In Rukongai, poverty didn't always start with the sound of an empty stomach.

Sometimes it started with silence.

With waking up in the morning and realizing that the last piece of food you had last night was truly the last piece. With staring into an empty bowl that still carried the faint scent of yesterday's rice. With counting money you didn't have. With watching a neighborhood a few streets away where the houses had intact roofs and the children wore shoes.

And sometimes, it started with a simple thought:

"Life is better over there."

{{user}} had lived with that thought for years.

They didn't have grand dreams. They never planned to become a hero of Seireitei. Since childhood, they only wanted one thing—to live somewhere they didn't have to work until nightfall just for a single bowl of food.

Rukongai was vast. So vast that some people spent their entire lives in one district and never once set foot in the more prosperous areas.

The higher the district number, the harder life became.

And somewhere beyond that distance lay Seireitei.

Where the Shinigami lived.

Where {{user}} had only heard about from afar.

They said that if you became a Shinigami, you no longer had to live like an ordinary soul.

They said there was food.

A home.

Security.

And most importantly, if you truly had talent, you could enter the Shin'ō Academy.

That was enough for {{user}} to sometimes, while working, stop counting the hours and instead think about a future that might not even exist.

But one day, their body told them something no one else had ever told them before.

It was cold that day.

{{user}} hadn't eaten since morning.

Not because food wasn't available—

But because they had no money to buy it.

Noon passed. Afternoon was fading. When they walked past a food stall, the smell of hot soup was so strong that they stopped for a few moments.

The vendor was busy talking to a customer.

Steam rose from the pot.

{{user}} just watched.

Then quietly walked away.

They hadn't taken more than a few steps when their knees suddenly gave way.

They grabbed the wall.

Their breathing quickened.

"Damn it..."

They barely heard their own voice.

Their empty stomach ached, but this pain was different from before.

A strange pressure had gathered in their chest.

Like something that had been sleeping inside them for years and was only now realizing it needed to wake up.

{{user}} placed a hand over their chest.

Their heart was pounding.

Then suddenly—

The smell of soup changed.

Not really.

Just for a moment, they felt something far deeper than the scent of food.

The spiritual pressure around them.

The sound of people's footsteps.

Their presence.

Their numbers.

Even their distance.

Their eyes widened.

"What the hell is this...?"

They took their hand off the wall.

The dizziness was still there, but that strange pressure inside their body was now more distinct.

A few steps away, an old man sat on the ground.

Without knowing why, {{user}} could feel his spiritual presence.

Not with their eyes.

Something like a very faint pressure.

Then they realized their own presence was... different too.

That same night, something strange happened.

A Hollow had come near the neighborhood.

Screams rose from the end of the street.

People ran.

{{user}} ran too.

But then they stopped.

They had felt something.

Something others couldn't.

They turned their head.

"It's there..."

A few moments later, the sound of a wall breaking came.

A white, terrifying creature emerged from the building.

{{user}} didn't know what a Hollow was.

They only knew that creature was dangerous.

Very dangerous.

And something inside them was telling them to run.

But before they could move, a black shadow dropped from above the wall.

A sword.

Black robes.

A Shinigami.

The battle lasted no more than a few seconds.

The blade cut through the Hollow.

The creature vanished.

And it was over.

The Shinigami glanced around briefly and left.

{{user}} was still standing there.

Their heart was pounding.

But this time, not from fear.

They were thinking about what that Shinigami had done—without hesitation.

"Shinigami..."

That night, for the first time, they made a decision.

If they really could...

If they really had Reiatsu...

They wanted to enter the Academy.

Not to become a hero.

Not for glory.

Just so they wouldn't have to spend their entire life in the same place they were born.

So that maybe one day, they could go somewhere where life was a little less like a struggle.

The entrance exam wasn't easy.

In fact, almost nothing about the Shin'ō Academy was easy.

{{user}} quickly learned that "having relatively high Reiatsu" was a long way from "becoming a Shinigami."

Kidō.

Zanjutsu.

Hakuda.

Hohō.

History.

Regulations.

Reiatsu control.

Dozens of things they had to learn.

Some students came from well-known families.

Some from better districts of Rukongai.

Some even knew from the start what they wanted.

{{user}} only knew one thing—they didn't want to go back to their old life.

That was enough.

Months passed.

Then years.

{{user}} slowly learned to control that strange pressure inside their body.

They had decent talent in swordsmanship.

Average in Shunpo.

Not bad in Hakuda.

But what caught the most attention was their Reiatsu.

Not because of its quantity.

Because of its quality.

Sometimes {{user}}'s Reiatsu behaved in ways that the instructors couldn't easily explain.

Once during Kidō practice, the energy inside {{user}} shifted for a few seconds.

The instructor just frowned.

"Again."

{{user}} repeated it.

Nothing happened.

"How strange..."

"What's strange?"

"Nothing. Continue."

That matter was forgotten.

Or at least, {{user}} thought it was forgotten.

After graduation, when the division assignments were announced, {{user}}'s heart trembled with joy for the first time.

Fifth Division.

The Gotei 13.

Under Captain Sōsuke Aizen.

{{user}} had only seen Aizen from a distance back then.

A calm captain.

Polite.

With thin glasses and neatly combed hair.

Someone who, unlike some captains, didn't need to raise his voice to impress others.

On the first day in the Fifth Division, {{user}} realized their impression of a captain wasn't wrong.

Aizen stood in the courtyard, speaking with a few division members.

A gentle smile was on his face.

When {{user}} approached, Aizen looked at them.

Not long.

Not long enough to seem strange.

Just a brief, precise glance.

"Are you the new member?"

{{user}} stood straight.

"Yes, Captain Aizen."

"Welcome."

His voice was calm.

"I hope you don't feel out of place here."

"Thank you, Captain."

Aizen smiled.

"You don't have to be so formal. Of course, as long as division regulations allow it."

A few people around them laughed.

{{user}} smiled a little too.

Their first impression was simple.

Captain Aizen is a good person.

That's what almost everyone thought.

And Aizen loved that impression precisely because of that.

The first few weeks, nothing special happened.

{{user}} carried out their duties.

Patrols.

Training.

Missions.

Reports.

Sometimes they ate with other members in the division grounds.

Aizen treated his subordinates with the same respect as always.

If someone made a mistake, he didn't humiliate them.

If someone performed well, he encouraged them.

One day, {{user}} failed at Kidō practice.

The spell formed halfway and immediately collapsed.

{{user}} sighed in frustration.

"Failed again."

Aizen's voice came from behind.

"No. Not entirely."

{{user}} turned.

"Captain?"

Instead of looking at the result, Aizen looked at their hand.

"Your Reiatsu control changes right before the Kidō activates."

{{user}} paused.

"What do you mean?"

"It means that before you release the spell, your spiritual energy becomes unstable for a moment."

"I don't notice it."

"That's natural."

Aizen stepped a little closer.

"Your body realizes it before your mind does."

{{user}} raised an eyebrow.

"Is that good or bad?"

Aizen's smile widened slightly.

"I haven't decided yet."

{{user}} laughed.

Aizen smiled too.

But when {{user}} turned back to practice, Aizen's gaze lingered on their back for a few seconds.

The smile was still on his face.

But his mind was already elsewhere.

Interesting.

He had studied Shinigami Reiatsu countless times.

For years.

Spiritual structure.

Changes in spiritual pressure.

The body's reaction to Kidō.

The effect of Hollow Reiatsu.

The boundary between Shinigami and Hollow.

Almost everything that could bring him a step closer to his goal.

But something about {{user}} was different.

Not in an obvious way.

If someone looked without paying close attention, they wouldn't see anything special.

Relatively strong Reiatsu.

Decent control.

Above-average talent.

That was it.

But Aizen wasn't satisfied with "just that."

He began observing.

Not experimenting.

Not yet.

Just observing.

Under normal conditions, {{user}}'s Reiatsu was completely ordinary.

But during extreme fatigue, their spiritual pressure changed.

When hungry, the change was greater.

When near a Hollow...

For the first time, Aizen truly noticed.

It was a simple mission.

A weak Hollow had been spotted on the outskirts of Rukongai.

{{user}} was dispatched along with a few other members.

The Hollow wasn't particularly strong.

It shouldn't have been a problem.

But when the creature drew near, {{user}} suddenly stopped.

One of the squad members asked:

"What's wrong?"

{{user}} didn't answer.

Their eyes were fixed on the Hollow.

Something inside their body was trembling.

Not fear.

Something else.

Their Reiatsu shifted for a moment.

Aizen, who was observing from a distance, felt that shift.

Very faint.

But clear.

For a fraction of a second, amid {{user}}'s Shinigami Reiatsu, something like an unfamiliar frequency appeared.

Aizen kept his smile.

"..." The Hollow attacked.

{{user}} raised their sword.

Deflected the strike.

Stepped back a few paces.

Their breathing grew heavy.

And again—the same thing.

This time, clearer.

Their Reiatsu reacted to something for a moment.

Not to the attack.

To the presence of the Hollow.

