She was there, in front of him, as always, her dark green eyes staring at him. Her eyes were empty; glass-like, as though she was just a porcelain doll. No emotions were showed on her face, nothing. Her gaze was blank. As if there was no mind, no emotions in her, she was as tough she was empty. She opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

A strong gust of wind hit him – it was coming.

There it is, standing behind her. Its big form casting a huge shadow over her tiny frame. But she just continued to stand there, looking somewhere far away.

This was the moment at which Aizen should have broken; he should have called her, shouted at her, yelled at her to run away. But not this time. He had seen this dream far too many times; he knew that nothing would change so he just continued to watch.

The shadow grows something akin to a claw from its body. It slowly places his claw on the girls forehead and drags it down circling her eyes, nose, lips on its way before it stopping on her throat.

Small red lines are left by the claw. Thin streaks of blood run down the girls face and fall down to the golden sands beneath her.

The shadow took the claw away from her throat. Blood quickly flowed down to the sand, painting it crimson.

Another strong, burning gust of wind hit his face, but Aizen stayed still despite the burning sensation in his eyes and heavy feeling in his lungs.

The shadow lifted its claw, took a swing and ripped the girls' throat open. Blood gushed down onto the sand.

The shadow disappeared, the wind went away, and everything looked the same again. The endless wasteland looked as if nothing had happened seconds before. Only the crimson sand and the girl lying on it remained. She gasped and whimpered as blood rushed through her hands from the wound and disappeared on the sand. “The one who hides behind lies and masks has already lost all of his battles,” she hissed as she died.

The minute the last word escaped her mouth, he woke up.

She was dead; there was no way around it. She has been dead for over 200 years and yet she still managed to get inside his head, reading him like an open book, shattering his sanity, questioning things that should not be questioned.

And sometimes Aizen could not help but ask himself if she had really died. Perhaps she had never existed in the first place and this was all his sword's doing, a twisted game that Kyōka Suigetsu played with him as easily as she did with others.

He closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep. This dream would not bother him again for a year but the words would not leave him alone for a while.