About twenty miles away from the seventy-ninth district of Rukongai West, in the sky above, Unohana stood atop the rapidly flying Minazuki. Her gaze, usually gentle as water, was now filled with a biting coldness as she stared at the towering column of smoke rising in the distance.
"Faster, Minazuki!"
Her voice was soft but carried a chilling undertone, like the low growl of a wrathful demon. Waves of spiritual pressure tinged with a bloody aura occasionally escaped from her.
"Makoto, you won't die here, will you? Just hold on a little longer..."
…
"Am I going to die?"
"Not death within the spiritual realm, but a true death in reality…"
"Lack of combat experience, and my spiritual pressure is far too weak to withstand an Arrancar's Cero…"
Makoto's once gentle eyes now dulled, his pupils filled with despair as death loomed closer. Yet, oddly enough, his mind remained clear, flashing with a torrent of chaotic and fleeting thoughts.
Unohana, Risa, Soi Fon…
Ikkaku, Ayasegawa, Yamada Hanataro—familiar faces drifted past his mind's eye, finally settling on Aizen's warm and humble visage.
"Was it you, Aizen? Did you deliberately target me, or was this just an opportunity to dispose of me?"
"So, this is what it feels like when true death arrives...
"It's not as terrible as I imagined. Everything feels so quiet, even a little cold…"
Makoto's left hand weakly lifted, instinctively reaching for his chest, as if seeking a trace of warmth.
But all he felt was something sticky and warm—like touching a mass of shredded flesh.
"Am I really this badly injured…?"
"Shinro Bansho… I can't feel it at all. It's completely unresponsive, and there's no way to heal myself…"
"My consciousness is fading…"
Makoto's last efforts to stay awake grew increasingly feeble. Even the faint glow of healing energy flickering on his palm was insufficient to mend his grievous wounds.
Everything... fell silent.
Makoto's dwindling instincts, driven by a primal instinct to survive, desperately called out to Shinro Bansho.
"Shinro Bansho… Shinro Bansho… Shinro Bansho…"
At that moment, a faint voice seemed to respond, echoing in the depths of Makoto's fading consciousness.
"Master, can you hear me?"
"Can you hear my voice? Can you truly hear my voice…"
"The true release phrase, the true power—not the false abilities shaped by your subjective will…"
"Time is running out, Master! Answer me!!!"
Suddenly, Makoto's nearly unfocused pupils slightly contracted, and in the blank emptiness of his failing mind, he heard that familiar, urgent voice.
"Shinro Bansho…"
"Master, quickly! You should be able to hear me now! Hurry…"
"Manifest, arrive, transcend…"
"The ultimate essence of all things, the origin of everything!"
Makoto's pupils began to lose focus once more, his body growing colder from the excessive blood loss. With a voice so faint it was nearly inaudible, he whispered:
"Manifest… arrive… transcend…"
"Shinro Bansho, the ultimate essence of all things, the origin of everything!"
In the next instant, the blade of the Zanpakuto in Makoto's grasp dissolved into a streak of light, merging seamlessly into his body. The spiritual pressure that had been steadily waning suddenly halted—and then, in Aizen's perception, it vanished entirely!
"Dead?!"
Aizen's initial indifference shifted to mild curiosity as he sensed the abrupt disappearance of spiritual pressure. Casually, he turned to glance in Makoto's direction.
However, the sight that greeted him caused Aizen's pupils to contract involuntarily.
Massive amounts of reishi in the air were converging on the wound in Makoto's chest, rapidly repairing his injuries. Yet… Makoto's spiritual pressure was completely undetectable!
"Impossible!"
Aizen's expression froze, an uncharacteristic loss of composure overtaking him. It was as if he were witnessing a phenomenon beyond comprehension.
Reiatsu, or spiritual pressure, originates from the spiritual energy generated by a spirit's body, or reishi. The density and fluctuations of this spiritual energy determine the presence of reiatsu. Therefore, except for the peculiar residents of Rukongai, who lack spiritual energy and consequently never feel hunger, any being with spiritual energy would occasionally emit reiatsu.
It was akin to humans needing to breathe—a fundamental law.
Although it was possible to suppress reiatsu through active control of spiritual energy, the total absence of even a trace of it was nearly inconceivable to Aizen.
Unless… the reiatsu emanating from Makoto had entirely surpassed the range perceivable by Aizen's spiritual senses.
"Does that mean Makoto's reiatsu has far exceeded my own?"
"No. Impossible."
In an instant, Aizen dismissed this hypothesis.
"Or perhaps Makoto is already dead? Or has he forsaken all his spiritual energy?"
Yet, Makoto was actively healing himself, drawing reishi from the air to mend his wounds—a clear indication of his Zanpakuto's previously exhibited ability.
"Why?"
"Why is there no detectable reiatsu?"
For a moment, the change in Makoto's condition shattered Aizen Sosuke's understanding of the world.
"Have I misunderstood the principles governing this world?"
"Or am I under the effects of an illusion akin to Kyoka Suigetsu's power?"
"Or could it be… that Makoto Senju is a unique anomaly, entirely unlike any other Shinigami?"
In mere seconds, a multitude of hypothesis raced through Aizen's mind.
Noticing Aizen's uncharacteristic state, Tosen, standing nearby, furrowed his brow and asked, "Lord Aizen, is something wrong?"
"Don't… don't speak. Let me think," Aizen murmured, clutching his face with both hands, his voice betraying an unsteady tone.
Meanwhile, Makoto's transformation had grown increasingly conspicuous, drawing the attention of the nearby Adjuchas, which had been instinctively devouring the souls of surviving Tenth Division members.
"This one…"
"Boom!"
The massive frame of the Adjuchas crashed to the ground before Makoto's unguarded form, its gaze locked on the still-healing Shinigami.
After a brief pause, recognition flickered in the Adjuchas' eyes as it recalled a recent, humiliating encounter. Slowly, its eyes turned crimson with rage.
A lowly Shinigami—a mere ant—had dared to drive that accursed blade into its prized exoskeleton, even piercing through it completely!
Its gaze burning with fury, the Adjuchas lifted a sharp, clawed foot and slammed it downward toward Makoto with a thunderous force.
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