Chapter 178: Ichigo Kurosaki
In Aizen Sosuke's eyes, Hirako Shinji's reaction had been the most predictable outcome of all.
After all, Shinji had been personally harmed by him. Hatred like that did not require debate, it required only a target. People like Isshin and Kisuke were the true minority.
Isshin was complicated in a way that was almost comical. His stance toward Aizen, and toward the Quincy, wavered by nature, and even when something was pointed out to him, he rarely knew how to shape it into clear words. It was not that he had no thoughts, it was that he lacked the habit, and sometimes even the ability, to express them.
Kisuke, on the other hand, was simply too intelligent.
Too sharp.
He understood what the compass represented with a single glance. Compared to the significance of that object, arguing over whether Aizen was the Aizen of this world was almost meaningless.
If your mortal enemy suddenly claimed to have retired into peaceful seclusion, did that make him a different person to you?
What a joke.
That was your enemy.
If you still remembered what he had done, if you were still certain of the blood and the pain, then there was nothing to discuss. All that remained was to wait for the next strike, or deliver it first.
Besides, the connection between the two Aizens was close enough to be called terrifying. Their spiritual pressure could be absorbed into each other without rejection. They did not fully fuse, but the lack of repulsion was proof enough that, in essence, they were the same existence wearing different layers.
Shinji understood that clearly.
Aizen was Aizen.
It did not matter what mask he wore, what tone he used, what abilities he displayed, or what evidence he offered. As long as he was Sosuke Aizen, he was the enemy.
For Shinji, the world did not need to be explained. It needed only one ending.
Send Aizen to hell.
Yoruichi hesitated because Aizen had never been her personal enemy in the same way. Her departure from Seireitei had been for friendship, a decision suspicious in its own right, and she had left alongside Kisuke.
That distance, that indirectness, made it easier to be shaken. So she chose the simplest method.
If you are unsure whether someone is misleading your friend, ask the people he has already destroyed.
That was why she sought Shinji to make the final judgment. It was not a matter of ideology or logic. It was the crude, practical truth of distrust.
The more peripheral someone was, the more easily they were influenced by outside forces. Kisuke had no reason to attack Aizen after seeing a possibility that could shake the Soul King system. Even if he wanted to, the first step would be understanding chakra itself.
The compass Aizen left behind was, at best, a catalyst. Proof. A result generator. It demonstrated conversion, but the method of refining chakra, cultivating it, and using it was still a black box.
Curiosity came first.
Only then could negotiation become normal.
Aizen was not in a hurry.
He had time, more than enough time.
As long as he did nothing to Ichigo Kurosaki, and did nothing else that disrupted the established flow, Seireitei would likely remain stable until the Thousand Year Blood War.
After all, the chain of events that followed Rukia's loss of power, the conflicts in the human world, the war in Soul Society, Hueco Mundo, Karakura Town, even the final stripping of Ichigo's Shinigami power, all of it had been designed and set in motion by Aizen himself.
If he had never wanted it, he could have lived quietly for a very long time.
Even the deployment and control of Hollows had been handled personally. Special Hollows, unique abilities, carefully placed encounters, every push and pull around Ichigo's life had been part of an operation.
So now, beyond testing Kisuke, he had another task.
Ichigo Kurosaki.
He needed to see him.
He needed to speak to him about Soul Society, about Seireitei, about the rules that governed the dead.
Ichigo was intelligent, and he was sentimental. Right now he might protect Rukia, but he had no deep loyalty to other Shinigami, and no true attachment to Seireitei. He was ignorant of Rukongai, ignorant of the ugliness behind the polished words.
A blank page.
And blank pages were perfect for color.
What would happen if someone raised in modern education, someone not trained to accept the Soul King system or the balance of the three realms as sacred, faced those truths with nothing but emotion and practicality?
Could a person like Ichigo, academic, empathetic, stubbornly human, really look at Rukongai's suffering and remain silent?
Before, the problem could be ignored because the system was unchangeable. Empathy could not alter inevitability.
But now there was chakra.
Now there was a second option.
So what would Ichigo do?
Finding him was easy.
The idea that artificial bodies and clever concealment could truly hinder investigation was, at its core, an illusion people comforted themselves with. Yes, Kisuke's special gigai could block detection. Yes, the spirit pill could keep a body active enough to avoid suspicion.
But Ichigo was still a high school student.
He could not simply vanish.
His grades were good. He was responsible in ways he did not even realize. A model delinquent still went to school. He still walked the same route. He did not do anything strange before class or after.
So the answer was simple.
Wait at the school gate.
Aizen stood calmly outside Karakura Town First High School as the afternoon crowd spilled out. Whispering rose immediately, carried by passing girls and onlookers.
He looked approachable, almost harmless. His eyes were gentle. His features were soft. Tall, yes, but not intimidating. The glasses dulled the edge of his presence and made him seem calmer, like an uncle waiting for a child, not a suspicious man lingering at a school entrance.
Even the school officer only glanced at him, then looked away.
In the shifting crowd, Ichigo's group stood out instantly.
A cluster of attractive students always did. Even if they were unaware of it, the people around them unconsciously made space, letting them drift through the crowd like the center of a small world.
"Your training's been terrible lately, Ichigo," Ishida said, voice sharp. "Just like Urahara told you, you need more practice."
"The guy with the hat and clogs is always suspicious," Ichigo grumbled, rubbing the back of his head. "But lately it's been weird. It's been too peaceful. I feel like I'm not improving at all."
