Chapter 245: Whose Future Is This Built On?
Amid the shattered ruins of Kirin Palace, Mayuri's bisected body twitched on the broken stone, then began to stitch itself back together.
Men like him were notoriously difficult to kill. Compared to the bizarre gadgets Kisuke dreamed up, Mayuri specialized in altering flesh and reengineering Zanpakuto. Being cut in half, having his Bankai destroyed, even being split from crown to crotch, none of it counted as fatal in his eyes.
His Bankai was something he had personally redesigned. As Director of the Research and Development Department, Mayuri was morally bankrupt in ways that made people's skin crawl, but even Kisuke could not deny his talent in biochemistry. Still, for "safety," Mayuri usually delayed his own revival timer.
Reviving on the spot only invited a finishing blow until you were minced into paste. Far better to lie low until the enemy's momentum cooled.
Many fighters were slaves to rhythm. When their tide rose, they were unstoppable. When it fell, they became dull and slow.
Since I cannot die, why not be cautious?
That blade was simply too fast. I did not even see what happened. I will review the memory modules stored in my flesh later, it should be fine.
As the pieces fused, Mayuri's mind reconnected in an instant. Sound returned. Color returned. Sensation returned. Even his captain's haori reformed and sealed itself back into place as if repaired by invisible hands.
Child's play for a genius.
Then, the moment he opened his eyes, a flippant voice drifted into his ear.
"Yo. Awake? Then be a dear and go back to sleep."
"Wh…"
A soft shnk.
Mayuri's head hit the ground, bounced twice like a rubber ball, then rolled to a stop.
No one believed he was dead.
Not Captain Commander Yamamoto, seated amid the rubble with his cane clenched in one hand, his face heavy as thunder. Not Shunsui beside him. Not the bewildered Ichigo. Not Kisuke, hat brim drawn low, eyes unreadable.
From start to finish, only one matter actually mattered.
"Some things really should not be heard by a research maniac," Ōetsu Nimaiya said, as casual as if he were commenting on the weather. "Otherwise it is tragedy, calamity, mega catastrophe."
The Sword God, creator of the Zanpakuto template, grinned at the stunned Shinigami and humans as if this were a lively reunion rather than a ruin soaked in blood and broken law.
"So, where were we? Why we started fighting? Why the Soul King Palace looks like this? Or how every random nobody can stroll up here? Or maybe the fact that your very perceptions have been rewritten and you have not even noticed?"
"Mm, any thread is fine," Shunsui said, sounding resigned. "If this is reality, then time is the one thing we have in spades."
He kept his body between Yamamoto and the others, watching the shifting debris and the strange calm with the wary patience of a veteran.
"Since nothing we do changes the situation," he continued, "we might as well pool our thoughts."
"Exactly." Ōetsu's grin widened. "That is the spirit, lil Kyoraku. Ah, if only my own squad could grasp that."
He flicked his fluffy hair as if brushing away dust, then looked down at the figure sprawled nearby.
"Right, do you not agree, squad member Kirinji Tenjirō?"
"Who are you calling your squad member," Tenjirō rasped from the ground, fury and exhaustion tangled together. "I will kill you."
"Look at you, still playing tough, Tenjirō." Ōetsu sighed like a man burdened by childish colleagues. "We are scrambling to save ourselves before what is coming. If we go around in circles and end up fooling the very people we are meant to rescue, that is a no."
"Still not your squad member."
"Stubborn as ever, squad member Tenjirō."
"Why you…"
"Anyway," Ōetsu said, and the playfulness drained from his tone. "The anomaly began a good ten or so minutes before he filed his report to Squad One."
Behind the sunglasses, his expression turned cold, serious, almost sharp enough to cut.
"That Aizen Sōsuke is not the Aizen of this world. More precisely, this world's Aizen was killed right at the start, by the foreign Aizen himself. The reason, identity replacement. The usual trick."
A stillness settled over the ruins, as if the broken palace itself was listening.
"We sensed him the moment he set foot in Soul Society," Ōetsu continued. "As stabilizers of Soul Society, the Zero Division watches outsiders who should not exist here. We did not act, though. Not because he had not caused havoc, but because from the beginning the Eye Monk was… strange."
