Help! I am bound to Aizen!-Chapter 326

Chapter 326

2-in-1 chapter:

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Look—far off at one corner of the battlefield, something wondrous was unfolding.

Batsu’unsai pressed Kaelith back step by step, her naginata herding him toward a dead end. Her frame was slender, yet each strike carried terrifying force. Kaelith had always believed his natural physique unmatched; never had he faced such ferocity.

Against her airtight whirlwind of slashes, he met every blow head‑on with twin swords and not a flicker of fear.

The sight delighted Batsu’unsai. She had campaigned under Yamamoto for years, through the Seireitei pacification and the Quincy‑led Wandenreich invasion. She had slain uncounted foes, yet never felt this thrill. She once thought only Unohana Retsu could truly test her—now she had found another, and how could she not rejoice?

Then Kaelith’s earlier “condition” popped into her mind, and a blush nearly broke her rhythm. Forcing herself calm, she plunged back into the duel.

A dozen exchanges later she caught an opening. Her naginata drew a half‑moon arc, cleaving for his neck.

Kaelith merely smiled.

Crack.

Batsu’unsai stared—her blade froze centimetres short, unable to budge. Somehow shadow‑fine threads had wound round the shaft. They had flowed harmlessly with her earlier moves; now, whipped tight, they locked the weapon still.

With a sharp growl she flexed, snapping every thread—but the moment’s pause was enough. Kaelith blurred behind her, looped an arm beneath her chin, spun and slammed her down in a perfect rear naked choke.

“Ugh…” She fought, but his hold was iron. Seconds later Batsu’unsai lay beneath him, arms loosening.

“Halftime. Catch your breath, then we go again.”

She shook her head and pushed up.

“No. If I stop, Hell may seize me again—I’ll lose myself, like the first time.”

Kaelith recalled her eyes turning gold, her aura twisting—Hell had possessed her body then. So this fleeting freedom carried such chains.

On a whim, he wrapped his arms round her waist and locked his legs over hers.

“??”

Batsu’unsai froze; Kaelith was fooling around now? Anger rose—until his whisper reached her ear:

“It’s not that you refuse to fight. I’m restraining you—you can’t break free. Once you do, we’ll resume.”

She nearly laughed. Hell’s will wasn’t stupid—wouldn’t it notice this idleness? Yet lying on him, she felt no tug of possession. Did Hell truly believe she was still in combat?

She strained, but his limbs were harder than steel. Two attempts left her helpless.

“Such strength…” she breathed.

“Heh, natural physique,” Kaelith grunted—though every muscle was doubled by shadow power. Without it, he could never have held her.

Cradling her softness, he sighed in pleasure. “My beloved really is comfortable to hold.”

“…We’re not lovers yet,” she shot back.

“True—lovers need pet names. How about… Little Batsu?”

“Little—Little Batsu?!” Her eyes flew wide. By calendar years she was millennia old—how could she accept that? “No, choose another!”

Kaelith frowned theatrically. “Then… Batsu’unsai?”

“Worse.”

“Agreed—sounds like calling old man Genryūsai.”

She huffed. Comparing her cute name to the Captain‑Commander? Impossible! Yet after much back‑and‑forth she grudgingly accepted “Little Batsu.”

Reclining, Kaelith asked, “Little Batsu, what’s the inside of Hell like?”

At once she grew solemn. “Hell has many tiers.

“Tier One holds the most sinners—endless white citadels stretching to infinity. They never eat; perhaps they no longer can. Hell wardens prowl those corridors, hacking them apart. When they die, they resurrect in the Grand Scorching Hell of Tier Four, then are dragged back to repeat the cycle.

“Tier Two is a maze of arenas where powerful sinners battle for brief respite. Yet when their slaughter ends, Hell’s will—us wardens—cuts them down again.

“Tier Three, the Scorching Hell, is a torrent of molten iron and copper. Any sinner, no matter how mighty, writhes in agony on contact. The gravest criminals are dragged there for endless torment.

“Tier Four—the Grand Scorching Hell—is both the place of rebirth and, outwardly, Hell’s deepest level. A handful strong enough to rival wardens roam there, but, like Tier Two, Hell lets them believe they’ve won peace, only to send stronger wardens to kill them anew.

“In Hell, sinners never escape. As long as this chain remains”—she touched her chest, and a half‑hidden black chain slid into view—“they’re slaves forever. Only total spiritual collapse turns one to dust and ends it.”

Her lashes lowered in resignation.

Kaelith released one hand and fingered the chain. Unknown metal—Sōsuke would love to study it. After a breath he sprang up, hauling her to her feet.

“Break‑time over! To earn more cuddle minutes, rack up combat time! Until then—fight!”

His sudden enthusiasm startled her, but she was growing used to his antics. Smiling, she hefted her broken‑shaft naginata. “Very well—coming!”

From the very first clash she sensed a change: Kaelith’s speed and power had climbed another level, his easy air sharpened to deadly intent. Twin blades probed for her gaps; one misstep and a storm of slashes pinned her.

Just as she adjusted to his pace, he lunged—straight onto her blade.

“Kaelith!!”

