Welcome Back, Seiya-kun

A low hum. A flash of disorientation.

With the resounding crack of shattering, the world itself seemed to twist.

The first to react was Yamamoto Genryūsai. A man who once walked through mountains of corpses and seas of blood, his instinct was pure battle-hardened reflex. Without hesitation, his hand reached for his sword.

But it stopped mid-draw—Sasakibe Chōjirō still stood at his side, unchanged.

"..."

A short distance away, Unohana Retsu had also dropped into a fully guarded stance.

A reaction born of a different era—two warriors forged from the same violent age.

In contrast, the others were slower to grasp what had happened.

Kenpachi Zaraki and Kyōraku Shunsui stood side by side.

They stared at the crumpled, near-dead body of Kira Izuru before them—his arm twisted grotesquely.

The "Tōsen Kaname" that Komamura had just pinned down… shimmered into bubbles and was revealed to be Iba Tetsuzaemon.

Poor guy—utterly confused, his sunglasses nowhere in sight, barely breathing from Komamura's brutal takedown.

"...?!!!"

Komamura nearly jumped in shock.

Everyone was now caught between astonishment and realization when Hitsugaya stormed in, shouting:

"What the hell were you all doing just now?!"

"Why did you attack your own allies—like you were ambushing them!"

"Were you trying to kill them?!"

No one had time to answer.

From high above, a mocking voice cut through the air.

"Clueless, are you? Then you were left out of the plan… how pitiful, Third Seat Hitsugaya."

Every gaze turned upward.

There stood Aizen Sōsuke, feet resting on a platform of solidified reishi. A direct violation of Seireitei's internal laws.

Behind him, unharmed, were Gin Ichimaru and Tōsen Kaname—his left and right hands.

"This is what exclusion looks like. Seems both your strength and your character were underestimated, little Hitsugaya."

Had this been the Hitsugaya from the original timeline—matured into captaincy—he might've held his temper.

But not here. Not now.

"You—!"

Before he could retort, a thin, weathered figure stepped in front of him.

"Is toying with the weak so amusing?"

"But of course, Head Captain Yamamoto."

Adjusting his glasses, Aizen's voice remained smooth and unbothered.

"When a tiger finds a mouse, it doesn't always eat it right away."

Toying with prey was part of the game.

Whether to devour them—was just mood.

"Scum…"

No words wasted. No ambiguity remained. Yamamoto took half a step forward.

He inhaled.

Wisps of heat curled from his lips.

His eyes burned with killing intent so sharp it seemed to slash the air itself.

Sasakibe shouted as he backed away:

"All units, retreat!"

The Head Captain was going to act personally!

Even the air trembled. Yamamoto's spiritual pressure surged like a crushing anvil from the sky, cracking and splitting the very platform beneath them.

"Not good…"

Kyōraku muttered, grabbing injured allies and pulling back.

"Kenpachi, I know you're curious, but might wanna take a few steps back, yeah?"

Even his usual cool demeanor had vanished.

"Once that old man gets serious, it's not gonna be pretty."

Unohana silently began evacuating others. Her movements alone were enough to spark a wave of retreat.

Yamamoto's staff cracked, crumbled—decayed wood disintegrating.

A long, ancient Zanpakutō materialized in his grip.

"Traitors…"

He drew the blade.

The very air contracted violently—like being sucked into a black hole. The sensation made many nauseous.

But it passed just as fast.

Kyōraku adjusted his hat and coughed. Ukitake, already coughing heavily, shouted:

"Everyone—get ready!"

For what?

Before anyone could respond—

BOOM!!!

Crimson flames erupted like blood.

Seireitei's blue sky darkened under the blaze that sought to incinerate everything.

"...???"

The shockwaves reached even those far away.

Ichigo and Byakuya, having just fought fiercely, instinctively turned to the disturbance.

The sheer spiritual pressure from Aizen earlier had already cooled their heads.

Ichigo, still masked, looked toward the blast, stunned.

"What the hell… is happening over there?"

Such immense pressure. Two monstrous forces?

Byakuya, though panting and weary, remained composed.

Was it just the power difference that made the source feel so… ungraspable?

More than anything, a strange unease coiled in his gut.

Something felt—

Wrong.

Across Seireitei, all could feel it. The rippling spiritual pressure made even the mighty Soul Society tremble.

