The vast, desolate throne room of Las Noches was silent, save for the faint hum of distant machinery. Sōsuke Aizen sat upon his crystalline throne, a benevolent smile gracing his features as he looked down at the small, defiant figure before him.
"Welcome to our castle, Las Noches," he said, his voice smooth and welcoming.
Orihime Inoue stood in the center of the hall, her heart pounding against her ribs. She forced herself to look around, taking in the imposing, shadowed forms of the assembled Espada lining the chamber. Her gaze finally settled on Aizen himself, the man who was the source of all their suffering.
"You are Inoue Orihime, are you not? Would you be so kind as to demonstrate your ability for us?" Aizen's request was framed as a question, but the unyielding command beneath it was unmistakable.
Orihime did not move. She had a more urgent priority. "Tatsuki… where is Arisawa Tatsuki?!" Her voice, though tight with fear, was clear in the cavernous space.
"Arisawa Tatsuki? Ah, the human girl. If you perform for us, I shall tell you," Aizen replied softly, his smile never wavering.
Orihime felt a cold knot tighten in her stomach. She had no leverage, no choice but to play along. If what Amamiya-san said was true, if Aizen truly needed her power, then Tatsuki had value as a hostage. She had to believe that.
"Very well. Then, please heal Grimmjow's injuries—the blue-haired Espada behind you," Aizen instructed, gesturing dismissively.
Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez stood to the side, his posture tense, a snarl half-formed on his lips. The wounds inflicted by Amamiya's arrows had been stabilized by Las Noches's medical staff, but his missing arm, cleanly severed and incinerated by Tōsen's Kidō, remained a stark absence.
"You can't be serious, Aizen-sama!" Luppi Antenor, the current Sexta Espada, blurted out, a cold sweat on his brow. "Grimmjow's arm is gone! Completely erased! How can her power possibly…?"
Luppi, like Grimmjow, had failed in his recent mission. His 'victory' over Hitsugaya had only come with Zommari's intervention. He now watched with dread as the former Sexta, if fully healed, could challenge his hard-won position.
Aizen, however, had already factored this in. Grimmjow's opponent had been the anomalous Amamiya Miyako, a Vice-Captain who wielded Bankai and had repeatedly defied expectations. That Grimmjow had forced such an opponent to reveal his Bankai, even while handicapped, spoke to his latent usefulness.
"Santen Kesshun… I reject!"
Orihime's soft incantation cut through Luppi's protests. The three golden fairies of Shun Shun Rikka formed a triangular shield over Grimmjow.
Before Luppi could finish his sentence, a miraculous sight unfolded. Flesh, bone, and sinew began to regenerate from Grimmjow's shoulder, weaving together at an impossible speed. In moments, a new, perfect arm was formed. Simultaneously, the puncture wounds and internal damage from Amamiya's arrows faded as if they had never existed.
Grimmjow stared, dumbfounded, flexing his new fingers. The chronic pain vanished, replaced by the familiar, powerful thrum of his restored body.
"How… is this…?" Luppi's panic was now palpable.
"Ulquiorra. Your initial assessment—regression of time or space—was it accurate?" Aizen asked, his scientific curiosity piqued.
"It was the closest approximation, Aizen-sama."
"Close, but not complete." Aizen's smile widened, a teacher pleased with a fascinating discovery. "Inoue Orihime. Your power is not mere regression. It is The Rejection of Phenomena."
He let the term hang in the air, watching her confused expression. "By your will, you can reject events that have already transpired, returning matter to a state prior to the rejected occurrence. This ability… could even reject the current state of my Hōgyoku, returning it to an earlier form." He added the last point deliberately, planting a seed.
Orihime's mind raced. 'Reject the Hōgyoku…? I could… undo what he's done?' A flicker of purpose ignited amidst her fear. Even here, she might find a way to help.
"To reject reality according to one's own will… it is a trespass into the domain of gods," Aizen mused, utterly pleased. With this power, the Hōgyoku's completion was no longer a matter of months, but perhaps weeks or even days.
Grimmjow, now buzzing with restored vigor, pointed to his lower back. "Hey, woman. There's one more here."
Orihime directed Sōten Kisshun to the spot. The skin healed, and as it did, the burned-away tattoo—the number 6—reappeared, etched once more into his flesh.
"Grimmjow… what are you doing?!" Luppi's voice was a shrill mix of fear and fury.
Grimmjow's answer was a blur of motion. He vanished, reappearing in front of Luppi. His newly restored hand, tipped with sharp claws, punched straight through Luppi's chest.
"Just sending you back to where you belong," Grimmjow grinned savagely. His other hand glowed with red energy. "Cero."
The point-blank blast obliterated Luppi Antenor, leaving nothing behind. The rule of the Espada was absolute: strength defined rank. With his body and symbol restored, Grimmjow had reclaimed his place as the Sexta.
His manic laughter echoed in the hall. No one moved to stop him. Aizen had allowed the healing, tacitly approving the reshuffling. In his eyes, Luppi, who had needed help against the 'weakest' Captain, had outlived his usefulness.
"Grimmjow," Aizen's calm voice cut through the laughter. "Do not forget. Your own combat record against that Shinigami is similarly imperfect."
The laughter died. Grimmjow remembered his two humiliating defeats at Amamiya's hands. But now, at full strength, the rage and confidence returned. "I'll kill him. Next time, I'll tear him apart."
Throughout the brutal display, Orihime had watched, horrified but resolute. She did not forget her purpose. "Where. Is. Tatsuki?" she demanded, her eyes locked on Aizen.
"A man of my word." Aizen waved a hand. A viewscreen shimmered into existence, showing a simple, clean room within Las Noches. Inside, Arisawa Tatsuki sat on a bed, looking confused but unharmed. "I have placed her in a secure room. To protect her from the ambient spiritual pressure, I've even erected a special barrier. Are you satisfied?"
Seeing her friend safe, Orihime's shoulders slumped with a relief so profound it was almost a weakness. "Yes…"
"Excellent. Then you will be escorted to her. As long as you cooperate and become an asset to our cause, I guarantee the safety of you both. Do we have an understanding?" The question was a formality. The steel beneath the silk was clear.
"I… understand." Orihime bowed her head, but within her, a plan was forming. 'Become an asset… and use that access to reject your Hōgyoku.'
"Ulquiorra. Our guest is in your care. Ensure no harm comes to her."
Ulquiorra Cifer closed his eyes in a shallow bow. "As you command, Aizen-sama." He turned and led the trembling but determined Orihime from the throne room.
One by one, the other Espada filed out, until only Aizen remained in the immense, silent hall. The false benevolence melted from his face, leaving only calculating coldness.
He reached into the folds of his robe and produced two objects: the incomplete Hōgyoku he had nurtured, and the even less complete one taken from Rukia. He held them side by side, their inner light pulsing softly.
"The final pieces are falling into place," he murmured to himself, a true, chilling smile finally touching his lips. "The Rejection of Phenomena… What a perfectly unexpected key."