Chapter 210: Who is the Traitor?
This was rcy.
Everyone understood it, even if no one wanted to admit it out loud.
Seireitei had been completely overwheld by a single man. Not through tactics, not through formations, not through a grand war of numbers, but through the kind of crushing superiority that left no room for resistance. They existed now because he allowed it.
Both captains and vice captains could feel that gap, vast enough to be called impossible. It was no longer a question of friend or foe. It was more like a higher existence humoring sothing smaller.
Like a human teasing ants.
Plucking them away when they climbed too high, then placing food at the entrance to lead them, slowly and patiently, toward a better place.
No one liked the comparison, yet it kept returning to their minds.
Because how else could they explain it?
Complete control over the five senses, like a mirage, like moonlight on water, was already terrifying beyond reason. Then there was chakra, a power so alien that it seed to challenge the very foundation of the Soul King system, perhaps even surpass it. Even without Kyoka Suigetsu, Aizen could weave an illusion convincing enough to trap everyone inside a sealed dream, one that whispered of a better future.
Shunsui had said it plainly. If Aizen had wanted Yamamoto dead, the Captain Commander could have died at any mont.
But Aizen had not done it.
Instead, he revealed his weakened condition without fear, smiled as if nothing mattered, and walked away as if giving them ti to think. Just as he claid, it seed he wanted soone to step forward. More than that, he wanted Soul Society itself to change.
But who was still thinking about change now?
So might, deep down.
Soi Fon never would.
She was the captain of the covert mobile unit, a blade in the dark, pride forged from obedience and perfection. Yet she had been pinned down and beaten without even the dignity of a counterattack. She could understand the reality, but she refused to accept it.
Soi Fon was not the type to kneel to anyone except Yamamoto and Yoruichi Shihoin. This ti, she had been forced into humiliation. For her, it was no less disgraceful than death itself.
So, in the captains’ eting room, in front of all those complicated expressions, she stepped forward without hesitation and dropped to one knee.
“Captain Commander, please allow to subdue the great traitor, Aizen Sōsuke.”
Silence.
“Captain Commander,” she insisted, voice tight.
Shunsui touched the wound on his abdon and let out a slow sigh.
“Let us have a mont of quiet, Captain Soi Fon,” he said. “Everyone’s already feeling low enough.”
Aizen’s strike had carried no hidden trap, no lingering poison. Unohana’s assessnt had been precise. Aizen had deliberately avoided anything vital. It was a flesh wound, nothing more, not even internal damage.
He kept insisting he never intended to make enemies, and so far, his actions almost supported that claim.
He had not truly hard the highest tier captains, the real pillars of Seireitei. The ones who mattered most, the ones who could be called the elite, were still standing.
Central Forty Six felt powerful, but it was replaceable. A number on a board.
And there was sothing else, sothing far stranger, lurking beneath the outrage.
If wandering spirits and Shinigami were now to be treated as equal people through chakra, then yes, Aizen had committed countless killings.
But according to Seireitei’s own cold rules, the Eleventh Division occasionally conducted population counts. In that frawork, such loss was not treated as sacred tragedy, but as maintenance, balance, acceptable fluctuation.
What made Aizen a “traitor” was the purge of Central Forty Six.
Yet Central Forty Six existed as the nobles’ mouthpiece, a political organ wrapped in the robes of law. Aizen’s stated goal was to overthrow those representatives and liberate the Soul King.
aning, he was not targeting nobility in na, but the highest agents of Seireitei itself.
And in Seireitei, there was an unspoken rule that tasted like poison.
If soone directly targeted the Soul King system, and the Soul King Palace did not object, if no royal agents descended to erase them, then that silence carried a kind of tacit permission.
Now, the Zero Division had not moved.
That fact alone sent a chill through the room.
Aizen might not even qualify as the greatest traitor.
The implication was simple, almost childish in its cruelty.
If Aizen Sōsuke is not the traitor, then who is?
The Zero Division had not intervened. They were the true authority, the ones who watched Seireitei from above, the ones who nad history and decided what “justice” ant. Their silence either ant they were restrained, unable to descend, or that they were hesitating, uncertain whether this new path was better than the old Soul King system.
If it was the latter, then Seireitei and Aizen stood, as he claid, as equals. Not right and wrong, but competing answers to the sa rotten question.
To be slaughtered and humiliated by Central Forty Six, then forced to swallow this uncertainty, it was enough to make anyone’s blood boil.
Byakuya closed his eyes and refused to comnt.
Kenpachi looked bored, as if he had wandered into a eting about weather.
Others questioned, or stayed silent, or showed expressions they did not want anyone to notice.
