Bleach: Dominating Soul Society in One Sting

Yhwach's body was cleaved in two by Jashaku Raikōben — the golden blade swept across his waist and split the torso that had absorbed the full power of both the Soul King and Aizen cleanly in half.

His lower half remained standing for two full seconds before toppling with a thunderous crash.

Yet something was wrong. The escaping Spiritual Pressure and matter did not dissipate alongside the death of Yhwach's consciousness. Instead they retained an unsettling vitality — like pitch-black sludge possessed of independent life, heaving faintly in place, threaded through with white eye-like masses that slowly writhed.

Soifon lowered her right hand. The lightning gradually faded from Jashaku Raikōben, dissolving into golden light that sank back into her chest.

Perhaps what she had just annihilated was only the individual consciousness known as "Yhwach."

This horrifying amalgam — forged from the Soul King's power, the Quincy's primal essence, Hollow energy, and Aizen's evolved force — had already become a crucible unto itself, a breeding ground for raw power. If left unattended…

In the distant future, there was no telling what new will might eventually be born from this mindless mass of energy.

As she was turning over how to handle this thorny problem, the severed head lying on the ground nearby — the one belonging to Ichibē Hyōsube — gave a little roll and called out to her:

"Soifon, do me a favor and say my full name." "This really matters to me. Please."

Soifon glanced at him and gave a single nod.

The instant she spoke the monk's full name, the scattered chunks of Ichibē Hyōsube's body strewn across the ground began to glow with a dark phosphorescence. Every fragment shot together as if drawn by invisible threads, reassembling at blinding speed.

Ichibē Hyōsube rolled his neck and flexed his reattached shoulders with satisfaction, then strolled cheerfully over to Yhwach's bisected corpse. He crouched down and, with the Ichimonji in hand, gave the still-writhing black mass a curious prod.

"Not bad, kid," he said, clicking his tongue in wonder and glancing up at Soifon. "You showed some real restraint — left the old man a corpse in one piece. I half-expected that Bankai of yours to blow him into a few hundred chunks…"

Soifon: "..."

Before anyone could say another word, Ichibē Hyōsube produced — from seemingly nowhere — a thick bone needle gleaming with spirit-particle light and a length of ink-black thread. With practiced hands he aligned Yhwach's upper and lower halves, then threaded the needle and went to work so fast his movements left afterimages.

Once the stitching was done, he lifted the Ichimonji, dipped its tip into the crystal fragments scattered on the ground, and slowly wrote two characters on Yhwach's chest: [Soul King].

As the final stroke fell, Ichibē Hyōsube's expression turned solemn. He pressed his palms together and began chanting an ancient, cryptic incantation.

As his voice rose and fell, the crystal shards littering the floor seemed to answer the call — trembling, lifting into the air one by one, resonating with a faint harmonic glow.

Fine threads of gold sprang up between fragment and fragment, weaving them together. They merged and sealed, re-encasing the body now named [Soul King] inside a crystal prison without a visible crack.

The crystal took shape — and fine beads of sweat had already gathered on Ichibē Hyōsube's brow.

He drew a deep breath, raised both hands beneath the crystal, and tried to lift this newly formed sealing crystal back to the position where it had once floated at the center of the inner sanctum.

The crystal shuddered — and sank back down.

"Tch… heavier than it looks…"

He frowned deeply. Clearly one man's strength alone was not enough to return this new [Keystone] — the linchpin of the Three Worlds — to its rightful place.

The monk turned to look at Soifon, a rare look of embarrassment crossing his round face. "Soifon — lend an old man a hand, would you?"

Soifon stepped forward and cupped both hands beneath the base of the crystal seal. Golden Spiritual Pressure surged out from within her, and together the crystal slowly, steadily began to rise.

The higher it climbed, the stronger the suction from within the crystal became — devouring the Spiritual Pressure of those carrying it in a torrent. Even for powerhouses like Soifon and Ichibē Hyōsube, it felt as though a floodgate had been thrown open somewhere inside them, their energy pouring out in waves, leaving behind a creeping, dizzy weakness.

At last, the sealing crystal was hoisted to its original height.

Countless threads condensed from the combined Spiritual Pressure of the two of them reached out from the void, passing through the channels in the crystal and anchoring it securely at the center of the inner sanctum.

Ichibē Hyōsube let out a long exhale, released his hands, and braced them on his knees, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Soifon's breathing was slightly ragged as well — though considerably more composed than the monk's.

"Thanks to you, Soifon. On my own, I'd have become the greatest sinner the Three Worlds ever knew."

Soifon looked at him and shook her head, an expression somewhere between a smile and not:

"That wouldn't have happened, Your Excellency Hyōsube."

"The former Soul King — he must have seen all of this."

Ichibē Hyōsube blinked at that — then, as if something clicked into place, rubbed his bald head and broke into a full, rolling laugh:

"Ha ha ha! You're absolutely right! The Soul King… would never have let something like that happen!"

Still chuckling, he dusted himself off and waved for Soifon to follow. "Come on — we've still got some loose ends to tie up."

When Yhwach had forced his way into the Royal Palace, the other members of Zero Division had tried to intercept him — and had been defeated without suspense. They were now lying in their respective detached palaces, and needed to be woken.

The two of them took to the air and called out the names of every Zero Division member at the top of their lungs, then went to each of the palaces in turn. The final stop was Ōetsu Nimaiya's Phoenix Palace.

