"To think that with the backing of the Kuchiki family, he could ascend beyond his station… Yet he forgot one truth."
"It is not the name of the Kuchiki family that determines your worth."
"But the power of your own Zanpakutō."
Aizen's gaze lingered briefly on the motionless body of Kuchiki Kōga—his Reiatsu gradually fading into the wind—before sweeping calmly toward Muramasa.
"A truly unique Zanpakutō."
"Even though his Shinigami has died, he continues to exist independently."
"You chose the wrong wielder."
Seeing the faint, flickering spiritual light still pulsing within Muramasa, Aizen felt a hint of regret.
In his eyes, had Muramasa been wielded by a different Shinigami—by someone worthy—his potential would have soared far beyond this.
Even someone like Kyoraku Shunsui could have drawn out his strength in ways that Kōga never could.
"You seem fond of that blade, Aizen."
Aiyan chuckled, catching the flicker in his brother's expression.
"More like... I find it a tragedy."
"Zanpakutō of the Illusion Department are already rare enough within the Soul Society."
"If my Kyōka Suigetsu is the most powerful of the Illusion type…"
"Then Muramasa is undoubtedly the second."
"The blade is a masterpiece. The Shinigami, however… was not."
"If it were you," Aiyan asked with interest, "how far could you take it?"
He merely tilted his head up slightly, eyes drifting toward the heavens above the Soul Society
His meaning was clear.
The Throne of Heaven.
"Aizen, do you remember what day it is?"
Aiyan's tone softened slightly, shifting the topic.
"Today is your birthday."
Aizen didn't respond.
Not in the slightest.
Not with his eyes, not with his expression—nothing.
Clearly, he either didn't care for such dates… or had long since stopped remembering them.
"But I—your older brother—won't."
"How could I let your birthday pass without a proper gift?"
As Aiyan finished, he turned toward Muramasa, who still stared at him with eyes full of bitter hatred.
He raised his Zanpakutō.
"Do you know why I chose Kōga?"
"Do you know why I acted today?"
"Not because the timing was convenient…"
"But because today is your birthday."
"And this… is my gift to you."
The moment he finished, an oppressive black mist surged from his blade.
It devoured the surrounding light, spreading out like a suffocating curtain.
In an instant, the black fog unfurled into a veil that swallowed both Muramasa and Kōga.
After several moments, the curtain lifted and rose skyward.
When it cleared, Kōga's body remained—lifeless and whole—but Muramasa had vanished.
A Zanpakutō wrapped in dense black mist hovered where the fog had once been.
Aiyan slid his blade back into its sheath with quiet finality.
Then, with a casual wave, the black-wrapped Zanpakutō rose slowly into the air and floated toward Aizen.
"Dark Kōfūin possesses the ability to seize another Shinigami's Zanpakutō?"
Aizen's brows furrowed as his eyes narrowed sharply behind the rim of his glasses.
He understood everything instantly.
The only man in Soul Society who could match Kisuke Urahara in intellect.
He didn't need to see the details.
Just from what Aiyan had said, he'd already unraveled the entire technique.
"Your Zanpakutō has been delivered."
"Please confirm receipt."
Aiyan watched the ripples of astonishment on Aizen's normally tranquil face.
He smirked, clearly satisfied.
This wasn't a feigned surprise—it was real.
Because a power … had never existed in Soul Society before.
"Why not keep it for yourself?"
"A Zanpakutō that can Hypnosis other Zanpakutō…"
"Its utility should be immense—even for you."
Aizen didn't immediately reach for it, instead choosing to ask the obvious question.
"It's your birthday."
"And I'm your brother."
"What kind of brother would steal your gift?"
Aiyan shrugged casually.
Besides—Muramasa's abilities, while unique, were redundant to him.
Dark Kōfūin's sealing power already allowed him to control other Zanpakutō.
What Muramasa added was merely the luxury of illusions layered on top.
But that was an art best wielded not by him—but by a strategist.
Or perhaps… Kisuke Urahara.
Muramasa had proven a simple truth: if a Shinigami lacked skill or vision, even the most powerful blade became wasted potential.
In contrast, Aiyan's Zanpakutō was prideful.
It didn't refuse to seal other Zanpakutō.
It simply refused to acknowledge those that weren't worthy.
Those could be taken.
He was outright rejected.
Aizen remained silent, but his eyes flickered with unusual light.
A rare emotional disturbance shook his core.
"Muramasa's true potential wasn't even revealed by Kōga."
"He used it for basic Hypnosis—controlling other Zanpakutō—but that's only the beginning."
"There's more to his Shikai. His Bankai. All left unexplored."
"Only in your hands, Aizen, can he reach that pinnacle."
Aiyan didn't wait for a response.
He pressed the mist-shrouded Zanpakutō directly into Aizen's arms.
Aizen was the one destined for illusion.
He needed no tricks—no crutches.
He was already a master.
Even with just Kyōka Suigetsu's Shikai, he could make Everyone kneel.
But two blades of illusion?
He understood his brother's intentions.
This elaborate speech… was all so he'd accept Muramasa without hesitation.
Without guilt or pride.
He simply extended his hand.
And took hold of Muramasa's hilt.
As his fingers wrapped around it, the black mist began to peel away.
The blade shimmered—cleansed of all memory, all past.
What remained… was raw, dormant potential.
Ready to be written upon.
Aizen's essence to imprint upon it.
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