What is your justice?
Tousen stared grimly at the Shinigami around him, watching them plan and bicker amongst themselves as if they still had some chance at turning things around in their own favour. It simply wasn't going to happen.
This was karma.
Where is your righteousness?
The transgressions of the past couldn't be so easily forgiven nor forgotten. The ideals held by the Central Forty-Six, their lack of integrity defended by the Shinigami, it was all so sickening.
I've already seen it all.
Through his own blindness, he understood better than anyone else how rotten the core powers of the Shinigami were. For the sake of one of their own of higher status, the death of another innocent friend meant nothing but a pardon.
Even now after all these years, Tousen had never seen nor heard justice being delivered. Instead, in his tenure as a Captain of the Court Guard Squads, he'd experienced hypocrisy after hypocrisy.
Law? Order? It only applied to those without standing, and recompense would never be delivered to those deserving.
What he found ironic was that he found a pure soul like himself not in the supposed haven of balance keepers, but in the desolate sand dunes of Hueco Mundo among the Hollows.
"I can feel that ya don't exactly like me right now, sooo I'll be overseeing things from over there," a sly voice entered Tousen's ears, causing him to grimace.
Tousen took in a deep breath. He honestly didn't know what Aizen saw in Gin in order to keep him around despite the obvious fact that he'd aided the Shinigami in secret. He may as well be a secret mole or traitor in the making, but Aizen was willing to turn a blind eye.
Tousen was different though. Although he betrayed the Seireitei, he stuck to his principles.
"Then leave," he said flatly.
Gin Ichimaru waved lightly and brazenly left to oversee another part of the Dangai where Kisuke was setting up some sort of kido spell with Isshin Kurosaki.
Tousen wasn't too sure of the specifications regarding what Kisuke was doing, but it didn't matter since everything must have encapsulated within the scope of Aizen's plans.
All that Tousen had to do was carry out his role and maintain his vigilience against the Shinigami.
It was true that he was no match for them on his own, but he was simply tasked by Aizen to observe the members of the Zero Squad and the Shinigami as a whole. No problems were to be had here as this concerns the primary goal of breaching the Soul King's palace. However, should anything go wrong, he was to immediately exit the Dangai and inform Aizen and the Vasto of White.
This was all that was expected of him, and he would carry it through till the end. Now if only there were those who would stop attempting to test his resolve.
"Kaname," the voice that spoke was filled with both frustration and resignation.
Sajin Komamura, the man he still considered friend despite standing on opposite sides. He'd never once seen Sajin's face, but he knew of how others had shunned him for his appearance. Coupled with Tousen's blindness, when the two had first met, neither showed much apprehension for the other.
It was honestly the first time Tousen had ever failed to notice anyone with his stellar senses, but this was beside the point.
Even without sight, Tousen could tell that Sajin was injured due to his weaker levels of spiritual energy.
There was a cast around Sajin's arm crafted into a make-shift sling with a torn piece of his Haori. Sajin also walked with a limp, his hakama just as torn up as his Shihakusho.
Why did Sajin have to be so insistent?
"Stop, old friend. You won't convince me." Tousen refused to hear Sajin out both for his sake and Sajin's. Their friendship as over, and adding anymore sentimental value would dull their blades along with their convictions. "You should already understand my reasons."
Although Tousen couldn't tell what expression Sajin was making, a heavy grunt was more than enough of an indication to show displeasure.
"You really haven't changed," Sajin didn't argue and just stood quietly by Tousen's right, his arms crossed.
"Neither have you," Tousen rebuked, his lips curling into a deep frown. "You hope for me to reconsider my stance, yet fail to act against the injustice rife within the Seireitei and Shinigami. My friend was killed, innocent of any crime, and the perpetrator was let free with hardly a stern punishment all for the peace of the noble clans."
"Ah, so that's your reason," a lazy voice cut in. "You're still hung up over that case in the past."
Tousen glanced sharply in Shunsui Kyouraku's direction. The man was both strong and capable to be able to sneak up on him without him noticing.
Shunsui didn't mind Tousen's glare, he just sighed tiredly.
"I tried you know, but the influence of the noble clans can even override the central forty-six. I was the one who tried to sentence Tokinada Tsunayashiro for murder, but it was a special case, and he was let free." Shunsui admitted after some thought.
Tousen grimaced. He couldn't fathom Shunsui's intentions by bringing this point up now other than to dig himself his own grave morally by abandoning the high ground.