The more Shunsui watched, the more terrifying Aizen beca in hindsight.
Aizen did not need to swing his sword again.
He only had to tell the truth, demonstrate his power once, and then wait.
Seireitei would split itself apart.
Voices rose.
“Tosen is innocent,” soone argued. “He acted for the justice in his heart, that is understandable.”
“With Captain Gin still missing, how can you talk about innocence,” another snapped. “Hinamori is still recovering. Aizen and Kana must be arrested and interrogated.”
A third coughed, weary and uncertain. “If there’s a better way, isn’t that a good thing?”
“He hard the Shihoin family,” another voice cut in. “Aizen must pay the price.”
The eting turned into chaos.
Once the first accusations flew, the debate beca endless. So spoke of law. So demanded imdiate arrest. So, quietly or boldly, admitted Aizen had done what others were too afraid to do.
The mont Seireitei’s legitimacy beca uncertain, a rift opened inside the Gotei Thirteen.
If the ultimate authority was silent, then the next step depended on their own choice, did it not?
Captains understood the weight of that responsibility and began declaring positions from their own perspectives. The room grew loud, ssy, almost alive. Even Shunsui found himself speaking, arguing for restraint, for ti, for a path that did not turn Seireitei into a battlefield.
And it was pointless.
The Gotei Thirteen had never been a single mind. There were always differences, always those who thought differently, always those who suffered quietly and dread of sothing else. Even among the vice captains, Shunsui suspected, many would support Aizen if the choice beca real.
Then the cane struck the floor.
Once.
Silence slamd down like a lid.
Yamamoto stood like a pillar that refused to bend, his expression carved from stone.
“A notice will be issued,” he said, voice low and absolute, “to interrogate and hold accountable the traitor, Aizen Sōsuke.”
No one interrupted.
“The cri of Aizen Sōsuke is betrayal of Seireitei. He killed the sages of Central Forty Six. Without approval, he taught and promoted experintal subjects with unknown risks, and violated procedure repeatedly. These can be confird.”
His gaze swept the room.
“No matter what anyone says, I will not allow such reckless defiance to exist unpunished. As Shinigami, we must make fair judgnt.”
He tightened his grip on the cane.
“It is fact that Aizen Sōsuke killed the sages of Central Forty Six, frad his comrades, and hard other captains. The formal trial will be conducted by the reford Central Forty Six once it is reassembled. The Gotei Thirteen’s duty is capture.”
His voice sharpened.
“The Gotei Thirteen exists to protect Seireitei, not to debate endlessly.”
A pause.
Then, the final line, asured and heavy.
“Each division shall act within its capability. Carry out arrests only while ensuring the safety of your own mbers.”
That was it.
Every captain understood what it ant.
If Yamamoto truly wanted Aizen captured at all costs, he could have issued a command that left no room for interpretation. He could have demanded sacrifice. He could have ordered the world to burn for the sake of order.
Instead, he left them space.
Room to hesitate.
Room to choose.
Room to fail without being crushed by command.
Several captains noticed it, and stored that contradiction away like a blade kept hidden under the sleeve.
Plans began forming behind quiet eyes.
Just as Yamamoto seed ready to dismiss the eting, a Hell Butterfly fluttered in.
It looked wrong.
Bloated, heavy, almost grotesque.
Under dozens of astonished gazes, it drifted across the room, then shuddered.
A familiar energy fluctuation sparked.
Smoke burst outward.
And Mayuri Kurotsuchi erged from within it, as if he had crawled out of an experint’s afterimage.
“How can a captains’ eting be held without ,” he asked brightly. “What, am I not a captain?”
His mask was black and white, clownlike, and his smile flashed with gold teeth.
He looked around at the captains as if they were specins arranged on a table.
“While you mortals with nothing but muscle in your brains argue about righteousness,” Mayuri said, voice dripping with delight, “I have been working tirelessly in my laboratory.”
He spread his hands.
“You do not even know what chakra is, or what it can do, yet you sit here discussing judgnt. Laughable. Is this what intellectual deficiency looks like?”
Shunsui exhaled, tired.
“All right, Captain Kurotsuchi,” he said. “Have your experints produced results?”
Mayuri’s eyes widened with pride.
“Yes. I borrowed that power and created sothing small.”
He tapped the air, as if pointing at the earlier butterfly.
“That Hell Butterfly was created using the chakra transformation system. In terms of breadth and adaptability, this power is far superior to spiritual power.”
He leaned forward slightly, voice thrilled, almost worshipful.
“And if you ask ,” he concluded, “this changes everything.”
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