Another Group
"Captain Aizen! Urgent orders from the Onmitsukidō. Effective immediately, the Fifth Division must enter Level One Alert!"
The sliding door burst open. Hinamori Momo stood in the doorway, breathless from her dash through the corridors, her cheeks flushed with urgency.
Aizen Sousuke set aside his brush, turning toward her with a calm smile.
"Hinamori, as vice-captain, if you panic, what do you expect the soldiers to think?"
His voice was gentle, almost teasing. "Or… does my presence not reassure you enough?"
Her face turned crimson. "N-no, Captain Aizen! I didn't mean—"
Aizen chuckled softly, ending her flustered apology.
"I understand. Go gather the division. Don't be afraid of the enemy. As long as I am here, nothing will happen to you."
Momo nodded, her panic soothed by his words. Of course. With Captain Aizen here, there's nothing to fear. Level One Alert was nothing more than procedure. She closed the door quietly and left with a steadier step.
The moment she was gone, Aizen adjusted his glasses, his smile fading. He could feel them—the sudden surge of foreign spiritual pressures behind him. They hadn't approached from afar. They had appeared within his barracks, abrupt and uninvited.
Turning, he found four strangers standing in his quarters: three men and one woman.
Only one was familiar to him. A tall man wrapped in white bandages from his brow down to his waist, leaving only a pair of sharp eyes exposed.
"Long time no see, Aizen," the man rasped.
Aizen regarded him evenly. "Oda Nobunaga. To appear so suddenly after centuries… you haven't come merely to exchange pleasantries." His eyes flicked toward the man's Zanpakutō, wrapped in swirling bands of white reiryoku, pulsing like a living heart.
"What do you want?"
"The Seireitei's layout has changed in three hundred years," Oda admitted. "And… I wanted to see you."
His words were blunt. He had forced entry with his Bankai, only to stumble onto a spirit particle trap that triggered the alarm. Escaping had cost him another use of Bankai. If he kept blundering blindly, the mission—an assassination attempt on Yamamoto Genryūsai himself—would turn into open war.
Oda was arrogant, but not stupid. He knew better than to believe he could defeat the Captain-Commander in straightforward battle.
Aizen tilted his head slightly, then rose from his desk. Without hesitation, he walked to his bookshelf and drew a scroll from the top shelf—placed high where Hinamori could never reach.
He handed it over. "Marked in red are the locations of the reishi traps set across the Seireitei. I assume you intend another attempt on Yamamoto Genryūsai's life?"
"Yes. Once he falls, the Gotei Thirteen will collapse. Without him, no one can keep order." Oda spread the scroll across the table, examining the miniature map of the Seireitei.
But Aizen smiled faintly. "Not enough. If you want true chaos, you must strike deeper. Destroy the Central 46, paralyze their command structure. And Muken… the underground prison. Release the inmates. Their hatred for the Shinigami will ignite an inferno you cannot hope to spark alone."
Oda glanced at him sidelong, then smiled beneath his wrappings. "You're as dangerous as I expected. If you have other advice, I'll hear it."
"You're an interesting man," Aizen replied, his tone mild, though his eyes gleamed. This could be amusing. "When you face Genryūsai, don't expect aid. By custom and by faith in their leader, the other captains will stand aside. Only the Seventh Division is charged with guarding First Division and quelling rebellion. Komamura will come. Ensure you have someone to occupy him."
Oda absorbed the words, nodding slowly.
"And one more thing," Aizen added. "To kill Yamamoto Genryūsai, you must first seal Ryūjin Jakka. Don't imagine sneaking behind him. That blade will cut you down before your strike even lands. His flames are absolute. Even I acknowledge that, in direct combat, he surpasses me."
Aizen's expression sharpened for a moment. Kyōka Suigetsu was useless against wide-area destruction. Unless he revealed his Bankai—a prospect he abhorred—he would never pit himself against Ryūjin Jakka in open battle.
"You're right," Oda said simply. His eyes narrowed, and his left hand clenched. For a moment, his palm was empty—yet Aizen noticed.
"An illusion?" Oda muttered. "How distasteful."
Aizen's smile returned. "Caution before the unknown is wisdom. Were you hoping to trick my Zanpakutō with that move?"
Oda gave no answer, only said, "You'll see soon enough."
"That does sound entertaining." Aizen released Kyōka Suigetsu. Instantly, the four intruders vanished from sight.
Twenty miles outside the Fifth Division, four shadows reappeared on a rooftop.
Oda dismissed his Bankai, re-sealing his sword. He immediately issued orders.
"Souji. Clear out the Central 46 chambers. Then open Muken. Recruit anyone willing; if they refuse, leave them."
"Yoshitsune, your job is Komamura. Don't try to defeat him—just stall until I finish Yamamoto."
"I don't mind," Okita Sōji said brightly. With his boyish face, dimples, and ponytail, he looked harmless—cute, even. But behind the smile was a killer who had once carved through battlefields without pause.
"But is that man, Aizen, really trustworthy?"
"Aizen is never trustworthy," Oda admitted. "But his words hold truth. Success depends on us."
He raised his head toward the Palace of Penance, his voice steady. "I believe we can achieve our dream."
"Dream…" Sōji echoed softly. His own was simpler. He cared little for Nobunaga's hegemony. He only wished for his name to spread through Soul Society—so that maybe, somehow, he might meet the comrades of the Shinsengumi once more.
"Let's go."
Oda hefted his Zanpakutō and led the group into the night.
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