Bleach: Kishou Arima

You guys did not finish the goal...

I thought we'd easily reach top 3 lol..

I'm never trusting ya'll

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One week later..

Arima sat in his study, the faint glow of the analysis kido illuminating his grim features as he studied the fragment of the Soul King's spine suspended before him.

It floated weightlessly in the air, wrapped in a delicate lattice of reiatsu that pulsed softly like a heartbeat.

His eyes, sharp and unwavering, dissected every fiber of the relic.

This wasn't a simple study—it was a race against time, an effort to ensure his child would never bear the same curse that haunted his own existence.

The fragment was extraordinary, bearing an uncanny similarity to his own spiritual makeup a hybrid of hollow and Shinigami, yet it was fundamentally different.

It carried traces of humanity, but also something far older, far stranger—a blend of traits that defied explanation.

The Soul King, for all his mysterious origins, seemed almost like an impossible miracle, as if the universe itself had willed him into existence.

But Arima wasn't here to marvel at miracles.

He was here to fight against the inevitability that his own existence had brought.

His life had been a constant battle—one against the steady decay of his senses, the razor-thin line he walked between power and destruction, the never-ending spiral toward death that his body seemed determined to follow.

He would not allow his child to suffer the same fate.

"This is my curse...," he muttered, his voice low and steady. "My bloodline, my power… it's a curse as much as it is a gift."

The body of Soul king can hold the balance of realms within its essence, a trait that Arima intended to harness in stabilising and enhancing both traits to ensure that the child's growth is regulated..

His child, while yet unborn, carried the potential for extraordinary strength.

But that strength, unchecked, could be a death sentence. It would wreak havoc on their body, make their mind unstable with instincts.

So arima chose this way.

The child might be born weaker than most due to it but it was a trade off arima was willing to take if it meant that the growth ceiling for them would be just as high as him or even higher if possible.

Arima clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening.

He hated the thought of altering his child, of introducing something foreign into their being.

But this wasn't about power or control—it was about survival.

About giving his child a chance to live without the shadow of death looming over every step they took.

He focused on the fragment, channeling his reiatsu into the kido that encased it.

His plan was ambitious, bordering on reckless.

He would use the principles of fossilization to replace the fragment's reiatsu with his own.

By doing so, he would strip away the lingering "will" and the Soul King's essence, leaving behind a pure, stable foundation to build an organ that would harmonize with his child's natural energy.

The kido flared brighter as Arima concentrated.

The fragment began to hum, its original reiatsu resisting his intrusion.

It was stubborn, powerful, but so was he.

The room filled with the faint sound of crackling energy as his own spiritual pressure overwhelmed the fragment's, forcing it to submit.

"This is for you," he whispered, his voice almost inaudible.

"You'll never feel the burden I've carried."

---

He failed

Arima sat motionless, his eyes fixed on the abomination before him.

The small broken off piece of the Soul King's spine, no larger than his finger when he started, had transformed into a grotesque, sprawling mass of organic chaos.

Its growth had been sudden and violent, the laboratory walls still streaked with traces of energy discharge from when it erupted into this… thing.

The creature before him defied logic, its warped body a nightmarish collage of limbs, eyes, and jagged growths.

Dozens of legs jutted out at impossible angles, some twitching while others lay still, their malformed joints glistening with an eerie, translucent sheen.

Arms—if they could even be called that—were strewn across its form in varying lengths, clawed and grotesque, numbering far more than Arima cared to count.

The most unnerving part, however, were the eyes—dozens of them, clustered in random patches across its form.

Each one was a swirling vortex of power, bearing a striking resemblance to the symbol of his own reiatsu in its most primal state ... stage four..

The creature radiated an aura of pure instability, as if it were a living amalgamation of chaos and power barely held together by the laws of reality.

Arima's breath caught in his throat. "What… the hell… have I done?"

He clenched his fists, feeling the sting of failure gnawing at his pride.

The entire process had spiraled out of control, his kido failing to contain the unidentified parts of the Soul King's essence.

Instead of stabilizing, the fragment had absorbed his reiatsu, mutating into this eldritch horror.

It wasn't just an accident—it was an abomination born from his meddling.

