Something horribled had happened. The Aizen of this timeline may have cause a hidden kido when he was under the effect of Kyoka Suigetsu on him. Aizen sat motionless, struggling to process this new and troubling revelation. No matter how deeply he searched Ichigo Kurosaki's inner world, his own spiritual form refused to fully materialize. Each time he attempted to separate himself, searing pain wracked his soul and forced retreat.
The message was clear - he could not escape this fleshy gigai. His soul was now irrevocably chained within the human's body.
Aizen slammed a fist against the floor in uncharacteristic rage. He was Sosuke Aizen, destined to stand atop the heavens themselves. Being caged like a beast was unendurable.
Forcing calm, he considered his options. Direct separation was impossible, that much was certain. But could he circumvent the limitation?
During his earlier feat with Rukia's borrowed powers, he had managed to project himself briefly in Shinigami form. Perhaps the solution lay there. If he could utilize Ichigo's own spiritual energy as an intermediary...
Yes, that could work. The boy's massive reiryoku reserves would enable the physical manifestation needed to interact directly with souls and spirit beings. While inconvenient, it was far better than nothing.
Satisfied for the moment, Aizen turned his thoughts to reconnecting with Hueco Mundo. That dimension at least should still bow to his will. He had to go back and spy on himself to be ahead of the game. Even if it was dangerous.
Focusing inward, he tapped into the latent darkness pulsing within Ichigo's soul. An inky void opened, precipitating his next move.
The negación portal deposited Aizen amidst moonlit dunes of powder-fine sand. Las Noches gleamed in the distance, its stone towers and parapets unchanged from his era.
Yet as he surveyed his former kingdom, an ominous foreboding crept into his mind. Events had spiraled beyond his influence here. And with his powers restricted, anything could await inside those shadowed halls.
Chapter 8
The Inescapable Prison
Cautiously, he extended his senses, probing for reiatsu signatures. There - several powerful arrancar congregated in the throne room with...his doppelgänger. Aizen's eyes narrowed. Whatever their current alliance, he would need to observe his double closely for any advantage or opening.
Approaching stealthily, he slipped into the silent halls, masking his presence. Taking up position outside the chamber doors, he peered through a slim crack, analyzing the gathering within.
Most prominent were the Espada, gathered before the throne in two orderly rows. But to Aizen's surprise, their forms had changed. No longer did they appear even vaguely human. Each had transformed into a uniquely nightmarish shape, exuding dense spiritual pressure that seemed to warp the very air around them.
His doppelgänger spoke from his high seat. "My loyal warriors. The time has come at last to initiate our conquest. Soul Society will soon learn the folly of their arrogance."
The bizarre creatures that were once the Espada roared in unison, rattling the walls. Aizen frowned. What had his other self done to unlock such power in his army? Clearly they had attained some new level of resurrección beyond those of his own timeline. This did not bode well.
As if reading his thoughts, the doppelgänger continued. "Yes, you have all achieved magnificent new heights. The shinigami will quail before your might." His smile turned cruel. "Now go. Leave none alive who dare to oppose us."
With a resounding boom, space itself ruptured. A jagged rift tore through reality leading into the precipice world. One by one, the monstrosities disappeared into its dark depths until only the doppelgänger remained.
Aizen withdrew swiftly, perturbed. This was an unforeseen wrinkle that would require a recalculation of tactics. If the Espada had been elevated to such fearsome levels, he currently lacked the means to confront them, much less his alternative self.
But he was nothing if not adaptable. When one path closed, he simply forged another. There were ample resources yet to be exploited here, both material and spiritual. This changed battlefield merely demanded fresh strategy.
His gaze turned inward, analyzing the unique hybrid makeup of his current body. The raw components existed to attain exponential gains in power. He need only assemble them properly.
The pale moon shone down as Aizen's mind whirred through permutations and possibility matrices. As always, the optimal solution soon crystallized.
He would uptake the abilities of those connected to Ichigo's past - the Visored, humans, even fellow Shinigami. While limited in variety, those powers could combine to form an alloy stronger than the sum of their parts. It was only a matter of isolating the optimal conversion and extraction protocols.
But where to begin? Aizen considered the Visored first. Their dual Shinigami and Hollow nature mirrored Ichigo's own. And yet direct contact was inadvisable. The likes of Shinji Hirako would detect his deception immediately.
No, stealth was required to harvest these abilities unnoticed. That left the Fullbringers - humans gifted with traces of Hollow reiryoku. Beings below the notice of Soul Society.
Satisfied with this initial direction, Aizen focused and pierced the veil anew. This time, he aimed lower, to the Forest of Menos beneath Las Noches. If his theory held true, strands of Ichigo's past lingered dormant within the infinite void of converged souls.
Space and light warped as the dark dimension enveloped him. He descended slowly, probing the swirling maelstrom of memories and minds. Most washed over him, indistinct and fleeting. But finally, a familiar powerful reiatsu sparked recognition.
There, adrift in the endless sea of black - the shattered soul of White, Ichigo's inner Hollow. A prize beyond value if Aizen could harness and absorb its lethal potential.
He navigated closer, keeping his own presence concealed. Gradually White's form emerged from the gloom - a pale, inverted echo of Ichigo himself. The creature appeared paralyzed, locked in silent stasis with eyes closed.
Halting his approach just beyond arm's reach, Aizen considered his next move. Would attempted absorption provoke retaliation? Or could he extract the Hollow's formidable essence before it realized the theft?
Only one way to find out. With utmost care, Aizen extended a metaphysical tether, linking with White's aura directly. He prepared to instantly sever the connection at the first sign of resistance.