In the 5th Division barracks, Hinamori Momo froze mid-task.

A chill ran down her spine.

She looked skyward—others around her noticed too.

"What's happening?"

"No idea, but it feels… terrifying."

"And did the ground just shake?"

"Twice, maybe?"

"Wait—where's Lieutenant Hinamori?!"

Back at the execution platform, the blaze consumed everything.

Tōsen looked visibly tense.

His grip on his sword was instinctive, but his mind—and orders—held him back.

Gin's smile was forced.

"Is this… the Head Captain's power? Holy hell."

Aizen, by contrast, remained calm.

No fear. Only fascination.

A fire with life, with force.

Had he such a Zanpakutō, would he have needed any of this?

He wouldn't deny his envy.

But it was fleeting.

He smoothed his expression, composed his thoughts.

Aizen smiled again.

"Head Captain… do you know my Zanpakutō's ability?"

"..."

"Kyōka Suigetsu—its ability is Complete Hypnosis. A manipulation of the five senses."

To explain his ability now was madness. But in this game of misinformation, Aizen knew that Yamamoto's desire for clarity might override caution.

"To activate it—one need only see the moment I release the sword. From then on… I control everything the target sees, feels, hears, touches, even smells."

"..."

"You all turned on your comrades—because I manipulated your senses. Simple as that."

"..."

"So let me ask something simple."

Aizen's smile widened.

"Head Captain—do you truly believe I've deactivated Kyōka Suigetsu's ability?"

"Or could it be… you're still trapped in illusion—ready to strike down an innocent you think is me?"

"...!!!"

No answer.

Only Yamamoto's fingers tightening on his blade.

Seeing that, Aizen shrugged.

"Knew you'd hesitate."

Such kindness.

A leader who loved his subordinates, valued the Thirteen Court Guard Squads.

Merciful, compassionate.

But now… only weakness.

Aizen gently removed his haori.

The symbol of the 3rd Division. The emblem of his past.

Letting it fall meant severing ties.

"Now, let me share the second bit of good news."

"That wasn't my release command…"

"It was the trigger to end the illusion."

"In other words—what you see now is real."

"So, Yamamoto Genryūsai… what will you do?"

Trust Aizen's words?

No.

With a single breath—

Yamamoto made his choice.

He inhaled deeply, fire swirling around him. His uniform burned away as the flames turned inward—converging.

The blade shone, cloaked in light hot enough to devour the sky.

"Ho…"

Aizen didn't flinch.

He faced the slash head-on.

In a blink, he and his allies were consumed in a tide of white-hot light.

"Foolish."

Yamamoto's tone was grim.

"To protect the Soul Society, no sacrifice is too great."

"If your deaths demand lives… so be it."

"Aizen Sōsuke… never underestimate the will of the Gotei 13."

Still—

Kyōraku frowned, glancing at Unohana.

'If we move fast, even regular Shinigami might survive, right?'

Ukitake coughed hard.

'Depends if the old man held back…'

The answer was unclear.

Until—

Aizen's voice returned, calm as ever.

"Not surprising."

"Once, this man slaughtered all of Soul Society."

"If you hadn't done this… I'd think you were senile."

—Why?

Yamamoto frowned.

Even a Quincy monster from a thousand years ago wouldn't survive that unguarded.

"Surprised?"

"Think I couldn't take it?"

"Of course… because that wasn't me you hit."

The taunt was bait. The counter—inevitable.

All according to plan.

"And what better stage… for a grand return?"

"Wouldn't you agree?"

As the fire raged, it suddenly compressed—

Then vanished.

Gone in a breath.

And from the smoke—

Figures emerged.

More importantly—something else did.

A strange, spherical object.

Green. Translucent. Gleaming like glass.

Beautiful. Valuable-looking. Yet… utterly foreign.

Some strange artifact? A weapon?

While the others puzzled—

Aizen smiled, eyes full of longing.

Snap…

A crack echoed.

The orb split open, lines of fracture spreading.

A heartbeat-like pulse surged from within.

Reiryoku roared like a tidal wave.

A figure emerged—

A man.

Familiar robes, face, and silhouette.

As jaws dropped around him—

Aizen extended a hand, smiling with emotion.

"Welcome back."

"Seiya-kun."

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Powerstones?

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