With a single beckoning gesture, Soifon recalled the Kikaigai—the instrument that had torn open the passage to the Royal Palace—back into her palm.
The humming crystal gradually stilled against her skin. The golden luminescence flowing across its surface seeped slowly into her hand, merging seamlessly with her Spirit Body.
[Task Triggered: Ascend to the Royal Palace]
[Task Complete.]
[Reward Obtained: Large Soul King Fragment (Soul King power of extraordinary purity)]
The System panel—absent for so long she had almost forgotten what it looked like—materialized before her eyes once more. This was the first time Soifon had ever completed a task guided entirely by an item rather than her own initiative.
From this moment onward, it felt as though time itself had pressed pause across the entire world. She could feel it with crystalline clarity: her Spirit Body was being reinforced by the invisible fragment of the Soul King's power.
The meridians that composed her Spirit Body were strengthened once more. The Spirit Particles coursing through her ran faster than before, and a golden power settled into slumber somewhere deep within her—waiting, patient, for her to draw it out.
The entire process lasted only an instant. By the time Soifon's awareness returned to the present, neither the five Zero Division members standing before her nor Sōsuke Aizen had noticed anything amiss.
Tucking his hands into his sleeves, Ichibē Hyōsube—the monk—strolled forward to stand before Soifon and Aizen, a warm and easy smile spread across his broad face, as though greeting an old friend after a long separation.
Behind him, the other four members of the Zero Division lingered at a respectful distance, watching Soifon and Sōsuke Aizen with open, unabashed curiosity: Senjumaru Shutara. Tenjirō Kirinji. Kirio Hikifune. Ōetsu Nimaiya.
Soifon let out a long breath and looked up at the monk. "I didn't expect we'd be meeting again this soon."
Compared to Soifon's easy composure, Sōsuke Aizen had an entirely different experience the moment the monk drew near. The sixth sense rooted in pure bodily instinct flared into frantic alarm, screaming at him to put as much distance as possible between himself and this man.
So this is what it feels like... the power of the one they call the True-Name Monk—the one who gives names to all things in Soul Society?
It was precisely because Aizen had stumbled upon knowledge of this man's existence that he had so deliberately avoided relying too heavily on his Zanpakutō's abilities during his Hōgyoku evolution.
"There's no need to be tense." The monk waved one massive hand in a placating gesture. "If Soifon has brought you this far, we won't be doing anything to you. Sōsuke Aizen."
He turned and began to lead both Soifon and Aizen toward the other palace islands for a look around.
"Your tone suggests you have me completely figured out."
Aizen did not follow. He remained where he stood, Kyōka Suigetsu gripped in his hand, expression blank as he watched the monk pause and turn back to face him.
After all, Aizen had broken through the boundary between Shinigami and Hollow at extraordinary cost—only to spend the entire war on the receiving end of beatings. Even with his composure, even with all his practiced patience, facing this kind of open, brazen condescension had stirred something uncomfortably close to genuine anger.
Since he had come all this way, he was going to have at least one fight with the legendary Zero Division.
At this moment, a surging tide of battle-will burned openly in Sōsuke Aizen's eyes.
"Hah..."
"You've come all this way, and you're certain you want to do this?"
After holding Aizen's gaze for a few seconds, Ichibē Hyōsube let out a sigh and reached back to unsling the enormous brush from behind him.
A flicker of eagerness passed through the eyes of the four Zero Division members standing behind him—each of them clearly itching to step forward and have a go at Aizen themselves—but the monk held them back with a single gesture.
Once Soifon and the other four had withdrawn to a safe distance, Aizen moved.
"Precisely because I've come all this way..."
A trail of crystalline afterlight was all he left behind as Sōsuke Aizen flickered to point-blank range before the monk, his blade sweeping down in a single clean slash. "...is exactly why I have to fight."
Clang—
The enormous brush caught the slash with perfect steadiness. Ichibē broke into a hearty laugh. "Ha ha ha! So that's why you avoided relying too heavily on your Zanpakutō's power from the very beginning—you had already accounted for this possibility, hadn't you?"
