Chapter 46: The Reversal of Fate
"When, precisely, did you get the idea that I was the prey?"
The words were laced with a chilling sneer, devoid of any warmth. The gentle and humble mask Aizen had worn for so long shattered completely, revealing the cold, merciless core beneath.
It was a jarring transformation. The face was still that of a thirteen-year-old boy, but the aura that radiated from him was ancient, oppressive, and saturated with a killing intent so refined it felt like a physical weight. For a moment, the three Rain ninja were gripped by a powerful illusion—they were not facing a fellow genin, but a sovereign lord standing upon a mountain of corpses.
Aizen took a step forward. Then another. Each step was measured, elegant, and carried an unparalleled, domineering pressure that pressed down on their souls.
His gaze, sharp enough to pierce steel, swept over them, and they felt laid bare, their every weakness exposed. They could not meet his eyes. A profound sense of shame and blasphemy washed over them, as if they were insects daring to challenge a god.
Suffocation. Fear. Despair.
A single look from him felt like a glimpse into the afterlife, a nightmare experience they would carry to their graves.
Cold sweat drenched the backs of the Rain shinobi. Their hearts hammered against their ribs. As Aizen advanced, they involuntarily retreated, their hands trembling so violently the kunai they held rattled.
"Impossible... He's just one person! How can he exert this kind of pressure?" one of them thought, his mind reeling. They had never imagined that a mere gaze could instill such primal terror.
"What's the matter?" Aizen's voice was a soft, mocking caress. "Why create distance? If you truly wish to strike me down, you should close in and attack."
He took another graceful, terrifying step.
"Or," he continued, his lips curling into a disdainful arc, "are you afraid that the moment you get close, my figure will simply vanish from your sight?"
"Damn you!" one of the Rain ninja snarled, his fists clenching so tight his knuckles turned white. They could no longer endure his arrogance.
"If that is your limit, then this is nothing but a pointless farce." Aizen's tone was one of utter boredom. "The concept of combat distance only holds meaning between opponents of equal strength."
He looked at them as if they were stains on the floor.
"Therefore, the distance between you and me is utterly meaningless."
"That's enough! Just die!" the lead Rain ninja roared, his patience snapping. All three of them shot forward, their bodies blurring with speed, kunai aimed for Aizen's heart.
They couldn't understand it. They were the hunters. He was the one surrounded. Why did he still hold himself with the authority of a king? His contempt was unbearable!
"To be so easily provoked?" Aizen mused, utterly unmoved as the three figures closed in. "What an honor you bestow upon me with your predictability."
"I hate those eyes!" another screamed, his blade inches from Aizen's chest. "Why are you so calm when you're about to die?!"
Just as the cold steel was about to pierce his skin, Aizen's gaze sharpened. He didn't move to dodge. Instead, he uttered a single, quiet phrase.
"Bakudō No. 61: Rikujōkōrō."
Six brilliant beams of light materialized from nothing. They sliced through the air, each beam splitting to strike the three Rain ninja with unerring accuracy. The light solidified into glowing rods, pinning them rigidly in mid-air, completely paralyzed.
"What kind of jutsu is this?!" one of them gasped, his eyes wide with terror and confusion. They had never seen anything like it. They struggled with all their might, only to find the bindings growing tighter, the energy rods sapping their strength.
Panic set in. This mysterious, unknown power was beyond their comprehension, and it filled them with utter despair. They were flies caught in amber.
As they writhed helplessly, Aizen began to walk toward them, his steps echoing their hammering hearts. They finally, horribly, understood the truth of his words. The roles of hunter and prey had been reversed the moment they decided to attack.
"Damn it! Let us go!" they begged, their struggles growing more frantic and futile.
Aizen stopped before them, his presence a glacier. "You still have the strength to struggle? It seems I underestimated your vitality." His voice was devoid of all emotion. "But I advise you not to persist. To crush an ant without killing it... that is a level of power that is difficult to master."
His hand emerged from his sleeve, resting on the hilt of the simple, unadorned katana at his waist. With a soft, metallic whisper, he drew Kyōka Suigetsu. He held the blade aloft, and the weak sunlight filtering through the canopy gleamed along its flawless edge.
This was the Zanpakutō that had once cast all of the Soul Society into illusion. Now, in this new world, it would taste blood for the first time.
Swish.
A single, graceful swing. A flicker of steel so fast it was barely a memory.
Aizen stepped past the paralyzed ninja, not even looking back as he smoothly sheathed his blade.
He took one step. Two. Three.
Behind him, the expressions on the three Rain ninja's faces froze solid. Then, with a wet, tearing sound, their bodies ruptured, dissolving into a fine, crimson mist that hung in the air for a moment before pattering to the forest floor like a sudden, gruesome rain.
In the dappled sunlight, the blood blossoms bloomed and withered in an instant. Aizen continued walking, his form disappearing into the deeper shadows of the forest. To him, the annihilation of three lives was no more significant than crushing a few insects underfoot. The hunt had begun.