At the instant she would strike, his form burst into motes of light, streaming past her edge. They re‑formed in her arms—Kaelith again—dagger driving beneath her ribs. Violet radiance flared and a towering creature coalesced: skull head, corded arms, bone chassis—the Will of Hell.

“ROAR!!”

Its spirit pressure shook the skies. Batsu’unsai gasped. “Kaelith, that’s the Hell power housed in me! My warden form looks exactly like that!”

Kaelith gazed up as Sōsuke’s voice filled his mind:

You severed her Hell chain; the stored power had nowhere to hide and manifested. Capture the avatar alive—I need it.

Kaelith jumped. “Sōsuke? Where?”

In the lab.

“What—monitoring me from there? You planted trackers on me!”

Precaution. You tackle problems beyond your intellect—I give remote advice. Besides, someone once tagged me at Shin’ō. Any idea who, Kaelith?

“Signal’s bad—talk later.” He cut the link, face solemn.

In the lab, Sōsuke chuckled while swapping sensors on Shinchira Renzosuke. Kaelith was absurd, yet endlessly fascinating—severing Hell chains? Brilliant. If only he had time, he’d go witness it himself.

…

The fifty‑meter Will of Hell drew every gaze, its spirit pressure oppressive even miles away. A massive sword materialized in its grip; it swung at Kaelith—

*BOOM!*

Kaelith burst from the blast, yanking Batsu’unsai into the air.

That strike’s force surpassed even her own. “Little Batsu, does becoming the Will make you stronger?”

“I lose consciousness in that form—my guess says it shouldn’t be this powerful.”

Kaelith pondered. “Sōsuke‑Doraemon, analysis?”

A dry scoff answered.

Ignoring it, Kaelith plunged his blade—clang!—straight into the black chain anchoring the avatar’s chest. The links shimmered into view. Batsu’unsai doubted anything could break Hell steel—yet his thrust etched a radiant fissure. Hell’s power surged, healing the crack at once.

Kaelith grinned. “So it works.”

He stepped back, raised his zanpakutō. “Bankai—Rixiang Jimie, Zhenwo Tongming!”

A storm of spirit particles swirled; metal shield unfurled behind him, talon‑like claws formed. He lunged, crushed Batsu’unsai’s naginata shaft in one hand, and with the other drove metal claws into the chain.

Golden light blazed; cracks webbed across every link until—

*Snap!*

The chain that had bound her for centuries shattered.

Wave upon wave of emotion flooded her—exhilaration, relief, tears of freedom.

“Hah‑ha‑ha! Nothing can bind the invincible Kaelith!” he crowed beneath his half‑helm. Releasing his Bankai, he stroked Rixiang Jimie. “Good work, partner. I always knew pampering you would pay off!”

Batsu’unsai eyed the silent blade. Was it her imagination, or did it simmer with irritation? Yet before she could speak, a monstrous spirit pressure erupted from the broken links, surging into the sky.

“I’m raiding your secret stash of tofu pudding when we get back—those three cups you hid? I’m eating every last one!”

[……]

Two seconds later Sōsuke inhaled sharply.

Think for once. While you were hacking the chain, Hell pumped energy into repairing it. You cut the chain before it finished, so that surplus fused with the avatar. Capture it alive—I need it.

He cut the line.

Kaelith nodded. Situation clear. All that was left… was carving up the enemy!

Batsu’unsai peered at him. “Was that Tentei Kūra you used just now?”

“Better than Tentei Kūra.”

“A Kido, then?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Before she could retort, the avatar’s new sword hurtled down like Kokujō Tengen Myō’ō gone mad. Kaelith, not wanting to dull Rixiang Jimie, sheathed it and charged in bare‑handed.

Batsu’unsai raced after him, Shikai broken but captain‑class power intact—enough to ease his load. Yet Kaelith roared, meeting the descending blade with a fist.

“Triple—Ikkotsu!”

*KRA‑BOOM!*

A sunburst lit the sky. Kaelith flipped through the air; Batsu’unsai caught him.

“You okay?”

“Me? Fine. Move—who knows if that sword regenerates.”

He vanished. She looked up—astonished—the avatar’s sword lay shattered to drifting shards.

For an instant she stared, then smiled. Long ago she died of an incurable wound from the Wandenreich war, fearing the Gotei Thirteen would crumble when Yamamoto fell. But now—so long as this man lived—the Thirteen would never fall.

That punch… was worthy of the Captain‑Commander himself.

So it was an original hakuda of the Captain‑Commander’s…

Yamamoto had clearly placed his hopes on this man.

Batsu’unsai felt her spirits soar. Faith flashed in her eyes as she raised her zanpakutō, a long ribbon of spirit pressure trailing behind her as she dove at the Hell avatar.

The colossus thrashed wildly, trying to swat Kaelith away, but he laughed and flash‑stepped over its body, every reappearance punctuated by an explosive Ikkotsu. In less than two minutes the giant’s key joints were shattered; its movements slowed to a crawl.

“Little Batsu, it’s all yours!” Kaelith called, streaking past her.