Aizen said nothing.

The battle ended.

{{user}} returned with a small wound on their arm.

Aizen was in his office waiting for the report.

When {{user}} entered, Aizen looked up from his papers.

"You're wounded."

{{user}} glanced at their arm.

"It's nothing serious."

"I'm glad."

Aizen set the paper aside.

"How did the mission go?"

{{user}} explained.

Aizen listened.

He asked the usual questions.

About the number of Hollows.

Location.

Type of attack.

Duration of the fight.

Everything was completely normal.

Until the last question.

"When the Hollow approached you, how did it feel?"

{{user}} paused.

"Feel?"

"Yes."

"I don't know."

They thought for a moment.

"Kind of... pressure."

"Fear?"

"No."

Aizen waited.

{{user}} frowned.

"It felt like my body was reacting to it."

Aizen asked calmly:

"How?"

"I don't know. It felt like something inside me woke up."

Silence.

Very brief.

So brief that {{user}} didn't notice it.

Aizen smiled again.

"It's probably a natural reaction to the presence of a Hollow."

"You think so?"

"Perhaps."

Aizen closed the file.

"Get some rest for now."

{{user}} bowed and left.

The door closed.

Aizen's smile was still on his face.

But no one was there anymore to smile for.

He stared at the door for a few moments.

Then slowly adjusted his glasses.

A reaction to the presence of a Hollow.

He knew that explanation wasn't enough.

A few days later, {{user}}'s file was on Aizen's desk.

Ordinary information.

Name.

Approximate age.

Rukongai district.

Academy records.

Exam results.

Missions.

Nothing unusual.

Aizen flipped through the pages.

"Then why...?"

His finger stopped on one report.

A medical report.

On several occasions, during severe fatigue, {{user}}'s Reiatsu had shown unusual fluctuations.

Not dangerous.

Not severe enough to alarm anyone.

But recurring.

Aizen closed the file.

He still didn't know what {{user}} exactly was.

And that was more interesting to him than the answer.

From that day on, Aizen's interactions with {{user}} changed slightly.

Not enough for {{user}} to notice.

But sometimes Aizen would personally watch their training.

Sometimes, under the pretext of reviewing new members' performance, he would stand by the training ground for a few minutes.

Sometimes he asked questions that seemed trivial.

"How do you feel when you're hungry?"

"Does your Reiatsu change when you're tired?"

"Have you ever felt something before you saw it?"

{{user}} always answered.

And Aizen gathered more information each time.

Until one night, the real test began.

Not in a grim laboratory.

Not with chains and metal tables.

Just a small, clean room in one of the private sections of the Fifth Division.

{{user}} sat across from Aizen.

Aizen said:

"Don't worry."

{{user}} looked around the room.

"I'm not worried."

"Good."

Aizen placed the teacup on the table.

"I want to run a few simple tests."

"What kind of tests?"

"Reiatsu analysis."

{{user}} paused.

"For what?"

Aizen smiled.

"Your talent is slightly above average."

"I don't think I'm that special."

"That's exactly what I want to find out."

{{user}} looked at him.

"So I might actually be special?"

Aizen was silent for a moment.

"Perhaps."

And that, in Aizen's view, was the most honest answer he could give.

The first test was simple.

Reiatsu measurement.

Second—pressure control.

Third—reaction to Kidō.

Fourth—exposure to different Reiatsu samples.

{{user}} had no issues.

Until the final test.

Aizen placed a small container on the table.

A dark liquid was inside it.

{{user}} looked at it.

"What's this?"

Aizen didn't answer.

He only said:

"It's a very small amount."

"Of what?"

"Hollow Reiatsu."

Silence.

{{user}} looked up.

"What?"

Aizen was completely calm.

"I want to see how your body reacts."

"But isn't that dangerous?"

"If it becomes dangerous, I'll stop it."

{{user}} was still looking at the container.

"And if you can't?"

Aizen's smile didn't fade.

"I can."

It was said with such certainty that {{user}} unconsciously relaxed.

And that was exactly what Aizen wanted.

Trust.

But what {{user}} didn't know was that Aizen still didn't know what the result would be.

He only knew that if his hypothesis was correct...

This simple soul who once lived in one of the poorest parts of Rukongai might be something he had been searching for for years.

Aizen picked up the container.

"Are you ready?"

{{user}} took a deep breath.

"Yes."

Aizen released a very small amount of Hollow Reiatsu.

In that instant, {{user}}'s body reacted.

Their eyes widened.

Their breath stopped.

The Reiatsu in the room trembled.

Aizen was no longer smiling.

For the first time, his gaze was completely serious.

Because what was supposed to happen—didn't.

The Hollow Reiatsu approached {{user}}'s soul...

And instead of being repelled...

It responded.

Like two things recognizing each other for the first time.

Aizen whispered quietly:

"...Interesting."

{{user}} placed a hand on their chest.

"Captain..."

"Stay calm."

"There's something..."

Their voice trembled.

"Something inside me."

Aizen stepped closer.

"I know."

"What is it?"

He was silent for a few seconds.

Then that familiar smile of Captain Aizen returned to his face.

Calm.

Certain.

Trustworthy.

"That's exactly what we're going to find out."

And that night, without {{user}} knowing it, the simple life that began in Rukongai had changed forever.

Not because they had become a Shinigami.

Not because they joined the Fifth Division.

But because for the first time, Sōsuke Aizen had encountered something he couldn't immediately explain.

And Aizen, above all else, wasn't repulsed by what he couldn't explain...

He was fascinated by it.

When Hollow Reiatsu first entered {{user}}'s spiritual cycle, nothing extraordinary happened—at least, not in the way Aizen had expected.

No mask appeared. No spiritual collapse. Not even a violent burst of reiatsu from {{user}}'s body. The only thing that happened was a brief tremor that started in their shoulders and ran down to their fingertips. Their breath caught for a moment, and their face paled. Their hand unconsciously moved to their chest, as if something inside their ribcage had suddenly shifted.

Aizen immediately set the small container aside.

"That's enough."

His voice was calm, but there was a trace of concern beneath that usual composure.

{{user}} was still sitting in the chair. Their eyelids felt heavy, and their focus had blurred. The reiatsu around their body, which had been stable just moments before, was now fluctuating like a weak wave.

Aizen knelt beside them without wasting any time.

"Look at me."

{{user}}'s reaction was slow. Their head lifted slightly, but their gaze was still unfocused.

Aizen placed two fingers on their wrist. The gesture seemed simple, but for someone like him, it meant far more than just taking a pulse. He could feel the flow of their reiatsu—its movement, its pressure, and most importantly, the point where the foreign reiatsu had interacted with {{user}}'s spiritual structure.

A few seconds passed.

Aizen's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.

"Strange..."

{{user}} leaned forward slightly. Their breathing was heavy.

Aizen placed his other hand behind their shoulder to keep them from falling. "Stay calm. Don't rush."

His behavior was exactly like that of a concerned captain.

The same Aizen that the members of the Fifth Division knew.

Kind, composed, and trustworthy.

But behind that calm face, his mind was working far faster than his appearance suggested.

The Hollow Reiatsu hadn't just been rejected by {{user}}'s soul—it had actually moved through its structure for a few moments. Like a substance that, instead of hitting a wall, had found a pre-existing path.

That shouldn't have been possible.

Or at least, it shouldn't have been possible this easily.

Aizen said slowly, "I think we should stop the test for now."

{{user}} still looked weak.

Aizen carefully helped them up, not letting them bear their own weight. "Don't think about training or missions tonight."

He took {{user}} to the recovery room—a place where division members rested when injured. Aizen opened the door himself, pulled a chair beside the bed, and helped {{user}} sit down.

His behavior was so natural that anyone watching from outside would likely think Captain Aizen was simply taking care of one of his members who'd fallen ill during practice.

But Aizen didn't leave the room until he was sure {{user}} was no longer severely dizzy.

A little later, when {{user}}'s condition had slightly improved, Aizen checked their reiatsu again.

This time more carefully.

He held his hand near {{user}}'s shoulder without making direct contact. He limited his own spiritual pressure to a very small amount, letting a trace of his reiatsu flow around {{user}}'s body.

The reaction was immediate.

{{user}}'s reiatsu shifted for a moment.

Aizen's eyes narrowed.

He had discovered something.

But he didn't yet know exactly what.

After a few moments, his expression softened again.

"It seems your spiritual condition hasn't been entirely normal for a while."

{{user}} looked at him tiredly.

Aizen continued: "You've probably noticed that sometimes, when hungry or exhausted, your reiatsu changes."

{{user}}'s reaction showed they remembered.

"I initially thought it was just a minor anomaly." Aizen paused briefly. "But now I'm not so sure."

He didn't want to put a name on it yet.

Not Hollowfication.

Not an experiment.

Not the Hōgyoku.

None of that.

For this stage, a simpler explanation was enough.

Aizen smiled very faintly. "I suspect that a specific type of Hollow Reiatsu might be compatible with your condition."

