei and the others nodded. Previously, they'd avoided returning for two reasons: fear of their hollowfication, and hopes of ambushing Aizen. Given how things stood now, if the old man fell, they'd be throwing melons at a castle gate. Both sides needed to link up.
"Four?" Cole glanced at them, puzzled.
Shinji nodded with a wry smile. "The old man is too rigid. Even if the misunderstanding's cleared, I'm afraid he won't spare us 'stained' shinigami. If four captains go, at least we can run if it goes south."
The others sighed. They weren't like Cole and Kurosaki Ichigo—humans for whom power was just power, good or bad; so long as "self" held, any power could be accepted. They were different: after centuries as captains, they couldn't easily accept the hollows' vicious strength. They also worried that if they stood before Yamamoto, the rigid old man might "clean house."
Cole nodded. Joining forces wasn't a bad move. Maybe they really could resist Aizen that way—and then Ichigo wouldn't have to lose his powers. Cole actually liked Shiro (Hollow Ichigo) and didn't want him to die.
Kensei peered at Cole. "You're not coming?"
Cole shook his head. "I'll stay in the World of the Living a while. When it's time to move, just call me." From the look of things, Aizen would make his play soon. If so, Seireitei might not be the most endangered place— Orihime was. In the original line, hollows abducted her. He should protect her first.
The Visoreds nodded. They tinkered together for a moment, and a Senkaimon (World Gate) opened in front of them. Shinji, Kensei, Love, and Rose strode through, leaving Cole with Hiyori, Hachi, Lisa, and Mashiro.
Cole stretched and waved goodbye to the remaining four. He had to head home too—otherwise Hana-nee would go crazy.
…
Seireitei.
Out of nowhere, an antique wooden door opened. The four stepped out and felt the dense spiritual air; nostalgia washed their faces.
"Seireitei—over a hundred years," Shinji murmured. Even for those who'd lived centuries, a hundred years in the World of the Living was a long stretch.
"Tell me about it…" Kensei looked ahead. "I wonder how my Ninth Division is doing—still as strict as a century ago?"
At that, the others thought of their own squads. All four had been captains—they felt attached to their divisions.
Shinji chuckled. "Don't overthink it. Let's go see. Probably not much has changed."
They nodded and headed down the street—and the farther they went, the stranger their faces turned.
Love scratched his scalp. "Has Seireitei's aesthetic reverted to the Stone Age in a hundred years?"
The "street" ahead—if you could call it that—hadn't a single neat paving stone. It was all mud, damp and rutted, not much better than a countryside lane. The buildings on both sides were worse—no walls, houses scattered like shed boards. If they didn't know this was Seireitei, they'd have thought they'd walked into Rukongai.
They kept going; their expressions only grew stranger.
"Shinji," Love said at last, "if I'm not remembering wrong, this should be your Fifth Division."
Before them yawned a huge empty lot. Not just missing walls—there weren't even floor stones left. Shinigami toiled miserably at reconstruction.
Shinji swallowed. "Don't tell me—Aizen already came?"
To smash Seireitei to this state—how brutal had the battle been? Had the old man… been defeated?
They drifted close to the laboring shinigami and caught the muttered curses:
"Don't let me catch Cole, that bastard—if I see him, I'm gonna cut him…"
"He's only been in Seireitei a few days and already gnawed our Fifth Division down three times. I've been rebuilding walls for two months…"
"You think that's bad? I've rebuilt four times—I'm gonna hurl…"
"I see reiryoku and I want to puke now…"
"I heard he knows our former captain Shinji Hirako—had to be him who sent Cole to make us suffer, to get revenge…"
"Damn it, Seireitei's reiryoku is overflowing and he won't absorb that—he has to 'absorb' the buildings…"
"I never want to lay another brick in my life…"
…
The four quietly retreated, making a firm decision: inside Seireitei, they would absolutely claim they didn't know Cole. That brat—did he treat Seireitei like an all-you-can-eat buffet?
Soon they reached First Division. Quite a few captains had gathered already, giving them complicated looks.
Shunsui tipped his straw hat and sighed. "Shinji, you really dare come back. Aren't you afraid the old man will chop you down in one stroke?"
Shinji drew a deep breath. "We need to see him. Aizen Sousuke is too terrifying right now. Alone, neither your side nor ours may be able to win."
"Aizen Sousuke…?" Shunsui's gaze sharpened, though doubt flickered. Was Aizen truly that fearsome?
…
Hueco Mundo, Las Noches.
Aizen sat on the throne and silently read the dossier in his hand—snatched from Central 46's underground chamber. It detailed the key to the Royal Realm.
"Reishi nexus and one hundred thousand souls…"
"Karakura Town."
He tapped the armrest lightly, thought a long while, then spoke calmly, "Ulquiorra."
His voice echoed in the vast hall. Soon, Ulquiorra in white stepped in, left hand in pocket, expression cool. "Aizen-sama."
Looking at the Cuarta Espada, Aizen handed him a file. "Go to Karakura Town. If there's no danger, bring back the people listed—quietly."
Ulquiorra nodded, flipped open the file. The first on the list wore a school uniform: Arisawa Tatsuki.
The mountain rain gathered; the wind filled the tower. Though the three worlds seemed calm, those who knew understood—it was only the prelude to a storm. The pressure had already begun to spread.
Cole, however, didn't care. In the underground other-space beneath his home, he stood with an asauchi in hand. Opposite him, Hana-nee held an ordinary asauchi as well.
Their blades crashed, flinging sparks; in a single second, steel could meet hundreds of times. The ringing strikes fell like a fine rain inside the sealed space—melodic, yet edged with killing intent. With the relentless exchanges, blood splashed both of them; clothes split and skin opened, but neither spared it a glance. After hundreds of such bouts, they were long used to this level of pain.
Fervor burned in Unohana's eyes as she unleashed murderous cuts from strange angles after. Cole slipped aside or caught her edge each time. One savage slash split her left shoulder to the bone, blood welling crimson—but her blade also kissed Cole's cheek. He didn't mind; his sword fell like rain.
They fought for hours, until both were dyed red. Only then did they stop.
Unohana collapsed with a thud, blood flowing, yet grinning in rapture. "Cole… you really are the best…"
Her kendo had improved a lot of late—but to her shock, Cole's kendo was climbing even faster. The pain of steel at the skin, the crush of overwhelming force, thrilled her to the core. This was the "Kenpachi" she desired: a man strong enough to kill her.
Unfortunately, that man had no intention of becoming Kenpachi.
Without healing, Unohana crawled to him on trembling arms and shook him insistently. "Cole… kill me. You become Kenpachi…"
She let out a soft involuntary sound, cheeks flushing; then she glared, embarrassed. "I'm being serious."
Cole slid the asauchi aside, the corner of his mouth quirking. He stroked her cheek. "I said already—don't bring that up again. You broke the rules this time. How should I punish you? Tie you up and forbid you from dueling me? Or tie you up and make you watch me polish my swordsmanship to be even stronger?"
A shiver ran through Unohana. She didn't fear death—but this sort of "punishment" was worse than dying.
"Don't…"
Powerless now to defeat Cole and force him into the fights she craved, she could only look up pleadingly.
Cole lowered his head and whispered by her ear.
…...
(End of Chapter)
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