"All the more reason to abandon such twisted management. They'd sooner kill everyone than let their interests and lives be damaged," he sneered.
Unexpectedly, Shunsui made no rebuke. Instead, he took out a hand-sized clay beaker of wine and took a swig.
Shunsui wiped his mouth with the back of a hand, the burning sensation traveling down his throat sobering him up. "Bitter as it is to admit, you may be right," he said.
Shunsui slovenly plopped himself down on the ground while still drinking from the clay bottle of wine that was practically already empty. Only droplets were falling into his mouth, but the man didn't seem to mind and kept guzzling it all down until it was entirely empty. He turned it upside down and began shaking it, but still nothing.
Tousen was bewildered. "What are you here for Kyouraku?"
"Just a friendly reminder," Shunsui idly gestured towards a certain direction where the Zero Squad was busy discussing something with Kisuke.
There was a far-off look in Shunsui's eyes, off set by a flash of unmistakable indignation.
Shunsui couldn't forget how indifferently the Royal Guard treated Yamamoto's life 'for the bigger picture.' Needless to say, but his impression of the bunch was dismal.
Considering the weakened state of the Shinigami and the present crisis, should whatever plan they had backfire, then there would be no hope of resolution- they didn't even seem to care that the lives of every Shinigami could be placed in danger.
"I think they're planning something."
Shunsui reluctantly tossed the Royal Guard under suspicion. If he was correct about his general impression about the Vasto of White, this was the best course of action. Without Yamamoto's stubbornness to the rules, Shunsui could see the situation clearly.
There was a still a way out; a light at the end of this literal dark tunnel.
Shunsui didn't want to see that light completely extinguished should the worst ever occur.
It may have been a tad underhanded, but this was his only option.
Glass shatters upon a single plane of reality, red droplets of blood creating a long arc that splattered over the distant ground.
Aizen slowly sheathed his drawn sword, the click of the pommel hitting his sheath resounding in the utter silence of the Quincy that stood unmoving before him. There was a vacant look in their eyes as they just stood standing there, but on closer inspection, one could see that they were already dead. Their chests weren't moving, their gazes unfocused and empty.
Over each of the Quincy, there was a single stab wound; one point of entry and exit focused on either the neck or the heart. The rest of their bodies were untouched, but it spoke of the skill of the killer.
The Quincy had bided their uprising for a thousand years. None of their members could be considered simple, and no run-of-the-mil opponent could hope to best them, but they'd been systematically slaughtered.
A few of them had even ended up stabbing their fellow comrades in confusion before inevitably dying themselves.
How disappointing.
There was no a blemish on Aizen's figure, nor was there any sign of exhaustion or fatigue. There was only disinterest.
Of the initial Quincy that had acted as Yhwach's vanguard, only one was left remaining, staring at Aizen in abject horror from a distance. Even Shirou and Yhwach who had stood opposing each other were quietly assessing Aizen's work.
"Did you truly ever believe that you qualified to face me?" Aizen spoke out. It wasn't clear whether or not he was speaking to this lone Quincy or directing his words at Yhwach, but all the same, the meaning was clear.
I've taken your convoluted perceptions of pride and arrogance before me, and shattered them into dust in the wind. What do you have to be proud of now?
Aizen turned his back on that lone Quincy, and the moment he did, blood spurted from the Quincy's throat.
The last Quincy comprising Yhwach's vanguard was dead.
Only tranquil silence remained.
The wind blew fiercely from all around, the coat tails of his Shihakusho flapping wildly while he remained in place hovering over Hueco Mundo.
Aizen knew his role was to buy time for the ploy he'd devised to come to fruition, but his adversaries were just too mediocre.
The Hogyoku should understand his desires and wishes, yet none of the enemies before him had proved challenging enough to catalyse a transformation.
How bothersome.
"Shall I head off first then?" He mumbled while glancing up at the floating Palace above.
It would be far more of a challenge than what he'd faced now, and there were certainly stronger guards in place to test the limits of his potential and help break through them.
The problem however, was that Yhwach had full control over the reality around the Soul King's Palace and no illusion would prove large enough to mislead the man.
Aizen had his own sense of value and self-confidence, but above all, he was no fool. Blindly charging forward with one's own strength can only be done after ascertaining the relative power of the opponent.
In which case, there was only one.
Aizen's sharp gaze flickered towards where Shirou was hovering across from Yhwach.