Shunsui's gaze sharpened, and Kisuke's eyes narrowed beneath the brim of his hat.
"At first we intended to confirm what had descended," Ōetsu said. "But the Monk stopped us. He said he would handle it."
His voice lowered.
"After he entered the main hall, we never heard from him again."
Ichigo's eyes widened. Even he felt the weight in that sentence.
"Hard to believe, right? The Eye Monk who names everything in this world vanished inside the Soul King Palace. And it was not only that. Afterward, our link to the Soul King Palace was jammed."
Ōetsu paused, then spoke as if reciting something carved into bone.
"That led to our civil war, because a moment later every one of us received a message, etched into our own flesh and blood."
"Fight. When only one victor remains, that person will become the true captain of the Zero Division, commanding all other squad members with absolute authority."
"That is what the flesh and blood that form the Ōken told us."
Ichigo's voice came out thin.
"…A horror story?"
Ōetsu looked at him, unimpressed.
"Do we look like we are telling bedtime tales?"
He spoke with disquieting ease.
"Our bodies were created by the Soul King, and only our flesh can open the path to the Soul King Palace. So whatever happens, it must be the Soul King's power at work."
Tenjirō's fingers clawed at the stone, his teeth bared.
"And Aizen Sōsuke gained the ability to influence that power, right from the start," Ōetsu finished.
"That is why we have been killing each other all this time," Tenjirō spat, voice shaking with frustration. "Damn it."
Pinned to the ground by exhaustion and injury, he glared up at the sky as if he could bite through it.
"Our flesh demands we fight, but how can we duel to decide who rules the world? Charging in blindly makes no sense!"
That was why the Zero Division could neither send nor heed any message.
They had sensed the foreign presence early. They knew what kind of monster Aizen Sōsuke was. Yet their own bodies, their shackled flesh, rebelled against their will.
So they concluded Aizen had used an outside method to bypass the Soul King's authentication, twisting the "command" and "will" that should never have existed in the first place. The Soul King never issued orders. The Soul King simply existed.
The compulsion was not absolute, but it was persistent. While battling, the four of them repeatedly stripped flesh from bone and called each other's true names to regenerate, cutting away the warped will that kept growing inside them. They fought like mad in the sky, shedding mutated flesh, and the pieces that fell into Seireitei became beacons. Beacons that guided others here.
"We all know how absurdly strong the Eye Monk is," Ōetsu said, his voice heavy now. "We are the civilization and the backups of Soul Society, but he is its witness."
He looked toward the deeper halls of the Soul King Palace, where silence sat like a sealed mouth.
"Whatever could make a man like him disappear, and what state the Soul King Palace is in now, we do not know."
Tenjirō's face twisted with rage.
"Yet our flesh clearly delivered the order to duel," he growled. "What could a great sinner like Aizen Sōsuke have done to twist the Soul King's will like this…?"
The Zero Division's fury simmered in the air, hot and poisonous, while the Shinigami fell into grim silence.
And at the edge of Kirin Palace's sky, another kind of silence cracked.
Yhwach hovered there, staring at the world around him as if it had betrayed him. His eyes widened, shock and dread crawling up his spine.
"Why," he demanded, voice tightening. "What happened? Why have I done nothing from the start? Why can I not enter Kirin Palace?"
A calm voice answered him.
"…Because it was my suggestion."
Yhwach's pupils shrank.
"My suggestion."
He turned.
Aizen Sōsuke floated in midair, serene, smiling gently, as if the ruins below were nothing more than scenery.
Aizen. Why him?
Yhwach could not understand it. How had Aizen appeared inside the Soul King Palace? What had happened? Had Aizen not just attacked the Wandenreich?
Aizen did not seem interested in explaining anything to an enemy. He only glanced at the ruins of Kirin Palace, then looked back to Yhwach with that same mild smile.
"Sternritter 'Y,' Royd Lloyd of 'Yourself.' If only you came, this would be dull."
His tone was almost polite, like a host disappointed by a late guest.
"On the road to the future, every past disgrace, every old hatred, must be settled. Thus, Yhwach and Captain Commander Yamamoto must fight a true battle."
Aizen's eyes remained soft.
"A mere substitute holds no meaning."
And he smiled, as if he had just offered a reasonable suggestion, not a verdict.
.....
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