"Phosphorus gas?"
Naraku frowned, thinking hard.
It sounded like something he'd heard before, but the impression was faint.
His past-life memories were a messy pile—mixed in with all sorts of "taboo" Bleach-related material. Maybe he'd seen the concept somewhere, but it had been too long.
Not remembering was normal.
If Aizen gave a bit more information, he might be able to connect more dots.
Seeing Naraku give up on brute-force thinking, Aizen shifted his gaze back to the screen and tapped the equipment a few times. The relevant section zoomed in instantly.
"Phosphorus gas comes from Hell."
"Not the 'Hell' you live in—this is a world that exists independently of Soul Society, Hueco Mundo, and the World of the Living."
Aizen's brows tightened.
"I've read a huge number of texts in the Academy library, but there are very few records about Hell. Judging by the descriptions, it sounded more like 'superstition.'"
"So back then, I didn't pay much attention to the concept of Hell."
"But Takeda Satoru's case broke my prior assumptions. After the attack, I went back to Fifth Division's library and combed the relevant records again."
"They mentioned 'phosphorus gas' and explicitly stated that it's a substance unique to Hell."
"I don't yet know its specific use, but I can confirm it resonates with Shinigami in some way, and can influence Shinigami themselves to a certain extent."
"If I want to understand it properly, I'll need more materials and data."
Aizen reached forward and tapped the display. The light screen folded away, and the lab returned to normal.
"I don't know how phosphorus gas is obtained, but we can safely infer deeper possibilities."
"For example: does Tsunayashiro have some connection to Hell? And in their schemes… are they including Hell as part of it?"
Naraku looked stunned.
He seriously suspected he was missing a chunk of memory compared to everyone else.
They'd just been talking about noble infighting and cleaning up Soul Society's pests—and in the blink of an eye they'd fast-forwarded straight to Hell?
If it were the Central Prison's "Hells," fine—that was basically his turf.
Except for the lowest layer, Muken, which required Yamamoto's key, the other levels were practically his backyard.
But what Aizen was describing was real Hell.
If Naraku remembered correctly, the Academy did cover death rites for Shinigami.
A Shinigami's body was made of reishi; once they died, the body returned to Soul Society as reishi.
But reishi above Grade 3 was too dense to naturally return. So the Gotei 13 led a ritual called the Konso Reisai (Soul Funeral Festival) to complete the process.
Aizen clearly knew this as well. After a brief pause, he continued:
"However, according to what I found in those records, no matter what you do, reishi above Grade 3 can't truly return to Soul Society's earth."
"The so-called Konso Reisai has another meaning."
"The ritual's real purpose is to send powerful dead Shinigami—"
"Down into Hell."
Naraku's expression turned thoughtful.
He did remember some of this, vaguely—but because the texts never went into much detail, he'd never paid it much mind.
"My guess is that Tsunayashiro discovered some method to open the gates of Hell, explored it, obtained a certain amount of phosphorus gas, and conducted experiments."
"And the phosphorus gas in Takeda Satoru's arm is one result of those experiments."
Naraku bared his teeth in a grin. "If we're already guessing, why not be bolder?"
"For example: Takeda Satoru should have fallen into Hell—but because of something Tsunayashiro did, he remained in Soul Society in his current state…"
At the first half, Aizen frowned.
Scientific inference had to be built on evidence. It wasn't supposed to be wild, ungrounded imagination.
But when Naraku finished, Aizen's frown eased—and his eyes brightened sharply, as if he'd seen a new world.
"Sora… you really are suited to be a researcher."
Naraku: "?"
He strongly suspected Aizen had been rattled into nonsense.
"You're right," Aizen admitted calmly. "My earlier hypothesis was too conservative."
"Phosphorus gas is a substance unique to Hell. After harvesting it, I tried a fusion experiment on one of Shihōin's retainers."
"Unfortunately, it failed."
"The rejection reaction was so violent he couldn't contain the phosphorus gas at all. If I hadn't removed the affected parts immediately, he would have collapsed completely."
"At first I thought it was because I didn't understand phosphorus gas well enough—or because my Shinigami-related research was incomplete."
"But after what you just said, I realized something."
Aizen lifted his gaze and looked directly at Naraku, speaking slowly and clearly:
"Takeda Satoru may already be dead…"
...
...
West Rukongai, District 72 — on a boundless plain.
Two forces faced each other from a distance, their killing intent stabbing into the sky. Heavy storm clouds covered the plain, blotting out starlight and spreading oppressive weight everywhere.
The moment rain began to fall, both sides released Reiatsu at the same time.
Chaotic spiritual pressure shattered the silence. Shinigami used Shunpo to surge forward in an unstoppable charge.
The first clash was pure blade work—cold arcs of steel slicing flesh with cloth-tearing sounds. Bright blood fell onto the grass, glaringly vivid.
Once the melee fully erupted, Kidō flared as well—searing flames burning through rolling dust, adding shrill cries to the battlefield.
The most eye-catching figure among them was the one wearing a red scarf.
Unlike his gentle demeanor in Seireitei, Kuchiki Kōga now looked like a god of slaughter. Wherever he passed, enemy Shinigami dropped, unable to resist.
As the leader of the rebel-suppression force, he was the core of the battlefield—the anchor everyone relied on.
As long as that flash of red remained, defeat wasn't an option.
To his allies, this rising star of Soul Society was invincible.
Before long, once the rebels' casualties reached a certain point, their morale shattered. They stopped resisting entirely, collapsing to the ground and surrendering.
Kuchiki Kōga stood at the front, cold eyes scanning the ruined battlefield.
Behind him, Shinigami stared at his back with visible fervor. Someone in the crowd shouted first—
"Kuchiki!"
"Kuchiki!"
The chorus of voices punched through the cloud cover. A beam of sunlight fell on Kōga's shoulder, and the tension in his face finally eased into the faintest smile.
This kind of recognition… was exactly what he'd always wanted.
~~~
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