Chapter 77: Indiscriminate Trial
If one wished to experiment with indigo dyeing, there had to be rules.
This time, the illusionary epidemic exhibited a clear symptom—it was tied to the moonlight. As strange as it seemed, only under the light of the moon could one enter that beautiful dream.
Aizen focused precisely on this characteristic. Around his room, he placed several chakra-display devices. All known chakra signal frequencies in the area had been recorded a month prior. After confirming there were no new sources of chakra, he began his environmental testing.
The reason for conducting this experiment in a common setting was to recreate the living conditions of an ordinary civilian. As Aizen himself stated, among all the high-ranking members of Konoha who were willing to sacrifice themselves, there was no one more suitable than him. He was the only one who lived in modest quarters, never improving his lifestyle even after becoming an acting Hokage advisor—always on the move, always restless.
Judging by the readings, his home was indistinguishable from that of a common villager. Plain, quiet, and unremarkable—just like the lives of those who had lost hope.
"If I fail to wake up," Aizen said, his tone steady, "then overturn all your conclusions. This phenomenon must be the work of someone manipulating events from the shadows. And if I awaken but act strangely—if I begin to reconcile with the clans or behave hypocritically—it means this illusion has the ability to control its victims."
"This isn't just a political trap," he continued, "but also an opportunity. Only when there is no retreat—only when our true intent is exposed—can Konoha advance and sustain change. Whoever created this disease, I'll face it head-on. I'll use my power and conviction to break it. Even if I fail, my death will ensure Konoha moves forward."
"So, no matter what happens, I will see my ideals through to the end. Do you understand, Minato-kun? This is our final chance. The ninja world has no time left. We either move forward—or we perish."
"Brother Aizen…"
Looking at Aizen Sosuke, who calmly spread his quilt and prepared himself, countless emotions churned within Namikaze Minato's heart. But in the end, all that turmoil quieted when Aizen spoke again.
"Light the incense."
With trembling hands, Minato lit the incense stick and placed it beneath the moonlight. Aizen nodded at him gently, then closed his eyes.
It was like sinking into still water. A soft, enveloping sensation—like a mother's embrace—rose from every direction. As it faded, Aizen slowly opened his eyes.
Then, he saw them.
"…What is it, Aizen? You startled me. I thought Mako came to drag us into another one of his music sessions."
"Hmm?"
Aizen blinked, confused. He found himself in an elegant Japanese-style courtyard. Several people wearing black robes stood around, chatting leisurely. Some wore haori, others didn't.
A young man with bright orange hair turned, surprised by Aizen's presence. But his shock quickly melted into a radiant smile as he approached and extended his hand.
"Hey, Aizen! Come on, let's head to the real world! My son can't stop talking about you!"
"…Alright."
"What's wrong? You look strange."
"Why do you think that?"
"Huh? Do I need a reason?"
Walking ahead along the sunlit corridor leading outside, the orange-haired man—taller now, his posture confident and sure—laughed lightly.
"We understand each other, right? If you're upset, I'd notice. Ah—still feeling guilty about what happened back then? You should talk to Hinamori Momo. She doesn't blame you anymore. Besides, you didn't kill anyone, did you?"
Bathed in sunlight, the young man with hair like the sun smiled warmly at Aizen, his eyes filled with sincerity.
"Whether you're a Hollow, a Shinigami, or a soul from the outer districts, you didn't do anything unforgivable. You just wanted to make the Seireitei a better place, didn't you? That's fine! I understand you. So it's okay—just keep moving forward."
"I didn't even kill anyone in the outer districts…"
Aizen's voice was quiet.
It seemed that his ideals had never truly changed.
He only wanted to be an ordinary Shinigami—to live peacefully. More than anything, he wanted a friend who understood him.
Watching the familiar figures before him—dressed in black uniforms and white haori, laughing together as if decades had never passed—Aizen pushed his glasses, his reflection flickering faintly.
This is my trial.
If he wasn't tested himself, how could it be called a trial at all?
