Chapter 43: The Shackles of a Guardian
The flames of Ryūjin Jakka roared, a living inferno that turned the night sky into a scorching crimson dome. The heat was intense enough to blister skin from a distance, yet Aizen stood amidst the blaze, his Hōgyoku-infused form glowing with an ethereal violet light that pushed back against the orange firestorm.
He brushed a speck of imaginary dust from his shoulder, the very shoulder that had been incinerated moments ago.
"Is that it?" Aizen asked, his voice cutting through the roar of the fire. "I must admit, Genryūsai, I expected more ferocity from the 'Head Captain' ."
Yamamoto did not respond with words. He stepped forward, the wooden floorboards beneath him turning to ash instantly. He swung the blade horizontally.
"Taimatsu."
A concentrated wave of fire erupted, not a wild explosion, but a precise, consuming inferno aimed directly at Aizen.
Aizen didn't dodge. The wings on his back unfurled, pulsing with energy. He raised a hand, and a barrier of translucent purple light materialized. The flames crashed against it, hissing and roaring like a trapped beast, but they could not break through.
"Your Shikai," Aizen noted, his tone bored. "It is powerful, yes. But against me? It is merely a warm breeze."
Yamamoto's eyes narrowed. He twisted his grip, and the flames intensified, turning from orange to a blinding white-hot. The barrier cracked.
Aizen vanished.
He reappeared behind Yamamoto, his hand forming a blade of purple energy. He struck.
Yamamoto spun with speed that defied his age, parrying the blow with his sword. The impact created a shockwave that flattened what remained of the Senju compound's main hall.
They separated, sliding back across the scorched earth.
Aizen straightened, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. He looked around at the devastation, then past the compound walls, toward the sleeping village of Konoha.
"I see now," Aizen said, a low chuckle escaping him. "I was wondering why you felt so... restrained."
Yamamoto's expression remained stony. "I do not know what you mean."
"Don't play the fool with me," Aizen sneered, his lone eye gleaming with predatory intelligence. "I know you, Genryūsai. I know the true depths of your power. I know the sword you hold is merely a fraction of your wrath."
Aizen took a step forward, his pressure spiking, the purple aura flaring up like a beacon.
"You won't use Bankai."
The air grew heavy. Yamamoto's grip on his sword tightened imperceptibly.
" We both know what happens if you release it here, don't we?"
Aizen spread his arms wide, gesturing to the village beyond the walls, to the vast forests of the Land of Fire surrounding them.
"This world is fragile. Far more fragile than the Soul Society. If you were to unleash the flames of the sun in this dimension... the moisture would vanish from the air instantly. The trees would ignite. The rivers would boil away into nothingness."
He leaned forward, his voice dripping with mockery.
"You aren't holding back out of arrogance. You're holding back out of fear. You are afraid that if you draw your true blade, you won't just kill me... you'll reduce the entire Land of Fire to a barren wasteland of ash and dust."
Yamamoto remained silent, but the flames around him surged, betraying his anger.
"How pathetic," Aizen continued, his voice rising. "You claim to be a guardian? You claim to be the sword that enforces justice? Yet you allow yourself to be shackled by the very things you protect. You are fighting with one hand tied behind your back because you value the lives of these ants over victory."
Aizen's form began to shift, the Hōgyoku responding to his disdain. The third eye on his forehead opened, staring down at the old man.
"That is why you failed in our previous life, and that is why you will fail here. A god does not fear destruction. A god dictates it."
Yamamoto finally spoke, his voice a low rumble that shook the earth.
"You speak too much, youngster."
Yamamoto raised Ryūjin Jakka high above his head. The flames concentrated, compressing into a singular, blinding pillar.
"My duty is to protect. That is a burden I carry with pride. If I can incinerate you without burning the world you seek to rule, then that is the path I shall take."
"Jōkaku Enjō!"
A massive wall of flame erupted from the ground, encircling Aizen in a prison of fire that reached the clouds. The heat was suffocating, designed to trap and vaporize him within a confined space.
Inside the inferno, Aizen's laughter echoed, cold and mocking.
"Protecting the world... how noble. But tell me, Genryūsai... how long can you keep your sword sheathed before I force you to draw it?"
A blast of purple energy, a Fragor, smashed into the wall of fire, creating a hole in the prison. Aizen stepped out, unscathed, his wings pulsing.
"Let us see how much of Konoha you are willing to sacrifice to stop me."
Chapter 44: Divine Intervention
The flames of Jōkaku Enjō flickered and waned, the massive prison of fire destabilized by the sheer force of Aizen's Fragor. Aizen stepped through the breach, the scorched earth crunching beneath his feet. His wings of violet energy pulsed rhythmically behind him, casting long, eerie shadows against the burning ruins of the Senju compound.
"You hesitate, Genryūsai," Aizen chided, his voice smooth despite the chaos. "You worry for the ants scurrying in the village below. That hesitation... will be your undoing."