Before Soifon and the Zero Division members even set foot inside, a wave of scorching, arid air hit them head-on.

The forging pool had been almost completely evaporated — only a shallow film of murky liquid remained. Ōetsu Nimaiya was sitting at the bottom of the empty pool, cradling something in his arms, looking utterly dejected.

Hearing footsteps, he lifted his head in greeting, then held up the broken blade in his hand, his voice heavy:

"Ichimonji has been destroyed. Yhwach forced the Zanpakutō's seal open and absorbed every last drop of power inside it."

Ichibē Hyōsube looked at the two broken halves, rubbed his chin, and let out a slow nod of comprehension.

"Ah… so that's it… No wonder Yhwach took down Sōsuke Aizen so easily." He smacked his lips. "After absorbing Ichimonji… yeah, that explains everything."

Setting aside the fact that Ichibē Hyōsube had allowed himself to be beaten by Yhwach on purpose — even facing Sōsuke Aizen after his evolution into that form, he had found it mildly troublesome. Without going Bankai, it might not have been a clean win.

Still…

Ichibē Hyōsube tucked his hands into his sleeves and looked out from the edge of the Phoenix Palace, his gaze cutting through the clouds toward the bottomless depths of Hell below.

In this battle, both Sōsuke Aizen and Ichimonji — two immense Spiritual Pressures — had fallen one after another. Yhwach's Spiritual Pressure had been trapped inside a corpse and fashioned into the [Soul King].

Soifon had cleared out a wave of Hell creatures earlier with Jashaku Raikōben, easing the strain on Hell's Gate considerably — but against the Spiritual Pressure of Aizen and Ichimonji now plunging into Hell, that was a drop in the ocean.

Worse still: because these two Spiritual Pressures were so enormous and so crushing, the speed at which they fell toward Hell and the gravitational pull they exerted were on an entirely different scale from ordinary souls of the 3rd Spiritual Rank.

Hell's Gate was about to buckle again.

"Are you really going to move against Hell?" He turned and looked at Soifon. "Hell's will is unfathomable — even the fifth great clan, whose purpose was to suppress it, lost themselves in that cursed place."

It was precisely because that legendary clan had lost their ability to suppress Hell that the gate could no longer contain the steadily growing miasma — allowing Hell creatures to spill out into the World of the Living.

Soifon pressed her lips together. "If we don't purify Hell, they'll come after the Three Worlds anyway."

"Then I wish you success. If you fail, the old man can use Ichimonji's ability to temporarily suppress Hell's Gate — but that will only ever treat the symptom, not the disease."

Ichibē Hyōsube turned and walked back, leading the Zero Division members away from the edge of the detached palace.

With the Soul King restored to his place, the apocalyptic tremors that had been shaking the world gradually, finally, subsided.

At the same time.

Deep in Hell.

Four figures stood on a scorched hillside, heads tilted back, staring up at the murky sky above.

Kiganjō Kenpachi. Azashiro Sōya. Gin Ichimaru. Kaname Tōsen — arms folded, bodies wreathed in sinister black phosphorescence.

Once celebrated warriors of fearsome renown, they had been warped by Hell's ceaseless erosion and torment into something monstrous. The markings unique to Hell crawled across their spirit bodies; the rational light that had once lived in their eyes was being swallowed, piece by piece, by a feverish hunger for destruction.

Of the four, Azashiro Sōya's corruption ran deepest — so deep that even Kiganjō Kenpachi, who had fallen into Hell a century or so ahead of him, was left humbled.

Azashiro Sōya had used himself as a conduit to merge with Hell — and Hell's will had fixed its gaze on him almost immediately.

With Hell's deliberate cooperation, the fusion progressed with uncanny speed. Even when it surpassed the limits of what his Zanpakutō's warnings could reach, he heard nothing — he had gone deaf to it. He simply continued fusing himself deeper and deeper into Hell.

By now, the other three could no longer tell whether they were looking at Azashiro Sōya — or Hell's will itself.

"Another powerful Spiritual Pressure has joined us…"

Azashiro Sōya raised his head. Fused with Hell as he was, he felt every shift in this land with razor-sharp clarity.

All four of them looked up at once — and at almost the same instant, two entirely different Spiritual Pressures tore through Hell's dark-red cloud cover like burning meteors, trailing long blazing tails as they slammed into the earth below.

The dust had not yet settled when several figures materialized near the impact site.

At the bottom of the crater, a silhouette slowly rose.

Violet butterfly wings unfurled behind Aizen's back, each feather shimmering with brilliant, flowing light. At his chest, the Hōgyoku still hung suspended within its starry expanse, four crystals orbiting it in a slow, steady rotation.

"Something's off…"

Azashiro Sōya's brow twitched as he studied Aizen's appearance. He spread his spiritual senses wide — but could not locate the other powerful Spiritual Pressure anywhere.

Sōsuke Aizen raised his right hand. Hovering in his palm was a small cube-shaped crystal — and at its very center, unmistakably, was the white form of Ichimonji.

"Are you looking for Ichimonji?"

"His power was… quite useful for my Hōgyoku."

With those words, Sōsuke Aizen pressed the crystal against the Hōgyoku at his chest — and sealed it completely within.

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🔥 New history: Samsara Game: Starting in The Long Dark with My Waifus

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