Chapter 173: Wooden Clogs and Hats
In a sense, this was the ultimate insult.
In Aizen's eyes, they were not his equals. They were not even truly people. And the most frightening part was how naturally that thought flowed from him, as though the world had always been arranged that way.
For Sosuke Aizen, everything under the sky seemed destined to move at his fingertips from the very beginning. Status, birth, bonds, ideals, even hatred, all of it could be reduced to tools. Everyone, without exception, could be picked up, set down, and used whenever he wished.
No one would ever stand above him. Even knowing the Soul King was already a silent corpse, Aizen still refused to accept the idea of anyone placing a foot on his head. That stubborn arrogance fit every rumor, every fear, every definition others had ever attached to him.
To those who lived ordinary lives, or more accurately, to those who had suffered under him, Aizen was a conspirator from start to finish. He did not share common ethics. He did not respect the seniority and hierarchy that Seireitei treated as law. All that existed around the name Sosuke Aizen was absolute violence, and absolute obedience.
Those former captains, acquaintances, and people who once called him brother, in the end, were all pawns. Experimental subjects. Props used to imitate a life inside Seireitei. That was Kurosaki Isshin's conclusion, and it matched the bitter words of their old companions. Even if it was only one man's perspective, it still revealed the cold cruelty sitting behind that gentle smile.
Aizen did not see others as his kind. He did not see death as a partner. There were only subjects he could use, and subjects he could not. Nothing more.
"…You really are high and mighty," Isshin said, his voice low, rough with fury. "Talking like you're handing out scraps. Do you have any concept of manners at all?"
"I believe I have been very polite, former Captain Shiba Isshin."
At the entrance of the small park, Aizen adjusted his glasses and offered Isshin a calm, gentle smile. Isshin sat stiffly on a bench, his eyes locked on him like a blade.
"The weak obey the strong, soldiers obey their captain, the powerless obey the powerful," Aizen said, voice smooth as water. "Seireitei has operated by this rule for countless years. Just as, to preserve balance across the three realms, some in Rukongai must die, this is simply a normal judgment."
His smile did not change.
"When you deal with the people of Rukongai, you do not explain yourself to them, do you? Then I will not explain myself either. They are targets to be handled. Necessary actions for the sake of a stable world. So the Hollowfication and experiments are, in my view, no different in weight from the deaths in Rukongai."
Isshin's fingers tightened.
"If the deaths of commoners in Rukongai are for balance," Aizen continued, "then the sacrifices of Hirako Shinji and the others were for the future. In a way, I was efficient. I obtained results without sacrificing too much."
"…You really have gone mad, Sosuke Aizen."
Isshin's voice shook, restrained only by the fact that he could not draw a blade. "How dare you compare maintaining the cycle of the world with murdering your own comrades."
"So you believe some lives are inherently superior to others." Aizen's tone softened, almost curious. "Interesting. Why does it enrage you when I choose to sacrifice others, or even you, yet you accept sacrifices made by the system as though they are natural? That is a fatal flaw, is it not?"
"Wandering spirits and Hollows are part of this world," Isshin snapped. "This is for the cycle. Do you understand?"
"And is not the transformation between Shinigami and Hollows precisely an attempt to break that cycle?" Aizen asked. "Why are you dissatisfied with me? I truly do not understand."
Isshin's jaw clenched hard enough to creak.
Aizen's expression grew gentler still, as though he were comforting a child throwing a tantrum.
"Just as clearing an enemy in war is not a crime, but a natural decision," he said, "I have always believed there should be no true conflict between you and me, former Captain Kurosaki. Rather, from the perspective of Seireitei, you are the one stained with guilt, are you not? For joining with a Quincy."
Isshin's eyes widened slightly.
"You abandoned your duties as a Shinigami for the sake of a Quincy's life," Aizen continued, voice still mild. "You caused turmoil in Seireitei. The head of the Shiba family vanished, leaving Kaien and the others without support. In the end, was it not your choice that lit that fuse? If there is a major crime to be discussed, perhaps the blame does not lie with me."
