Chapter 423

2-in-1 chapter:

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In the Fifth Division:

Hirako Shinji clashed blade-to-blade against a female Quincy with long green hair, lightning sparking from both her hands.

Facing her, he couldn’t help but feel the same regret Komamura had earlier.

He cursed himself for opening his mouth at all.

Her name was Candice Catnipp.

At first, using his Sakanade to invert her sense of direction, Shinji had completely dominated, riding high with confidence.

Wanting to flaunt his overwhelming edge, he had laughed and revealed Sakanade’s ability.

Hearing this, Catnipp had shown sudden realization—then unleashed thunder across the entire field.

Shinji was utterly fried.

Not just figuratively—literally.

Her Quincy lightning was far more terrifying than natural lightning. Each strike left him paralyzed, his body sluggish and unresponsive.

Damn it—if this keeps up, I’ll lose…

As Shinji’s brow tightened under mounting pressure, a voice suddenly rang out.

“Heh.”

“Captain Hirako, you seem to be struggling.”

At the sound, Shinji’s eye twitched, and he turned his head…

“Aizen…”

Seeing the figure beside him, Shinji clicked his tongue.

Aizen smiled.

“Captain Hirako, your loyal lieutenant has stepped forward when you were in crisis. You should be grateful—at the very least offer some encouragement. How can you be so cold?”

“Oh, I’m very grateful…”

Shinji ground his teeth.

Aizen nodded in satisfaction, ignoring the sarcasm dripping from between his clenched teeth.

Adjusting his glasses as he looked at the green-haired girl hovering in midair, he mused:

“A Quincy Schrift of lightning—quite a useful ability.”

By now, Catnipp had regained her composure.

When Aizen first appeared, she had felt a surge of overwhelming fear, as though she were a rabbit confronted by a beast emerging from the shadows, eyes glowing red.

But when she took a good look at him, she relaxed.

No captain’s haori. Clearly just some second-rate nobody.

Whatever. No matter what tricks he had, in the face of her invincible thunder, it wouldn’t matter.

The Schrift—T!

Thunderbolt!

The instant she activated the power of her Schrift, teal lightning burst from her body with a crack, tearing open space as she appeared before Aizen.

Smiling as she reached out her hand, she thought:

This man was already a dead man.

As long as her one hundred thousand volts struck him, even a captain would have no chance of survival.

The ridiculous thing was that he still hadn’t even drawn his Zanpakutō.

Facing her speed, he didn’t even have the chance to make a move. About to die without resistance—how pitiful.

Grinning in triumph, she pressed her lightning-wreathed hand toward Aizen’s face—

The next moment, the smile on Catnipp’s face froze.

She blinked in confusion, then realized with shock that she had stopped moving.

Even though she was only a breath away from killing Aizen, she couldn’t advance at all.

Every part of her body still responded to her will—she could confirm she was capable of any action she wanted.

Yet none of those actions would manifest in the real world.

Even more terrifying, she had been midair as she charged.

By all rights, stopping should have meant falling under gravity’s pull.

But instead, she simply hung there, motionless, like a frozen image.

What kind of sorcery was this?!

Staring at the bespectacled man before her, fear filled Catnipp’s eyes.

Not far away, Hirako Shinji watched, barely able to believe what he was seeing.

Aizen stood calmly before Catnipp, his right arm raised halfway, pointing at the green-haired girl from a distance.

Black lines coiled around his arm, forming an eerie pattern.

Looking at the immobilized Catnipp, Aizen nodded slightly, satisfaction glinting in his gaze.

“Though I cannot agree with his actions, this power truly is formidable.”

He pulled up the sleeve of his Shinigami uniform, revealing an arm completely covered in black markings.

Through surgery, he had transplanted the Soul King’s right arm—extracted from Ukitake Jūshirō—into his own.

The Hōgyoku’s infinite energy and his own immense spiritual pressure formed the strongest foundation.

And the Soul King’s right arm became the strongest weapon.

The Soul King’s arms—his left governed “advance,” his right governed “stillness.”

This stillness was not simply spatial binding—it froze a thing at the level of concept itself.

Ukitake had survived for centuries despite organ failure only because the Soul King’s right arm had locked his organs into the state they were in during his youth.

Thus, he lived, though forever frail.

In truth, his illness had never healed—only been suspended by that power.

Easily controlling Catnipp, Aizen stepped closer.

The Quincy girl looked at him with eyes full of despair.

She wanted to ask what he intended, but her mouth wouldn’t move.

Meeting her gaze, Aizen seemed to guess her thoughts.

He explained gently:

“Quincy are precious experimental material. It would be wasteful to discard you.”

“However… you may not need to end up as a test subject.”

“There’s someone unreliable who would likely take great interest in you.”

With that, he tapped a finger to Catnipp’s forehead.

