Hueco Mundo Zenith
Aiyan rose into the air, holding the Flashing Kōfūin in his right hand, and gently swung it down.
That casual gesture made it seem as though he was not facing the First Generation Kenpachi, but rely slicing open a lon.
tsk tsk
As the blade descended, the Reiatsu flowing backward into the sky surged into his Zanpakutō at the sa ti, only to dissipate in an instant. The slashing blade then suddenly halted—
It seed sothing had been cut.
Boom
The next mont, a deafening roar—like the thunder of a thousand storms—exploded in all directions, unleashing a terrifying sound that overwheld everything.
Along with it ca a golden slash, as though it had fallen from the very Heaven itself. It carried a terrifying edge capable of tearing apart all tangible and intangible matter in its path, finally descending upon the Zanpakutō held high by Unohana Yachiru.
Click
With a single clash, Unohana's Zanpakutō was already forced back, the edge biting into her shoulder. Scarlet blood splattered into the air as her body was driven down. The boundless desert beneath their feet could not withstand that terrible edge—it split apart instantly.
Violent tremors and towering plus of dust rose like an earth dragon turning over. The desert transford into a thousand-ter-long, bottomless ravine.
Still gripping her blade, she plumted rapidly along the ravine's length into the depths of the Hueco Mundo desert.
She could not tell how far she fell, nor how long it took to reach the bottom.
It felt as though Aiyan's golden holy sword had severed the very concept of ti. Every second for Unohana felt like years—not with pain, but with pleasure.
The sensation of hell before her eyes and death constantly tugging at her heartstrings drew her in completely, making it impossible to pull away.
"I can't die."
"I want to continue to fight… to enjoy this."
"It would be such a pity for it to end like this."
Unohana Yachiru roared inwardly. Even as the right hand gripping her sword split open at the tiger's mouth, she braced the blade's spine with her left hand. Her palm tore under the weight of the holy sword that towered like a heavenly pillar, blood mist spraying from the strain—yet she refused to let go.
It was not fear of death that drove her, but the fear of losing this rapture—this ecstasy of being torn apart by hell and death itself.
Perhaps ten seconds passed. Or ten minutes.
And then suddenly, the hell before her faded, and the hand of death that had thrilled her withdrew.
Realizing this, she felt both lancholy and exhilaration.
Because she had survived.
And that ant she could continue to fight—and relive the ecstasy she had just experienced.
"Hoo…!"
Unohana let out a long breath of relief—only to realize that the scene before her eyes was being swallowed up at an alarming speed.
The light retreated. Darkness expanded.
When everything in her vision was consud by shadow, she vaguely heard a voice:
"You seem to have forgotten sothing."
"There are two Kōfūins… and the Kōfūin also represents darkness."
"So—what will you do about the second blow, Unohana?"
Above the sky, Aiyan's left hand—also gripping a blade—had already fallen.
"Tornado Sky."
At so point, behind him, a sea of black flas like fire from the heavens had completely blotted out the sky of Hueco Mundo. Like the golden Reiatsu river before it, the torrent poured instantly into the dark Kōfūin Blade in his hand.
When the Zanpakutō stopped, a massive black fla slash descended. The mont it touched the desert, all sand—and even the spirits in the air—were dragged into a black hole, twisted, and obliterated.
Tsshhk…
With the chilling sound of silk being torn, the desert—already split into a single, straight ravine—gained yet another chasm.
The holy sword that cleaves heaven and earth.
The tornado that distorts all things.
Crossing horizontally and vertically, the two strikes carved a bottomless canyon in the shape of a cross.
Boom
When the Black Fla Slash finally fell, the terrifying black Reiatsu erupted like a volcano, lava flooding instantly into the cross-shaped abyss.
"Is that the end?"
After delivering two consecutive strikes, Aiyan made no further move. Descending from mid-air, he sealed away the Shikai of Kōfūin. The Dark Kōfūin and Flashing Kōfūin in his hands vanished together, returning to their sealed Zanpakutō form as he slid it into its sheath.
He landed in the depths of the cross canyon. At his feet, Captain's Haori and Shihakushō alike had been reduced to nothing by those two strikes. Unohana Yachiru lay before him.
Her body, drenched in blood, bore a deep, ferocious incision from shoulder to heel—one that penetrated her internal organs, revealing bone and sinew.
Aiyan did not imdiately look at her to confirm life or death. Instead, he casually removed his Captain's Haori and draped it over her body, shielding her from exposure. Then he looked down at his hands.
The Reiatsu that had been constantly growing since the past had suddenly stopped increasing at this very mont. A thoughtful light flickered in his eyes behind the fra of his glasses.
His Reiatsu production rate had always been low—not comparable to Kidō specialists who could conjure a high-level spell every ten minutes. Even in Kendo—or perhaps, in any form of combat—his gains were hard-earned.
For a year, he had been painstakingly refining his Reiatsu. All remaining ti was devoted to training, day and night, to accumulate and strengthen it.
He had not created any other new techniques.
Aiyan didn't particularly mind—after all, he lacked nothing in terms of powerful abilities.
With his Zanpakutō, Kendo, Hakuda, and a repertoire of Kidō, he could wield a different destructive spell every day of the month without repetition.
So, he happily allowed his Reiatsu to grow and condense—because for a Shinigami, Reiatsu was the foundation.
Zanpakutō.
Kidō.
Kendo.
Hakuda.
Shunpo.
All of them drew their strength from Reiatsu.
But now…
If his soul were a vessel, then Reiatsu was the water—it was already full, unable to grow any further.
This was the first ti since learning to cultivate Reiatsu that he had hit such a limit.
"My Reiatsu has reached the limit of a Shinigami. It can't be improved any further."
"Should I use The Blessing of Both Hands to reconstruct my soul's structure… or resort to Hōgyoku?"
Aiyan pondered.
Since Reiatsu could not live up to his expectations, he would have to live up to it instead.
Well.
Kidō had given him the Kaidō · Blessing of Both Hands. He had also created the Hōgyoku from Matsumoto Rangiku using fragnts of the Soul King's fingertips and Hakusui of the Soul King himself.
But rembering how boldly he had told Aizen he could break the boundary between Shinigami and Hollow without the Hōgyoku, he decided—he would use Blessing of Both Hands.
After all, as an elder brother, he still had his pride.
Suddenly, Aiyan felt sothing brush against his ankle.
He looked down to see Unohana Yachiru, bloodied, touching him with a single stained finger.
"Although I deliberately avoided your heart, it will be difficult for you to survive this."
"Don't move. Otherwise, you won't live long enough for to heal you."
Aiyan gazed at her—eyes closed, perhaps lacking even the strength to open them.
"Ahem… it's fine. Even if it ends here, it's still… good."
"I had wanted to fight for three days, but it seems I overestimated myself and underestimated you. Just two strikes, and my soul trembled."
"Sōsuke Aiyan… you truly are the only man in the world who can please —make feel… that dying in your arms would be bliss. This… this feeling… only you can give ."
Her voice was weak, but there was no trace of fear in it.
To prolong the joy of battle, she had learned Kaidō—but now, she felt it unnecessary.
Compared to repeated exchanges, the thrill of being ended in an instant—entertained by both hell and death in turn—was intoxicating.
She was fascinated. Maddened.
And deep down… she wished to embrace it all completely—
Even if the price was death.
...
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