BOOM!
A series of sharp cracks rang out, like space itself collapsing.
The other captains had not even fully steadied themselves when the Black Coffin constructed by Aizen's full incantation shattered like obsidian struck by a hammer.
Countless black spirit-particle fragments rained down, dissolving into nothing before they even touched the ground.
From the center of that fading darkness, a familiar yet utterly foreign figure stepped forward.
"You've got to be kidding… that spiritual pressure… that form… Ukitake, didn't you already walk away from that path?"
Hitsugaya Toshiro stared at the figure emerging from the smoke. His pupils shrank violently, disbelief and horror written across his face.
It was Ukitake Jushiro.
And yet, it absolutely was not only Ukitake Jushiro.
The once gentle, sickly captain now had his entire face covered by a bone-white mask. Beneath the white haori, at the knot over his chest, there was a hollow cavity only Hollows possessed.
His spiritual pressure was no longer warm and steady. It carried a suffocating stillness, an emptiness that felt like falling into a frozen abyss.
"You wouldn't understand, Hitsugaya."
The fake Ukitake's voice seemed layered, deep and cold.
"But Aizen, and Rosse over there, you should understand. To move forward, to stand against the lofty Hueco Mundo Royal Palace, one must break the boundary between Shinigami and Hollow. One must shatter that cursed bottleneck."
As he spoke, his dark green eyes swept lightly over Hitsugaya.
Just a brief moment of eye contact.
Hitsugaya felt a dense, tangible aura of death seize his throat. It was as if icy tendrils crawled along his spine.
It was instinctive fear.
If that gaze had lingered even a second longer, he doubted he could have kept holding Hyorinmaru.
"I can understand that desire. But even if you never step past that boundary, what of it?"
Aizen Sosuke lowered his Zanpakuto gracefully. Behind his glasses, his eyes narrowed slightly. Deep within, a flicker of darkness and hunger flashed.
On this battlefield buried in lies, only a very few possessed true sight.
Standing before him was not the despairing Hollowfied captain Hitsugaya saw, nor the distorted theatrical image in Kyoraku's world.
In Aizen's vision, immune to illusion, the truth was naked.
A Hollow identical to a Shinigami stood before him.
Pale skin. Two dark green tear streaks on his cheeks. That oppressive emptiness, heavy like the deep sea.
The Hueco Mundo Royal Palace's 5th Espada, Ulquiorra Cifer.
Aizen's eyes narrowed.
He knew that although Ulquiorra had not yet crossed that final boundary, if he released his Resurrección and stacked upon it the Shinigami power and Quincy power Rosse had granted him, that power would undoubtedly surpass his own.
'If I do not take that step, I will forever remain a piece on the board, never able to truly contend with those monsters standing above the clouds.'
The sense of urgency gnawed at Aizen's heart, but the smile on his face grew more composed.
"A dull trick. If you wish to prove something, let your blade speak. Besides…"
Rosse picked up the thread calmly, his captain's haori fluttering under the surge of spiritual pressure. He played his role as if reciting a scripted line.
"If someone is to step past that boundary, it should not be you."
Though he seemed fully engaged in combat with the fake Ukitake, Rosse's awareness had already drifted to the other side of the battlefield.
There, Captain-Commander Yamamoto was locked in battle with the fake Kyoraku.
With Shikai released, every slash from Yamamoto carried apocalyptic force.
Yet the fake Kyoraku, wielding two unreleased blades, blocked them effortlessly, fighting evenly.
That fake Kyoraku was not a living disguise like Ulquiorra.
He had been summoned by Rosse's Bankai.
The projection created by his Bankai possessed exactly the same spiritual pressure, combat habits, and even physical sensation as the real Kyoraku.
Layered with Rosse's Enrakyoten, an illusion even more perfect than Kyoka Suigetsu. Even if Ryujin Jakka pierced that body, the burning flesh and stench would tell Yamamoto only one thing.
That he had pierced his own rebellious disciple.
The stage was set. The actors were in place.
Rosse clashed blades with the fake Ukitake, yet his gaze looked down coldly over the entire field.
Some people were reaching the end of their scenes.
Others still had roles left to play. Those might prove amusing.
Slash!
From the other captains' perspective, the battle exploded again.
This time, the fake Ukitake moved like a phantom. Black-green Ceros flared with each swing of his twin blades.
Between exchanges, he fired Ceros at will.
Some were extinguished effortlessly by Rosse and Aizen. Others were intercepted by captains guarding from afar.
Sokyoku Hill stood at the center of Seireitei.
If a Cero exploded unchecked, the consequences would be dire.
The fake Ukitake was facing Rosse and Aizen alone.
Not only did he not fall behind, he seemed to dominate.
"Tch! Jushiro, if you were really this strong, that'd be something."
At the battlefield's edge, the real Kyoraku lowered his hat and watched the storm of Ceros and Kido. He patted Ukitake's shoulder, joking bitterly.
