Chapter 42: The Weight of a God
The day after Danzo Shimura's disappearance was heavy with an unspoken truth. Within the somber walls of what remained of the Root headquarters, the three survivors of Aizen's wrath—Fu, Torune, and Sai—stood before the village elders, Koharu Utatane and Homura Mitokado. Their faces were pale, their postures rigid with a mixture of fear and duty.
Sai, his usual emotionless mask firmly in place, gave a flat, factual report of the infiltration. Fu and Torune, their spirits still shaken from the mental and physical assault, confirmed the events. They had been utterly defeated, and while they had not witnessed their master's final moments, the conclusion was inescapable. Danzo was gone.
"He just walked through our most secure facility as if it were a garden," Torune said, his voice tight. "We were powerless."
Homura's face, etched with the deep lines of age and worry, twisted into a scowl. "This is your doing, Hiruzen," he cursed under his breath, his voice trembling with fury. "Your sentimentality, your decision to free that monster… it has cost this village one of its pillars!"
Koharu's expression was just as grim. "We must go to Hiruzen at once. An explanation is required. A punishment must be delivered."
When the two elders stormed into the Hokage's office, their righteous anger faltered. The room was quiet, the air thick with an oppressive energy. Hiruzen Sarutobi sat behind his desk, his expression weary and resigned. But he was not alone.
Seated comfortably in a chair opposite him was Aizen. His form had shifted once more, the winged "butterfly" stage having receded into something more humanoid yet distinctly alien. He was draped in a seamless white garment that seemed to be part of his very being, with jagged purple highlights breaking its smooth surface. A faint, violet glow pulsed around him, a visible manifestation of the Hōgyoku's immense power. He had de-evolved again, settling into the third stage of his transformation.
"What is he doing here?" Homura demanded, his voice shaking as he pointed an accusatory finger.
Hiruzen sighed, the smoke from his pipe curling around his head like a shroud. "The boy came to me this morning. He informed me of his... execution of Danzo Shimura."
Koharu and Homura stared, their eyes wide with disbelief. The sheer audacity of the act—to not only murder a village elder but to then calmly confess it to the Hokage—was beyond their comprehension.
Aizen's lips curled into a predatory smirk. He turned his head slowly, his purple eyes fixing the two elders with a gaze that made their blood run cold. "Ah, and now Danzo's dogs have run to you, haven't they? I imagine you're here to deliver their frantic report to the Hokage."
The elders flinched, shrieking inwardly under the weight of his stare.
Aizen rose from his chair with a fluid, unsettling grace. "But tell me, what was the point of your coming here? Did you truly believe Hiruzen would punish me?" He chuckled, a low, condescending sound. "He has neither the guts nor the power to do such a thing." His gaze swept over them, a silent dismissal. "Ants should know their place."
Koharu and Homura glared, their faces flushed with impotent rage. Aizen merely smirked in response before his body dissolved into a cloud of shimmering purple particles, vanishing from the room entirely.
A heavy silence descended. Hiruzen finally broke it with another weary sigh. "I know Danzo was a thorn in my side... a shadow this village both needed and despised. But he was still an asset."
"An asset?" Koharu snapped, her composure cracking. "Hiruzen, that… that thing cannot be allowed to continue! There must be a way to defeat him!"
The Hokage's eyes grew distant, heavy with a truth he had been burdened with for days. "Defeat him?" he murmured, before revealing everything Aizen had told his team—of Shinigami and the Soul Society, of a war that shook worlds, of a betrayal that crowned him a villain, of his defeat, and his impossible reincarnation.
As the story unfolded, the elders' faces drained of color. The scale of the being they were dealing with settled upon them like a death sentence.
"A man who challenged the gods of his own world..." Homura whispered, his voice trembling. "Hiruzen... how can we possibly hope to stand against that?"
Later, at the Senju Clan Estate, Aizen sat on a wooden chair on the veranda, his gaze fixed on the tranquil garden before him. The air was still, the world quiet. Yet, he sensed it—a presence of immense, ancient power approaching. It was a pressure he hadn't felt in this world before, a familiar inferno cloaked in stoicism. A slow smile spread across his face.
The figure stepped into view, an old man leaning on a simple wooden cane, his eyes closed as if in peaceful contemplation. But the spiritual pressure he radiated was anything but peaceful. It was a sun, barely contained.
Aizen's smile widened. "What brings an esteemed guest such as yourself to my humble abode, Head Captain?"
Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto stopped a few paces away. He did not open his eyes. "Captain Unohana informed me of your reincarnation. And your current… affiliation."
Aizen chuckled. "Ah, Retsu. How is she? I must confess, I've missed her."
Yamamoto ignored the sarcastic jab, his voice a low rumble. "What is your goal in this world, Sosuke Aizen?"
Aizen's gaze shifted, his amusement melting away into that familiar, chilling condescension—the look of a being gazing down upon insects. "My goal?" he repeated softly. "I will stand upon the heavens of this world and become its God. All who oppose me, all who dare to stand in my way... will be crushed."
At that, Yamamoto's eyes snapped open. Aizen saw the ancient, fiery soul that had commanded the Gotei 13 for a millennium. In an instant, the wooden cane Yamamoto held disintegrated into splinters, revealing the katana within—a weapon with a dark purple handle and a simple, circular guard. The air itself began to shimmer with heat.
"Reduce all creation to ash, Ryūjin Jakka."
The world turned to fire. With a single, fluid slash, Yamamoto unleashed a tidal wave of consecrated flame. The attack was not merely aimed at Aizen; it was an act of annihilation. A vast portion of the Senju estate was instantly vaporized, the very air turning to plasma as the inferno swept over Aizen. Half of his body was incinerated before he could even register the movement, the white and purple of his Hōgyoku form dissolving into the blaze.
The flames receded, leaving a smoldering, blackened crater where a moment before a house and garden had stood. What remained of Aizen's body stood amidst the devastation.
And then, he smirked.
The flesh and energy of his obliterated half swirled back into existence, knitting together seamlessly in a matter of seconds. He stood whole once more, completely unharmed.
"My, my," Aizen said, his voice filled with a genuine, predatory excitement. "I do hope you provide more of a challenge than Captain Unohana and Gin did. It would be a shame to be disappointed."