And then the thought hit him, unbidden and horrifying.

This creature was, in some grotesque way, a child of his and the Soul King's .

The realization made his stomach churn.

Arima's face twisted in a mix of disgust and self-loathing as he instinctively raised a fist and struck himself hard across the face.

The blow was sharp, enough to crack his nose and send blood trickling down his lips.

"Goddammit," he muttered under his breath, wiping the blood with the back of his hand.

His mind raced, grappling with the absurdity of the situation.

He had expected challenges, maybe even failure, but not this. "Fertile…? Is that the right word? Why the hell is the Soul King's bone so... fertile?"

The thought alone made his skin crawl, and he shook his head violently as if to dislodge the idea from his mind.

He wasn't sure what disturbed him more—the monstrous creation or the notion that he'd inadvertently participated in creating it.

The creature twitched, emitting a low, guttural noise that resonated through the room.

It wasn't hostile, not yet, but its mere presence felt like a blight on existence.

Arima sighed, leaning back against the lab table, his hand running through his hair.

Despite the revulsion coursing through him, his scientific curiosity began to take hold.

This thing, as horrifying as it was, could provide invaluable insight into the nature of the Soul King's power.

Its very existence was a phenomenon that defied explanation—a living testament to the unpredictable nature of the divine.

But for now, Arima knew he had to deal with it.

Leaving it alive in its current state was a risk he couldn't afford.

With a resigned sigh, he began weaving a sealing kido, his movements deliberate and precise.

"This isn't over," he muttered, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his mind. "But first… let's make sure you don't turn into something even worse...."

Arima moved silently through space and entered the void between worlds.

The void around him grew heavy as he entered, "Stage Three."

In an instant, his form began to shift. Obsidian wings unfurled from his back, each feather sharp as a blade and glimmering faintly with starlight.

Below his usual piercing eyes, a second pair manifested, glowing faintly with an eerie, red hue.

Across his chest, where a hollow's hole might have been, a swirling black tattoo began to form, pulsing like a living thing, its pattern intricate and chaotic.

Arima exhaled sharply, his transformation complete.

The sheer weight of his reiatsu caused the void around him to distort, cracks forming in the fabric of reality.

He didn't hesitate.

Raising his hand, he summoned a unique ability of his zanpakutō's third stage.

"Stellar Creation."

A surge of energy erupted from him, expanding outward at an unimaginable speed.

Stars forming in the dark void.

The stars seemed to respond, their light coalescing into a single point before exploding outward to form a new dimension.

The space rippled into existence—a sprawling landmass the size of a small town, vast enough to house thousands.

The strain was immediate and overwhelming.

Arima felt his reiatsu drain like a dam bursting, his reserves burning away at an alarming rate.

His breath hitched, his muscles straining as he forced the dimension to stabilize.

Thirty percent.

That's how much of his energy it had cost, and even then, it was only the beginning.

With a sharp motion, he deactivated the ability, stepping into the newly formed pocket dimension.

The land stretched out before him, eerily empty and silent.

There was no sky, only an endless void above.

The space was rich with free-floating reishi, a perfect environment for beings of immense power.

But that was precisely why he had to act.

Closing his eyes, Arima focused on the reishi within the dimension.

He extended his will, pulling at every trace of energy in the air.

The process was draining, but he couldn't risk the creature feeding on this environment.

Slowly, the vibrant glow of free reishi faded, the land becoming a barren, desolate place devoid of spiritual nourishment.

Once satisfied, Arima reached into his storage and retrieved the sealed monstrosity.

Without hesitation, he released it into the open.

The creature materialized with a guttural roar, its grotesque form twisting and writhing as it adjusted to its new surroundings.

The many eyes on its body swirled with an almost mocking reflection of his own reiatsu, its countless limbs twitching as if testing their newfound freedom.

Arima stepped back, his gaze cold and unflinching. "You won't escape," he said quietly, his voice firm.

"This is where you stay."

The creature responded with a guttural, unearthly sound, but it didn't matter.

Arima had taken every precaution to ensure it couldn't grow or escape.

This dimension was its prison, and he would see to it that it remained so.

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Stones and Reviews please