Initially there was a profound difficulty to distinguishing memories, dreams and premonitions from the immediate reality of his 'existence'. Each felt real and he lived them all at once and separately in a cerebral mess. Such was the confusion of 'being' to one who was extant in all places at all times; the curse of omniscience.
For a long while all he could do was stare blankly out of his divine shell, seeing nothing, but living through everything. Until, gradually, his mind began to adjust to the intensity of perception. He learned to cope by separating the multiplicity of divine thoughts into a more structured framework — palaces, which he could choose to enter at will rather than be dragged into the mind-mire that threatened to consume him whole.
With his cognitive self more focused, he found it easier to draw upon the overwhelming knowledge he now possessed. But that proved to be more of a hindrance than a help in some regards, as it brought with it confirmation of certain unsavoury truths. It seemed Ichibei was right: he was a facet of the Soul King. An existence that achieved sentience out of sheer outrage at his predicament.
If the flesh was weak, then he would make his own!
But in so willing himself into existence, a sacrifice had to be made: his memories. The ordeal of separating psyche from comatose cadaver had cast him out of the Royal Palace and left him fragmented. Nothing but an overwhelming power and an inexplicable hatred burned within him.
And so he fashioned himself a name and set forth into the world, only to realise that he perceived the world in a way that none other around him could. It led to an irresistible conclusion –– much was wrong with this existence, though he didn't quite know what. His was a form already too powerful and too aware of things; he needed to find a plane of existence where he could truly be known and understood for what he was.
In that moment, the concept of the Hōgyoku came to him. Upon its creation there followed a vision of a haunting cadaver, sealed in crystal and left to rot. This was the 'God' of this world and nothing had filed him with more revulsion. Not the mindless ants, nor the woeful state of this 'society'. No. This was the thing that offended him on an intrinsic level.
An overwhelming desire burned inside –– an act of pure deicide –– to kill; to cut off its head and claim its throne.
His throne.
Thus began the task of acquiring transcendent powers; a status that, at the time, he thought he needed to discover but in truth was merely to be recovered. And yet the Hōgyoku was an imperfect answer to the question, it granted him some of the power he needed but the grim truth was he would only be complete upon subsuming the Soul King into himself.
So, even if Kurosaki Ichigo had not subdued him, it was likely that Zero Squad would have been able to render him momentarily dazed and thereby give effect to this ploy to install him as figurehead to the world. There were visions that played out in his mind with much the same outcome. It seemed this crystalline prison was unavoidable.
But –– was it irresistible? Inescapable?
That was the question....
...
_________
"Greetings, your majesty," once more Ichibei invaded his solitude with his irksome, booming voice, "It seems you have managed to find your way out of the maze of thoughts and visions that plague God. Do you see now why the Soul King was incapacitated as he was? It cannot be easy to hold everything within one form..." he was stroking his beard again.
It seemed he was back in the present, no longer reminiscing about the past; the differences were slight, but he had learned to pick up on them. Without pause he seamlessly immersed himself into the moment, "No," the God replied, his voice devoid of its earlier rustiness, "I do not see why that thing was as ineffectual as it was. Certainly this existence is invasive and draining, but still he chose to never question it or to challenge your lot. He permitted every transgression you brought against him."
"Our lot? That's a bit harsh, you were once part of our ranks. Do you feel no sense of camaraderie?" clearly the monk was joking, mocking, as he grinned widely, "I suppose you'll say you made your sentiments plain atop Sōkyoku Hill and reinforced them in Karakura Town?"
"... Hmph," a sneer strained his strangely cut jaw; the teeth of his final evolution still overlapping his lips, "It was never my intention to become a Shinigami."
"Indeed," Ichibei's face fell into something serious, which was just as irksome as when he grinned like a pleased child. There was no face this man could pull that would not set the God's teeth on edge, "You intended to step out of the Soul King's body and kill him there and then didn't you. I'm glad I was able to stop you from doing that. It would have been a hassle to deal with you."
Mismatched eyes narrowed and a hiss whistled between his teeth, "Yes, you sought to frustrate my plans... So desperate to cling to your control over this world, to maintain your vision of balance. What a thoroughly unsightly creature you are, Ichibei..."
"Yes, I will do what is necessary to preserve the balance that was so hard-fought for, and I won't let a jumped up child ruin that. Yours is an indulgent life, Sōsuke. Don't you think it's strange that the Soul King allowed his own mind to abandon him? That is the fundamental difference between you –– his is a truly benevolent soul, one that gave and gave to this world in order to keep a balance for all His children. Yours is a selfish existence, predicated on your own desires."
"And where do such sentiments stem from?" Aizen asked, a smile creeping over his bizarre maw, "If your God is so very good and benevolent, why did these feelings exist at all? The fact is I am not part of that entity. I have surpassed him, and you have aided me in that endeavour. You have my thanks, Ichibei, for that will be your undoing."
"Will it now?" a small smile returned to the monk's face, "I must say I'm very curious to know what you mean by that... are you suggesting you have the means to escape your prison? Because if so, I'd rather like to see that... Why not give it a try?"
"Very well, I shall!" a terrible energy started to fill the space, his reiatsu as heavy as a malefic fog, followed by the inky primordial mess that was his divine power. It climbed the walls; tore down the drapes and stained the pristine white floor with its darkness. And in the middle of the maelstrom, the God roared with the anger and the determination that burned through his blood.
He would have his freedom!
And he would have Ichibei's head!
Then he would set about what had always been his intention. To craft a new world–––––
Suddenly the darkness disappeared, his power receded and everything was back to normal in the room. He looked, wide-eyed, at the monk before him. Once more the man was stood in a prayer-like position, hands clasped firmly together.
"W-What?!" the rush of power that slammed into him winded him, causing blood to splatter from his lips into the crystal void that surrounded him, "Hrrrk..!" a scowl spread over the God's features as he glowered at his jailor, "I see... while I am trapped in this crystal, you have dominion over the exercise of my power... and as my power grows, you will sever my limbs so that my strength cannot become saturated enough to destroy this prison of yours..."
"That's right," Ichibei nodded, "I signed my name upon the base of that crystal, which means I have a particular level of influence over it and anything that dwells inside it. Quite a wise move to seal God inside that thing, don't you think? Now, perhaps you'd like to consider being an obedient ruler given that your plans of escape have failed?"
"..." a withering glare was leveled upon Ichibei, "What an odious worm you are..." the patronising tone and words the monk used caused the God's hackles to rise.
"You should save your strength," Ichibei waved a hand vaguely, dismissively, "Soon enough you'll be set upon by an opponent who wishes to consume you and your powers. I doubt you'll take kindly to such a brazen challenge to your existence –– that's the only reason I haven't cut off your arms and legs yet, your majesty. I want you to be able to fight off the 'Almighty' king of the Quincy..."
"I see, and once that is done you will dismember me?"
"Yes."
And without waiting for a reply, the monk left the God to his solitude once more; to contemplate the battles ahead, and the fate that would await him... if he refused to fight then he would be consumed, and if he fought then he would be chopped up afterward and left to languish in an eternal prison.
A scowl spread over the God's features and he bit his bottom lip until it bled, watching as the crystalline casing around him absorbed the ichor like some sort of leech.
~end (of part 3).