Following a familiar path, Masatsuki Aozaki arrived at Shin'ō Academy, cloaked in black.
The garnt was a Tenshiheisō (Sacred Treasure) borrowed from Yoruichi Shihōin.
As he approached, sothing felt off—there was a distinct scent of blood lingering in the air.
Most academy students wouldn't have noticed, but Masatsuki had killed enough people to recognize it imdiately.
Stealthily concealing his presence, he leaped onto the rooftop, his senses sharpening as he picked up on powerful clashes of Reiatsu in the distance.
A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes.
Shinigami were fighting—and not just a few of them.
This was only a few streets away from Shin'ō Academy. Who would be reckless enough to start a battle here?
Looking down, he saw two opposing groups of Shinigami locked in fierce combat.
Both sides were led by high-ranking Seated Officers.
Judging by their uniforms, Masatsuki quickly deduced that these were mbers of the Gotei 13 battling against rebels.
But why?
What could have emboldened the rebels to attack here of all places?
This was Shin'ō Academy—not just ho to commoner students but also to the children of noble families.
If any of them were hard, the outcry would be imnse.
The Tsunayashiro Clan was powerful, but its elders weren't fools. It made no sense for them to make enemies so recklessly.
Pulling his hood lower, Masatsuki couldn't help but think of Yoruichi.
Could this really be because of her?
She was certainly valuable enough to warrant such action.
But would the Tsunayashiro Clan really risk enraging the Shihōin Clan to this extent?
They probably would.
As he recalled fragnts of his past life's mories, Masatsuki arrived at an unsettling realization.
In the original tiline, Yoruichi had been forced to leave Soul Society. Strangely, the position of 2nd Division Captain had not passed to the Shihōin heir, Yūshirō, but instead to Suì-Fēng.
For a thousand years, the captaincy of the 2nd Division and the command of the Onmitsukidō had always remained within the Shihōin family. There had never been an exception—until Yūshirō's generation.
Whatever the cause, one thing was clear: the Shihōin Clan's influence had been in decline.
Declining enough that they could no longer hold onto their rightful seat of power.
Masatsuki refocused, carefully analyzing the battlefield.
Then, from the shadows, he spotted two figures lurking, silently observing the chaos from a distance.
Both were clad in black, their faces obscured, but Masatsuki quickly ford a guess about their identities.
As the battle grew more chaotic, one of the masked figures suddenly surged forward, his body enveloped in Kidō.
With a single step, he vanished into the fray.
A flash of steel.
Before the rebel could react, he was already falling—cut down in an instant.
"Who goes there?!"
Several Shinigami cried out in alarm as a black-clad figure suddenly appeared on the battlefield.
Everyone present—whether from the Gotei 13 or the rebels—were trained warriors, with even high-ranking Seated Officers among them.
Yet this man had appeared out of nowhere, cutting down a Shinigami in an instant before anyone even noticed.
What kind of power is this?
As all eyes locked onto him, the black-clad man let out a soft chuckle. Reversing his grip on his Zanpakutō, he pointed the blade downward.
There was no release command—but Masatsuki Aozaki knew.
His Shikai is already active.
"Aizen?!"
Masatsuki recognized that stance instantly.
And if that was Aizen, then the figure lurking in the shadows could only be one other person—Kana Tōsen.
He was certain. He had practiced that stance himself many tis. There was no mistake.
"Reflect, Banshō Senran!"
Without drawing attention, Masatsuki activated his own Shikai within its sheath, seamlessly switching to the power of Kyōka Suigetsu.
He gripped the hilt tightly, relieved that his Zanpakutō's release caused no visible disturbance.
"It worked!"
The battlefield remained unchanged, and Masatsuki felt a rush of excitent.
The Gotei 13 Shinigami and rebels turned to look at Aizen in confusion—then glanced warily at their own comrades.
And in that instant, cold sweat drenched their backs.
The comrades they had trusted just monts ago—when had they beco enemies aiming to take their lives?
A Zanpakutō with spatial abilities?
The thought surfaced in their minds.
But instincts honed by years of battle left no room for hesitation. In the chaos, swords were raised—Shinigami struck down those standing closest, treating them as foes.
Screams erupted once more.
The streets were soon drenched in blood, flesh torn apart—only to dissolve into reishi and vanish.
...
As the battle raged on, Masatsuki made a startling discovery.
Two Lieutenant-level Shinigami were hidden among the rebels.
Aizen, anwhile, walked through the carnage at a leisurely pace, occasionally flicking his blade—cutting down any Shinigami who dared stand in his way.
His movents were precise, deliberate.
Ordinary soldiers no longer interested him. His true targets were Seated Officers and Lieutenants.
In less than ten minutes, the battlefield was littered with corpses.
The bodies of weaker Shinigami disintegrated into reishi, leaving no trace behind.
Only the strong are worthy of leaving a corpse in Soul Society.
Watching the endless cycle of enemies falling and new ones rising to take their place, the Seated Officers and Lieutenants on both sides were nearing their breaking point.
Masatsuki, perched on the rooftop, stared in stunned silence.
Aizen moved with effortless grace, walking through the blood-soaked streets, harvesting Shinigami one by one.
Their anguished screams rang out as their Reiryoku was drained away, their strength vanishing in an instant.
Even those who had seed powerful—Lieutenant-class Shinigami—were unable to react before Aizen cut them down like insects.
Masatsuki swallowed hard.
Imagining Aizen's power was one thing. Seeing it firsthand was sothing else entirely.
The sheer difference in strength was overwhelming. Those two Lieutenants had possessed Reiatsu levels far above his own—yet they had been slaughtered in an instant.
Soon, the battlefield fell silent.
Only one figure remained standing.
Shing!
Without a word, Aizen flicked his Zanpakutō, shaking off the blood before smoothly sheathing it.
His gaze swept the surroundings before he vanished in a flash.
...
Masatsuki remained completely still, lying on the rooftop, not daring to move until nearly fifteen minutes had passed.
Finally, he slid down and slipped into a narrow alley.
A pressing sense of urgency gripped his heart.
The battle had confird sothing for him.
Ordinary Shinigami were no longer useful as test subjects—Aizen now only targeted Seated Officers and Lieutenants.
This could an one of two things:
First, Aizen's experint had advanced, requiring higher-quality subjects to continue.
Second, and perhaps even worse—his experint had stalled.
If the latter were true, then he was desperately seeking new materials to further the developnt of the Hōgyoku.
Masatsuki leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly.
He believed the second theory was more likely.
Aizen hadn't acquired Matsumoto Rangiku's soul. He was unaware of the existence of the Soul King's Fragnt.
Which ant...
The Hōgyoku was still incomplete.
And Aizen was now frantically searching for a way to satisfy it.
Masatsuki clenched his fists.
Matsumoto Rangiku's face surfaced in his mind, and for the first ti in a long while, an unfamiliar feeling surged through him—urgency.
Despite all his efforts to harden his heart, to remind himself that this world was cruel...
So emotions refused to be silenced.
Cautiously, he crept toward the edge of the alley, peering out to confirm the battlefield was truly empty.
Only then did he rise, dusting off his cloak.
In the next instant, his figure blurred—vanishing into the night with a single step of Shunpo.
(40 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / PinkSnake
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