With that, he gave a single casual push with one hand—and sent Kyōka Suigetsu off to the side as easily as brushing away a fly.
"From the very beginning...?"
The words landed. Aizen leaped backward, clearing the monk's counter with a sideways vault—and felt a chill race up his spine.
"Mm—about a hundred years ago or so, I suppose." The monk kept his smile in place. "I had actually thought you might be a candidate to succeed the next Captain-Commander. I never imagined your ambitions ran so much further than that."
Within the monk's words, Aizen heard something he had not expected: a note—faint but unmistakable—of genuine recognition. And underneath it, something that felt almost like sorrow. Like pity.
"What a waste, Sōsuke Aizen." The smile slowly faded from the monk's face. "You simply don't have what it takes, I'm afraid..."
"Turn black. Ichimonji!"
Gradually, the battle drew toward its conclusion. The pristine white wings that Sōsuke Aizen had grown were, one by one, inevitably stained by the ink of Ichimonji.
"My power... is diminishing."
After putting distance between them once more, Aizen stared at the ink blotches of varying sizes spreading across his body, his jaw clenched tight with undisguised frustration.
He had evolved to this level—and yet, inexplicably, a massive portion of his strength had simply bled away. It was barely distinguishable from his second-stage power now.
"Have you worked it out yet?" The monk settled the brush across his shoulder. "Once my Ichimonji's ink has dyed something black—whether it's a Zanpakutō or a Spirit Body—the power bound to that name disappears along with the name itself."
The name disappears too...
Sōsuke Aizen raised his right hand. The blade of his Zanpakutō had been covered entirely in jet-black ink, its silver-white surface completely obscured.
"I see. That's why I couldn't use it just now..."
My power—what is it, exactly?
He was about to continue speaking—and then realized that he could no longer recall his Zanpakutō's name.
"Hm?" The monk tilted his great bald head to one side in an exaggerated listening pose. "Couldn't use what? Can't remember it anymore?"
"..."
"I've lost."
Sōsuke Aizen lowered his blade and attempted to scrape the ink from its surface. It was completely useless.
He had no choice but to admit it. He had lost.
He raised his eyes—reluctant, unwilling—and fixed his gaze on the inner sanctum of the Royal Palace, hanging in the distance far above. Then he turned and began walking back the way he had come, Zanpakutō blackened and hanging at his side, making his way to the edge of the floating island with every intention of descending on his own.
"Are you certain you don't want me to lift Ichimonji's effect for you?"
The monk released Ichimonji from its Shikai state—but the ink coating Aizen's blade did not fade.
"That won't be necessary."
"If I can't find a way to break this ability on my own, coming back any number of times will change nothing..."
With those words, Aizen gripped his blade and leaped downward into the open air below.
The monk shook his head—a look of genuine regret on his face—and turned his attention toward Soifon, who had apparently become the center of a very lively gathering with the rest of the Zero Division.
"So you used to serve under that girl Yoruichi Shihōin, is that right?"
"Come over to my place in a bit—I'll weave you something far better to wear."
Senjumaru Shutara hooked a finger under the deeply wrinkled fabric of Soifon's Shihakushō and gave it a critical look.
"I think dinner at my place comes first..." Kirio Hikifune circled around Soifon, her hands wandering freely over the younger woman's frame. "Oh my, she's quite solidly built for her size! Let big sis take a proper look at you."
"Truly impressive for someone so young..." Tenjirō Kirinji laced his hands behind his head with a lazy grin. "So what exactly did you invent that made the monk pick you, anyway?"
"Whatever else one might say, little Soifon's fusion with her Zanpakutō is absolutely perfect!"
Ōetsu Nimaiya rubbed his chin, clicking his tongue in appreciation as he looked Soifon and Suzumebachi up and down with unrestrained admiration.
"Ahem!"
The monk strode over and cleared his throat pointedly, bringing the cluster of chaos to a halt and drawing every pair of eyes back to himself.
"Soifon is not a member of the Zero Division. Don't go celebrating too early, any of you."
____
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