Chapter 169: Daily Life in Soul Society
When the calligraphy lesson ended, the Fifth Division members bowed as if waking from a pleasant dream, then filed out in orderly silence.
Aizen remained behind.
He gathered the lesson drafts he had prepared, stacked the practice sheets, and listened to the room settle into quiet. Only when the last footsteps faded did he let his gaze drift, unfocused, and allow the weight of his current situation to press down.
It was not optimistic.
After measuring his own condition against the state of Soul Society, Aizen could only sigh.
No one understood Aizen Sosuke better than Aizen Sosuke.
For all his composure, for all his perfect timing and flawless control, he had always carried a private unease that never truly left his chest.
He was, in his own judgment, a coward, someone whose talent far exceeded the strength of his heart, someone who feared his own ability to see too much and understand too quickly.
Unexpected, wasn't it?
The outside world only saw the captain who was always one step ahead, always calm, always confident, as if everything in heaven and earth were already arranged on his board.
Yet Aizen had always known the truth.
From the moment he realized he was alone in Soul Society, truly alone, no matter how many people smiled at him or praised him, the question had never stopped echoing.
What was his hope?
If a person were truly born a god, perhaps they would simply accept their excellence, refine their rationality, and use a cold, steady judgment to shape the world without caring whether anyone followed beside them.
Those who are truly strong do not need companions.
Aizen himself had said as much. Seeking reliance and recognition was the habit of the weak.
But Aizen had never believed he was truly strong.
He craved understanding with a hunger that bordered on illness. He sought recognition from Ichigo Kurosaki, from Kisuke Urahara, from anyone who might look at him and see what he saw.
And when Urahara disappointed him, it was not because Urahara aided the Spirit King system.
It was because Urahara knew, and still never spoke to him. Never tried to reach him. Never tried to understand him.
From beginning to end, Aizen had sealed himself away and then presumptuously demanded that others break through the wall for him.
Do not call him a god.
He was only an ordinary person who had been given excessive power.
It would have been better, he once thought, if he were only an ordinary Shinigami.
Better if he lacked talent.
Better if he could remain ignorant.
That had been his final answer to himself for a long time.
Of course, after witnessing Ichigo Kurosaki's growth and the reality of the Thousand Year Blood War, he had changed.
If you fear your own gifts, if you think the world should be better, then change it with your own hands.
But by the time he grasped that principle and found the courage to inherit and forge a future, the road behind him had already crumbled. Later, he considered using the existence of Hell to break the Spirit King's established system, but that was a problem for a different chapter of his life.
Then came Konoha.
Then came the merging, the overlap, the limit where two versions of Aizen Sosuke collided and became something new.
In that other world, he had succeeded. No, he had been terrifyingly successful. He overturned the table, achieved what he sought, and turned the name Aizen Sosuke into an ideal others chased.
No one had yet come close enough to truly understand him, not in the way he once longed for, but those who understood his ideals were beginning to act.
Perhaps it would not be long before many could stand on equal footing with him.
Kakashi Hatake, grown into an adult who could shoulder a world.
Orochimaru, advancing biological research into territory no one else dared to chart.
Madara Uchiha, dissolved into a network, no longer bound by flesh.
Danzo Shimura, transcending borders, operating in shadows that stretched across nations.
Seeds.
Possibilities.
Paths he had opened.
So perhaps it was not that no one could understand him.
Perhaps he had simply never been willing to show anything without hiding it behind a smile.
In Soul Society, there were too many wrongs he had committed, too many things he wanted to amend, too many truths he wanted to witness with his own eyes.
Back then, he could not understand it.
He could not even imagine such a world.
The thought returned, soft and bitter.
The Hogyoku and chakra both followed will. Both could guide ideals into form.
Perhaps the original Aizen Sosuke had always been someone like that, someone shaped by desire itself.
As the Wood Release clone continued synchronizing with the spiritual pressure and spiritual power he had absorbed, becoming more natural by the second, Aizen sat in the head seat and searched for a solution.
The Hogyoku could turn ideals into reality.
For the Aizen he used to be, the kind of man who craved change, any change, as long as the world moved, it had been a poison with no end.
He understood himself too well.
He wanted to be understood, yet refused to bow.
He wanted equality, yet could not tolerate anyone appearing more complete than himself, even if their completeness did not align with his ideals.
That contradiction had shaped every conversation he had ever had with Ichigo, with Urahara, with Yhwach, with Genryusai Yamamoto.
Being talkative did not always mean confidence.