There was a clash of powers occurring in the space between both giants in control of their own planes of reality. Sparks of spiritual energy zapped out in tendrils of white and blue, ending unceasingly.
One side carried the image of an indomitable sword while the other carried the presence of an all-encompassing shadow.
The question for Aizen now was where he stood in this confrontation.
There was no hesitation at all when Aizen's bearings and disposition refused to allow him to lower himself to anyone else. He would be the future Soul King; someone who wasn't a puppet that would one day manage the workings of the world such that no more limitations may exist.
Yhwach? King of the Quincy?
None of those titles mattered. He was Aizen Sousuke, and no one would stand in the way of his pursuit.
It just so happened that Shirou's interests coincided with his own, allowing for a genuine partnership of equals.
As it looked now though, Aizen grudgingly had to admit that he wasn't yet on the same plane as the other two.
Rather than equals, Aizen knew full that the spiritual energy Yhwach possessed containing the essence of the world would certainly crush his own; and in a battle between spiritual beings, it was always a battle of who's spiritual pressure was stronger. If not for Shirou's spiritual energy clashing with Yhwach's own, Aizen had no disillusions that he'd be defeated before being able to use the Hogyoku's transformative properties.
At this moment while Shirou and Yhwach were at logger heads, this was his chance.
After defeating all the Quincy, and realizing that no more were coming, Aizen boldly grinned in provocation towards Yhwach's expressionless features up above.
Yhwach grunted at Aizen's audacity.
"Special war potential indeed," Yhwach murmured before channelling energy into his finger tips and pointing down at Aizen.
The power of world laws and spiritual energy condensed sharply until the dark shadows over Yhwach's eyes shone brightly. This nonchalant attack carried the power to obliterate any soul ins its way. However, a sword immediately hampered his efforts to kill Aizen and hovered threateningly in front of Yhwach.
"Your opponent is me," Shirou interjected coldly. "Unless you believe in the danger that my friends impose on you?"
A fire lit in Yhwach's eyes before he snorted. "Your bet is still meaningless if they don't have the ability to infiltrate the Palace."
In any case, should Yhwach try to fire, he'd have no way to intervene if Shirou attacked him. Worse yet, each sword Shirou manifested carried certain properties that Yhwach had become distinctly wary about.
Even if Yhwach was only present using a projection of spiritual energy, his intuition warned him that Shirou may have a sword or weapon capable of damaging his directly. Gradually, Yhwach lowered his hand, diffusing the power at his finger tips in order to form a barrier of energy around him instead.
Yhwach wasn't foolish enough to fall for any provocations.
He was just a tad impressed was all.
He didn't send his strongest personnel to act as the vanguard against Hueco Mundo, but had instead stationed them in the Palace to act as guards throughout the process of assimilation.
The group Aizen had soundly dispatched amounted to nothing but grunts Yhwach had recruited in order to fill up the numbers against those in the Seireitei. In which case, Aizen's victory was entirely meaningless and instead served to portray some of Aizen's capabilities for Yhwach to assess.
Still, the arrogance and pride in himself that Aizen had in full display was displeasing.
"You have nothing to gloat over," Yhwach voiced flatly before the black shadows that made up his clothes began to elongate and separate into numerous unshapely beings. Each strand and thread morphed into completely separate beings.
For a moment, Yhwach glanced towards Aizen who didn't bother revealing any fear, but anticipation instead.
How impertinent.
"Your deceitful ability will play no role here," Yhwach willed the figures he'd cast off of himself to rush towards Aizen. "These shadows have no senses other than to lock onto high volumes of spiritual energy."
It would be a complete counter to Kyouka Suigetsu.
Shirou intended to intervene, but Aizen shook his head and looked directly into Yhwach's eyes in challenge.
"Is that so?" Aizen drew his sword and swung it lazily in an arc that immediately cut apart the nearest shadows with overwhelming spiritual energy. "I never needed it anyway."
Aizen knew he was strong even without Kyouka Suigetsu's abilities. In fact, it was more merciful to die under his Zanpakuto's hypnosis than to die by his hands, as there was a guarantee that pain would be felt.
Aizen would swing his sword, and every time it would utterly destroy the formless spectres sent his way.
For every one he'd kill, more would pop out like weeds, but no matter, he was no weakling.
Eventually, Yhwach stopped sending the specters altogether and silently reassessed Aizen's combat potential. Aizen hadn't fought at all during the Fake Karukura battle, so this was the first time Yhwach actually got a good look at the man.
