"I'd just like to contextualize, the story starts directly when the captains arrive at the top of the mountain to confront Aizen. I'm starting the story here, because I don't think there's really much to change in the events leading up to this twitst. It's precisely at this point, in my opinion, that the story began to lose its potential and to remain a little too "down-to-earth" without really taking any risks."
Beach fanfiction By Wilfriedher
Chapter 1
The arrival of a new master
« Negación »
The sky, like a torn veil, opened to let out three golden rays that fell on Aizen, Gin, and Tosen individually. This crack, gaping in the azure, seemed like a half-open door between space and time itself. Through it, a horde of hollows emerged, their greedy gazes and clawed hands reaching out of that celestial slash.
Beneath Aizen's feet, a large portion of the rock cracked before rising to the heavens, taking his two accomplices with him. From the top of this unexpected ascent, Aizen watched with confident indifference as the captains arrived one after the other.
Tetsuzaemon Iba, without hesitation, rushed at the three traitors. However, Yamamoto leapt in front of him, firmly sticking his wooden cane into the rocky ground, stopping him dead in his tracks.
"That's enough," he ordered in a calm voice, his gaze fixed on the rising fugitives.
"But Commander-in-Chief..."
The vice-captain, taken aback, turned around, not grasping his commander's inaction and order.
"By the time those rays of light hit them, they were already out of our reach," Yamamoto revealed in a voice of gravity.
The other captains watch Aizen rise, mixing different emotions, ranging from surprise to indifference.
Soi Fon gets ahead.
"Menosgrande!" she exclaimed, her eyes resting on the hollows massed behind Aizen and her acolytes.
She was soon joined by Ukitake, who looked up, scanning the scene with heightened attention.
"It's not just that," he said firmly.
Suddenly, a huge, singular eye without a twin materialized gigantic behind the hordes of Hollows.
"You want to rise up, when you've just fallen so low, Sosuke Aizen," Ukitake said in a loud voice, his gaze fixed on Aizen. "Ally yourself with the Hollows, you wretch!"
Aizen, with a calm gesture, removed his glasses and ran a hand through his hair, pulling it back, adopting a more serious and authoritative appearance.
"Don't talk like that, Ukitake," Aizen replied in a chilling voice. "No one has ever really ruled up there, least of all you or that "thing." He removed his glasses, disintegrating them into a dust of particles. "The vacant throne ends here. From now on, I will reign. Farewell, Shinigami, and to you too, wandering young soul who seems to have lost his way."
In the dizzying heights of the Soul Society's skies, the palace of the Spirit King, an edifice as majestic as it was enigmatic, stood with silent authority. On the edges of the main disc, which served as the foundation of the palace, stood the four prominent members of the Zero Division: Tenjirō Kirinji, Kirio Hikifune, Ōetsu Nimaiya, and Senjumaru Shutara. Their piercing gazes were fixed downwards, focused on the tumultuous events unfolding hundreds of thousands of miles beneath them, a mixture of alertness and gravity painted on their faces.
Ōetsu, with an enigmatic smile lighting up his face, stood up to move closer to his comrades. In his hands, he wielded a long pike, remarkable both for its size - equivalent to that of a rudimentary sword - and for its appearance. Spectral white, almost ethereal, the pike seemed to possess a mysterious quality, irresistibly attracting the eye. Its smooth, pale surface reflected the surrounding light faintly, giving it an almost otherworldly aura.
Ōetsu, looking determined, brandishes his long pike to the sky.
"It looks like Aizen has decided to take action," he said, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon, ready to launch the weapon downwards.
The other members of Zero Division watched Ōetsu, a mixture of curiosity and vigilance in their eyes. Senjumaru Shutara, known for her shrewd judgment, was the first to express her reservations.
"Ōetsu, you're not really going to intervene so directly, are you?" she asked, her soft voice contrasting with the seriousness of her words.
With a mischievous smile, Ōetsu Nimaiya shook his head.
"No, no," he replied with a light laugh, twirling the pike between his fingers. "I just want to show this arrogant little guy a little demonstration of what the creator of the Zanpakuto can do. "
His expert hand made the pike dance between his fingers with disconcerting ease.
He pointed the pike at the sky again. As he cocked his gesture, an unexpected sensation enveloped the four members of Zero Division. It was neither oppressive nor threatening, but bore the mark of a subtle yet powerful presence – it was the spiritual pressure of the king himself, a silent reminder of his vigilance and authority.
Senjumaru was the first to notice this, a slight frown betraying her surprise.
"Ōetsu, wait," she murmured.
Ōetsu, feeling the same invisible pressure, stopped dead in his tracks. His usually carefree smile faded as he gently lowered his pike. He seemed to understand the unspoken message, a silent but clear warning from the king.
