Real World – Beihai Prefecture
While the battle elsewhere raged toward its crescendo, the stationed Shinigami in Beihai found themselves overwheld. With their final breaths, they sent out a distress signal to Soul Society.
No one could tell what these attackers were—neither fully Hollow nor fully human. They devoured the living. They devoured Shinigami. Anything that breathed could be food. They had the bodies of ordinary humans, low spirit pressure... but strength that defied all logic.
Each one could release a weapon—so Zanpakutō imitation, though cruder and wilder.
With most of the 13th Division already deployed to the other major incident, the distress call found its way into the hands of Mayuri Kurotsuchi, Captain of the 12th Division.
And Mayuri?
He watched.
Watched through surveillance feeds as his prototype Mod Souls—twisted, imperfect artificial beings—ripped apart the remaining 13th Division grunts.
As they mauled and consud, Mayuri recorded data.
Each subject exhibited combat strength comparable to seated officers.
But every one lacked sanity.
He clicked his tongue, tapped the data slate, and with disinterest, forwarded the alert to Captain-Commander Yamamoto.
Let the other Captains mop up the garbage.
The corpses would return to his lab anyway.
That was the point of the closed loop.
Yamamoto, upon receiving the report, clenched his fist. His face, thunderclouds.
Coincidence?
Not likely.
He saw it clearly: whoever orchestrated the first disturbance, likely foresaw that Shiba Kaien might not respond—so they manufactured a second, more urgent crisis.
Now, Kaien would be forced to act.
Duty would demand it.
But Yamamoto had no intention of letting them win this ti.
If they thought they could outplay him twice—they were mistaken.
Second Captain’s eting in a single day.
Rare. Alarming.
Yamamoto didn’t ask for volunteers.
He demanded them.
"This incident in Beihai requires two Captains. Step forward."
To everyone’s surprise, Aizen Sōsuke, Captain of the 5th Division, was first to respond.
"This situation is too dire to delay. Allow to go, Head-Captain."
He held Mayuri’s report, brow furrowed with simulated concern.
Imdiately behind him, Ichimaru Gin stepped up.
"If Aizen-taichō’s going, then count in too. Been a while since we fought side by side~"
His expression unchanged. Eyes closed. Smile unreadable.
Aizen turned to him with practiced warmth.
"Indeed. Not since you beca a Captain yourself."
With two volunteers, no one else raised their hand.
No one wanted extra trouble.
And so, the second deploynt was sealed.
Aizen and Gin passed through the Senkaimon, arranged by Mayuri’s Division, and vanished into the Real World.
Monts later – Soul Society
Just beyond Seireitei’s western edge, a Garganta tore open above West Rukongai District 1.
From within... a flood.
nacing spiritual pressures poured out, dozens at once.
Hollow. Arrancar. Gillians.
A full-scale invasion.
"HAHAHAHA! Yamamoto! I, Baraggan, have returned!"
Baraggan laughed from the skies as his army swept down.
And just like that—the battle for Seireitei had begun.
Kuchiki Clan Manor
Inside the estate, Kuchiki Sōjun, Head of the Kuchiki Clan and Captain of the 6th Division, had barely returned to his room.
He hadn’t even lain down when he heard Baraggan’s voice echo through Seireitei.
"Leaving again, Sōjun?"
His wife looked up at him, worry etched in her noble but delicate face.
Unlike him, she wasn’t a combatant.
A high-born lady. Gentle. Untrained in spiritual combat.
She rarely involved herself in Shinigami matters.
Baraggan’s na ant nothing to her.
But to Sōjun, it ant war.
"Yes," he said gravely. "Today, both Soul Society and the Real World burn. I may be gone all day. Take Byakuya and your daughter-in-law. Hide."
Her eyes widened.
"It’s that serious?"
"It is. Half of the Captains are away. This Baraggan... he chose his mont well."
She didn’t protest again.
Only nodded.
"Go."
As Sōjun turned toward the door, a figure stood waiting outside.
Byakuya.
Silent. Still. Sharp-eyed like Sōjun’s father, Kuchiki Ginrei.