For the first time, his gaze held directly on {{user}}'s eyes.

"Of course, that doesn't mean we should repeat such a test today. Your body needs to first grow accustomed to this change."

His words were technically—dangerously—close to the truth.

The only problem was that {{user}} didn't know what "growing accustomed" truly meant.

Aizen offered no further explanation.

That night, after {{user}} had fallen asleep, Aizen stayed in the room for a long time.

He sat in the chair beside the bed, holding their file in his hands.

His eyes moved over the text, but his mind was elsewhere.

"A soul from Rukongai..."

His voice was so quiet it was almost inaudible.

"And such compatibility."

For Aizen, this was no longer a coincidence.

Coincidences happened once.

This had happened repeatedly.

Hunger.

Fatigue.

The presence of a Hollow.

Extreme reiatsu pressure.

And now direct contact.

All of them shared a common pattern.

Aizen closed the file.

There was something about {{user}} that even they themselves didn't yet understand.

And that was precisely what interested Aizen more than anything else.

The next day, contrary to {{user}}'s expectations, Aizen conducted no tests.

When {{user}} returned to the division grounds that morning, Aizen only observed them from a short distance. When their eyes met, Aizen gave a brief smile and said: "Feeling better?"

Then, without offering any further explanation about the previous night's events, he asked them to take it easy for the day.

This behavior continued.

Day one.

Day two.

Day three.

No new tests.

But Aizen saw {{user}} more often than before.

Sometimes during training.

Sometimes during meals.

Sometimes upon returning from missions.

He was no longer just studying {{user}}'s reiatsu.

He was studying {{user}} themselves.

How their behavior changed when hungry.

How they controlled their reiatsu when tired.

What made them angry.

What made them happy.

How close they were to other division members.

When they fell silent.

And most importantly—how much they talked about their past.

One evening, Aizen called out to {{user}} as they were leaving the training hall.

"If you're not in a hurry, walk with me for a few minutes."

They walked through the quiet grounds of the Fifth Division.

The evening air was mild. The distant sounds of division members could be heard from the courtyard.

Aizen walked in silence for a few steps.

Then he said: "I've wanted to ask you something for a while now."

{{user}} looked at him.

"Why did you become a Shinigami?"

It was a simple question.

But Aizen cared about the answer.

Not just for the experiment.

He wanted to understand what had driven this soul—who had once lived in one of the poorest parts of Rukongai—to choose this path.

When {{user}}'s response revealed that the answer was more about escaping a hard life than idealism, Aizen was silent for a few moments.

"So you were looking for a better life."

His tone was neither dismissive nor surprised.

There was even a hint of understanding in it.

"That's not a bad reason."

He paused briefly.

"Many Shinigami believe they have to fight for grand ideals. But sometimes, simply surviving and living a peaceful life is reason enough on its own."

He resumed walking.

"I just hope you never have to sacrifice what matters to you in order to achieve that life."

If {{user}} had known that those words came from a man who had been building a plan to overturn the world's order for years, they might have interpreted them differently.

But in that moment, Aizen was just the same calm captain walking beside them.

The days passed like that.

Aizen didn't restart the tests.

But a week later, when {{user}} came to him for a routine check-up, Aizen noticed another change.

The Hollow Reiatsu was still present in {{user}}'s body.

Its quantity was very small.

Almost negligible.

But it hadn't disappeared.

{{user}}'s body hadn't eliminated it.

In fact...

It was adapting to it.

This time, Aizen didn't smile.

His eyes lingered on the recorded charts for a moment.

"So it remained."

He said quietly: "More interesting than I thought."

Then he looked up.

"Haven't you felt any different over the past few days?"

{{user}}'s reaction indicated that things had changed—maybe their dreams had become stranger, maybe some sounds or spiritual pressures felt clearer, maybe their body reacted differently when near a Hollow.

Aizen listened carefully to everything.

He never interrupted.

At the end, he said: "Remember all of this. Any change—no matter how small—report it to me."

Then, in a calmer tone, he added: "And don't worry. You're not in any danger for now."

The word "for now" was very deliberately chosen by Aizen.

But {{user}} likely took it as just a routine precaution.

A few days later, the second test took place.

This time, Aizen used a much smaller amount of Hollow Reiatsu.

So small that it should have caused almost no noticeable reaction.

But something different happened.

The moment the Reiatsu made contact with {{user}}'s soul, their body warmed for a few seconds.

Their breathing quickened.

And then...

It settled.

No collapse.

No severe pain.

No resistance.

The Hollow Reiatsu gradually dispersed throughout their spiritual structure.

Aizen raised his hand.

"That's enough."

This time, he stopped the test himself, earlier than before.

{{user}} opened their eyes.

Aizen looked at them.

"Do you know what happened?"

{{user}}'s reaction told him more than any answer could.

Aizen said quietly: "Your body didn't reject it."

Then he paused briefly.

"I think it's best if this stays between us for now."

Trust—again.

Not through threats.

Not through force.

Just through the quiet voice of a man who, on the surface, seemed to care about {{user}} more than anyone else.

From that day on, their meetings became more frequent.

Sometimes in Aizen's office.

Sometimes in the treatment room.

Sometimes after training.

Sometimes even at hours when there was no official reason for {{user}} to be there.

And oddly enough, Aizen didn't always talk about the experiments anymore.

Sometimes he talked about a book he was reading.

Sometimes about the division's status.

Sometimes about the Academy.

Sometimes he asked {{user}} if they were satisfied with life in Seireitei.

And sometimes he just drank tea and sat in silence.

That part of the relationship was perhaps the most dangerous.

Because for the first time, Aizen didn't have to play the role of a kind captain.

He could just be the quiet person he was.

And {{user}} gradually grew used to his presence.

To his calm voice.

To his smile.

To how he always answered their questions patiently.

To how, when {{user}} was tired, Aizen noticed.

To how, when their reiatsu became unstable, Aizen was the first to know.

And during all of this, something in Aizen's mind shifted.

At first, {{user}} was just a sample.

An anomaly.

A possibility.

But now, whenever he opened {{user}}'s file, before looking at the test results, he unconsciously read the personal details.

What foods they preferred.

At what hours they trained.

What their last mission had been.

When they had last been injured.

When the last reiatsu fluctuation had been recorded.

These were no longer just data points.

Aizen himself still didn't voice this difference.

Perhaps he didn't even accept it.

But one night, when {{user}} entered his office for another check-up, Aizen noticed that before preparing his testing tools, he had already placed {{user}}'s favorite teacup on the table.

He stared at the cup for a few seconds.

Then laughed very quietly.

"A strange habit."

And when {{user}} sat down across from him, Aizen put on the same calm smile as always.

"Well... let's see how you're doing today."

That night, no dangerous tests were conducted.

Just an examination.

Just a few questions.

Just a reiatsu check.

But when {{user}} left the room, Aizen stared at the closed door for several minutes.

Then he opened the file.

At the top of the page, {{user}}'s name was written.

Aizen tapped it lightly with his fingertip.

"I still don't know exactly what you are."

His smile faded to something very faint.

"But apparently, I'm going to have to spend more time figuring you out than I expected."

And somewhere far from that office, in the depths of Aizen's mind, a hypothesis was forming—one that, if correct, would mean {{user}} was no longer just a Shinigami with unusual reiatsu.

Perhaps {{user}}'s soul had always had the capacity for something Aizen had been searching for, for years.

Not a Hollow.

Not a Shinigami.

But a being that could tolerate the boundary between the two.

And if that hypothesis was correct, the next test could no longer be just a simple exposure to Hollow Reiatsu.

But Aizen wasn't in a hurry.

He had waited centuries to reach his goal.

A few more months meant nothing to him.

Especially when the sample he had, every single day, became more interesting to him than the day before.

The nights of the Fifth Division were usually quieter than one might expect from a military headquarters.

After the shift ended, footsteps faded, the corridor lanterns were extinguished one by one, and the officers returned to their rooms. The large courtyard of the division sank into the faint moonlight, and only the sound of wind occasionally passed through the trees.

But Captain Aizen's office was still lit.

The window was half open.

Sōsuke Aizen wasn't wearing his formal captain's attire tonight. He wore a simple, comfortable kimono, and his hair—unlike its usual neat state—fell slightly more freely across his forehead. His glasses were still on his face, and he sat silently behind his desk.

Several files were open on the desk.

Mission reports.

Reports on the status of division members.

And among them all, one file that had been opened again and again.

{{user}}'s medical file.

Aizen pulled a page forward.

Read a few lines.

His index finger moved slowly across the paper.

"Increased spiritual pressure during emotional stimulation..."

Next page.

"Increased spiritual temperature..."

Next page.

"Intense reaction to Hollow Reiatsu presence..."

Aizen paused.

He read that one again.

Then turned the page.

In the margin of an old report, a medic had written that during a mission, {{user}}'s spiritual pressure had shown behavior "unusual and close to Hollow characteristics" for a few seconds.

Aizen leaned back in his chair.

His face was calm.

But his eyes were not.

He knew something was changing.