But none came. The fusion held firm. Emboldened, Aizen tightened his spiritual grip, drawing filaments of pure power from the Hollow's frozen form.
Like draining the rays of a fallen star, ichor flowed from White to Aizen, disappearing into his composite being. He clenched his jaw against the searing influx of non-elemental gravitation. This was a force that could unmake worlds when unleashed without bounds. He must be cautious in his extraction.
Yet soon the pain faded, replaced by euphoria as Aizen's soul swelled with the Hollow's devastating strength. He trembled from the effort of restraining such fury, resisting the urge to retaliate against the unjust fate that brought him so low. Not yet. Vengeance would come when he deemed the time right.
For now, it was enough. He released his psychic tether, leaving the catatonic Hollow to float on alone in the dark sea. Turning his gaze back skyward, Aizen left the Forest behind, buoyed by the fruits of his success.
The power thrumming within him now was but an ember of what lay attainable. Other remnants of Ichigo's past awaited harvest by those bold enough to claim their gifts. And Aizen had only just begun.
His next target lay readily accessible in the human world: Ginjo Kugo, the first substitute Shinigami. The man's unique ability to bind his Shinigami powers into a human body would prove most useful in Aizen's quest to escape his fleshy prison.
Accessing the precipice world, he emerged unseen into the night-time streets of a nondescript Japanese town. A cursory scan located his target's distinctive reiatsu nearby.
There - a run-down apartment block. Likely the man's current place of residence. Aizen shunpoed to the rear of the building and began ascending the fire escape.
Sure enough, a flicker of light in a third story window marked the Shinigami's presence. Phasing through the solid barrier, Aizen passed into a dim, cluttered apartment. Dusty furniture lay draped under sheets, and beer cans littered the floor.
Kugo himself sat slumped at a kotatsu table, looking haggard with several days' stubble lining his face. An uncorked bottle of whiskey and half-filled glass occupied the space before him. His gaze remained locked on some undefined point, seeing nothing.
A profound melancholy permeated the room, surprising Aizen with its intensity. He had expected to find a bitter, resentful man. Not this empty shell trapped reliving glory days long past.
No matter. sentimentality would not dissuade him from his aim here. Best to proceed quickly, before Kugo noticed the intrusion.
Soundlessly, Aizen drifted forward, syncing his own spiritual wavelength to match the Shinigami's. He slid into metaphysical resonance, joining their beings on a fundamental level.
Kugo stiffened, eyes growing alert. But it was too late. Aizen immersed himself fully into the Shinigami's soul, bypassing any mental defenses with ease. He filtered through memories and emotions until he isolated the unique genesis binding process used on Ichigo.
There...the crucial knowledge was his. Aizen withdrew, releasing his hold on Kugo's mind. The man gasped, clutching his chest and looking about in bewilderment. But his scanned surroundings showed nothing amiss.
Aizen remained motionless, already analyzing the extracted technique. Yes, this could enable manifestation even whilst confined to a physical form. But succeeding would require dismantling the gestalt integration keeping his soul chained. A difficult feat without severely damaging the vessel.
He frowned. Perhaps another vector held greater potential...
Leaving Kugo to his melancholy, Aizen exited back into the night to consider this new challenge. The hour grew late, but his mind buzzed with theories and possibilities. Sleep was not needed for those on the cusp of transcendence.
The streets around him sat empty and still. But to an intellect such as Aizen's, they teemed with unseen threads of interconnection, past and future. One simply needed to see the underlying fabric of causality.
And as he stood immersed in silent contemplation, a gleaming strand caught his attention. There, across the city - a flash of anomalous spiritual pressure. The signature was unfamiliar, but shone with an intensity that belied its distance.
Curiosity piqued, Aizen traced its origin, honing in on an apartment tower looming on the skyline. He flitted from rooftop to rooftop, ocean breeze rushing by, until at last the gleaming spire stood directly before him.
The signature emanated from near the top floor. Aizen swiftly ascended the sleek glass facade. There, around the 60th story, he perceived windows and a balcony wreathed in azure light.
Touching down upon the rain-slicked precipice, Aizen beheld a remarkable sight. Inside, a young boy sat levitating several feet above a penthouse floor. Rays of pure reishi erupted from all sides, filling the room with their radiance. The child's eyes blazed electric blue, wide and unseeing.
A Fullbringer? No, this level of ambient reiatsu manipulation exceeded such limits. Aizen watched, transfixed, as the luminous pressure continued to build. Who was this child? He reached out cautiously with his senses toward its power.
In response, the blue lenses snapped suddenly to meet his. Aizen froze. For the first time in recent memory, he knew true astonishment. Those eyes - depthless pools of swirling galaxies - seemed to pierce his very being.
Then the light intensified into a single column, spearing outward and slamming Aizen back through the glass. He hurtled down 60 stories before arresting his momentum. Floating stunned in midair, he gaze up at the now quiescent penthouse.
This changed everything. The boy's mere glance struck more impact than even the full force of White's inner reserves. Power of such scale dwelt within that tiny frame, barely restrained.
A slow smile crept over Aizen's face. Here was the key not just to escape, but to transcend all limitations. He had found his new primary focus at last.
With renewed vigor, he shot skyward toward the pinnacle apartment. But this time he took care to shield his presence fully. The direct approach would not avail him here. This prize called for more subtlety than any before.
Luckily subtlety was Aizen's forté. He would study the child, learn his patterns and weaknesses. Every detail was a thread to be patiently tugged until the whole tapestry unraveled.
Settling onto the roof, Aizen made himself comfortable for a long vigil. The night's revelations had energized him. Tomorrow he would begin weaving the web to bind this young god. And from that chrysalis, he would emerge reborn.