Sometimes it meant expectation.
Unfulfilled desire.
An obsession with analyzing your own hunger until it rotted.
Aizen knew everything, and still desired.
Sensitive, delicate, morbid, full of conflict and hope.
That was Aizen Sosuke.
Only such a man could give birth to a Zanpakuto like Kyoka Suigetsu, a blade that could hypnotize everything.
He did not like this version of himself.
But it was reality.
Making peace with oneself was an agonizing process.
And by the time he understood that, it had been too late.
Ichigo understood him, but could not act due to his position.
Urahara understood him, but as a beneficiary of the Four Great Noble Houses and a pillar supporting the Spirit King system, he would not move.
Shunsui Kyoraku did not truly hate him, yet still sealed him away for the greater good.
It was a mistake he made when he was young.
And he had to admit it.
But now, it seemed he might have another chance.
Even if it was only a parallel world.
Even if his original history was already the past.
Even if he was only a replacement.
Aizen Sosuke wanted a better ending.
Soul Society should not remain forever chained to the Spirit King system.
The great nobles should not sit above Rukongai like gods.
Spiritual power could be used for growth, not merely for slaughter and suppression.
And even if spiritual power carried original sin, Aizen now held a second option.
Chakra.
Still, timing was cruel.
He arrived too late.
Not in the worst era of the Thousand Year Blood War, not in the opening of the Arrancar conflict, but at the worst possible moment for his own plans.
Just before he had personally destroyed the Central 46.
A headache.
The Central 46 still had to be dealt with. Anything rotten to the core had to be cut out. Someone had to warn them before their reckless decisions dragged Seireitei into disaster again.
Seireitei was not a toy for the Central 46.
But what came after?
Should he continue the recall of Rukia Kuchiki, execute her with the Sokyoku, and use the methods Kisuke left behind to retrieve the Hogyoku and begin that childish wish fulfillment?
Ridiculous.
Aizen was stronger now than he had ever been, even compared to the version of himself others claimed had fully evolved. But power was still only power. He still had no clear solution to the Spirit King system.
Revealing chakra and pushing the world to absorb and convert it was a path, yes.
But that would make them no different from a planet plundering tribe like the Otsutsuki clan.
And compared to chakra, which could so easily become an authority based weapon, the Spirit King's spiritual particle system almost seemed fairer.
At least the Spirit King had abandoned his duties long ago.
Chakra, on the other hand, begged to be controlled by someone higher, unless that authority was willingly relinquished.
Aizen had no intention of giving up chakra.
He still wanted it to function as a space time coordinate corrector. If a few dozen planets worth of chakra could send him to Soul Society, then what could he do later, once he reached deeper space and gathered more?
Unlike Soul Society, he possessed knowledge from another world.
Astronomical distances that dwarfed imagination.
Concepts measured in light years, in billions of light years.
Enough to dazzle even the arrogant.
And now that chakra and spirit particles stood side by side, the question sharpened.
Could there be other systems?
If so, what future waited beyond them?
The future was infinitely bright.
Only his starting point was not ideal.
The Visoreds had already taken shape. Convincing his former enemies that he no longer held hostility would be difficult.
And more importantly, Yhwach still lurked in the shadows.
Even now, how to fight omniscience and omnipotence without Still Silver remained uncertain.
Aizen had always respected fate.
If Yhwach was destined to grasp such power, Aizen believed he could survive, contend, and even surpass him.
But whether Soul Society would still exist afterward, whether the world would remain intact, that was uncertain.
And if the great war succeeded, the Hell suppressed beneath the balance of the three realms like a lid might burst open once more.
By then, changing the world would be meaningless.
It would become a simple question of how many survived.
In the end, it still seemed to require Ichigo Kurosaki.
Kisuke Urahara.
Perhaps even Ichibei Hyosube.
And yet Urahara and Ichibei were supporters of the Spirit King system.
Yhwach was a destroyer.
Silver City was not worth mentioning.
The rest of Soul Society?
Insects.
So, in the end, would he still need Ichigo's power?
Ichigo was still a high school student, newly entangled with Rukia Kuchiki, still ignorant of Soul Society's core rot.
That was exactly why now was the best time.
The orange haired boy, despite his impulsive appearance, was sharp. He always seemed stunned because the truth was absurd, not because he failed to understand it. He understood too quickly, then rejected it emotionally.
Ichigo Kurosaki was empathetic and perceptive.
With the right guidance, with the right ugliness revealed, with the right options placed in his hands, he could challenge Urahara and other supporters of the Spirit King system.