Yamamoto stood firm, Ryūjin Jakka gripped tightly in both hands. The old man's spiritual pressure was a heavy, suffocating blanket, yet Aizen was right. The Head Captain was holding back the true might of the sun to prevent the Land of Fire from turning into a barren wasteland.
Aizen raised a hand, a second sphere of dense purple energy condensing at his fingertips. "If you will not draw your blade fully, I will force your hand. Perhaps if I aim this at the village..."
Click.
The sound was faint, barely audible over the roar of the flames. It was the sound of a trigger being pulled.
There was no projectile. There was no travel time. There was no sound of impact.
In an instant, a perfectly circular hole, the size of a grapefruit, appeared through Aizen's chest. The sphere of energy in his hand dissipated as his concentration broke.
Aizen looked down, his expression shifting from arrogance to mild curiosity. He touched the hole in his chest, watching as the purple light of the Hōgyoku began to knit the flesh back together.
"spatial piercing?" Aizen murmured. "No... this sensation..."
He looked up, his lone eye narrowing as it scanned the darkness above the flames.
From the smoke-filled sky, a figure descended. He didn't fall; he lowered himself as if walking down invisible stairs. He wore a long white cloak that billowed in the updraft of the heat, a dark green bicorn hat perched upon his head, and his left eye was squeezed shut. In his hands rested a large, black sniper rifle covered in green fur.
He landed softly between Aizen and Yamamoto, his back to the Head Captain.
Yamamoto's eyes narrowed further. He recognized the signature of the spiritual pressure immediately. It was an energy he had fought wars against a millennium ago.
"A Quincy," Yamamoto rumbled, the flames of Ryūjin Jakka flaring in response to the old enemy.
The newcomer ignored Yamamoto. His single open green eye was fixed solely on Aizen with a look of absolute, cold judgment.
"Sousuke Aizen," the man spoke, his voice calm and resonant, carrying the weight of a verdict. "Your hubris has reached the heavens. To call yourself a god... to mimic the divine while wallowing in the mire of sin... it is blasphemy of the highest order."
Aizen's lips curled into a smirk as his chest finished regenerating. "I wondered who would arrive next. To think, one of the Quincy King's has found his way here."
Lille shifted his rifle, Diagramm, resting the stock against his shoulder. "I am no longer a servant of Yhwach. I am an envoy of true justice. And you, Sinner, have been weighed and found wanting."
Aizen chuckled, spreading his arms wide. "Justice? You speak of justice while interrupting a duel between gods? How rude."
"There is only one God," Lille retorted coldly, leveling the muzzle of his rifle at Aizen's head. "And you are nothing more than a pretender."
Yamamoto stepped forward, the heat around him rising. "This is my battle, Quincy. Stand aside."
Lille didn't turn, but his voice carried a warning. "Old man. I know of your history. I know of the flames you wield. But this man... this thing... cannot be killed by fire alone. His existence is an insult to the divine order. If you wish to purge him, do not let your pride get in the way of judgment."
Aizen laughed, the sound echoing through the night. "A Shinigami and a Quincy, standing side by side? How poetic. It seems this world truly is full of surprises."
Lille's green eye gleamed. "Do not misunderstand. I am not his ally. I am simply your executioner."
Without warning, Lille pulled the trigger again.
BANG.
Aizen moved, his speed defying perception, attempting to sidestep the line of fire. But the X-Axis did not fire bullets; it enforced a rule. Whatever was in the line of the barrel was pierced.
Aizen's left wing was obliterated, a perfect hole punched through.
Aizen frowned, realizing that dodging was irrelevant against this specific ability. He needed to close the distance. With a burst of Shunpo, he vanished, reappearing instantly behind Lille, his hand sweeping down to decapitate the sniper.
"Too slow," Lille muttered.
He didn't turn. He didn't dodge. Aizen's hand passed straight through Lille's body as if he were a phantom.
Aizen's eyes widened slightly. Intangibility.
Lille spun, the barrel of Diagramm pressed against Aizen's stomach.
"The X-Axis," Lille declared.
BANG.
A massive hole was blown through Aizen's midsection, sending him skidding back across the scorched earth. He coughed up blood, the Hōgyoku glowing violently as it struggled to repair the massive damage.
Lille racked the bolt of his rifle, his demeanor icy. "You claim to be immortal. You claim to be a god. Let us see how much of you I must erase before you stop claiming anything at all."
Yamamoto watched the exchange, his grip on his sword tightening. He hated Quincies. He despised their existence. But as he looked at Aizen—a being who defied logic, who regenerated from ash, and who threatened the entire world—he realized the necessity of the moment.
The flames of Ryūjin Jakka surged, forming a perimeter around the three of them.
"Very well," Yamamoto grunted, stepping up beside Lille Barro. "Just this once. We shall reduce this evil to nothingness."
Aizen wiped the blood from his mouth, his wound closing with a hiss of steam. He looked from the Fire God to the Divine Sniper, and his smile grew wider, more manic.
"Two legends of the old world against the new God," Aizen said, his violet aura exploding upwards, shaking the very stars. "Come then! Try to judge me!"
To be continued...