The words kept coming, slow and precise, pressed into Isshin's chest like nails.
"What shook the five noble families was never the disappearance of a few captains, nor experiments in shadows. It was the escape of you, a noble, and Yoruichi Shihouin, another noble leader. You know best how much unrest Room 46 felt, how many Shinigami were handled internally, how many exchanges of interest were made to seal the cracks."
"…!"
Under the last red of the setting sun, Isshin's fists clenched, trembling with the urge to strike.
But he also understood the cruelty of the truth buried inside those words. He had committed a grave sin in the eyes of Seireitei. He had found the last remaining Quincy and never reported it. He had abandoned his position as a noble and the Tenth Division for one woman. If Room 46 ever dragged him into a proper trial, they would gladly throw him into the Abyss.
And because of him, the Shiba family's last thread of hope had been strangled. Even if Kukaku and the others said nothing, even if they had long since moved into Rukongai, Isshin could not pretend that guilt did not exist.
For Seireitei, his crime was heavier than Aizen's secret experiments.
Aizen did not stop.
His voice expanded, widening its net, as though it meant to smash Isshin's hatred, grind it down, and leave nothing but emptiness.
"If blaming everything on me makes you feel better, then do so," Aizen said. "But why do you think I schemed against the heads of the Shihouin and Shiba families to such an extent? Do you believe it was casual?"
"Yoruichi Shihouin, Kisuke Urahara, and Shiba Isshin," he continued, naming them one by one, "head of the Shihouin, first director of the Research and Development Bureau, head of the Shiba. You had connections with the Royal Guard, and you held the means to reach the Soul King Palace. You should have been untouchable in Soul Society. So why were you framed so easily? You know the reasons better than I do."
Isshin's breathing grew heavy.
"Who truly shirked responsibility?" Aizen asked softly. "Was it me, or Room 46? You grew tired of noble games, so you refused to keep playing. You chose to escape reality. For love, for friendship, for family. You allowed yourself to be driven out when you should not have been able to fail. I did nothing unusual. I simply acted within the world's rules."
His gaze did not waver.
"Captain Kurotsuchi can turn Shinigami into human bombs. What do the Shinigami who explode think in their final moment? What do their families think? Are you angry because I did something wrong, or because what I did clashes with your position?"
"…Did you come here just to disgust me?"
Isshin took a long breath, stood up, and faced Aizen head on. His expression steadied, carved into something iron.
"I don't care about the past," he said. "I don't care about what happened before. All I care about now is Ichigo and my family. I would do anything for them. Your presence threatens their survival, that's all. Are you satisfied with that?"
"That is truly interesting," Aizen replied, unshaken. "Because as far as I remember, I have never harmed Ichigo Kurosaki. On the contrary, I am the one who most wants him to grow."
"You bastard…"
"Oh my," a voice cut in, light and flippant, carrying laughter. "Such an unexpected figure, appearing in such an unexpected place."
This old children's park, broken down and rarely visited, felt far too lively today. And at some point, a new presence had stepped into the entrance without a sound.
A man in a tall green and white striped hat walked in, wooden clogs clicking faintly. He wore a green kimono, leaned on a cane, and looked like someone who had strolled out of an Edo era playhouse. Blond hair spilled from beneath the brim. He flicked open a folding fan, covered his mouth, and let out a teasing sound.
"Isn't this our Fifth Division Captain Sosuke Aizen?" Kisuke Urahara said. "Couldn't bear your loneliness, so you came to the human world? I hate to disappoint you, but there may not be anything here that you want. For everyone's safety, I suggest you do not make any rash moves. If we start fighting here, you will probably be the one who suffers most."
Meow.
A soft cry came from the bushes. A pure black cat stepped out, pale yellow eyes fixed on Aizen in the center of the park.
