As he reformed, Aizen's sword was already raised, poised for a lethal strike. But just as his essence solidified, a blur moved, shifting the dynamics of the battlefield. It was Kai, appearing seemingly from thin air. The lazy shinigami placed a single fingertip on the Hogyoku. With a whisper of energy, the artifact vanished. The absence was palpable; the connection Aizen once had with the gem, now severed.
Aizen's eyes widened, the only sign of his surprise. The once-calm waters of his psyche now rippled with frustration. "Where is it?" he demanded.
Kai tilted his head, his demeanor languid as ever. "Wouldn't you like to know?" He grinned, his tone light, but the challenge was evident.
In that fraction of a second, the tension in the air became almost palpable. Aizen, still hovering in the air, roared, channeling his rage into his blade, which he swung down with devastating force. Gin, caught in its trajectory, could do little to shield himself from the full force of the attack.
A gash opened up on Gin's chest, blood seeping into the fabric of his robe. Kai, without missing a beat, grabbed the injured captain's arm and tossed him to the safety of the perimeter, away from the fray.
Kai now faced Aizen squarely, his Zanpakuto firmly in his grip. Aizen glared at him, seething with rage. "You dare to interfere, Kai? And steal the Hogyoku?"
Kai's gaze locked onto Aizen's, the weight of his new Visored power evident in the heaviness of the atmosphere. Gone was the playful, lazy shinigami. In his place stood a formidable adversary, ready to defend what he cherished most.
"Interfere? Bold of you to assume I would just watch you destroy my home, Aizen." The usual lilt in Kai's voice was replaced with a firm edge. As he spoke, his hand gracefully slid to his face, a hollow mask materializing in an instant. The mask's design was intriguing: dark blue on the forehead with pristine white borders and chin, the sharp, predatory teeth of the mask making for a chilling contrast.
Aizen's usually inscrutable eyes betrayed a flicker of surprise. "You're a Visored too?" His voice bore its characteristic blend of curiosity and condescension.
Kai smirked beneath his mask. "There's a lot you don't know about me." The air around him crackled, the collision of their reiatsu forming an almost palpable barrier between them. "If I'd snatched the Hogyoku when Gin injured you, you'd already be pushing up daisies."
Without hesitation, Kai raised his Zanpakuto. "Bankai! Mugon no Yūjin: Zettai Yūjin!" A cold, hazy mist enveloped the area. The tension was so thick that even breathing seemed like a task. Their surroundings began to shift and warp, forming a maze of reflective surfaces, each one portraying a different angle of the battlefield. The whole area had transformed into a labyrinth of mirrors.
Aizen's gaze darted around, attempting to make sense of this newfound terrain. "Playing games, Kai?" His voice echoed eerily through the maze, coming from all directions.
"Just making things a little less troublesome for myself," Kai's voice responded, seemingly from nowhere and everywhere at once.
Aizen, always one to think several steps ahead, drew his sword and sliced at one of the mirrors, only to find his own reflection attacking him in return. The mirror rippled, distorting the image before returning to its original state.
Kai's voice chuckled, the sound reverberating through the maze. "It's not that simple, Aizen."
But the former captain wasn't one to be easily outplayed. He closed his eyes, focusing his reiatsu, attempting to feel Kai's energy signature amidst the maze of illusions. "Your tricks won't deter me, Kai."
Suddenly, from one of the mirrors, Kai's reflection lunged, slashing at Aizen with speed and precision. The rogue captain barely managed to dodge, the tip of Kai's blade nicking his cheek. Blood dripped, a stark contrast against Aizen's pale skin.
The maze of mirrors formed a disorienting battleground, but Aizen's composure was unyielding. He tried to decipher Kai's position through the countless reflections. Even though the mirrors projected countless copies of Kai and himself, Aizen's mind worked overtime, scanning for the real threat.
Kai's laughter echoed, teasingly. "You always loved grand schemes and intricate plans, didn't you, Aizen? Well, here's one for you."
Aizen swung his blade, its shimmering arc cutting through the mirrors. As expected, a reflection of his own attack lunged back towards him. But he was prepared, parrying his own strike effortlessly. "Your tricks are entertaining, but they won't be enough."
One mirror, shimmering differently from the others, revealed a reflection of Kai lunging straight at Aizen. But as Aizen pivoted to defend, another Kai emerged from a different mirror, blade flashing. It was a game of misdirection, a deadly dance of light and reflections.
Aizen dodged, parried, and countered the various strikes coming at him from multiple directions. His movements were fluid and precise. But Kai, for all his outward laziness, was a master tactician.
Suddenly, Aizen felt a searing pain on his left arm. He glanced to find a small cut, blood trickling down. The lazy shinigami had managed to land a hit.
"Well played," Aizen remarked, wiping away the blood with a smirk. "But I've always been one to learn from my mistakes."
With a flash of his blade, Aizen released a torrent of reiatsu, targeting all the mirrors simultaneously. The sheer force shattered several of them, but as they cracked, so did Aizen's own reflection. A multitude of Aizens, fragmented and contorted, now stared back at him.
Using Mirror Trauma, Kai forced Aizen to see his own attacks coming back from all directions, an unending assault. The psychological warfare had begun.
Aizen grunted, trying to steady himself amidst the sensory overload. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, his focus unwavering.
Kai's voice broke the silence. "Feeling a little overwhelmed? That's the point."
Aizen smirked. "Distractions. That's all they are." He closed his eyes and concentrated on the flow of reiatsu in the maze.
With a surge of energy, Aizen released a kido spell, a binding force that sought its target with precision. Yet, what he ensnared wasn't Kai but a perfect replica, a mirror clone. The real Kai was still somewhere amidst the labyrinth of reflections.
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