“A true warrior would never beg someone for his life.” – Izuru Kira.
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Reading through the file on Kaname Tōsen that Soi Fon had put together, Itachi’s facial expression slowly morphed into a very peculiar one that belied his confusion.
The character of the two people closest to Aizen were different from what he’d have expected given what he knew of Aizen.
Tōsen’s case was even more so – A clearly morally upright person – and there was a little tidbit inside the file that highlighted that he’d even gone to Central 46 to question them on their ruling concerning the death of his friend who was murdered by her husband who was a member of the Tsunayashiro Noble Family.
Someone who spoke so fervently of justice and turned around to kill innocents. Just as they had done to his friend.
‘A hypocrite.’ Itachi scoffed internally. He could see Gin’s reasons by a stretch – it was a long stretch, but he could see it – but Tōsen’s case was one that reeked of hypocrisy.
The folder lit up in flames and soon dissolved into ash right as Soi Fon entered the room.
He stood up to leave but was held back by Soi Fon jabbing a finger into his chest while narrowing her eyes at him.
“You’re not trying to do something dangerous without me, right?” She asked.
Itachi remained silent, a small smile on his face as he slowly shook his head. “Nothing overly dangerous yet, so stop worrying.”
“Yet huh? You’re really treading on thin ice with that statement.” She warned. Him telling her to write up a file on Kaname Tōsen was a glaring tell, even with Itachi being Itachi. She had an idea what it was about but she wouldn’t say anything about it until he did.
“Of course, I am aware. Later, Soi Fon.”
“Ouch. Hey!”
He left the office before she could say anything else and only took two steps before he froze. He looked at his index and middle finger that he just thumped Soi Fon’s forehead with.
He continued on his walk with the small smile still on his face.
……
Itachi sat topless in a dark spacious cave with both of his swords resting on both of his sides.
“Are you ready?” Itachi nodded and Amaterasu continued. “I doubt you will achieve it on your first try but regardless, with this you have started your Bankai journey.”
Itachi paid no mind to Amaterasu’s words, instead focusing on regulating his breath as the trial started.
Bankai, in a nutshell, was physically manifesting your Zanpakutō spirit and subjugating it. It was simple in theory but hard enough that less than one percent of Shinigami possessed it.
A wide space was usually needed as most Zanpakutō were destructive in nature and the ensuing fight between the Shinigami and their manifested Zanpakutō would likely destroy a lot of things. Tsukuyomi on the other hand had told him this place would be enough – which was the first uncertain clue that he was given. The second was Amaterasu’s earlier words.
Both of his blades surged in Reiatsu that coalesced and joined together to form a dome that expanded to cover the three of them.
“Where are we?” Itachi asked after he opened his eyes and saw the swirling darkness that was slowly giving way to show something.
“We’re not anywhere yet. Wait a bit, it’ll start soon.” He heard Tsukuyomi say but when he turned around both of his Zanpakutō spirits were gone.
‘I was supposed to manifest them, right? So is this my real body?’ Itachi thought. He couldn’t make sense out of anything he was seeing and his Zanpakutō spirits were nowhere to be found.
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The black fog slowly started clearing up and Itachi found himself in an extremely familiar scenery. The moon was just at the right spot, shining ominously bright in this accursed memory of his.
Konohagakure. The Uchiha Compound. The night of the massacre.
“What is the meaning of this, Tsukuyomi?” Itachi asked aloud but no answer came from his trusted blade.
Any moment now–
Itachi schooled his expression as he caught the flickers of his young self, strategically massacring his own clansmen in an act of duty to ensure the safety of Konoha and quell the budding of internal strife that was being perpetuated by his clan.
The village’s peace and continuation was bigger than the interest of any single person, group of persons or even a clan.
That was who he was: Itachi Uchiha, an utterly loyal rogue nin of the serene village that was hidden amongst leaves.
Watching his younger self move with a focused efficiency, Itachi felt slightly jealous at the conviction and loyalty his younger self carried himself with. It was a sickening thought, but that was how he felt.