"This can't continue," Ishida said. "We need special training."
"Special training?" Ichigo snapped. "You mean you yell from the sidelines while I get tossed around?"
Rukia scoffed, chin lifted. "What a pity. I wanted to fight alongside you too. But someone drained my power completely. Since you took it, you should use it properly, you strawberry idiot."
Ichigo's eye twitched. "Huh? You flat chested monster, do you even know what manners are?"
Orihime smiled nervously, hands clasped. "Everyone's so energetic. I want to be like Kurosaki kun too."
It was the kind of scene that could pass for a youth romance drama if you did not know better.
The sharp best friend Ishida Uryu.
The bickering pair Ichigo and Rukia.
The quiet presence of Chad.
Tatsuki's steady familiarity.
Orihime, protected without anyone admitting it.
At the center, Ichigo himself was not thinking about romance at all. He was thinking about Rukia regaining her power. He was thinking about guiding souls, about helping Hollows that ordinary people could not even see, about sending them onward so they could reach Soul Society and find peace.
At least, that was how Rukia described it.
Soul Society was where happiness waited.
Those guided, those cut down by a Zanpakuto, returned to the cycle. They went where they belonged. That was the law of this world.
Shinigami were the essential gears of the machine. Without them, the cycle would collapse. The world would break.
Ichigo felt the weight of that explanation pressing down on his shoulders.
He felt responsibility.
He felt identity.
After seeing Orihime's brother, after witnessing Orihime's grief and the cruel separations that followed death, he wanted to become stronger. He wanted to help more people escape suffering.
At the very least, he did not want anyone to become a Hollow.
But lately, he could feel it.
His growth had stalled.
It was not that training did nothing, it was that the sense of crisis had faded. Hollows felt fewer. The danger felt distant. The fights no longer carried the same burning pressure of life and death.
Low level Hollows had begun to feel like routine.
A job.
And in that slow numbness, Ichigo began to suspect something.
Not dissatisfaction, but a quiet unease.
This cycle felt familiar, and something about it felt wrong.
Like the calm before a storm. Oppressive, heavy, yet impossible to locate.
He was still caught in that thought when a gentle voice interrupted them.
"Good afternoon, everyone."
The group froze.
The man before them stood in sunlight with a warm smile, looking like he belonged there. Not threatening. Not aggressive. Almost… ordinary.
"Who are you?" Ichigo asked, cautious.
They had not yet experienced Soul Society's war. Their knowledge was shallow. A stranger appearing did not immediately trigger fear.
And Aizen looked more like a distant relative than an enemy.
Yet the moment Ichigo looked at him, a strange sense of closeness rose in his chest.
Familiarity.
Not the casual familiarity of seeing someone in town, but something deeper, like a half remembered dream.
Is he someone Dad knows?
It did not feel like a distant uncle. It was stranger than that.
Ichigo frowned, trying to place the feeling, thinking of his ridiculous father who liked to ambush him at home like it was a sport.
But before he could dig further, Rukia moved.
The fearless, loud mouthed girl who had been arguing seconds ago snapped into rigid posture. Sweat immediately beaded at her brow. She bowed deeply, so formally it looked practiced.
"Captain Aizen, I'm so sorry I haven't paid my respects in so long."
Ichigo's eyes widened.
Everyone's eyes widened.
Rukia was not the type to fawn over anyone. She was stubborn, arrogant, loud. She could be reckless, but she did not grovel.
Yet now she looked terrified.
Aizen raised a hand gently. "It's fine. I didn't come to arrest you. I'm only on a temporary assignment, and I trust you, Rukia. You won't disappoint everyone, will you?"
"Yes," Rukia answered instantly.
Ichigo's instincts screamed.
That flat chested monster was not even this panicked when facing a Hollow.
Who is he?
It was not jealousy. It was the wrongness of it. The way someone he treated as an equal suddenly became painfully small before another person.
His friends were equally unsettled. Even knowing Rukia was a Shinigami, even knowing there were ranks and rules, watching her bow like that felt too much.
Obsequious.
Ingratiating.
The kind of behavior modern teenagers instinctively rejected.
And then Rukia made it worse.
She grabbed Ichigo's sleeve with sudden urgency, trying to force him down.
"Idiot, bow too. This is Captain Sosuke Aizen, commander of the Fifth Division of the Gotei Thirteen."
Ichigo stiffened, and before he could protest, Aizen waved again.
"Relax. I don't particularly like formalities."
He spoke gently, almost kindly, and it only made the situation more unsettling.
"Besides, I am also under punishment right now. I've been demoted to communication and care duties. In a way, my position is similar to yours. I may even need your guidance, as someone who has lived in the human world longer."
Rukia's face went pale. "How could that be? How could Captain Aizen be a criminal?"
Aizen sighed softly, expression turning faintly somber. "That's how it is with nobles and the Forty Six Chambers. Even if I dislike their rules, I still have to bear them."
Then his gaze shifted to Ichigo, warm and interested, like a teacher noticing a promising student.
"This is Kurosaki Ichigo, and these must be your companions. I've heard of you through another channel, but my understanding might be incomplete."
He smiled.
"If you're willing, how about we talk? I'm curious about how the human world and Soul Society differ now. After all, Seireitei has not changed for a thousand years."
Ichigo hesitated, that strange familiarity still lingering in his chest.
Then he nodded.
"…Yeah. I'd like to talk too."
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