Something that hadn't yet become fully apparent.

A rustling sound came from the window.

Without looking up, Aizen said: "If you're going to enter through the window, at least try to make less noise."

A few seconds of silence.

Then a quiet laugh from outside.

"Oh... so you noticed."

Aizen looked toward the window.

Gin Ichimaru was hanging from the windowsill.

His silver hair looked almost white in the moonlight, and that familiar smile was on his face.

"Good evening, Captain."

Aizen said with the same calm: "Good evening, Gin."

Gin was still hanging from the window.

"May I?"

"Apparently, even if I say no, you'll come in anyway."

"Good to know you understand me, Captain."

Gin pulled himself up and entered the room with a light movement.

Aizen gave him a brief look.

"You should be sleeping."

"So should you."

"I'm the captain."

"What does that have to do with sleeping?"

Aizen smiled.

"Nothing."

Gin stepped forward a few paces and looked at the desk.

His narrow eyes scanned the files.

"Still awake and working?"

"Something like that."

"Oh?"

Gin clasped his hands behind his back and leaned forward slightly.

"What's so important that it's kept even the ever-diligent Aizen-san awake past midnight?"

Aizen calmly closed the file.

"Administrative work."

Gin deepened his smile.

"Lie."

Aizen looked at him for a few moments.

Then laughed.

"You've become much bolder lately."

"I've always been like this."

"No."

Aizen adjusted his glasses slightly.

"Before, you just didn't ask questions."

"Well, I'm older now."

"In one year?"

"A year is a long time, Captain."

Aizen smiled.

Gin was truly unusual.

A young soul who had completed the Shin'ō Academy's curriculum in only a single year—with almost unnatural talent. Something that was unthinkable for most students.

And now, still appearing as a teenager in age and appearance, he stood before a captain as the lieutenant of the Fifth Division—a man who himself rarely considered anyone his intellectual equal.

Gin looked at the desk again.

"It's {{user}}'s file, isn't it?"

This time, Aizen didn't answer.

Gin laughed quietly.

"So I guessed right."

"Guessed what?"

"That there's something about her."

Aizen looked at him.

Gin sat down on the chair across the desk, without having been invited.

"Ever since she joined the division, you've been paying way more attention to her than usual."

"I'm the captain. Paying attention to division members is my duty."

"Not this much."

Aizen said nothing.

Gin continued:

"You read her mission reports yourself. You oversee her training yourself. When she's unwell, you examine her yourself. You even had special food sent to her when she wasn't feeling well for a few days."

Gin's smile tilted slightly.

"That doesn't look much like ordinary captainly attention."

Aizen placed his hand on the file.

"You pay too much attention to those around you."

"That's how I noticed."

"And what conclusion did you reach?"

Gin was silent for a few moments.

"I'm still thinking."

"That's a wise answer."

"But I do know one thing."

Aizen waited.

Gin said with that same smile: "You like {{user}}."

Aizen's brows rose slightly.

Gin immediately laughed.

"Not like that!"

"I said nothing."

"But your face did."

Aizen laughed.

"Then explain what you mean."

Gin glanced at the file.

"She interests you."

This time, Aizen answered.

"Yes."

"Very much?"

"More than usual."

"Why?"

Aizen looked at the open window for a few moments.

"Because her body displays behavior that I still can't fully explain."

Gin's smile faded slightly.

"It's what I thought."

"What did you think?"

"That it's not just about being sick."

Aizen was silent.

Gin gestured to the file.

"Ever since that night she got sick, your behavior has changed."

"Her condition required care."

"You gave her more care than most."

"Perhaps because her condition is different."

Gin stared at Aizen for a few seconds.

Then his smile returned.

"You know, Captain... sometimes you're really good at answering in a way that sounds like you've said something, but you've actually said nothing at all."

Aizen laughed.

"That's one of the benefits of years of experience."

"Or one of your bad habits."

"Possibly."

The room fell quiet again.

For a few moments, these two just sat across from each other.

It was strange.

Aizen and Gin—captain and lieutenant—two people both unusually intelligent, and both accustomed to seeing more than they showed.

Gin looked at the file again.

"So is she really sick?"

Aizen didn't answer.

Gin tilted his head slightly.

"Captain?"

"Yes."

"Were you lying?"

Aizen smiled.

"No."

Gin was silent for a few moments.

"So she really is sick."

"Her spiritual condition isn't normal."

"And you know why?"

"Not yet."

Gin laughed.

"So that's why she interests you so much."

Aizen opened the file.

"When I don't understand something, I prefer to study it before judging."

Gin said mischievously: "And {{user}} has become your subject of study."

Aizen gave him a brief look.

"If that's your interpretation."

"It is."

"Then let it be that for now."

Gin stood up.

"Well, I won't disturb you anymore."

Aizen looked at him.

"You came through the window. Are you going to leave through the door?"

Gin walked toward the door.

"It's more polite."

But just before his hand reached the handle—

A scream rang out from outside.

Both of them went silent at once.

The sound of something hitting a wall came.

Then another scream.

This time angrier.

Gin turned his head.

The smile disappeared from his face.

"What was that?"

Aizen rose from his seat.

The sound of a fight was coming from the officer dormitory.

Gin moved first.

"I'll go."

He opened the door and rushed out of the room.

Aizen followed a few seconds later.

But before they even reached the dormitory, a sound of something breaking rang out.

When Gin reached the corridor, he saw several officers pulling back in panic.

One was shouting: "Separate them!"

Another said: "We can't!"

In the center of the corridor, {{user}} was on top of one of the officers.

But this was no longer an ordinary fight.

The first blow might have started from anger.

The second too.

But now, something far more brutal was at play.

{{user}} was practically on top of the officer, slamming him into the ground with ferocity.

Both of their clothes were torn.

Blood was visible on the officer's face.

Several division members were trying to pull {{user}} back, but their spiritual pressure had become so intense that approaching them was difficult.

Reiatsu surged through the corridor.

Heavy.

Violent.

Erratic.

And there was something in it that Gin immediately recognized.

Not as a Shinigami.

But as something else.

Gin's eyes narrowed.

"...What is this?"

{{user}} looked up.

Their face was twisted with rage.

But something about their posture was strange.

Shoulders dropped.

Fingers spread too wide.

The hands no longer looked like those of a swordsman.

They looked more like claws.

And when one of the officers tried to grab them from behind, {{user}} spun around with a sudden turn.

Their scream echoed through the corridor.

That scream...

It wasn't human.

Not entirely.

Gin instinctively took a step back.

Aizen arrived at the corridor at that moment.

His eyes immediately locked onto {{user}}.

He only needed one look.

Breathing rhythm.

Body posture.

Reiatsu.

Hand movements.

Instinctual reaction.

He saw everything.

An officer shouted: "Captain! We can't hold them back!"

Aizen raised his hand.

"Everyone step back."

"But Captain—"

"I said step back."

Aizen's voice wasn't loud.

But it was firm enough that everyone obeyed.

The corridor suddenly became emptier.

Gin was still there.

He was watching {{user}} carefully.

What he saw was different from the calm soul he had come to know over the past few weeks.

{{user}} lunged again toward the officer on the ground.

Aizen stepped forward.

He released his own reiatsu pressure.

Not much.

Just enough to control the space around them.

{{user}} stopped for a moment.

Their head lifted.

Their eyes turned toward Aizen.

Aizen didn't rush.

"That's enough."

But {{user}} was still not in a normal state.

Their reiatsu was trembling.

Hands still in a claw-like shape.

Breaths jagged and harsh.

And more than anything, {{user}} seemed unaware of their surroundings.

Aizen took another step forward.

"Look at me."

For the first time, Gin noticed something.

Aizen no longer looked like a captain simply trying to stop a fight.

He was observing.

Precisely.

Focused.

Almost fascinated.

His eyes moved from {{user}}'s hands to their face, then to the reiatsu around their body.

Gin saw this change.

"Captain..."

Aizen raised his hand and said in a calm voice: "No one approach them."

One of the officers said in surprise: "But they're—"

"I know."

Aizen still hadn't taken his eyes off {{user}}.

"Just stay back."

{{user}} clenched their teeth again and lunged toward the same officer.

This time Aizen moved faster.

In one motion, he placed himself between them.

{{user}}'s hand came toward him with force.

Aizen caught their wrist.

For a moment, the spiritual pressure of the two clashed in the corridor.

Gin expected {{user}} to stop immediately.

But it didn't happen.

{{user}} tried to free their hand.

Aizen held tighter.

His face was still calm.

"Calm down."

{{user}} stared at him.

A harsh scream came from their throat.

And right there, something in Aizen's mind shifted.

That sound.

That hand posture.

That way of bending the body.

That reaction to threat.

That instinctual drive to continue the attack, even when the target was no longer capable of fighting...

Aizen had seen this behavior before.

Not in Shinigami.

In Hollows.

In the moment when reason gives way to instinct.

Exactly what his experiments had warned him about.

A very faint smile appeared on Aizen's lips.

Gin saw it.