She had no chance to resist before consciousness fled.

Her very soul had been frozen.

In spirit power, reiatsu, in mastery of rules—she was a child compared to him.

Before the Soul King’s stillness, even as a Sternritter wielding a Schrift, she was utterly powerless.

Having dealt with Catnipp, Aizen turned to the side.

“Harribel.”

A sharp sonido rang out as a figure appeared, kneeling on one knee.

“Aizen-sama.”

With a flick of his hand, Aizen cast Catnipp toward her.

“Take her. She’s wanted by that person. Don’t lose her.”

“Yes.”

Without hesitation, Harribel slung Catnipp over her back and vanished with sonido.

Hirako Shinji stood nearby, his face grim.

He had watched the entire fight, his mood complicated beyond words.

The enemy he had struggled against—nearly losing—hadn’t lasted even a single round before Aizen.

Just how strong was this man now?

And… here he was, openly commanding Arrancar in the middle of Seireitei. He wasn’t even pretending anymore.

Well, so be it. With Soul Society and Hueco Mundo having signed so many peace treaties, why was he still hung up on this?

As he drifted in thought, Aizen glanced at him.

“Captain Hirako.”

“Uh—yes, here.”

The response slipped out automatically.

A moment later, he almost slapped himself.

Damn it. Never mind that he used to be Aizen’s superior—even now, they were at best equals. Why was he answering like a subordinate to a superior?

Aizen extended his hand and tapped the air. A virtual screen unfolded.

He pointed to several locations and smiled:

“Captain Hirako, please use your Bankai at these coordinates to clear out the enemy foot soldiers.”

“Though I don’t particularly care about the lives of ordinary Shinigami, if too many die, Kaelith’s competence as Captain-Commander may come into question.”

Shinji twitched at the corner of his eye.

Use my Bankai… to clean up foot soldiers?

How polite of you.

Though he wanted to retort, one glance at the black-marked arm made him swallow the words.

After two seconds of hesitation, he nodded.

Memorizing the marked locations, he disappeared in a flash step.

Watching Shinji’s retreating back, Aizen felt a moment of reflection.

Then, in the next second, he too vanished.

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In the shadow of a building, a small figure moved cautiously.

By appearance, she was a pitiful-looking girl.

She had long black hair, with two antenna-like locks sticking up that made her resemble a cockroach.

As she walked, she whimpered softly:

“Uuu… why did His Majesty make us act separately? It’s so scary.”

“Catnipp… Liltotto… Minnie… where are you all…”

Suddenly, she stopped.

Footsteps echoed ahead.

Moments later, a squad of Shinigami appeared before her.

Seeing the girl in the white Quincy uniform, their faces hardened.

Her eyes, however, lit up.

She stepped back, putting on a timid expression.

“Ah! Please don’t kill me!”

But the Shinigami remained unmoved.

Captain-Commander Kaelith had emphasized countless times: once the highest alarm was sounded, they were not to show mercy to any enemy.

Whether a girl, or even a cute little cat or dog—if it wore a Quincy uniform, they were to strike it down.

Several squad leaders drew their Zanpakutō and charged straight at her.

Watching the blades closing in, the girl’s lips curled upward.

“Die, Quincy!!”

The men roared, four gleaming blades arcing toward her vital points.

The girl grinned wider, a mad, twisted smile, as though she had been waiting for this very moment, ready to welcome the strike.

But in that instant, the Shinigami froze mid-motion.

“Eh?”

The girl blinked in surprise.

The men turned angrily, seeking the one behind this interference.

There they saw a young man with a handsome face, gazing at them as if they were insects.

He raised one hand. From each finger extended a thread of spirit energy.

Like puppet strings, they bound the Shinigami from afar, locking their bodies in place.

“Vice-Captain Yamada!” they exclaimed in shock.

Yamada Seinosuke gave a sharp tug, yanking the immobilized men off their feet and dragging them back.

“Idiots. Didn’t you see she was practically begging you to attack? And you charge in like fools. With brains like yours, you belong in Kaelith’s squad.”

Cold sweat trickled down their faces.

Good god, was he openly slandering the Captain-Commander now?

Retracting his spirit threads, Yamada Seinosuke smiled with a look that practically begged for hatred.

“Hmm… judging by your appearance and reiatsu, you’re not one of the old Sternritter who survived a thousand years ago.”

“You’re a weak little rookie who became a knight within the last century, aren’t you?”

The girl’s smile turned strange.

“Oh my, judging a person’s strength by appearance—how very Shinigami-like.”

“Hmph, hardly. Looks are just an aid.”

“I merely used them to confirm you weren’t already a Sternritter a hundred years ago.”

“As for calling you a small fry—that’s my personal observation.”

The girl furrowed her brow.

Why was he emphasizing a hundred years ago?

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