Why

"Aizen!" Commander Yamamoto roared from across the expanse of the throne room. "Your end is near; suffer for what you've done to all good souls!"

As if on cue, members from all thirteen squads rushed in, yet Sosuke Aizen merely smirked, like the entire spectacle was simply cheap entertainment. Out of the shadows Arrancars rose up to defend their sworn lord, their swords clashing with the Soul Reaper's zanpakutos. Aizen gazed down at the display of swordsmanship and laughed in a mocking manner.

"Is this it, Yamamoto?" He chortled again, glancing at the elderly commander. "I give you four months, and you give me this?"

"Don't be so sure of yourself, Aizen," a voice warned from behind the throne. Aizen promptly stood up and spun around, alarmed.

"You," he stated simply, taking a precautionary step backwards as Ichigo Kurosaki detached himself from the darkness and stepped forward.

"Don't under-estimate your opponents—you might end up dead," Kurosaki warned, a hint of enjoyment gleaming in his eyes.

Sosuke Aizen, never shaken easily, shrugged his shoulders and agreed in a soft voice, "I suppose you're right, Ichigo Kurosaki. Tell me though, ever consider taking your own advice?" Ichigo blinked once, confused before suddenly sensing the spiritual presence of another behind him. He turned just in time to block attacks from both Gin Ichimaru and Kaname Tosen.

"So sad, for you to die here, simply because you never learn," Aizen ridiculed from the sidelines.

"Gin!" a female voice called out, darting into the fight.

"Ah, Rangiku, so you decided to come along and play?" Ichimaru's never-faltering grin widened as he said this. "Hope you can handle the boy on your own Tosen," he stated, as he stepped off to the side to continue his fight with Matsumoto.

"Justice will be served here, to all who deserve it," Tosen warned, thrusting his sword at Ichigo who raised his own blade in a parry.

"Don't have to tell me twice," he panted, shoving Tosen back. "You'll see justice today, along with your master's downfall!"

"Kaname!" bellowed Komamura, lunging at the blind ex-captain. "You have shamed us all, and for that you will pay!"

Ichigo watched carefully as the former friends crossed blades and made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "Is this what you want Aizen? Is this all you strive for? To bring friends against each other—turning the most trusted of companions into bitter enemies?"

Aizen simply smiled a bit as he witnessed the destruction around him. "Certainly not," he paused briefly to look Ichigo in the eye, "but it is a nice perk."

"You sick bas—!" Ichigo started to growl, but an icy voice cut him off with finality.

"Sorry Kurosaki, Aizen's mine," Toshiro Hitsugaya rumbled. Ichigo looked ready to protest, but thought better of it.

"Good luck; I have some business to settle with Grimmjow anyway," he muttered as he strode off.

"Well, well, Toshiro—or should I say Captain Hitsugaya?" Aizen commented condescendingly, while Toshiro stood firm, refusing to yield to his taunts. His icy reiatsu rapidly filled the air as he slowly drew Hyōrinmaru.

"Reign over the frosted Heavens, Hyōrinmaru!" Captain Hitsugaya shouted with such ferocity that Aizen actually took an instinctive step back.

"So be it."

Then the fight of the century—the war to end all wars—truly began.

Blood gushed from wounds and swords in nearly equal amounts; unsure of which side was pulling ahead the two sides fought even harder. An indescribable magnitude of lives lost, and the numbers only continued to grow. Brother fought the soul of lost brother, changed and twisted into something inconceivable to them—monsters in each other's eyes.

For every soul sent back into the eternal cycle, another soul gained inescapable, incurable wounds.

Although the battle lasted for hours and hours on end, to the combatants it felt like no more than a few seconds for every enemy they faced, the way blood and adrenaline flowed.

And then, before anyone comprehended the meaning of this seemingly futile battle, Aizen was on his knees and at the mercy of Captain Toshiro Hitsugaya. The Arrancars, witnessing this awesome shift of power, ceased their onslaught and waited for the outcome. Just as Hitsugaya gripped his katana, prepared to bid a not-so-fond farewell to the traitorous captain, a voice of immense authority halted him.

"Wait, Captain Hitsugaya," commanded Head Captain Yamamoto, thus staying Hitsugaya's hand—a near impossible feat at this point. "I want to see Lieutenant Momo Hinamori kill this traitor."

Toshiro's eyes finally snapped away from Aizen's ever-smug look to question the head captain. "Are you mad? I need to finish this now!" he screamed in frustration.

"Lieutenant Hinamori will prove her loyalty to the Soul Society and the Thirteen Court Guard Squads by executing this traitor with her own zanpakuto." The commander's words echoed through the shell-shocked chamber.

Uncertainly, Lieutenant Momo Hinamori stepped forward, away from her former opponent, and towards the greatest obstacle in her life so far.

Destroying every last remnant of Aizen and banishing him from her mind.

"Momo, you don't have to do this! It's not fair for him to request—!" Toshiro started to reason, but Momo just waved him off.

"No… Captain, I must do this," she explained quietly. "If I lack the courage to destroy him now, what hope will I have of cleansing my mind from his awful taint?" And although her hands shook, she raised up her zanpakuto in defiance to everything she believed in for the past four months. The room remained silent, watching breathlessly as she prepared to finish the greatest war in all of history with a single blow.

Toshiro, frozen with blank surprise, watched as the sharp edge of her blade dug itself into his shoulder.

"Momo?" he questioned, not quite sure the pain he felt truly existed.

What just happened?

"I had to erase all doubts, Toshiro," Hinamori explained gently, as if talking to a small child. "From both of our minds."

No, Momo…

Suddenly everything around him blurred and he lost focus. He forgot everything, bit by bit. Who was he talking to? Why? What had happened? His memory failed him, just like his vision, and soon he knew nothing but darkness.

Then he woke up screaming—panting, desperately clinging to anything grounded in reality.

Gradually, he calmed down and recalled the dream—no nightmare—that awoke him with such a start.

The Winter War.

The war ended months ago, though, not even a shred of paperwork left to complete from the aftermath. Finding new captains, lieutenants, everything passed many moons ago.

So why that dream now?

A dream based in only slight truth, with a very different ending to what had truly occurred. Momo hadn't killed Aizen, true—no, he had that distinct honor—but when Captain Commander wanted to see her kill him…

Wait, had Captain Commander asked Momo to do that? No, he was almost sure she hadn't even been part of the force that finished off Aizen and the Arrancar threat. She hadn't even been present, right? Or… no wait, had she been there? He couldn't remember… he couldn't…

Clutching at his white hair, he breathed deeply: in, out, in, out…

Officially they were pass the aftermath, but that didn't mean the Seireitei's warriors suffered any less at nighttime. The Squad Ten barracks housed many late-night terrors. Next door he heard Rangiku sobbing softly, a common ailment, sadly. These wounds took longer to heal, and Unohana carried no easy cure.

Gazing out his window at the star-lit sky, he wondered who else suffered under the night's moon.

Why?