...

All things considered, Aizen Sosuke was having a very good day.

Despite the monumental fuck up; pardon the cursing, though really there was no better way to describe his feelings regarding that particular matter. He couldn't help the begrudging, respecting thought that graced his mind at what the boy had managed to take.

To steal from an entire civilization.

He could tell, judging by the shallowest form of thoughts from said idiot, that he hadn't a clue as to the world-encompassing effect his little gambit had.

With the barest of application, of coercion, of so much as the mildest thought, any Hollow, no matter their prowess or make-up, were forever destined to fail.

Hollows of all kinds, from those born in Hueco Mundo, those forcibly created in Huaco Mundo, to even those of which fell into the line of Vizored.

A simple, illusional or otherwise, change of their loyalties to one, dead or alive Josh Groban and failure was all their immediate future held for them.

And given the current viewers, those watching the titanic fight between Shinigami and Primordial, whether they were in the Human Realm, Soul Society, or frankly any spot of reality, all knew it was because of him!

They all understood that by his very hand, he had given Hollow kind the ultimatum of the millennium.

Fall in line, or face destruction. There were no other options. Never again would Hollow-kind come remotely close to threatening him or his goals!

Oh sure, he may not be able to coerce them as well as before, temporarily, but there were far more avenues available besides his own blade.

One, ironically enough, made available by Gin's own stupidity.

Though he had every intention of getting Kyoka Suigetsu back.

Regardless, he couldn't help his glee, his excitement, his unending triumph as he watched the fight before him unfold. Every moment one of the hundreds of crystals surrounding him disappeared. Replicating a Kido of sorts against the Hollow trying it's damndest to put him down.

After realizing Ulquiorra was capable of outright blocking his connection with the boy wonder, he'd had to come up with a counter. One that revolved around the inability to directly communicate with his body's current host. More or less falling relying on instinct on the boy's side.

That counter, surprisingly easier than expected, had turned out to involve manually recreating a Kido into said crystals.

And given he could put in as much Reiatsu as necessary, with the full incantations to boot, it was more or less a perfect recreation. Barring the necessary set up time, of course.

Though he could certainly do without the delay enforced on him. Despite the fact, had the boy in control been more willing, there could've been zero delay between his use of said crystal and it's appearance in the real world, it wasn't enough to truly cripple his body's ability to fight.

The boy for whatever reason didn't seem to trust him with the unanimous ability to attack at his own will.

Oh sure, he probably looked somewhat odd every time his body made to swipe with his spiritless blade, only to wait a further moment before the Hado in question showed itself- But he figured that more than likely worked to make him look all the more powerful.

After all, it wasn't every day a Shinigami, wordlessly and effortlessly -In their eyes at any rate- called up a lvl 78 Hado.

Urahara Kisuke's reaction, the screen before him showcasing his current, likely temporary, imprisonment in Soul Society alongside Gin, had been absolutely priceless.

Yet, as far as he was concerned, none of that compared to his own general improvement.

Since the moment that boy had taken over his body, his soul had seen more growth in that time than it had in the past three decades put together.

Hell, in the past five minutes since his fight had started, he'd practically felt himself reach new pinnacles of strength and power. His very reserves skyrocketing to adapt to it's latest enemy. His physical prowess taking on what amounted to a Bankai-grade enchantment!

Oh, sure, he'd been worried at the start of the scuffle. When his Reiatsu covered blade had failed to so much as dent the beast before him. When the barest swipe from it had sent a cascading world of pain across his inner realm. When it's mountain-sized Ceros had threatened to leave him a burning smolder should it land directly. When the beast before him could outspeed his every move without pause-

Yet as the fight drew on, as his body took every hit- As the boy grew more desperate, the very world itself seemed to change him. His Reiatsu adapted to cut through the beast's skin, his body hardened to near-enough shrug off its blows, his agility sped up enough to outrun the beast, his soul rapidly fixed itself with every cero that scraped against it-

"Goddamit Moon-Moon! Stop shooting holes in reality!"

...Even the boy's stupidity seemed to have evolved.

Though... The aforementioned fuck up, was certainly humbling, to say the least.

Up until the contract had been made, he'd had free reign to modify the entirety of his inner realm at will... And now?

Now, despite his grievances, there was a singular, practical corner really, area he couldn't touch. And frankly, that galled him to think about.

What kind of self-respecting Shinigami couldn't recreate every part, down to the last particle, of his inner world? And just because the others were too weak to do it in the first place, didn't mean he had to settle for such a weakness.

He couldn't even forcibly attempt to change the newest addition forced on him, not without enough Reiatsu to overcome the two involved in said contract.

His own, as well as the second-highest concentration of Reiatsu in the newly defined Hollow realm. And while he was certainly growing, he had no delusions of surpassing an imaginationally enhanced Coyote Starrk's.

That particular Hollow had been oceans, in terms of quantity, above him and that was before the incident.

He didn't even deign to give his Zanpakuto's newest abode the satisfaction of his irritation.

For far to the distance- Not that it meant much to his eyesight, stood an overly large glasshouse. One with a just as see-through door for its entrance. And, engraved on said door, were three words that frankly irritated him to no end. His Zanpakuto evidently showing its own glee in the matter having chosen the words of its own accord.

-Do Not Disturb-

And inside said glass-house, currently lazing about, was said Zanpakuto Spirit.

Kyoka Suigetsu was idly sat, far more relaxed than he'd ever seen, on top of what looked like a seat made of clouds. A seat that was currently freely moving about a lake, made of his own Reiatsu no less, beneath a false moon put onto one of the top corners of said glasshouse.

And if that, along with the never before seen spectrum of reactions from said spirit; ranging from excitement to shock- at one point he was sure the spirit had cooed! Wasn't enough, Kyoka had had the nerve to recreate his own favorite refreshment in one hand, whilst reading a book he'd never seen before on the other.

Though honestly? What really ticked him off was the shirt his spirit had decided to suddenly start sporting- Or fake with one of its illusions? He wasn't entirely sure given the entire subsection of his realm was utterly and completely out of his hand to interact with.

Emblazoned on said shirt, clear enough for him to see, was-

-#Retired-

Still, though he'd never admit it, he was rather interested in the contents of the book in its hands. Anything that could capture his spirit's attention, and manage to get the emotionless tool to react in any way was admittedly intriguing. Even if its title was one he'd never pick up personally.

If only out of principle, really.

Frankly under any other circumstances, said title would've been too stupid to even consider.

-Joker's Wild-

...

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Edit: Aizen's knowledge and ability to deceive any hollow-kind to reality/fate-induced-failing is exactly why Josh Groban was hell-bent on killing him following the contract.