"What's wrong, Renji? Why do you look so pathetic?"
The moment Mark, portraying Ichigo Kurosaki, stepped onto the battlefield in his Bankai form-Tensa Zangetsu gripped firmly in his hand, a confident, almost taunting smile on his face-the reaction was immediate and explosive.
"OOOOOOH!!!"
Male dormitories across universities nationwide erupted all at once. The noise was so intense that anyone unaware of the context might have sworn the national team had just qualified for the World Cup.
He appeared.
He finally appeared.
In moments like this, there was no room for doubt. When everything teetered on the brink of collapse, only the protagonist could reclaim the stage.
Even though Alex, as Sosuke Aizen, had completely dominated the previous episode-his performance so overwhelming that he had firmly secured the number one spot on Bleach's popularity rankings-there was still one undeniable truth no one could ignore.
Ichigo Kurosaki was the protagonist.
And the protagonist's supporters had never been few.
After Aizen revealed such crushing, inhuman power, a single question began to echo relentlessly in the minds of viewers everywhere.
What would happen when he finally clashed head-on with the story's protagonist?
…
…
"Now this is it-protagonist versus final boss!"
At Aurora Entertainment's headquarters, Bruce Walts watched the episode alongside Mark, his excitement written plainly on his face. He threw an arm around his friend's shoulders, half laughing, half pleading as he spoke:
"Mark, this is the only favor I'll ever ask in my life. You have to get Director Alex to give me a role."
Mark forced an awkward smile in response.
He didn't have the heart to tell him that, within the story, he was about to be beaten so badly it would border on humiliating.
On screen, Ichigo's arrival injected a faint sense of relief into the suffocating atmosphere, heavy with death and despair. For a fleeting moment, it almost felt as though the balance might finally shift.
But the instant the camera cut back to Aizen-
The audience collectively held its breath.
"My apologies, Captain Aizen," Gin Ichimaru said, his eyes narrowed and that familiar smile never leaving his face. "I was too focused on Rukia and failed to notice that kid charging in."
"It's no trouble, Gin," Aizen replied calmly, his tone as elegant and unhurried as ever. "Whether it's one particle or two, dust is difficult to distinguish with the naked eye."
…
…
The reaction was immediate and visceral.
A huge portion of the male audience nearly lost their minds.
Those words.
That demeanor.
That refined, effortless arrogance.
Impossible to replicate. Completely unreachable.
Within the story, Ichigo Kurosaki and Renji Abarai-two warriors who had always existed somewhere between rivalry and partnership-finally stood shoulder to shoulder.
The moment they realized escape was no longer an option, they made a desperate choice. If they couldn't win, then at the very least, they had to cripple their opponents.
"I'll buy you time," Renji growled through clenched teeth. "Find an opening and push through."
Ichigo nodded, his gaze sharp and unwavering.
"Got it."
"Higa!"
Renji roared, swinging his Zanpakutō-already broken in two-and unleashing a long-range attack at Aizen, pouring everything he had left into that strike.
"Now!"
The instant Renji shouted, Ichigo vanished.
His speed was absurd-so fast that even Byakuya Kuchiki, portrayed by Jasper Quin, would hesitate to underestimate it.
Raising the black blade, Ichigo unleashed his ultimate technique.
"Getsuga Ten-!!!"
Ding.
The sound was clear and delicate, almost gentle, as if metal had brushed against glass.
Before the attack could even be completed, a bell-like chime echoed through the air.
Ichigo's eyes widened, disbelief flooding his expression.
A single index finger rested lightly against the edge of Tensa Zangetsu.
"That's… impossible…"
And it wasn't just him.
Outside the screen, countless viewers reacted in perfect unison, frozen in shock.
Aizen smiled calmly, his left index finger pressed against the blade, halting it completely-no strain, no effort, not even a hint of resistance.
The entire Bleach fandom fell into stunned silence.
Before this, Aizen had already demonstrated terrifying power-defeating Toshiro Hitsugaya, portrayed by Peter, even in Bankai, and shattering Renji's Shikai with a single hand.
But now-
Now he was facing the protagonist.
The protagonist who had just defeated a captain, also in Bankai.
And still, he was stopped with one finger.
The gap was so vast it felt suffocating, a difference so overwhelming it bordered on despair. Some viewers felt that not even the most infamous villains of the past had ever inspired such a crushing sense of hopelessness.
Then, with casual precision, Aizen pressed Tensa Zangetsu downward.
Slash.
In an instant, a deep gash tore across Ichigo's abdomen. Blood sprayed violently as his body crashed to the ground with a dull, heavy thud.
"Hm… too shallow?" Aizen murmured, arching an eyebrow. "I was aiming to cut you in half."
"H-how… is this possible…?"
In the distance, Renji stared in absolute disbelief.
But before he could even react, Aizen vanished.
In the next heartbeat, he reappeared behind him.
A flash of steel sliced through the air, nearly splitting Renji in two.
"Y-you bastard…!"
It was his final cry of defiance before his strength gave out and his body collapsed.
In the minds of the viewers, only one word remained.
Strong.
Too strong.
A level of power capable of crushing every last shred of hope.
"How is this even supposed to turn around?!"
Even members of the main cast-Emily, Mark, Terry, and others-watching the episode felt the same creeping unease.
Alex had created a final boss that defied all reason.
At this rate… how was the protagonist group supposed to win?
Within the story, Aizen advanced slowly toward Rukia. Each silent step felt heavy, final, like the toll of an unseen bell. The distance between them seemed far too short, unbearably close, as if the world itself were tightening around that moment.
And there-at the peak of that suffocating tension-Alex and Samantha, protagonists separated by nearly twenty years, finally stood face to face on screen for the first time.
There were no shouts.
No clashes of steel.
Only their gazes met.
A silent, oppressive confrontation, where the fate of the story itself seemed to hang from an invisible thread-quivering, stretched to its limit, on the verge of snapping.