Yhwach wasn't impressed by the air of confidence Aizen carried around him. It was one thing for the Vasto of White to do so as Yhwach acknowledged Shirou as a peer, but Aizen had no grounds to justify himself.
"Your impudence knows no bounds for a mere Shinigami," Yhwach criticized.
"And you have no right taking what should be mine," Aizen rebuked.
It was subtle, but a hint of annoyance crept over Yhwach's features, his eyes narrowing and furrows forming over his brow. "You overate yourself to think that you would have more a right to my father's power than I. Do you really think so highly of yourself?"
Aizen was unperturbed.
"Well, how should I put it like humans do these days? Ah, yes," he grinned slyly. "I am the hype."
Yhwach schooled his features at the sheer mockery of Aizen's tone. There was no point wasting his breath on those who refused to know their place.
Stretching out a hand, a fissure in the air formed in front of Yhwach. It was spiral of energy that churned and flowed like rippling water before a person cloaked in a white winter trench coat stepped out.
"Just one of my Sternritter should be enough to deal with you," Yhwach said nothing else and refocused his efforts against Shirou who grimaced and readied himself to reciprocate the attack.
Left on their own, Aizen watched with a thin layer of derision as the Quincy Yhwach had called upon gingerly hovered towards him as if the youth wasn't headed towards his own death.
Aizen raised a brow while he scrutinized his newest adversary's appearance.
This Quincy looked like a child with messy blond hair and a hood pulled up over his head. A pair of red eyes gleamed playfully at him with no wariness to speak of. Instead, there was a firm sense of superiority as if the world itself was the youth's oyster.
To carry such a loftiness in his presence, Aizen had to give props for whoever fool this may be.
"My name's Gremmy Thoumeaux, 'V'-The Visionary."
Ah. And there's the fool's name.
Aizen hardly reacted at all. Any words would be wasted on someone who couldn't be compared to his level of ability, nor comprehend how utterly outmatched he was.
Fight and kill, then beckon forth the next foe.
That was all that Aizen needed to do while biding his time before the true attack on the Soul King's Palace.
It was just that simple.
Seeing Aizen's blatant disregard, Gremmy cast aside any pleasantries regarding manners and politeness and instantly got to the point.
"What I imagine becomes real," Gremmy grinned smugly, as if waiting for some sort of disbelief or terror to appear. This was the normal reaction as there wasn't a trace of dishonesty in Gremmy's words.
A man who could freely imagine anything to be real should have no enemy capable of defeating him.
Aizen remained stoic, utterly unimpressed.
No power among spiritual beings could ever supersede the fundamental mechanisms of the world they lived in. In simpler terms, it means that even with overpowered capabilities, if his opponent's level couldn't exceed his own, then there was no chance at victory.
In a battle between spiritual beings, the one who possesses the more overwhelming and tyrannical spiritual energy will be the victor. The laws were set, and only those that had the ability to truly change them could alter the rules.
Gremmy wasn't Yhwach nor the Vasto of White.
In Aizen's eyes, Gremmy was just a nobody whom he had no reason to fear.
"Your sword is candy," Gremmy said irritably.
Aizen blinked, not in apprehension or wariness, but stereotypical curiosity.
"What an odd ability," he admitted while observing his Zanpakuto.
The entire sword had turned into an artistic reimagining with blue candy-canes for the pommel, red rock candy for the hilt, and a limp piece of licorice as the blade.
"You do realize how unbecoming it will be for you when you die by this sword, right?" Aizen reasoned for Gremmy's benefit. It mattered not to him how this fool would die as he'd already made his first and worst mistake. "You really had to focus your attention on my sword first of all things, now didn't you?"
"As if your sword would ever be able to cut anything now," Gremmy put his hands into his pockets and leered. "Careful, I may even imagine your arms turning into cookies."
Aizen idly inspected his sword, watching the blade of licorice flop from side to side.
As amusing as this was, it was also quite sad.
It would seem that this enemy had been too proud to recall any information about him that Yhwach must have gathered.
"Let's make a stage, shall we?" Gremmy lifted an arm, and a circular ring made out of stone tiles formed at their feet. "You know, I pity you for getting on the King's ire. He sent me who holds the greatest force in the world against you after all."
Aizen watched as Gremmy casually began walking forward and a wall of numerous guns formed behind him.
"How do you wish to die? Tell you what; I won't even use my hands for this."