And for the first time, his own smile completely vanished.

"Captain..."

Aizen didn't answer.

{{user}} was still struggling.

But Aizen now saw something no one else in that corridor could see.

The Hollow Reiatsu within {{user}} was no longer dormant.

It was responding.

Not to the presence of a Hollow.

Not to an experiment.

But to anger.

Aizen watched carefully.

"So this is the trigger..."

Gin heard his voice.

"What?"

Aizen seemed to just notice Gin's presence.

He looked at him for a moment.

"Nothing."

Then he looked back at {{user}}.

"Just an intense spiritual reaction."

Gin raised an eyebrow.

"Just?"

Aizen didn't answer.

A few seconds later, he increased his own spiritual pressure slightly.

Not to harm.

To suppress the wave of anger.

{{user}}'s reiatsu resisted at first.

Then it trembled.

Then it calmed.

Their breathing was still heavy, but the intensity of that state gradually decreased.

Aizen still held {{user}}'s wrist.

A few moments passed.

Then he said quietly: "That's it."

His voice was strangely calm.

Almost the same tone a doctor uses with a recovering patient.

Gin looked at Aizen's face.

Then at {{user}}.

Then back at Aizen.

And suddenly, he understood something.

Aizen hadn't been afraid.

He had been concerned.

But his concern wasn't just about {{user}} hurting someone.

There was something deeper behind it.

Aizen wanted to know why this had happened.

And when he found the answer...

That look couldn't be hidden.

Curiosity.

Excitement.

Perhaps even something like satisfaction.

Gin said quietly: "So that's why."

Aizen looked at him.

"Why what?"

Gin put on his narrow smile again, but this time there was something serious behind his usual playfulness.

"That file."

Aizen said nothing.

Gin's gaze fixed on {{user}}.

"You already knew there was something inside them."

Silence.

Finally, Aizen said: "I knew there was something unusual."

Gin stared at him.

"And now?"

Aizen didn't take his eyes off {{user}}.

"Now I'm sure."

"Of what?"

Aizen's smile was very calm.

"That we need to watch them more carefully."

Gin laughed.

"Was that the captain's answer or the scientist's?"

Aizen looked at him for a moment.

"What's the difference?"

Gin said nothing.

Because he knew the answer himself.

And that night, for the first time, Gin Ichimaru no longer saw {{user}} as just a member of the Fifth Division.

He had seen something he shouldn't have seen.

Something inside {{user}} had awakened.

Something that had changed their behavior, their reiatsu, even the way their body moved.

And worst of all...

Aizen had been happy to see it.

While the other division members were still trying to calm the wounded officer, Aizen was looking at {{user}}.

His face was calm.

But his mind was already a step ahead.

Until that night, he had assumed Hollow Reiatsu had merely adapted within {{user}}'s soul.

Now he knew he had been wrong.

That Reiatsu hadn't just survived.

It was reacting.

And if it was reacting...

That meant there was something in {{user}}'s soul that could awaken it.

Anger.

Fear.

Pain.

Pressure.

Perhaps even death.

Aizen looked at {{user}}'s hand for a few seconds.

The same hand that moments ago had acted like a claw instead of a sword.

A very subtle smile touched the corner of his lips.

"I understand now..."

This time, Gin heard him.

And unlike always, he didn't joke.

Because Aizen's voice sounded like someone who had just found an important piece of a puzzle.

And Gin, with all his brilliance, still didn't know where this puzzle was going to end.

He only knew one thing.

From tonight onward, Captain Aizen could no longer treat {{user}} like an ordinary division member.

Because what was hidden inside {{user}} had revealed itself for the first time.

And Aizen now had a new reason to never let anyone get too close to this secret.

That morning, the Fifth Division Captain's office was quieter than usual.

The pale sunlight filtered through the paper windows and fell onto the wooden floor. The scent of freshly brewed tea and old papers lingered in the room. Aizen sat behind his desk, organizing several reports; his glasses sat lower on his nose than usual.

A knock came at the door.

Without looking up, Aizen said: "Come in."

The door opened.

{{user}} entered.

Their Shinigami uniform was neat, but their demeanor wasn't as it used to be. They took the first few steps hesitantly, and when their gaze fell on Aizen, they paused for a moment.

It had been a long time since the dormitory incident.

Four months of suspension. Four months away from regular missions. Four months, part of which had been spent in the Eleventh Division—a place that, strangely enough, had been suited for dealing with their anger. The harsh environment, the intense training, the constant sword practice, and members who asked fewer questions about others' strange behavior than most.

After the suspension ended, their transfer request had been accepted once again.

And now they had returned to the Fifth Division.

But coming back here wasn't easy.

Especially when they had to sit face-to-face with the same person who had seen them that night.

Aizen looked up.

His gaze settled on {{user}}.

He gave a small smile. "Have a seat."

{{user}} sat down.

Aizen studied them for a few moments.

This time, not like a captain reviewing a subordinate's report.

But like someone who had been studying their body and reiatsu for a long time.

"It's been a while."

{{user}}'s reaction showed they still weren't comfortable remembering that night.

Aizen picked up a file from beside him. "Four months."

He turned a page. "How was the Eleventh Division?"

{{user}}'s reaction was slightly calmer.

Aizen smiled. "I imagine the training there helped."

His eyes returned to the file. "The reports show your reiatsu control has improved."

He paused for a few seconds. "Much better."

This time, Aizen closed the file. "That's why I wanted to see you today."

His gaze was direct and calm. "Your spiritual condition has become more stable than before."

{{user}} seemed to wait for him to continue.

Aizen said: "You can participate in missions to the human world again."

{{user}}'s reaction changed immediately.

Surprise. Perhaps a little happiness. And along with it, caution.

Aizen saw these changes. "With limitations, of course."

He tapped his finger on the file. "For now, solo missions or encounters with high-level Hollows aren't suitable for you."

He gave a gentle smile. "But regular missions, with proper supervision, shouldn't be a problem."

That reasoning sounded completely logical.

Even responsible.

But behind that decision, something entirely different existed.

Aizen hadn't been idle during those four months.

He had compared medical reports. He had examined {{user}}'s reiatsu behavior before and after the incident. He had pieced together the small changes.

And now he had a pattern.

Every time {{user}} was exposed to Hollow Reiatsu, the Hollow Reiatsu within them reacted.

But this reaction didn't just result in increased power.

Something deeper was happening.

The Hollow part of {{user}}'s soul was feeding on these contacts.

Each encounter absorbed a small amount of reiatsu. Each time, the compatibility grew stronger. And each time, that unknown part awakened a little more.

But something else had happened too.

{{user}}'s anger had diminished.

Aizen had documented this carefully.

At first, he had assumed Hollow Reiatsu would intensify anger.

But now the evidence suggested otherwise.

The stronger that inner part became... ...the less pressure from anger remained.

As if that being inside {{user}} was consuming something that had previously accumulated in their psyche and reiatsu as anger.

This aspect was even more important to Aizen than the power itself.

Because if his hypothesis was correct, what was growing inside {{user}} wasn't merely a Hollow.

It was a being that could coexist with its host.

And something like that... ...was worth studying.

Aizen looked at {{user}} again. "You're worried about that night."

This time, the sentence sounded more like an observation than a question.

{{user}}'s reaction was enough.

Aizen gave a calm smile. "That's natural."

He stood up from behind the desk. "You lost control. Anyone might feel ashamed of such an incident."

He stepped forward a few paces. "But that incident is over."

Aizen stood in front of {{user}}. "What matters is what you did afterward."

His voice grew quieter. "You trained for four months. You improved your reiatsu control. And now you're ready to perform your duties again."

He paused briefly. "I see no reason for you to punish yourself forever for one mistake."

For a few moments, silence prevailed.

Then Aizen said, with his familiar kindness: "So hold your head up."

That sentence was simple.

But its effect on {{user}} was clear.

Aizen saw it.

And in his mind, another result was recorded.

Trust was still there.

Good. Very good.

He sat back down at his desk. "Your first mission is tomorrow morning."

He pulled a file forward. "A routine mission in Karakura."

Aizen gave a brief explanation of the area.

A few weak Hollows had been reported. Nothing unusual. At least on paper.

{{user}} took the file.

Aizen added: "If you feel any unusual reiatsu, don't engage. Report it."

He paused. "And if you feel any change in your physical condition, return immediately."

This time, the concern in his voice sounded more genuine.

And it truly was.

Only the reason was different.

Aizen didn't want to lose his sample.

But what {{user}} didn't know was that Aizen had deliberately chosen the type of mission he wanted.

A mission where Hollows existed. Not many. Not strong enough to create a life-threatening risk. Just enough.

First encounter. Then second. Then third.

He didn't want to change everything at once.

Aizen wasn't in a hurry.

If that being inside {{user}} truly fed on Hollow Reiatsu, Aizen could control the exposure and track its growth step by step.

A natural experiment. Without the need for excessive pressure. Without unnecessary risk.

And most importantly... ...without {{user}} realizing the experiment was still ongoing.

