Bankai: Eight Aspects of the Heavenly Dragon – Garuda

Seiya Arima.

There is only one man in all of existence worthy of such a name.

Captain of the 5th Division. The personal disciple of Yamamoto Genryūsai. Ally to the noble houses of Shihōin and Kuchiki. One of the most prominent figures in the Soul Society today.

Titles beyond count—each earned through decades of unwavering service and resolve.

The man whose very existence shook the hearts of the Gotei 13...

Now slowly opened his eyes in mid-air.

"…"

He didn't speak.

Instead, he quietly lowered his gaze, examining his own hands.

There was still a lingering haze in his thoughts—a subtle disorientation.

But soon enough...

That spinning dizziness receded like a tide.

His warped perception of time, the strange dissonance from reality—all of it faded as Seiya Arima took a deep breath...

And vanished.

He opened his eyes again—this time calm, steady.

And with a subtle nod, he whispered:

"Mm. I'm back, Aizen-sensei."

Aizen gave him a warm, unreadable smile.

Meanwhile, as though a stone had struck still water, waves of shock rippled across the battlefield.

"What the hell is going on here?" Kyōraku muttered, utterly uncharacteristically stunned.

A man they'd all believed to be dead… was standing before them?

So everything before now—what had that been?

"Cough, cough, coughcoughcough… pffft!"

Ukitake erupted into a violent fit, spitting blood onto the ground.

Kyōraku rushed to his side.

"Is this… some new illusion from Aizen?" Ukitake asked hoarsely.

It couldn't be ruled out.

But Unohana—having already stepped forward, blade in hand—interjected.

"That's possible. But that's not what matters."

Her tone was ice.

Her calm, maternal air had completely vanished.

"What matters now is something else. For example..."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Creating a false image of Seiya Arima—what strategic value would that even have right now?"

Silence followed.

Then Komamura broke it.

"Is it possible… that Seiya has really been resurrected?"

The power to return the dead to life?

By all logic, it should have been impossible.

And yet…

Sui-Feng, having barely recovered, wore an utterly exhausted expression.

"Could the body have been tampered with?"

"No," Unohana said sharply. "Impossible."

"I checked it countless times. Isane wouldn't have missed a single clue. There were no signs of interference."

"And besides… I personally sealed Seiya's body in the deepest vaults of the 4th Division. There's no way they could've taken it."

No signs of tampering.

And yet the dead lived?

Absurd.

Hitsugaya, already overwhelmed, finally lost patience.

"Then what the hell is going on?!"

Illusion? Reality?

Which one was real?!

Before anyone could answer, several panicked squad members burst onto the execution platform, dropping to their knees before Unohana.

"Captain! Emergency!"

"The squad warehouse has been broken into—many items are missing!"

"Even the deepest vault where Seiya's—eh?!"

The moment one of them looked up and saw Seiya in the sky, he nearly died of shock.

So the body really had been stolen.

But even that couldn't account for this.

Still, Yamamoto Genryūsai, his face grave, silently gripped his sword.

To desecrate the dead… to toy with hearts…

Such evil could not be left unpunished.

His fury rose—an inferno within his aging frame.

"Hmph!"

With a thunderous roar, he slashed upward toward the sky.

The force rivaled even his earlier strikes—perhaps surpassed them.

Flames surged, painting the sky in burning orange.

For an instant, the Soul Society plunged into an artificial dusk.

As the fire closed in, Aizen raised his hand in readiness.

But Seiya stepped in front of him, calm and composed.

"It's alright."

"For now…"

"These people—I'll handle them."

He drew his blade.

Light shimmered in his eyes as he flipped the blade of Sāgara Ryū downward.

"Bankai—Eight Aspects of the Heavenly Dragon: Garuda."

BOOM!!!

No dramatic outburst.

No explosive tremor.

Just heat and brilliance swallowing Seiya's form.

But then…

The inferno, which should have vaporized everything, reversed course—absorbed entirely into Seiya's blade.

"…What…"

Not even "shocked" captured the moment.

That was Yamamoto Genryūsai's Zanpakutō.

A blade that had never failed.

And yet—here it did nothing.

"Is… is this real…?" Sasakibe whispered, visibly shaken.