"It looks like we have to observe... for now," he said, his voice carrying a note of respect mixed with reluctance.
Beside him, Kirio Hikifune nodded, her eyes narrowed toward the distant horizon. She raised a hand to her forehead, as if to better discern the details at that dizzying distance.
"Aizen... He's just gone," she said firmly, her voice carrying a mixture of certainty and concern.
Her posture, tense and attentive, betrayed the importance of this observation.
Senjumaru turned her gaze away from the distant horizon to the palace, specifically to where the fifth and final member of their group resided. An expression of surprise and questioning appeared on her face, testifying to her astonishment at this unexpected absence.
"I wonder what Oshō is doing right now, " a hint of bewilderment colored her voice. "Usually, he'd have a front-row seat to such a scene, especially after following Aizen so closely for so long, she said Still fixated on the fifth member's abode," she whispered more to herself than to others.
Kirio, having picked up Senjumaru's whispers, turned slightly towards her.
"He's probably meditating," she replied thoughtfully.
"Have you ever seen him meditate?" she asked, her voice tinged with a hint of skeptical amusement.
Kirio shrugged, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.
"I don't really know, I suppose," she replied, her reply tinged with a slight indifference. Senjumaru let out a sigh, half amused, half exasperated. She gave a look that seemed to say she just couldn't grasp how Kirio had come to such a hypothesis.
"Who knows," Senjumaru conceded, mimicking Kirio's gesture with a slight shrug.
She then turned, ready to leave.
"I'm going back to my quarters," she announced, her voice sounding quiet.
As she walked away, her gait was measured and graceful, her white coat of arms gliding elegantly across the ground.
Kirio approached Senjumaru and slipped her arm around her shoulders, inviting her to walk together. Senjumaru seemed distant for a moment, her face betraying a slight reluctance at this sign of affection. However, she did not push Kirio away, silently accepting her company. "I could make you some pastries, if you want," Kirio offered, a hint of enthusiasm in her voice.
Senjumaru looked away, a forced smile forming on her lips.
"Even if I refuse, you'll still follow me, won't you?" she replied, half jokingly.
"Don't be so cold! You know me," Kirio replied, a light laughs in her voice. We never say no to sweets, especially not mine.
The two women walked away together, leaving behind the two men, engaged in light conversation.
Tenjirō lay nonchalantly on the ledge, positioning himself so that he could look down. "Looks like the Soul Society is going to get some action. It's been so long since there's been such a troop movement, " he says, his voice carrying a tinge of nostalgia mixed with anticipation.
Next to him, Ōetsu stood, deep in thought. Tenjirō, out of the corner of his eye, caught a glimpse of his colleague's traditional shoes.
"Would you be tempted by a bet?" asked Ōetsu, breaking the silence.
Intrigued, Tenjirō looked up at him.
"What kind of bet? "
"Do you think Aizen will make it this far?" Ōetsu asked, a mischievous smile on his lips. Tenjirō rubbed his head, taking the matter seriously.
"There are chances, but it's highly unlikely. But if he did get here, it would mean that he would have surpassed the captains," he replied, his gaze wandering to the sky, as if he were looking for something or someone beyond the clouds.
Ōetsu, guessing his thoughts, teased him.
"Don't tell me you're worried about her?" A light laugh punctuated his question.
"Maybe so, but she's not what she used to be," Tenjirō replied, a hint of melancholy in his voice.
Ōetsu crouched down beside him, patting him on the shoulder in a friendly way.
"It doesn't matter, she's still a monster, you know.
Tenjirō straightened up, sitting in the lotus position, but with a relaxed attitude all his own.
"You say it far too amicably."
Ōetsu, getting closer.
"So, do you think he'll make it this far?"
Tenjirō, looking thoughtful, scratched his head again, weighing his words before answering.
"No!" he replied.
Ōetsu, standing at the edge of the celestial disc, aimed his pike at the infinite void, deliberately pointing it at the expanse of the sky. His silhouette stood out sharply against the vastness of space, a gesture that seemed to defy the heavens themselves.
His pike pointed in front of him with a theatrical gesture.
"I hope he will come here. I can't wait to show this arrogant kid that neither his Zanpakuto nor his Bankai are infallible!" he said with unshakable confidence.
"Hmm, you seem quite sure of yourself," Tenjirō observed, a little mockingly.
"Obviously!" Ōetsu exclaimed, his smile widening. "I'm the Number One Creator Of Zanpakuto, after all. "
Tenjirō let out an amused sigh at his colleague's unwavering enthusiasm.
- Well, the next few months will be pretty darn interesting! he whispered while the wind blew lightly through his relatively open clothes.
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