Aizen didn't react, or raise the guard of his floppy sword. Not only would the sight be ridiculous, but there was simply just no need.
He was done having any form of conversation with this ignorant fop. No hands? Sure, but how will one justify such brashness?
What if Aizen decided not to do anything, but still win with just his mind alone?
"Now then, lets end this farce."
Gremmy directly aimed where Aizen stood.
"Your legs are lead; your feet are glued."
The sheen of metal reflected off of Aizen's legs as he suddenly found himself incapable of moving. It was just as Gremmy had said. Anything Gremmy imagined would be reality.
"Die."
The guns around Gremmy fired continuously, shooting out bullets of spiritual energy that punctured Aizen's arms and legs, causing him to stagger.
Knees wobbling, an expression of shock and pain appeared over Aizen's face while a gurgle of blood escaped his mouth. The sight looked truly pathetic, and there was a type of childish glee that nearly overcame Gremmy's features.
Aizen Sousuke, Special war potential?
Gremmy had heard of a select few individuals that Yhwach had absently told the Sternritter to be wary of, but it was clearly all a waste of time.
It had been so simple, so easy that he couldn't help but laugh-
"Why are you laughing?"
Huh?
All amusement abruptly left Gremmy's features.
He looked back at Aizen, and couldn't help but blink in abject confusion. There wasn't a spec of injury on him. His clothing once mottled with bullet holes was now pristine. The blood that formed a pool at Aizen's feet was similarly gone as if it were never there. More importantly, the pained expression of anguish Aizen once had was replaced by an emotionless neutrality rife with ridicule.
"Imagination is your power, but did you ever bother to consider mine?" Aizen said at his leisure. The sword of candy in Aizen's hands gradually reverted back into its original appearance and luster. "Kyouka Suigetsu. Its power is absolute hypnosis."
Suddenly, Gremmy felt his heart clench with an ominous premonition of misfortune as a simple realization began to sink in to his head.
He couldn't speak; he couldn't think properly; everything seemed to be spinning as he grew short of breath.
Aizen paid no mind to anything Gremmy felt. Instead, little by little, Aizen's form was disappearing until there was nothing but a hollow voice that continually sounded in Gremmy's ears.
"You may be able to project the world of your fantasy into reality, but I ask you this in good conscience, right now and even before, are you in reality or in an illusion?"
Suddenly, everything in Gremmy's field of view began to shift and distort into odd shapes and sizes. Nothing was recognizable, and suddenly everything in view went black.
"Can you imagine what you can't see?"
The voice was haunting, without care nor compassion. The sheer oppression of it all was stifling.
"Can you imagine what you can't feel?
His body grew numb, the sound of his rising heartbeat thumping to his ears all that could be heard.
"Smell?"
"Or perhaps hear?"
There was no sound, no touch, no sight, no nothing. It was like he was in a void bereft of anything. It was too terrifying: a blank world of nothing.
No. NO!
He imagined the original battlefield: Lord Yhwach confronting the Vasto of White, the Soul King's Palace, Hueco Mundo, everything as it was before.
Soon, it was like everything changed back to normal all at once. Gremmy found himself panting for breath while Aizen watched impassively across from him.
"You bastard!" Gremmy yelled viciously. For the first time in his life, he imagined himself murdering someone.
Numerous swords immediately hovered around Aizen's body and plunged down, but the only response he received was a cold sneer.
"Are you certain that the me before you is the me that is real?'"
A chill travelled down Gremmy's back, but he had no choice but to stick to his own beliefs. Overpowered as his ability may sound, it had its draw backs in that it depended entirely on him and his mental state.
"That's right! You're the real one. That's exactly so!" Gremmy imagined the 'real' Aizen right before him with the swords stabbed through Aizen's chest, and low and behold, it happened.
Aizen stood across from him, a figurative porcupine drenched in blood that dripped from unfeeling steel. The pitter patter sound was all that echoed in the expanse between the two, but only Gremmy appeared horrified.
"You poor thing. Didn't you know?"
Aizen's body began to steadily disappear, his face emotionless.
"I'm nothing but your 'imagination.' Everything here is."
N-No this can't be.
Gremmy staggered back, his eyes darting left and right, staring at everything just to convince himself, but quickly failing. T-This was impossible.
What was real, and what wasn't?
Suddenly, Gremmy could no longer tell, trapped in a mental game of his own making.
Pride comes before a fall.
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