Seiya looked down at them all from above.

Then turned slightly to glance at Aizen.

At his nod, Seiya deconstructed the reishi beneath his feet and dropped lightly to the ground.

He stood before them.

Only Yamamoto held his ground. The rest instinctively stepped back.

An invisible wall had risen between them.

"Been a while, Old Man."

"…Seiya Arima."

The name fell from Yamamoto's lips like stone.

The technique alone had proven his identity.

Yamamoto wasn't one to second-guess his eyes.

He cut through unnecessary questions with a single line:

"Which side are you on?"

Good or evil.

Friend… or traitor?

Seiya gave a rueful smile.

Scratching the side of his mouth, he replied:

"Heh… that's just like you, old man."

Memories surged.

But—

Seiya pulled off his 5th Division haori.

Once meant to be burned with his corpse, now returned by its wearer.

For a moment, he hesitated, then his expression hardened.

This was the last chance the old man had given him.

One chance to return.

To step back from the edge.

So kind… so unlike the iron-hearted general he once was.

"…You really have grown old, old man."

With that, Seiya let the haori slip from his hand.

It turned to ash.

And with it, so did hope.

"I'm sorry."

His choice was made.

Seiya Arima had betrayed the Soul Society.

Yoruichi—once so cunning—stood frozen.

And then, silently, Byakuya stepped beside Yamamoto.

His eyes—wide with fury.

No—far more than that.

Even the always-stoic head of the Kuchiki clan—

Now trembled, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed his teeth might break.

"WHY!!!"

His grandfather's teachings and Seiya's voice intertwined and shattered in his mind.

His scream became the voice of all present.

Seiya looked at them—confusion, anger, sorrow.

And then looked away.

He'd thought he could sever the past, as Aizen had.

But feelings weren't so easily cut.

They clung deep, fused with his very soul.

To sever them…

It was a lie.

So he ran.

"I had my reasons."

"Then go die."

One step forward.

Yamamoto's blade came down—merciless and direct.

The platform erupted in flame.

A maelstrom of fire engulfed everything.

"Everyone fall back!!" Kyōraku shouted.

But—

The flames vanished.

Once more, they were drawn into Seiya's sword.

A second time.

A third.

Not luck.

Not illusion.

Reality.

Seiya caught the blow, blade trembling in his hands.

"Sorry, old man."

"But it seems…"

"My ability just happens to counter your fire."

Bankai: Eight Aspects of the Heavenly Dragon—Garuda.

In Buddhist legends, Garuda was adapted and blended across cultures.

A beast that devoured dragons.

A phoenix born anew in fire.

A great bird, whose wings could span the sky and whose stomach could swallow it whole.

Its form could lock an event in time—then reverse it.

But at its heart—

It was rebirth through fire.

"I will die."

"But to me, that's just a state."

"So long as I gather enough energy…"

"I can be reborn."

New body. New soul.

No flaw.

This was Seiya Arima now.

Death wasn't an end—it was a pause.

Each cycle, he would shed mortality and reshape the divine.

So—

"I thank you."

"Old man. Your fire…"

"Let me be born again."

The beast that devoured flame.

The man reborn.

This was the power Seiya had earned—the strength to match Yamamoto Genryūsai.

"Please… stand down."

"Right now… you can't kill me."

And with that, Seiya's full power erupted.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The ground cracked beneath his feet.

The sky fractured like glass.

The air weighed heavy—as though each person had donned iron armor.

Even Byakuya and Sui-Feng collapsed, gasping for breath.

The pressure of an overwhelming soul.

Undeniably—

First-class spiritual authority.

But Yamamoto answered only with a grunt.

Ignoring the warning, he spun his blade—thrusting straight at Seiya's heart.

Precise. Deadly.

But not unstoppable.

Seiya sidestepped, lifted, twisted—

And avoided it.

Then—

SMASH!

A fist slammed into his face.

A true strike.

Hand-to-hand. Hakuda.

One of the Bones.

A direct, unguarded hit.

BOOM!!!

The sound rang like thunder.

But Yamamoto's brow furrowed.

He saw steam rising from his knuckles.

His fist…

Caught.

Held in place by Seiya's palm.

A strained smile.

"…I never forgot your teachings."

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