NOTAKING
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Chapter 116
🕑 Added 2025-07-11 18:46:42 +0000 UTCWith a faint hum of spiritual energy, a Garganta opened, swirling like a void between worlds. The black maw crackled as Unohana and Ichigo sprinted into it, their figures swallowed by light.
From behind, the cries of battle began anew—Kenpachi roaring, Nnoitra screaming, Szayel laughing manically.
But Ichigo didn’t look back.
His focus was set. Karakura. Aizen. The real fight.
As they sprinted through the dark tunnel between worlds, Ichigo glanced at Unohana.
“Did you miss me already?”
“Of course not,” she replied flatly, running beside him. “I don’t even know you that well.”
Ichigo grinned. “Then why don’t we fix that? After all this is over. I feel like I know more about you than you think.”
For the first time, her steps faltered just slightly—a brief pause. She looked forward again, but Ichigo caught the faint blush rising on her cheeks before she darted ahead.
“I’d… like that,” she said, voice cool but softer now.
Ichigo laughed lightly. “Didn’t peg you for the shy type.”
After a long run, the light of Karakura spilled over them.
Well—not the real one. The fake Karakura Town, suspended in Soul Society’s dimension, waited for them.
As they stepped through, spiritual pressure hit them like a wall—immense, cold, overwhelming.
Ichigo’s eyes narrowed. He could feel it.
Aizen. Yamamoto. The battlefield was already burning.
“Wow,” he muttered. “I wonder… are you as strong as the old man?”
Unohana gave him a sideways glance, her expression unreadable. “No,” she answered honestly. “But the gap… isn’t as wide as it once was.”
He grinned. “Now that’s something I want to test someday.”
Then he took a step forward and vanished in a burst of Shunpo.
“See you later… Hana.”
....
The clash of steel and reiatsu tore through the air like thunder as Ichigo stood at the edge of the battlefield, watching the war rage on. Buildings shattered under the weight of spiritual pressure. Streets cracked from impact craters. Fake Karakura Town had become a warzone.
He could see them—Hitsugaya locking blades with Harribel, ice and water slicing through the air. Shunsui danced against Starrk, flashes of color from their Shikai lighting up the sky. Soi Fon’s darts moved in blinding flickers against Baraggan, whose mere presence aged the world around him. And Yamamoto, standing tall, kept a firm eye on everything, his fire smoldering—waiting.
Everywhere he looked, the Gotei 13 was pushing back.
Then came the others.
The air split with a screeching howl as a new wave of reiatsu flared across the battlefield—wild, untamed, familiar.
The Visoreds had arrived.
Hiyori led the charge, her mask already on, swinging her blade with feral precision as she tore through a group of lesser Arrancar. Shinji’s smirk was as lazy as ever, but his movements were sharp, clean, his inverted world warping the senses of anyone who got too close.
Kensei exploded forward in a flash of silver and steel, his fists pulsing with raw energy as he delivered crushing blows to anything in his path. Lisa danced across the rooftops, her movements fluid and unrelenting, her sword slicing arcs of destruction through the chaos.
Rose’s melodic hum resonated in the air as his music-based attacks warped the battlefield, disorienting even the most disciplined opponents. Love stood beside him, flames swirling from his gauntlets as he launched devastating strikes into the sky.
Ichigo’s eyes narrowed as he watched them move—not Shinigami, not Hollow, but something between. Something dangerous. Something necessary.
The tide was shifting.
But what about Aizen?
Aizen?
Aizen, having effortlessly freed himself from the veil of Yamamoto’s towering inferno, now floated above the battlefield, the flames parting like water around his form. Ash drifted in the air like snow, glowing red in the light of his spiritual pressure. His eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the chaos beneath him with detached amusement.
Tōsen and Gin were already engaged in combat—flashes of steel, bursts of spiritual pressure, and eerie silence from Tōsen as he moved with ruthless precision. Gin’s smirk never left his face, even as his blade darted like a snake at his opponents.
Aizen watched with an air of superiority. His arms folded. His white robes fluttering ever so slightly in the rising heat. That ever-present smirk of his tugged higher.
He was close.
So close.
The Hōgyoku pulsed faintly beneath his chest.
Then—
A crack in the air.
Like thunder snapping.
Ichigo Kurosaki appeared.
He didn’t fly in. He didn’t shout. He simply was, standing mid-air, arms crossed, cloak fluttering behind him, and the ground below began to quake subtly with the weight of his spiritual pressure.
All motion slowed.
The battlefield grew silent, as if even the wind dared not whisper.
Urahara and Yoruichi, poised to strike, halted the instant they felt him arrive. Urahara’s fan lowered slightly. Yoruichi's narrowed eyes softened with recognition.
Rangiku, nursing her shoulder far below, gave a small smile.
Yoruichi turned toward Ichigo with a knowing nod. “We’ll let you handle this.”
Without hesitation, she flashed down in a streak of violet lightning, heading toward Soifon. Urahara sighed, collapsing his fan as he floated down toward the others.
Aizen's eyes fixed on Ichigo, gleaming with interest—and a shadow of concern.
"You've defeated Ulquiorra," Aizen said, smirking faintly, his voice echoing through the quiet sky. “As I expected, Ichigo Kurosaki.”
Ichigo didn’t smile. He took one step forward, and the air behind him distorted with pressure.
“Yeah? Did you also expect yourself to lose today?”
Aizen’s smile tightened. “Unfortunately, that’s not the future I see.”
He raised one hand, palm facing skyward. The Hōgyoku shimmered beneath his skin like a second heart.
“Because in a minute,” Aizen continued, “I will become—All Mighty.”
That made Ichigo laugh.
A calm, short breath of laughter that somehow cut sharper than a blade.
“All Mighty?” he repeated, shaking his head. “We both know who that title really belongs to. And it’s not you.”
Aizen’s eyes narrowed.
" Your insolence is entertaining," he said. " But this conversation is beneath me."
He waved his hand with divine finality. “Begone.”
Whoooooosh—
A crushing shockwave surged from his gesture alone, warping the air like a tidal wave. Buildings cracked below. Dust spiraled in violent funnels toward Ichigo.
But Ichigo didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.
The storm of power broke against him and dispersed, like waves shattering against stone.
Still hovering, Ichigo glanced at his sleeve. Not even ruffled.
“Get done,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to beat you while you’re still this weak.”
Aizen’s smirk vanished.
The silence returned—but this time, it felt heavy.
Unnatural.
Suddenly—his body began to shift.
Cracks shimmered across his skin like molten gold, the Hōgyoku stirring beneath. His limbs elongated slightly, his face sharpened—his spiritual pressure began to twist, ripple, evolve.
Aizen closed his eyes as the transformation began. His voice returned, low and echoing.
“Then allow me to show you... divinity.”
Ichigo watched. Unmoved. His fingers curled slowly around the hilt of Zangetsu.
“Good,” he whispered. “Now you’re worth killing.”
TO BE CONTINUED
