Killed For 100 Years in Hueco Mundo, Aizen Invited Me To Soul Society!

In the vast and desolate throne hall of Las Noches, silence reigned.

Ichimaru Gin stood casually near one of the shattered white pillars, his arms folded loosely within the sleeves of his haori. His trademark sly smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but there was something weary in his posture. His snake-like eyes narrowed slightly as he looked across the empty palace at the man before him.

Kyo Mazuru.

The man who, just days ago, had single-handedly overturned the fate of Hueco Mundo—and the Soul Society.

Mazuru stood with his back partially turned, his long black hair fluttering faintly in the spiritual winds that drifted through the throne room. The air around him was charged with a suppressed spiritual pressure that still hadn't dissipated after the climactic battle. He slowly turned his head, his crimson eyes settling on Gin with a calm yet piercing gaze.

"Gin." Mazuru murmured.

Gin met that gaze with a grin that was both amused and tired. "Heh… Captain Mazuru. I suppose I should stop calling you that, huh? But old habits die hard."

Mazuru said nothing, but his silence invited Gin to continue.

Gin sighed softly, a rare note of sincerity creeping into his voice. "You didn't want to kill them, did you? All those old friends from Soul Society… Yet they came marching into Hueco Mundo with swords drawn. In the end, you had no choice but to stand against them."

He chuckled hollowly. "So you showed your strength. Defeated the captains, one by one, and forced them to retreat. It's terrifying, really. If it were me… I couldn't have done it."

His voice trailed off, and for a moment, only the low whispers of residual reiatsu echoed in the palace.

Of course, it wasn't just about repelling the Soul Society's expedition force.

It was about defeating Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni.

The legendary founder and Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13 had released his Bankai, Zanka no Tachi, during the battle. Gin had felt its overwhelming heat from afar, and even then, it made his skin crawl. Yamamoto's Bankai was a manifestation of ancient fire—fire that could erase existence itself.

He had nearly destroyed Mazuru.

At the peak of the battle, Yamamoto had cracked Mazuru's barrier with a single swing, his flames damaging Mazuru's Zanpakutō in a way that seemed irreversible. The oppressive spiritual pressure, the apocalyptic heat—it was enough to leave even the most hardened shinigami trembling.

No wonder Aizen had gone to such lengths to neutralize Ryūjin Jakka during the battle of Karakura Town, even creating Wonderweiss to suppress its flames.

Because Aizen knew, Yamamoto's Bankai was something even he couldn't control.

But the reality they all had to face now… was even more terrifying.

Mazuru had only been using half his power.

Beelzebub—the true Cero Espada, long thought to be a separate entity—was in fact a piece of Mazuru's own soul, split from him many years ago.

Now that Beelzebub had returned, Mazuru's power had become whole once again.

At full strength, not even Yamamoto Genryūsai could stand against him.

Yet what shocked Gin the most… was not the sheer power. It was what Mazuru chose to do afterward.

Despite having the captains of the Gotei 13 kneeling before him in defeat, Mazuru had spared them. He let them return to the Soul Society alive.

A gesture of mercy.

A decision that left a ripple even in the cold hearts of the criminals imprisoned in Muken.

Gin smiled faintly. "Still… you're amazing, Captain Mazuru. You really are."

But Mazuru shook his head slowly, his crimson gaze unwavering. "You're mistaken, Gin."

"Oh?"

"The reason I let them return isn't because I pity them. It's because I need them alive—for now."

His voice was calm, but layered with depth and purpose.

"This expedition didn't bring many foot soldiers. Instead, they sent captains and vice-captains—key strategic pieces of the Soul Society. If I killed them all here in Hueco Mundo, it would hollow out the Gotei 13. And that would only benefit the ones hiding in the shadows… the true enemies who wait patiently."

His eyes narrowed. "I don't engage in trades that lead to losses."

Gin raised an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised. "Is that so?"

But inwardly, he thought: 'What a duplicitous man… He won't just admit that he has feeling for them.'

Still, he didn't press it. "Aren't you worried they'll come back in a few months? The Soul Society isn't exactly known for letting things go."

"I'm not." Mazuru replied, without hesitation. "After Captain Yamamoto's defeat, he and the other captains must now understand a simple truth."

He lifted his hand, letting a thin stream of crimson reiatsu spiral into the air like a flame.

"The power I possess now… has surpassed even Aizen's at his peak."

A silence followed. Mazuru let the weight of his words settle before continuing.

"I showed mercy out of sentiment, nothing more. But if they dare provoke me again—next time, I will show no such restraint."

Then, as if shifting topics entirely, Mazuru added coldly, "The nobility does not represent the entire Soul Society."

The statement seemed abrupt, even disconnected. But Gin, sharp as ever, immediately understood the hidden context.

Why had the Soul Society launched this invasion in the first place?

The official excuse was Mazuru's attempt to create Ōken by seizing the spiritual veins beneath Karakura Town. But that wasn't the real reason.

The truth was far simpler.

Mazuru had slaughtered Central 46 and destroyed half of Seireitei's noble district—killing countless aristocrats in the process.

That was the true trigger.

He had shattered the foundation of Soul Society's hierarchy. That act of rebellion, of defiance against centuries of power and order, was something Yamamoto and the noble families could never tolerate.

But after this battle?

After witnessing Mazuru's overwhelming strength?

Gin suspected the political tides might shift.

Most of the Gotei 13's shinigami were of commoner origin. Very few of them felt any loyalty to the nobility, especially not enough to die for them.

If they were forced to choose between upholding noble pride and preserving their lives… the answer would be obvious.

Mazuru turned toward the distant palace corridor.

"I am the sword of Damocles that now hangs above the heads of the Gotei 13." he declared. "Let them remain in fear. Let them train, prepare, and grow strong."

His voice echoed through the empty halls like a prophecy.

"Because when a true crisis descends on the Soul Society… they will at least be ready."

With that, Mazuru departed the throne room, leaving Gin in contemplative silence.

He traveled back through the stark white halls of Las Noches, eventually arriving at the chamber once occupied by Beelzebub. Now, with Beelzebub's essence fused back into him, the room stood empty.

Mazuru raised his hand, and a small, translucent orb materialized in his palm.

Suspended within it was a glowing streamer of spiritual energy, constantly shifting and flowing like a river of light.

The power of the Soul King.

He stared at it in silence.

Even now, with everything in place… he hesitated.

He could begin the creation of Ōken. He had the spiritual veins. He had the knowledge. He had the Soul King's fragment.

But still… something held him back.

It wasn't fear. It was instinct.

The moment wasn't right.

The time to ascend had not yet come.

And so, with a quiet sigh, Mazuru closed his fingers around the orb.

For now… he would wait.

*****

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