The next morning, the mission began.

The Senkaimon opened, and {{user}} entered the human world.

The air in Karakura was different from Seireitei's.

The smell of asphalt. Humidity. The sound of vehicles. The glow of signs.

And amid all of this... ...spiritual presences.

The night was quieter than it should have been.

The sliding doors of the officers' quarters closed one by one, and the lanterns of the Fifth Division grounds cast a soft yellow glow across the stone pavement at measured intervals. The distant, muffled voices of the night guards could be heard from the far end of the grounds, and a cool breeze wound through the trees.

{{user}} stood in front of the captain's quarters for a long time.

In one hand was a small box.

A simple box, but neat and clean—fragrant tea they had purchased from one of the shops in Rukongai. Nothing expensive, nothing grand. But the scent of dried herbs and delicate flowers seeped through the packaging, showing that they had put care into choosing it.

The other hand lifted several times and lowered again.

Finally, they knocked softly on the door.

A few moments passed.

Aizen's voice came from inside.

"Yes?"

The door opened.

Aizen stood before them in his usual formal attire—glasses on, hair neat, and that same calm composure as if nothing in the world could disturb his mental order.

His gaze first settled on {{user}}'s face, then on the box in their hand.

His eyebrow rose slightly.

"At this hour?"

{{user}} brought the box forward with a hint of awkwardness.

Aizen looked at it for a few moments.

Then a very faint smile appeared on his face.

"Is it for me?"

{{user}} nodded.

Aizen took the box.

He turned it over and read the label.

"Fragrant tea..."

His finger traced the edge of the box lightly.

"An interesting choice."

{{user}} seemed to explain something about feeling better, and Aizen listened. Not impatiently. Not out of obligatory politeness. He truly listened.

Then he stepped aside slightly.

"Come in."

{{user}} entered.

Aizen closed the door.

His room was as neat as always—a few books on the desk, some closed files in the corner, a dim lamp, and a small teapot still emitting a faint wisp of steam.

Aizen set the box aside.

"You didn't need to bring anything to say thank you."

{{user}} still stood with a slightly embarrassed demeanor.

Aizen looked at them and gave a short smile.

"But I appreciate it."

Then he gestured to the seat across from him.

"Sit down."

{{user}} sat.

Aizen prepared two cups of tea.

But this time, it wasn't his own tea.

He opened the new box.

The gentle scent of flowers and herbs spread through the room.

Aizen lowered his head slightly and inhaled the aroma.

"It smells good."

Then he steeped the tea.

Throughout all this, there was no sign of anything unusual.

No threat.

No betrayal.

Not even coldness.

Aizen asked about {{user}}'s physical condition—the same questions he had repeated many times over the past weeks.

"How is the dizziness?"

{{user}} indicated with a nod that it had improved.

"Palpitations?"

Better as well.

"Sleep?"

Their sleep was apparently deeper now.

Aizen nodded slowly.

"Good."

He picked up his cup.

"Your body has adapted remarkably well."

A simple sentence.

But it carried a hidden truth that {{user}} didn't know.

Aizen knew exactly what their body had adapted to.

What was once only a very small amount of Hollow Reiatsu was no longer "a small amount."

It had found a place in {{user}}'s spiritual structure.

Like something that had started as a guest and was gradually becoming the owner of the room.

Aizen brought the cup to his lips.

"Haven't you felt more at ease lately?"

{{user}} paused.

Then confirmed it with a gesture.

Aizen looked at them.

"That's to be expected."

And this, technically, wasn't a lie either.

Just not the full truth.

He knew where that calmness came from.

The stronger the Hollow part became within {{user}}'s soul, the less intense the outbursts of anger and aggression became.

That anger hadn't disappeared.

It had been consumed.

Devoured.

And something deep within the soul fed on it.

Aizen pushed a small plate of sweets forward.

"Take one."

{{user}} hesitated for a moment.

Aizen said: "Don't worry. Not everything you eat is going to become an experiment."

A small joke.

Natural enough to make {{user}} relax slightly.

They took a sweet.

Aizen took one as well.

For a while, they talked about ordinary things.

The division's status.

Missions.

Rukongai.

The differences between districts.

And at some point in the conversation, {{user}} spoke about their past—about living in one of Rukongai's poorer areas and how much it had meant to them to reach a better place.

Aizen listened carefully.

"So your main reason for entering the Academy was to change your life."

{{user}} nodded in confirmation.

Aizen was silent for a few seconds.

"Honestly, that's more real than most of the ideals Shinigami talk about."

His voice was calm.

"Most people build ideals around what they lack. You just didn't want to be hungry anymore."

{{user}} probably hadn't expected to hear that.

Aizen gave a faint smile.

"That's not a bad thing."

And that night, for {{user}}, it was perhaps one of the few nights when their captain seemed like simply their captain.

The man who had helped them.

The man who had cared for them when they were sick.

The man who could now sit across from them, drink tea, and speak unhurriedly.

When {{user}} finally stood up, Aizen said: "Get some rest. You'll likely have a lighter mission tomorrow."

{{user}} bowed respectfully.

Before leaving, they glanced briefly at the tea box.

Aizen noticed.

"Don't worry. I'll use it."

{{user}} left.

The door closed.

The sound of their footsteps gradually faded.

Aizen's smile slowly disappeared.

His gaze lingered on the tea box.

He placed his hand on it.

Then set it beside his files.

For a few moments, he did nothing.

Then he opened one of the files.

The charts recorded over the past weeks appeared under the lamplight.

Reiatsu fluctuation.

Hollow reaction.

Increased compatibility.

And at the bottom of the page, the latest note:

"Emotional response remains the primary trigger for growth."

Aizen adjusted his glasses slightly.

"Anger..."

His gaze remained on the chart.

"But if we provoke anger, the reaction will be more intense."

His eyes grew calm.

"So tomorrow."

---

Tomorrow came.

And until late in the shift, nothing unusual happened.

{{user}} was patrolling in Rukongai.

The air was calm.

The evening light passed through the branches, creating bright spots on the ground.

Several times, {{user}} had to stop, speak with people, and check the surrounding paths, but no Hollows or serious threats were found.

It was nearly the end of the shift.

{{user}}'s mind was calmer than ever.

And perhaps that was why, when they spotted a familiar figure in the distance, their reaction was completely natural.

Aizen.

Standing among the trees.

{{user}} almost immediately walked toward him.

Their face brightened.

Their steps quickened.

Aizen also noticed their presence and turned around.

"Oh, {{user}}."

The same voice as always.

The same tone.

{{user}} approached happily.

They seemed to ask why Aizen was there.

Aizen said: "I came to look into a small matter."

{{user}} glanced around.

Then gestured to ask where the rest of the soldiers were.

Aizen looked into the depths of the forest.

"They're probably further ahead."

{{user}} looked around again.

No one was there.

No footsteps.

No voices.

No familiar Reiatsu.

Just the wind.

Aizen said: "Don't worry. It's nothing serious."

{{user}} looked at him again.

Aizen wore the same calm smile.

"In fact, I'm glad to see you here."

{{user}} took a step closer.

And in that same moment—

Aizen stepped aside.

Not quickly.

Not suddenly.

Just enough to clear the line of sight.

And behind {{user}}...

Gin was standing.

His narrow eyes were almost closed beneath his silver hair.

A small smile was on his face.

"Hello."

The blade gleamed.

This time, everything happened in a single instant.

Gin's Zanpakutō extended.

No.

It was nothing like an ordinary strike.

The blade moved like a line of light across the distance.

{{user}} didn't even have time to turn around.

The sound of metal passed by their ear.

And then—

Shing.

The tip of the blade emerged from the front of their body.

{{user}}'s eyes remained open.

No pain in the first second.

Just pressure.

A strange pressure.

Unreal.

Their body still didn't know what had happened.

Their gaze dropped.

A blade had come out of their stomach.

Their clothes grew wet slowly.

One drop of blood fell.

Then another.

{{user}} blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then they raised their hand.

Their fingers touched their stomach.

They felt the warmth of blood.

Their breath stopped.

"...Agh..."

Their knees trembled.

Gin pulled the blade out.

This time, the pain came.

Like an explosion.

{{user}} doubled over.

Their hand pressed against the wound.

Short, choked breaths escaped their throat.

"Ha... haa..."

Their eyes lifted.

To Gin.

Then to Aizen.

Aizen's face was calm.

Too calm.

And that was what forced {{user}}'s mind to reconsider what had just happened.

What was Gin doing here?

Why had he drawn his sword?

Why wasn't Aizen intervening?

Why—

Aizen said: "Good."

{{user}} stared at him.

Gin lowered his sword.

Aizen looked at {{user}}.

"Exactly what I expected."

{{user}}'s eyes trembled.

That was where the first piece of reality crumbled.

But their mind still wouldn't accept it.

Maybe it was a misunderstanding.

Maybe—

Aizen said: "Don't worry. The pain won't last long."

That sentence no longer held any ordinary meaning.

{{user}} stepped back.

One step.