"This is ridiculous. Same face, and buffed this much?"
His experienced eye could tell that Rosse and Aizen had unleashed nearly everything short of Bankai. The clash of spiritual pressure twisted the distant air.
Yet the fake Ukitake remained composed.
What did that make the other captains, reduced to cleaning up the aftermath?
"I wish I had that strength."
The real Ukitake smiled faintly. Watching the impostor in the center unleashing power without restraint, his eyes betrayed a trace of envy.
"That's what a healthy body feels like… No burning lungs. No fear of exhaustion. The freedom to fight without limits…"
His sickly body had always been shackles.
With first-class spiritual pressure yet unable to endure prolonged battle, it was bitter irony.
For a fleeting moment, he almost wished that power were real.
"Hah! Still fake. If I had that kind of body and spiritual pressure, why would I need Hollowfication? I might even break free of this five-sense control."
He shook his head self-mockingly.
Fake was fake.
If you thought carefully, the loopholes were obvious.
If it was only about health, did the medium inside Rukia truly matter?
Someone capable of fighting Rosse and Aizen in direct combat would not be troubled by illness.
"Strength has nothing to do with whether you get fooled."
Kyoraku shrugged, nodding toward the blazing inferno where Yamamoto fought.
"Even that unreasonable old monster is being toyed with by my fake."
His eyes dimmed slightly. He sat down heavily.
It was not resignation. It was helplessness.
Even Yamamoto, the pinnacle of Soul Society, was being manipulated like a puppet.
He even suspected the timing of the old man's awakening was part of the script.
They had illusion perfect enough to control five senses.
They had force enough to defeat Yamamoto.
Waking an unconscious old man at the right moment, provoking him to turn his blade on his students, perhaps that was the climax written from the start.
Kyoraku sighed, lowering his hat.
This was the most hopeless situation he had ever faced.
He had believed bringing Azashiro Soya out of Muken would at least tear a crack in the illusion.
Instead, the opponent had absolute counters.
Kurosaki Masaki stood there, and Azashiro could not control a single spirit particle.
If it was impossible now, it would be impossible later.
On the battlefield, the two fakes rampaged.
Even if Yamamoto unleashed Bankai, if his senses remained false, every slash would only hasten their defeat.
"There's really nothing left to try."
Kyoraku muttered, gaze unfocused.
As he watched Rosse and Aizen flanking the fake Ukitake—
'Wait!'
Suddenly, his pupils shrank to pinpoints.
A flash of realization cut through the fog.
He had overlooked something critical.
"Azashiro."
He turned sharply to the man still straining to control spirit particles.
"As far as you know, Kyoka Suigetsu can control five senses perfectly, but it cannot fabricate spiritual pressure out of nothing. Right?"
"Yes."
Azashiro stopped. Though puzzled, he answered quickly.
"In my century of observation, Aizen's blade can deceive sight, sound, even touch. But it cannot create spirit particles from nothing. If two sides exchange spirit particles, one can sense the true identity."
He glanced at Kurosaki Masaki.
If they could simulate spiritual pressure freely, why station her here to seal his ability?
Her presence proved they could not control everything.
"Good. That's it."
Kyoraku shot to his feet so suddenly Ukitake flinched.
Shing!
Without warning, he drew Katen Kyokotsu.
"Jushiro. Draw your blade. Clash with me. Now."
Though he spoke to Ukitake, his eyes were fixed on the battlefield where Rosse and Aizen crossed blades with the fake Ukitake.
Blades clashed. Sparks flew. Spiritual pressure surged.
Yet neither Rosse nor Aizen showed the slightest abnormality. They withdrew and advanced fluidly.
Meanwhile, Komamura and the others were blasted back by stray Ceros.
"Huh? Now?"
Ukitake did not understand.
But trust forged over centuries left no hesitation.
Shing!
Sogyo no Kotowari met Katen Kyokotsu.
Clang!
Steel rang.
The instant their blades locked and spiritual pressure flowed along the steel, Ukitake trembled.
He understood. The sensation was unmistakable.
"A Zanpakuto is an extension of a Shinigami's soul!"
His voice trembled with excitement.
"Even if the five senses are deceived, even if vision is altered, when two Zanpakuto truly collide, the feedback of spiritual pressure at the soul level cannot be faked! It is a direct dialogue between two souls!"
"If it is only five-sense control, it cannot deceive at that level! Unless the one clashing blades has been acting all along!"
Physical contact transmitted spiritual vibration straight into the soul.
"Exactly."
Kyoraku's voice was hoarse.
"Even with Hollowfication, spiritual pressure changes, but the Shinigami power in the blade does not."
"Even if that Ukitake is fake, whether Hollow or air, the spiritual feedback would not lie."
"At the moment of collision, Rosse and Aizen must sense the opponent's spiritual pressure!"
"If there is no spiritual pressure, or it is someone else's, that itself is abnormal!"
"They should have noticed something was wrong long ago!"
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