Akira's words were, on the surface, irrefutable.
Even those who scrutinized them closely sensed something amiss—but none could quite put a finger on what it was. At the very least, Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni's usually impassive face darkened with a rare frown.
"You're twisting right and wrong beyond recognition…!" Yamamoto growled.
"Even if you are the Captain-Commander," Akira replied calmly, "please choose your words with care. If you believe I am in the wrong, present your reasoning—do not resort to baseless accusations."
Murmurs rippled through the assembled captains. To address Yamamoto—founder of the Gotei 13, the strongest Shinigami in Soul Society, the very embodiment of its authority—with such defiance was unheard of.
"Akira," Yamamoto said, his voice low and edged with cold steel, "you certainly have a sharp tongue."
He exhaled sharply through his nose but held his ground. He couldn't act—not yet. Akira had played his hand masterfully. He knew Yamamoto was a man of law, not impulse. As long as Akira operated within the letter of Soul Society's regulations, even the Captain-Commander could not move against him without due cause.
It was a dangerous game—dancing on the edge of a blade. But for Akira, that was where the thrill lay.
"The Captain-Commander flatters me," Akira said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "So—what is your final decision?"
Yamamoto's expression remained grim. "This matter will be tabled. Our immediate priority is the capture of the Ryoka."
"Captain-Commander—wait." A calm, measured voice cut through the chamber. "I must raise an objection."
All eyes turned. Aizen Sōsuke stepped forward, his usual gentle smile in place—but his eyes held a quiet, calculating intensity.
Akira's brow lifted slightly. "Captain Aizen… what concern do you have?"
Aizen inclined his head. "According to intelligence my division has gathered, certain inconsistencies in this situation demand scrutiny."
Silence fell thick as snow.
"It has come to light," Aizen continued, "that Captain Akira and Rukia Kuchiki—the criminal sentenced to execution by Central 46—have shared a close friendship for years."
A ripple of unease passed through the room.
"The Ryoka who have infiltrated the Seireitei are all individuals Rukia knew in the Human World," Aizen went on. "Their objective is unmistakable: her rescue."
Gasps and sharp intakes of breath followed.
"Captain Aizen…" Jūshirō Ukitake stepped forward, brow furrowed with genuine distress. "Are you implying that Captain Akira has been aiding the intruders—out of loyalty to Rukia?"
Aizen met his gaze evenly. "That is precisely what the evidence suggests. Captain Akira has repeatedly challenged Soul Society's judgment—motivated, it seems, by personal sentiment rather than duty."
Akira's eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a glacial calm. "That's quite the accusation, Aizen Sōsuke."
He paused, then added pointedly, "But tell me—why is it that you, of all captains, seem to possess such detailed knowledge of these events beforehand?"
He let the implication hang in the air.
"Your Fifth Division isn't an intelligence unit—that falls under Soi Fon's jurisdiction. Yet you've compiled reports on the Ryoka's origins, affiliations, and movements before even the Onmitsukidō could verify them."
A beat of silence. Some captains exchanged uneasy glances.
"Enough!" Yamamoto's voice cracked like thunder.
The room stilled instantly.
"The immediate threat is the Ryoka," the Captain-Commander declared, his tone brooking no argument. "All other matters—accusations, suspicions, personal ties—will be investigated after the intruders are apprehended."
Aizen opened his mouth as if to press further, but Yamamoto's glare silenced him.
"If Captain Akira has conspired with the invaders," Yamamoto added, his eyes burning with controlled fire, "the truth will emerge in due course—through evidence, not speculation."
With that, the war council was dismissed.
That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Akira stood alone on a quiet street in Seireitei, hands clasped behind his back, watching the sky burn with the colors of dusk.
"You usually remain in your quarters at this hour," a voice murmured from the shadows. "Yet tonight, you chose to wander outside for the first time. Were you expecting me?"
Akira didn't turn. His voice was calm, measured. "Wasn't your performance earlier today obvious enough, Aizen?"
In his mind, Aizen's initial façade had been that of a cautious observer—someone who appeared to protect Rukia while hinting that her case held deeper secrets.
But today, Aizen had cast that pretense aside entirely. He'd taken a clear stance against him.
That alone was enough to set off alarms in Akira's mind.
"Heh… So you truly do know my secret."
Aizen stepped into the fading light, his glasses removed, his eyes sharp and unguarded.
"In that case," he continued, voice smooth, almost amused, "all those little doubts from before suddenly make perfect sense."
"But it no longer matters."
His smile was unreadable as he spoke his next words:
"My plan is already halfway complete. And now… you must die."
Akira let out a low chuckle. "Do you really think targeting me like this—here, in broad daylight—won't provoke the Gotei 13?"
"Of course not," Aizen replied, smirking. "I only need them to see how evenly matched we are—how this is nothing more than a natural clash between two forces."
"Then," Akira countered, "I'll simply kill you again at night. Whether I succeed or not, you'll still meet your end. Consider it… double insurance."
Aizen hadn't spelled out his scheme—but Akira had already seen through it.
"So that's your game," Akira mused. "You dared to fight me within Seireitei… which means you've already activated Kyōka Suigetsu."
Aizen's smile deepened. "Precisely. Kyōka Suigetsu's hypnosis is absolute. No one in Seireitei—not even the Captain-Commander—will perceive this battle as anything other than what I wish them to see."
His voice remained calm, yet the menace beneath it was unmistakable.
"In that case…" Akira turned at last, his eyes flaring with a deep, ominous red. "What are we waiting for? Let's begin."
His words were the signal.
In the next instant, both released their reiatsu—a collision of overwhelming spiritual pressures that tore through the air like a storm.
Boom!
The ground trembled as they launched their attacks simultaneously.
"I know your fighting style too well," Akira declared. "I won't give you the chance to build your strength!"
The blade in his hand blazed with holy light.
Aizen, anticipating the strike, unsheathed Kyōka Suigetsu in one fluid motion.
"Hadō #78: Zangerin!"
A crescent-shaped wave of spiritual energy lanced through the air, tearing toward Akira with terrifying speed.
Yet Akira didn't flinch.
"Raikō!"
A supersonic shockwave erupted from his body, shattering the incoming blast before it could reach him.
At once, his fully charged sword descended in a blinding arc.
"Excalibur!"
A searing beam of golden light surged forward—pure, overwhelming, annihilating.
Aizen, unfazed, raised a single finger.
"Bakudō #81: Dankū."
A translucent barrier snapped into place, intercepting the golden torrent.
BOOM!
The explosion rocked the street, and though Dankū held, hairline fractures spiderwebbed across its surface.
"As expected," Aizen murmured. "Even a chanted Dankū wouldn't withstand that—not without incantation."
Before he could reinforce it, Akira had already closed the distance, his blade thrumming with compressed reishi.
The moment he pierced the weakened barrier, his sword flared with radiant power.
"Excalibur—!"
Aizen's eyes widened—just slightly.
What—?!
The battlefield vanished beneath a flood of golden light, swallowing everything in its blinding brilliance.