And perhaps Urahara himself was not a complete supporter.
The thought of Ichigo made fate feel almost amusing.
No matter what Aizen chose, he seemed destined to form a bond with that boy.
A child raised, from the beginning, by countless forces.
A child shaped for a stage he had not yet seen.
A quiet knock sounded.
"Captain Aizen, may I come in?"
Aizen did not answer at first.
Another knock, softer.
"Captain Aizen?"
He blinked, returning.
"Ah, I was thinking about something. Sorry, Hinamori."
Momo stood at the door, watching him with careful eyes, as if his silence itself might be an omen. Aizen adjusted his glasses and replied lightly.
"I have been investigating certain matters concerning Soul Society. I was lost in thought, that is all. You can continue, Hinamori. I am listening."
Her fingers tightened.
"Captain Aizen… I am sorry. Did you find the time spent with me boring?"
Aizen's smile warmed, practiced, effortless.
"It is alright, Hinamori. I am already happy that you invited me."
Her face brightened like dawn.
"Did I make Captain Aizen happy? That is great. Then, even if it is a little embarrassing, please listen to my troubles."
She stepped in, circling him like a lark, chattering about small matters that felt painfully innocent against the weight of the world in his mind.
"Nanao said she is troubled because Captain Kyoraku is always idle, but when I suggested having other captains keep an eye on him, Nanao seemed reluctant. I have seen this kind of thing in novels, but Nanao and Captain Kyoraku are clearly related…"
"Captain Kyoraku and Lieutenant Ise," Aizen said, voice gentle, "their trust and bond are no less than ours. It is a relationship built on mutual faith."
She giggled, cheeks warm.
"No, they are not worse than us, hehehe. I am a little embarrassed to be praised like that by Captain Aizen…"
"I am not praising you. It is simply fact," Aizen replied. "A bond like ours is rare in Soul Society's history. For example, my former captain, Shinji Hirako, who went missing, was actually quite distant from me."
He did not add the rest aloud.
That he would likely need to meet that former captain again.
The thought of facing Shinji, the temporary leader of the Visoreds, a man bound to him by ritual betrayal and blood, made Aizen's head ache.
He had no choice.
Hueco Mundo could not be his foundation. Arrancar were useless. Even Vasto Lorde Hollows, for all their power, carried their own agendas.
Try speaking to a Hollow about order or the future, and they would laugh at you.
They were devourers, the world's void made flesh.
The Spirit King separated the three realms precisely because such nothingness disrupted the cycle. Without the Spirit King's power, the world would eventually become a single enormous void.
And Hell?
Aizen would never seek cooperation with Hell. The separation of the three realms was only a delay, a lid on a crisis. A world drowned in chaos, slaughter, and madness was not what he sought either.
So the only true target for cooperation was Soul Society.
And within Soul Society, the only force he could truly link with, the only ones who could stand outside the traditional order, were the Visoreds.
The very people who hated him most.
Hueco Mundo could be used temporarily.
But the Visoreds?
Shinji would eventually return to his home and unleash his Bankai sooner or later.
Aizen could already imagine it.
The peaceful future he wanted began to feel like a mirage.
How did you make a man you had betrayed with ritual cruelty believe that you had changed, that you now truly wanted a better world?
It was a troublesome problem.
Momo tilted her head.
"Huh? Is that so? Captain Aizen and Shinji were not on good terms? This is the first time you have told me something like this."
"Ah," Aizen said softly, "I will tell you more later. Things related to Soul Society."
Her eyes sharpened with interest, and a faint awe.
"So, has the conspiracy you are investigating made progress?"
Aizen's smile did not waver.
"That conspiracy will soon come to an end."
He lifted his hand and patted her head, gentle, familiar.
"I will soon have the results of my investigation. By then, both you and I will have the future we want. I am almost there."
"Captain Aizen…"
The touch made her melt. She leaned into his palm with a smile so soft it almost hurt to look at.
More kitten than soldier, desperate for warmth.
And then two voices cut in, as if the air itself had grown uncomfortable with the intimacy.
"Ugh, cough cough cough. Hay fever is really unbearable."
A flamboyant man in a light pink kimono strolled around the corner, straw hat tilted, a thin straw hanging from his mouth. His casual posture did not match the sharpness in his eyes.
Beside him walked a girl with glasses, cheeks faintly flushed.
The man waved.
"Oh? Isn't that Aizen, and Lieutenant Hinamori too. Did you two also receive orders from the old man?"
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