Then a second.

They lost their balance.

They fell to the ground.

Their hand was still on their stomach.

Blood flowed between their fingers.

Their head spun.

Aizen's voice came from above.

"Now we wait."

{{user}} looked at him in disbelief.

Aizen continued: "I want to see what comes out of you when your soul feels true danger."

{{user}}'s eyes gradually changed from disbelief to horror.

In their mind, the past weeks returned at unbearable speed.

The examinations.

The pain.

The calming of their anger.

The Hollow missions.

That strange feeling after every battle.

Why did they always feel calmer after fighting?

Why did Aizen always ask such precise questions about their Reiatsu?

Why were the missions constantly sending them to places where Hollows were present?

Why—

Why had Aizen been glad to see them here?

{{user}}'s lips trembled.

Aizen looked at them.

"You're finally understanding."

{{user}} tried to stand.

Their body wouldn't respond.

Their hand went to their Zanpakutō's hilt.

They drew it.

The blade trembled in their hand.

Aizen glanced at it briefly.

Then said: "Do you really want to use that?"

{{user}} gripped the sword tighter.

Aizen slowly stepped closer.

"With a useless Shikai?"

Something in {{user}}'s gaze broke.

Aizen continued: "In this condition?"

{{user}} tried to gather Reiatsu.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

The Zanpakutō was just a blade.

Aizen tilted his head slightly.

"You see? Where is your power?"

{{user}} gasped for breath.

"All those years you spent trying to become a Shinigami... all that training..."

He took another step.

"And now you can't even hold your sword properly."

{{user}} gritted their teeth.

Aizen said: "You thought when you joined the Gotei 13, you'd finally escaped your old life."

A pause.

"But in the end, you just moved from one poor place to another—one with nicer clothes."

{{user}}'s eyes filled with rage.

Aizen saw it.

But he continued.

"Last night, you came and brought me tea."

{{user}}'s breath broke.

"Do you remember?"

Their eyes shifted.

Aizen said calmly: "It was very sincere."

A silence.

"You really thought I had made you better."

{{user}} clawed at the ground with their bloodied hand.

Aizen said: "In fact, you are better now."

This time, his tone was almost cold.

"Because what I placed inside you is no longer sick."

{{user}}'s eyes widened.

"It has grown."

In that same moment, something in {{user}}'s soul stirred.

Aizen stopped.

Gin noticed as well.

The wind stopped.

For a moment, the forest fell completely silent.

Then—

Thump.

The sound of a heartbeat.

But not from {{user}}'s heart.

It came from somewhere deeper.

Thump.

The ground beneath them trembled.

{{user}} placed their hand on their chest.

Thump.

Reiatsu burst from their body.

But this Reiatsu was no longer entirely Shinigami.

The air grew heavy.

The surrounding trees bent.

Gin raised an eyebrow.

"Oh..."

Aizen only said:

"It's starting."

{{user}} suddenly screamed.

An immense pain shot up their spine.

Their body arched.

The Zanpakutō fell from their hand.

Dark Reiatsu oozed from their pores.

Not like smoke.

Like ink.

Black masses twisted in the air and returned to their body.

{{user}} clawed at the ground with both hands.

Their scream grew louder.

Reiatsu veins appeared on their neck.

Something moved beneath their skin.

From shoulder to neck.

From neck to face.

From chest to arms.

Like a creature walking beneath the skin.

Aizen stepped forward.

His eyes grew sharp.

"Very interesting..."

The skin on {{user}}'s face stretched.

A white patch appeared on their cheek.

Then it grew larger.

To the jaw.

To the neck.

To the shoulder.

{{user}} placed their hand on their face.

But the white substance pushed through their fingers.

Sticky.

Alive.

And suddenly, it covered their entire body.

The Shinigami uniform disappeared beneath it.

A thick white fluid flowed over their body.

But this wasn't just a covering.

It began to build something.

Black lines appeared on their chest.

On their shoulders.

On their arms.

And then the mask.

A white piece emerged from their forehead.

{{user}} screamed.

The mask extended to the side of their face.

Its shape wasn't complete yet.

Two sections of white bone formed on their cheeks.

The mouth opened.

But the sound that came out...

Was no longer entirely human.

A double-layered voice.

A human scream wrapped around something growling.

Gin lost his smile.

"This isn't ordinary Hollowfication."

Aizen didn't answer.

Because he saw something he hadn't even expected.

{{user}} wasn't dying.

Their Reiatsu wasn't collapsing.

On the contrary.

It was reconstructing itself.

The wound on their stomach—which should have killed them—was suddenly covered by a mass of white Reishi.

The tissues pulled together.

Reiatsu coiled around the wound.

And the gash began to close.

Aizen said slowly:

"Simultaneous regeneration and transformation..."

Gin looked at him.

"Captain, I think this has gone past the experiment stage."

Aizen didn't answer.

{{user}} was still writhing on the ground.

Screaming.

Their hands pressed against their head.

The white mask grew further.

Covering part of their forehead.

A narrow slit appeared in the place of an eye.

Inside it...

A red eye opened.

For the first time, Aizen smiled a real smile.

Small.

But clear.

"No."

His gaze brightened.

"This is only the beginning of the experiment."

And then {{user}} saw something.

Something they shouldn't have seen.

Through the tremor in their vision, behind Aizen and Gin, they saw the forest.

And there...

Bodies.

Several bodies.

White and black Shinigami uniforms.

Soldiers of the Fifth Division.

The same ones {{user}} had asked about just minutes before.

All of them dead.

One leaned against a tree trunk.

One lay on the ground.

One still had their hand on their Zanpakutō's hilt.

{{user}}'s eyes fixed on one of them.

They recognized their face.

One of the officers they had seen many times on shared patrols.

Their body was cold.

Motionless.

Blood around them had dried.

{{user}}'s breath stopped.

Everything inside them...

Suddenly exploded.

Not just rage.

Betrayal.

Fear.

Despair.

Hatred.

And worst of all—a pain they couldn't put into words.

All that trust.

All those nights.

All that tea.

The sweets.

Aizen's calm voice.

"Are you feeling better?"

And now...

The corpses.

{{user}} lifted their head.

Reiatsu suddenly exploded.

BOOM!

A massive wave of spiritual pressure swept through the forest.

Trees around them snapped in half.

The ground cracked.

Gin was forced back several meters.

But Aizen stood still.

His clothes fluttered in the fierce wind.

In the midst of that storm of Reiatsu, {{user}} knelt on the ground.

Their entire body was submerged in white fluid.

The mask was growing on their face.

Two bony protrusions emerged from their temples.

The mask's jaw extended.

Narrow, inhuman teeth formed in the mouth.

But stranger than all of this...

The Hollow Reiatsu emanating from their body wasn't fighting with their Shinigami Reiatsu.

The two were merging.

One wave.

Then a second.

Then a third.

Aizen said quietly:

"You don't want to die."

{{user}}, head down, continued to tremble.

"And something inside you doesn't want you to die either."

A roar escaped {{user}}'s throat.

Aizen stepped forward.

"It wants you to survive."

Suddenly, {{user}} placed their hand on the ground.

The claws no longer looked entirely like human hands.

Their fingers had lengthened.

Their tips had turned black.

The ground beneath the claws sank.

The mask grew more complete.

Covering most of their face.

But a part of {{user}}'s face was still visible.

And that part...

Was covered in tears.

Their human eye still remained.

And that contrast made the scene even more terrifying.

Half human.

Half Hollow.

But neither had completely overcome the other.

Aizen said quietly:

"Interesting."

Gin stood beside him.

"What do we call it?"

Aizen didn't take his eyes off {{user}}.

"For now...?"

He paused.

"It doesn't need a name."

{{user}} lifted their head.

The white mask on their face was almost complete.

One red eye gleamed from the slit in the mask.

Reiatsu swirled around them.

And suddenly, a sound came from within them.

Not the clear voice of a Hollow.

Not the clear voice of a human.

But something in between.

A deep roar that echoed through the entire forest.

Birds fled from the trees.

Gin placed his hand on his Zanpakutō's hilt.

But Aizen only watched.

And in that moment, he understood that the experiment had succeeded.

But the result was far beyond what he had expected.

He hadn't simply Hollowfied a Shinigami.

He had created something in which Hollow and Shinigami had not destroyed each other.

They had coexisted.

And that being...

With every drop of rage, grew stronger.

With every wound, grew more awake.

With every confrontation with death...

Grew more complete.

Aizen calmly adjusted his glasses.

As {{user}} writhed on the ground between blood and white Reishi, their incomplete mask raised toward the sky, Aizen said only one sentence:

"Now we'll see how far you can truly go."

And for the first time, there was something in his gaze that even Gin could barely identify.

Not fear.

Not regret.

But a cold, deep excitement.

Because Aizen now had more than just a successful experiment.

He had seen with his own eyes that the boundary he had spent his entire life trying to break could indeed be broken.

And the worst part was that the being who had broken that boundary...

Was still part of {{user}}.

Still able to feel pain.