Aizen Sosuke was not a god.
He was not the creator of the world.
He was simply—an ordinary man.
Isn't it only natural for humans to overcome the trials they themselves have created?
If one seeks to master humanity without first confronting its flaws, how can one claim superiority over all others?
Aizen despised those who spoke boldly about conquering disasters yet hid in the shadows, unwilling to face the consequences of their own creations. If one truly believes in their own strength, in their own courage, and in the truth of their theories—then they must prove it through action, just like the scientists of the modern world.
He was no longer the Aizen Sosuke shackled by hatred and history within the Seireitei. This was Aizen after the convergence of three memories—complete in awareness, action, and thought.
If anyone in this world deserved to face the first trial, it was him.
After all, a creator who cannot comprehend the potential and balance of their own creation is unworthy of the title.
Now, walking behind his most perfect creation, watching the being he had once shaped live joyfully in a world of peace, Aizen finally understood the truth within his heart.
"But even after all these years in the Seireitei, I've never felt regret or emptiness. It's a happiness like a dream! This is all thanks to you, Aizen. Thank you for everything you've done. And really, you don't have to say anything sentimental—Yiyong is still waiting for you as his adoptive father."
"Is that so… it really does feel like a dream."
"Come to think of it, it's been ages since I last saw you, Aizen. What have you been doing lately? I heard from the Twelfth Division that you were working on something incredible. Is that true?"
"Ah. I'm simply helping everyone find the courage to face the world."
Following behind Kurosaki Ichigo, Aizen walked toward the grand sliding door that led to the world beyond. Adjusting his glasses slightly, he spoke softly:
"There's no reason to feel joy from false happiness, nor to fear genuine fear. All I wish to do is fill people with courage—enough to take one more step forward."
Ichigo smiled, scratching his head. "I don't really get it, but if it feels right, then it's fine!"
"Thank you, Kurosaki Ichigo. You are my most perfect creation… and the only one who can truly understand me."
"Still saying weird things, huh? You're the same as ever, Aizen—talking about stuff nobody else understands."
"No," Aizen replied with a faint smile. "I'm simply expressing gratitude. Every person is unique, unable to fully connect with another. That's the nature of being human. But only when one dares to step beyond illusion and face the real world can they grasp what truly matters."
"So what now?"
"It's time for the dream to end."
Aizen's calm eyes met the bright, sunlit smile of the man before him. Then, he removed his glasses and brushed his hair back, his expression serene.
When he opened his eyes again, the familiar faces were gone. The laughter had faded. Only faint, azure smoke lingered in the air, swirling gently around him.
The chakra readings glimmered like sparks in his vision. Under the pale glow of the moon, the threads of chakra coiled around his pillow and head—linking to the moon above, as if answering a silent call.
"Just as I thought… the signal is confirmed."
The moon.
Raising his head, Aizen gazed at the celestial sphere, its soft blue light cascading across the tatami.
"I understand now, Minato-kun. I know how to resolve this. Return to your post and wait for my report. If all goes well, tomorrow's announcement will require your protection."
Slowly sitting up, Aizen turned toward the doorway where Minato waited, stunned.
"Oh, and one more thing, Minato-kun," Aizen said calmly. "Pay close attention to those in the village who wear white haori like mine."
"If one wishes to kill, the swiftest strike always comes from behind. Should any among them decide to betray the village, they would act faster than anyone else."
He paused briefly, his gaze sharpening.
"Also, based on the information I gathered within the dream and what I've observed here, I suspect this mysterious epidemic is connected to certain families within Konoha. Do not act rashly—leave it to me."
Minato, half-kneeling by the door, froze in disbelief.
Aizen's expression softened once more as he turned back to his desk.
"Minato," he said quietly, "I'm entrusting everything to you. Become the greatest shinobi Konoha has ever known—just as you once promised."
His brush moved gracefully over the parchment as moonlight spilled across the room.
"I'll bring this to an end tomorrow."
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