Urahara Kisuke, the former head of the Technology Development Bureau, one of the designated top tier combatants, with methods that seemed endless.
And Yoruichi Shihouin, master of the highest assassination techniques, with explosive power that could overwhelm most captains.
Even with artificial bodies, the balance in a two on one was obvious. Add Isshin, who could release his clan's secret techniques at any moment, and the three of them theoretically had the power to kill the Aizen standing here.
Yet under the blood red sunset, Urahara did not move. He only lifted the brim of his hat slightly, eyes cold beneath the shadow.
"What exactly do you want from us?"
"No," Aizen said, and smiled as though this were a polite visit between neighbors. "I came to say hello, and to check on how Ichigo Kurosaki is doing."
He looked at the three of them without the slightest fear.
"But it seems he is doing fine. After all, he is growing under the care of three former captains. There should be no life threatening danger, correct?"
"…Second question," Urahara said, tone still calm. "How did you come to this world?"
"Should you not know that very well, Captain Urahara?" Aizen replied smoothly. "I arrived through the Senkaimon. It was my duty."
Urahara went quiet for a moment, as if weighing something that did not fit his hands.
Then he spoke again, slower.
"One last question. Answer properly."
The man in wooden clogs and a striped hat stared at Aizen, eyes sharp as glass.
"Are you really Sosuke Aizen?"
Aizen did not answer.
He simply stood there, smiling.
Isshin froze, then looked at Urahara with disbelief. "What? He's not Aizen?"
"Ah," Urahara said, and sighed lightly. "That is the strange part. From my perspective, the way this Sosuke Aizen behaves is completely different from the Sosuke Aizen we know."
He walked closer, studying Aizen up and down.
"Both appear polite, but the essence is different. Just now, he was not mocking you. He was seriously asking you about the difference between the two."
Urahara's fan lowered slightly.
"From my perspective, the people closest to me matter more. But Captain Shiba, you probably cannot answer that in detail. So it is strange that Sosuke Aizen, who always radiates arrogant certainty, would ask such a thing. He would not."
"Aizen does not care about anyone," Urahara continued. "That question would never leave his mouth. Creating the Hogyoku, hurting others, it is as natural to him as breathing. Would you ask someone if they can breathe because you cannot? Of course not."
His gaze sharpened.
"Most importantly, Aizen would never ask for our opinions. So who are you?"
"…The person who knows you best is often your enemy," Aizen said softly. "Why would you think that?"
He pushed up his glasses and met Urahara's eyes.
"I do not believe there is anything wrong with my performance. It is precisely because I treat all life equally that I can raise these questions. It is precisely because I feel the same toward everyone that I ask for other opinions. Is that not so?"
"Anyone who knows even a little about Aizen," Urahara replied, voice flat, "or anyone who has ever been fooled by him, will realize quickly that something is wrong with you, sir who calls himself Aizen."
He sighed again.
"Discussion. Approval. Other people's lives. When has Aizen ever sought opinions? He acts, then displays results. He does everything first and explains afterward. That is how he has always been."
"As long as he believes it benefits him, Aizen does it."
Urahara's hand dipped into his pocket. He tossed a small, exquisite pill into the air, and a detailed image projected out.
Aizen Sousuke, wrapped in monitoring devices and bandages, sealed like a prisoner, hovered in the sky. Calmly, dutifully, he dealt with Hollows that had crossed the line.
His spiritual pressure, his power, his very concept, all of it was undeniably Sosuke Aizen.
In Soul Society, spiritual pressure was identity itself. And in the minds of those who lived by spirit particles, the notion of completely transforming one person's spiritual pressure into another's was unthinkable.
That Aizen in the sky was too perfect.
And the Aizen in the park was too peaceful.
The reason this person was not Aizen was simple.
He looked far too much like Aizen.
"That is why," Urahara said, lifting the brim of his hat, eyes cold beneath it, "I will ask again."
"So who exactly are you, this gentleman who calls himself Sosuke Aizen?"
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