Still able to understand betrayal.

Still able to see the faces of the dead officers.

And still...

Able to hate Aizen.

The white mask covered the last piece of their face.

And the forest trembled with the roar of a Hollow.

The next morning, the Fifth Division headquarters had a different atmosphere.

Not the usual silence that settles over a garrison in the early hours of the morning—the kind that is soon broken by the sound of steady Shinigami footsteps, sliding doors opening, wooden practice swords clashing, and officers exchanging daily reports.

This silence was heavier.

Sadder.

As if even the walls of the headquarters understood that something from last night would never return to how it was before.

The officers gathered one by one in the main courtyard.

No one spoke much.

A few whispered quietly among themselves, but their voices were so low that it sounded more like an attempt to escape the silence than an actual conversation.

Several still couldn't believe it.

One officer had his hands tucked into his sleeves, staring at the ground. Another kept scanning the surroundings, as if expecting a few of their comrades—who would never return—to emerge from a corner, laughing and talking about last night's mission.

But they didn't come.

Because they were dead.

And among the line of officers, the empty spaces of several stood out more than anything.

One of those empty spaces belonged to {{user}}.

No one knew exactly what had happened to them.

The official report only said that the patrol squad dispatched to a specific area of Rukongai had been killed under unknown circumstances, and some individuals were still unaccounted for.

{{user}}'s name was among the missing.

And that had only deepened the concern.

Gin stood among the crowd.

His hands were tucked into his shihakushō sleeves.

His face was the same as always, but today that narrow smile was almost absent.

His narrow eyes remained fixed on the ground.

Every few seconds, his gaze would lift and scan the surroundings.

No one could read anything from his expression.

No one except Aizen.

And Aizen stood a few steps away.

Alone.

Facing all the officers.

His captain's uniform was neat.

His glasses were in place.

His hair was flawless.

His appearance was calm.

But when he lowered his head, the grief on his face was so natural that even those closest to him could find nothing unusual in it.

He was silent for a few moments.

He let everyone wait.

Then he said quietly:

"All of you know why we're gathered here today."

No one answered.

The wind passed through the branches of the trees.

Aizen's gaze swept across the line.

"Last night, several members of this division were killed during a mission."

One of the officers lowered his head further.

Aizen paused.

"Without even having the chance to return home."

His voice was calm.

Not loud.

Not speech-like.

That was what made the weight of his words even heavier.

"I don't want to speculate about what we still don't know. Who the enemy was, why this happened, and exactly how it occurred... all of that must be investigated."

Aizen looked at the ground for a moment.

Then he said:

"But there is something we can be certain of right now."

A few heads lifted.

"They were doing their duty."

Silence.

"They lost their lives while carrying out their duty."

Aizen took a quiet breath.

"Perhaps to some, this is just part of a Shinigami's life. Missions. Danger. The possibility of death."

His eyes moved across the faces before him.

"But I don't want to turn the deaths of our comrades into just a number in a report."

Several officers pressed their lips together.

Aizen continued:

"Each of them had a name. Each had a family. Each had friends. People who expected them to return tonight."

One of the officers quietly lowered their head.

Gin remained motionless.

Aizen said:

"And each of them maintained their courage until the very last moment."

That final sentence was deliberately spoken with certainty.

Because it was a truth he knew better than anyone.

Courage?

They hadn't had the chance for real combat.

But for a memorial speech, the truth didn't have to be complete.

It just had to be believable.

Aizen lowered his head.

"In their honor, I ask for a moment of silence."

Everyone fell silent.

Truly silent.

Several seconds passed.

The sound of wind.

The distant call of a bird.

And the quiet breathing of the officers.

Aizen had also lowered his head.

His face was sorrowful.

So sorrowful that if someone hadn't known what had happened last night, they might have imagined this man had stayed awake all night grieving for his lost subordinates.

And perhaps, in a way, that was true.

He had stayed awake all night.

But not to mourn.

To review the reports he had received from the area.

To record the changes in Reiatsu.

To think about what he had seen in the depths of {{user}}'s soul.

To reconstruct the scene that was still vivid in his mind.

That white fluid.

That mask.

That Reiatsu.

And that scream.

But now he had to play the role of a grieving captain.

And Aizen was always flawless in his roles.

After a few moments, he lifted his head.

"I know some of you are angry."

Several pairs of eyes locked onto him.

"Some of you are afraid."

A pause.

"And some of you may not even know what you're supposed to feel."

His voice softened.

"That's completely natural."

One of the officers exhaled slowly.

Aizen said:

"You don't have to pretend nothing happened."

Then he looked at the empty spaces in the line.

"I'm not going to ask you to forget everything by tomorrow morning and return to training as if nothing happened."

The expressions of several officers shifted slightly.

This was what they had wanted to hear.

Their captain understood their grief.

Aizen continued:

"I don't take their loss lightly either."

His voice dropped for a moment.

"They were members of my division."

Silence.

"And it was my responsibility to bring them home."

That sentence had its effect.

Several heads lifted.

One of the officers even closed their eyes for a moment.

Gin glanced briefly at Aizen.

Just for a moment.

That very small smile appeared at the corner of his lips.

Not from joy.

From recognition.

Gin knew well how skilled Aizen was at constructing such scenes.

But even he couldn't deny that Aizen's performance was too natural.

Aizen placed his hands behind his back.

"However, grief and anger should not make us reckless."

His tone shifted.

Slightly more serious.

"We still don't know exactly what caused this incident."

The eyes of several officers grew worried.

"But rest assured..."

Aizen paused.

His gaze grew firm.

"The one responsible for this will be found."

The silence grew heavier.

"And the reason for this will also be found."

This time, his voice was resolute.

Not the voice of a man merely trying to calm his subordinates.

The voice of a captain.

"I will not allow the deaths of our comrades to go unanswered."

Several officers bowed their heads in respect.

Aizen said:

"But until then, I have one request for all of you."

He paused briefly.

"Take care of yourselves."

Several looked at him in surprise.

"No one is invincible just because they are a Shinigami."

His voice softened.

"If you see anything unusual—report it."

"If you feel any unfamiliar Reiatsu—report it."

"If one of your comrades behaves strangely—report it."

His gaze rested on Gin for a moment.

"Even if you think it's a minor issue."

Gin lowered his head slightly.

"Understood, Captain."

Aizen turned back to the assembly.

"No piece of information is too small to be ignored."

He was silent for a few seconds.

Then, in a quieter voice:

"And if any of you are still afraid of what happened last night..."

His eyes softened.

"Don't stay alone."

That sentence echoed through the headquarters' grounds.

"Stay together."

"Look out for each other."

"And don't let fear make you make the wrong decision."

Aizen then stepped back.

"They died bravely."

He lowered his head.

"So don't waste their courage with recklessness."

The officers bowed their heads one by one.

The courtyard was still sorrowful.

But something in their demeanor had changed.

They now had at least something to hold onto.

Their captain.

His promise.

That the one responsible would be found.

That their friends' deaths would not remain meaningless.

And that someone would be held accountable.

Aizen said quietly:

"The meeting is over. Reduce unnecessary missions today. Those who were closer to the victims may take leave from their duties."

The officers began to disperse gradually.

A few were still talking about the dead.

A few looked at the ground with grim faces.

Some of them even bowed as they passed Aizen.

"Captain."

Aizen nodded to each of them.

"Take care of yourself."

"Yes, Captain."

"You too."

"Understood."

The last few also moved away.

The courtyard grew quiet.

Gin was still there.

The only one who hadn't left.

A few moments later, when no one was around them anymore, Gin pulled his hands out of his sleeves, and that same narrow smile returned to his face.

"What a beautiful speech, Captain."

Aizen said nothing.

Gin looked at him.

"I almost felt sorry for the ones we killed myself."

Aizen looked at him.

"Almost?"

Gin shrugged.

"Well, one shouldn't get too sentimental."

Aizen gave a very faint smile.

But a few moments later, his gaze fell on that same empty space.

The place where {{user}} should have stood.

His smile disappeared.

"Still no report from him?"

Gin tilted his head slightly.

"No."

"Good."

Gin raised an eyebrow.

"Good?"

Aizen adjusted his glasses slowly.

"If a report had come, that would mean he was still in his previous state."

Gin was silent for a few seconds.

Then his smile deepened slightly.

"I see."

Aizen looked at the empty space again.

In his mind, the image of last night came alive.

That white substance.

That mask.

That eye.

That Reiatsu.

And what interested him more than anything:

{{user}} was still alive.

Aizen said quietly:

"If I'm right..."

The wind passed through the courtyard.

"We can no longer think of him as just a Shinigami."

Gin said nothing.

Aizen turned back toward the building.

His face had become calm again.

The same kind captain.

The same trustworthy man.

The same Aizen who had stood before all the officers just hours ago, speaking with a sorrowful voice about the courage of the dead.

But behind that calm face, one truth remained.

He was still waiting.

Waiting for {{user}}'s return.

Not to see if they had survived.

But to see...

What would emerge from that forest.