He was about to question his reason for being here when his perspective shifted. Now he no longer was the one watching his younger self carry out the ultimate form of love and loyalty, but instead he found himself in the body of his younger self– no, it was not in the body of his younger self, but instead he found himself in the position of his younger self only he wasn’t any younger.
“What is the meaning of this? Tsukuyomi? Amaterasu?” Itachi asked but like before neither of them answered.
He looked down at his hands and in them were both of his blades – the pristine crystalline of Tsukuyomi and the haunting black of Amaterasu.
What sort of test was this supposed to be? What did he stand to gain by doing… this?
‘This is Tsukuyomi’s test, but what is the essence of it? Why this particular memory? What can it teach? What can be TAUGHT from this?’
He didn’t notice when his perspective shifted and now he found himself atop a pole, the beginning of a horrific illusion.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it again, he could, but the question still remained: what was this test meant to tell him?
The memories of different faces came to his mind as he stood still, realizing that he could suddenly remember them all with newfound clarity.
‘No, I’m seeing them as he kills them.’ The faces of multitude of expressions kept flowing through the front of his mind in a loop.
This was a sick trial.
So he stood up there, eyes watching the loop of his younger self annihilating his clan start to restart over and over again – from child to teen, from the young and middle aged adults to the elderly – while it all replayed itself in his mind.
…..
[POV: With Aizen Sōsuke, Hueco Mundo]
The lone Shinigami casually strolled through intersecting paths of Las Noches with all the Hollows simply ignoring his presence. For petty tricks like this, he didn’t need his sword. A simple Kidō was enough.
‘That hole. Looks like I was right to investigate the disturbances that happened here some time back. Two different Reiatsu. Both Hollows.. Vasto Lorde.’
“Looks like that self-conceited king found himself a match.” He smirked and just as casually strolled into Baraggan’s throne room, which was just a large round roofless space with his throne seated on an elevated platform in the middle.
His presence was overwhelming, but the amused smirk never left Aizen’s face. Not even when Baraggan raised his head and his Reiatsu came crashing down on Aizen.
“Still resulting to cheap tricks in the presence of this king. Coward, show yourself.. Or I will do it for you.”
His dark red Reiatsu rushed towards where Aizen was standing before parting ways as they crashed against a barrier Aizen had silently erected.
The illusion around him slowly peeled away and revealed Aizen and the glowing translucent green shield in front of him.
“SHINIGAMI!” Baraggan growled angrily and the full extent of his Reiatsu surged, uncaring of the unfortunate Hollows in Las Noches that would die from such an action. The king of Hollows stood up from his throne.
“Millennia and millennia, and yet the arrogance of your kind remains as unsightly as it ever was when the first of your kind first brandished their sword. The gall to come before me!”
“Quite a refresh hate you hold towards the Shinigami.” Aizen said lightly, completely unfazed in the presence of Baraggan’s eroding Reiatsu. “But I can’t help but feel that the anger behind it is for something else.”
Baraggan seethed. “YOU DARE MOCK THIS KING?!”
His Reiatsu swirling around the room coalesced into thin lances and shot at Aizen to kill him and for the first time since arriving in Hueco Mundo, the condescending smirk on his face thinned for a moment as half of the room exploded in Baraggan’s decay.
“I did not mean to anger you already more than you are. I only came here to propose something I can now see you’ll be much more interested in. A cooperation if you’re interested.” Aizen said in his own pace, his smirk back, looking laidback despite the danger Baraggan posed.
Baraggan now eyed Aizen with a more leveled gaze at how generally unfazed Aizen appeared to be.
“So you mean to tell me you are not in cahoots with the Shinigami and the Vasto Lorde that attacked my people in my castle? Is that what you’re saying, Shinigami?” Dark purple miasma of death and rot swirled around.
“Oh?” Aizen eyed the Hollow king with an interested gaze. “I believe we’ll have a very productive discussion.”
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