She nodded without hesitation—he had far more important work. Every other captain still wore Hell’s black chain, and only Kaelith’s blade could sever them. If they all regained their freedom, the Soul Society’s power would skyrocket; even if Hell sent reinforcements, a wall of captains could turn them back—and perhaps win new allies besides them.

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### Third Technical Bureau, Research Wing

A similar thought crossed Aizen’s mind, but where Batsu’unsai was simply hopeful, he already saw the danger. A freed warden or sinner owed their immortality to Hell’s power—remove it, and what became of a body that had already lingered for centuries?

He needed a few liberated captains on his table, sliced thin for study, and prayed Kaelith hurried. The moment Hell understood what was happening, those chains would be far harder to break…

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Second Division Sector

Two shadows clashed in mid‑air, each impact booming with colliding reiatsu. Yoruichi landed in a crouch, gold lightning dancing across her shoulders and back. Opposite her, Chika Shihōin flipped once and touched down gracefully.

“That’s Kidō‑clad combat—you actually perfected it!” he exclaimed. “As expected of my descendant.”

Yoruichi smirked. “It’s called Shunkō now—my signature.”

“Tch, built on my research notes,” Chika grumbled, though pride shone in his eyes. She surpassed him in everything: flash‑step, hand‑to‑hand, even fighting bare‑handed without a zanpakutō at all.

He flexed his wrists, ready to test this prodigy properly—when the familiar chill of Hell crept over his mind. His body stiffened; his irises glazed to gold.

Yoruichi’s brows knit. Kaelith had warned them: once that change came, talk was useless. She settled into a fighting stance. “So the family chat is over. Don’t worry, Grandfather—in Kaelith’s hands and mine, the Shihōin clan will endure. I’ll send you back safely.”

Relief flickered in Chika’s face—then fury as he realized her last words. Kaelith? That infuriating kid? If he didn’t beat that boy senseless, he’d never rest in peace. Hell’s possession finished the takeover just as a blazing comet split the sky.

“RAAAAH!”

Kaelith hurtled in, metal wings flaring, talons gleaming. Seeing him dive like a demon, Chika abandoned resistance and punched upward with Hell‑driven strength.

The impact cratered the street; Yoruichi watched, expressionless, as Kaelith flattened Chika, then rammed a claw at the chain embedded in his chest. Black links surfaced beneath a flash of reiatsu—fissures spidered, the chain snapped.

“Genius! Absolute genius!” Chika whooped from the ground. “From now on, you’re my big brother, Kaelith!”

Yoruichi blinked. If he’s your brother, what am I supposed to call him?

Before she could voice it, murderous pressure erupted from the broken chain. A second Hell avatar rose over the district.

Kaelith gauged its power. “Strong, but not fully cooked.” A sphere of reiatsu swelled between his palms. “Yoruichi—get Brother Chika clear!”

She had half a mind to laugh, but did as told. When they’d gone, Kaelith hurled the orb. “Gaia Energy Cannon!”

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Sixth Division Sector

Isshin braced his blade, sliding thirty meters back and scoring twin furrows in the earth. The petite, pink‑haired girl before him—Furōfushi Saitō—glared with Hell’s golden eyes. She was small, yet fought like a rabid beast, her stamina endless.

If not for years of sparring under Aizen’s tutelage, Isshin might already have fallen. But her tirelessness meant he needed to finish this fast. He drew a breath—

A sonic boom cut him off. Kaelith streaked past, eyes bloodshot behind his half‑helm.

“I’ve got this!” Isshin shouted, but Kaelith said nothing. Each use of Rixiang Jimie’s armor‑breaking power drained him, and freeing Batsu and Chika had cost nearly half his strength. No time to rest.

Saitō thrust—Kaelith’s hand snapped shut on her wrist. Bone cracked; flesh tore; blood spattered. Isshin winced. With her arm wrenched aside, Kaelith drove his metal claws into the chain at her sternum…

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Thirteenth Division Sector

Explosions rattled the air. Laughing wildly, Kenpachi Zaraki hacked at Saizō Sakahone. Nearby, Jūshirō Ukitake lay on a stretcher while medics worked feverishly.

When Saizō’s eyes had flashed gold, he’d nearly decapitated Ukitake—but an alarm device from Aizen had guided Kenpachi in time. Now the Eleventh Division beast was rejoicing: an enemy he could carve without restraint, equal in brute might.

Under Kaelith’s constant provocation, Kenpachi had not only regained his former edge but grown stronger than he’d been a millennium ago—still no Shikai, yet terrifying.

By the time Kaelith arrived, Saizō was a mound of shredded flesh. Kaelith felt a pang: that lanky stray he once plucked from the Rukongai had come so far. Perhaps it was time to make him a captain…

But which division had a vacancy? Most seats were filled—unless he relieved someone. Then he remembered: hadn’t he planned for Kenpachi to inherit the Eleventh once he was ready? Maybe it was time to hand over the reins and disappear—

Shaking off the daydream, Kaelith counted. Three first‑generation captains freed; by his senses there were still fourteen others in Seireitei bound by chains. Damn—Hell wasn’t short on manpower, throwing eighteen captain‑class at once. Nineteen, if he included the captured Shinchira Renzosuke.

Plenty of chains left to break…

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