They didn’t speak.
They didn’t need to.
But Sōjun shook his head.
"No. You’re not ready. Not until you’ve mastered your Bankai."
He saw the fire in Byakuya’s eyes. The pain.
He knew his son blad himself for failing to reach Bankai before Ginrei died.
Now he wanted to prove himself.
Sōjun respected the resolve—but wouldn’t allow it.
"You want to protect , but you still have soone else to protect—your mother and your wife."
It was an order.
Byakuya clenched his fists but didn’t argue.
Sōjun left.
Outside the Kuchiki Estate
The streets were deserted.
Nobles had fled at the first hint of spiritual pressure. So had even dragged their families to Squad 1’s barracks.
Amid the cherry blossom wind, Sōjun saw a lone figure standing in the road.
A white haori.
A Captain.
Embroidered on the back: 5.
"Aizen-taichō? What are you doing here?"
Sōjun tilted his head, confused.
He thought Aizen had just left for the Real World with Gin.
Had the crisis already been resolved?
After all, those beings weren’t supposed to be powerful. Just strange.
"I’m waiting for you... Lord Kuchiki."
Aizen didn’t turn around.
He gazed upward at falling blossoms with a touch of lancholy.
Sōjun chuckled softly.
"Waiting for ? Then let’s head to the frontlines together. That Hollow King isn’t going to slay himself."
But as he stepped forward, a pulse of darkness surged.
Aizen turned, and with him ca a suffocating wave of spiritual pressure.
"No, Lord Kuchiki. You’re the only one... who needs to face the King of Hueco Mundo."
Aizen’s tone was soft.
His hands folded calmly inside his sleeves.
Sōjun’s smile vanished.
"What are you saying...? You’re the King? You an Baraggan’s a fake? Or worse... is Baraggan working under you?"
He laughed.
Weak. Nervous.
Hoping it was a misunderstanding.
But Aizen never denied it.
Not with words.
Not with silence.
That was his answer.
Sōjun rembered the Captain Rebellion from over a decade ago.
He rembered what Higashi Shuuichi said after returning from exile:
"None of us were traitors."
He’d believed otherwise.
Now he saw.
The traitor had always been Aizen Sōsuke.
The mistake... had always been Soul Society.
A broken smile tugged at his lips.
"So you’re telling this face-to-face... because you don’t expect to survive, do you?"
Aizen said nothing.
But Sōjun heard everything in that silence.
"This world has rotted," Aizen murmured. "It should not be governed by the rotten."
"I will bring evolution. You bring decay."
Sōjun’s eyes narrowed.
So it was war.
"Hadō #73: Sōren Sōkatsui!"
Twin blue fireballs swallowed Aizen whole.
Sōjun hoped... he would be the one to walk away.
If he won, he would side with the Shiba Clan, and bring justice to Urahara Kisuke and the others who had been falsely condemned.
But not even three minutes passed.
He knelt, body trembling.
Eyes wide. Pupils fading.
His body was riddled with holes—pierced by spiritual pressure alone.
Blood soaked the earth from one end of the street to the other.
He’d never even seen Aizen release his blade.
Just Kido, hand-to-hand, and that terrible reiatsu.
He fell.
And in that mont, he thought—
I was just leaving the house, wasn’t I?
Byakuya... don’t co out here.
Run. Find Urahara. Or Higashi Shuuichi. They know the truth.
He wanted to say so much.
But his voice never made it to his son.
Aizen looked at the Kuchiki estate nearby.
He didn’t go in.
He didn’t need to.
He sensed Byakuya’s approach—felt the pulse of his spiritual pressure.
But he left.
Killing nobles held no real value.
Sōjun had been different.
A symbol. A gatekeeper. An obstacle.
His death was necessary for the next step.
And nothing more.
Monts later, Byakuya arrived at the estate’s gate.
His heart had pounded since the mont Sōjun left.
Sothing was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
And there, in a pool of red, lay his father.
Eyes open. Bloodless. Lifeless.
"FATHER!!!"
Byakuya scread.
The gate of the Kuchiki estate echoed with nothing but grief.
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