Idiot, what's wrong with you now?"
"Isn't he impressive? Most Shinigami go to great lengths to conceal their Zanpakutō's abilities, but this freshman Aizen liberated his Zanpakutō right in front of the class. And not just for show he did it to help his classmates understand how to communicate with their own Zanpakutō through Jinzen. He even demonstrated his Shikai openly."
"You're just suspicious by nature. Can't stand someone being sincere, huh?"
When Sarugaki Hiyori heard Hirako Shinji doubting Aizen again, she laughed derisively, snapping back at him without hesitation.
By now, even though Akira and Aizen had only been at the Shin'ō Academy for a few days, their names were spreading like wildfire across the Gotei 13. From captains to lieutenants, most had already taken note of the duo's extraordinary Reiatsu, their combat feats, and their unsettling calm under pressure.
"If he really was just trying to help his classmates," Shinji muttered, "then yeah I'd understand. Hell, I'd even say he's a good guy."
"But that's not all this is, is it? The entire Shin'ō Academy witnessed his Shikai. Everyone."
"That's no accident. It's too calculated. Too convenient."
"I'm telling you, he's dangerous."
"So that's your reason for calling Aizen a villain?" Hiyori scoffed, clearly unimpressed.
"Honestly, if we're handing out labels, you don't seem like much of a good guy yourself!"
"I swear, your brain must be allergic to subtlety."
"But fine," she added with a shrug, "I picked you to be my vice-captain, so I guess I'll live with the stupidity."
"Still, I'd rather take a straightforward idiot like you over that spectacled snake Aizen. At least your idiocy is honest."
Shinji, unbothered by the jab, picked up a manila folder from the desk Aizen's academy file.
"If you haven't hit the stage where presbyopia kicks in, take a good look at the birthplace field."
With that, he flicked the file toward Hiyori, who snatched it midair.
"Place of birth?" she mumbled, scanning.
"Rukongai… North District 80."
"What's your point? It's not like he's from Hueco Mundo. It just means he came from one of the outermost areas."
Shinji's tone turned cold.
"North District 80, Hiyori. That's Inuzuri the most violent, lawless, and destitute area in all of Rukongai. You think someone born there becomes a gentle, selfless saint just because he says the right things?"
"People there survive by deception, not kindness."
But Hiyori rolled her eyes.
"So what? You think everyone from Inuzuri is some kind of monster? You're making assumptions."
"Maybe Akira shielded him, raised him up right. Just because Aizen came from filth doesn't mean he's stained by it."
"Don't forget," she added with a smirk, "you saw Akira's combat report, didn't you? Took on a vice-captain-tier opponent and nine seated officers equivalent to 3rd Seat level… and wiped them out by himself. Like slicing through tofu."
She slammed the folder shut.
"So if Akira vouches for him, that's good enough for me."
Shinji exhaled, rubbing his forehead.
"I should've known better than to argue with you."
"Arguing with a fool just drags you down to their level, and you'll lose by experience alone."
But deep down, Shinji's unease only grew stronger.
Sarugaki Hiyori might have bought Aizen's clean image, but Shinji trusted his gut. And his gut told him that everything about Aizen was too smooth, too polished. Too… manufactured.
Everyone who met Aizen seemed to love him. Everyone. Unanimously. Without question.
That itself was the problem.
No real person was like that. No one was that universally liked unless they were hiding something. Unless they were pretending.
Shinji's hand gripped the edge of the desk.
"Aizen…"
He stared at the photo paper-clipped to the top of the file. Aizen's face was serene smiling gently, the kind of man you'd want watching your back. The image radiated trust.
But to Shinji, it was an illusion. The more he looked, the colder it felt—like standing alone in a blizzard behind that smile.
Snap.
His fingers unconsciously clenched, crumpling the edge of the photo.
For a long moment, Hirako Shinji said nothing, the air thick with unspoken suspicion.
Then, suddenly
Hirako Shinji dropped his crossed legs from the desk, stood up without a word, and started walking toward the door.
"Oi, idiot, where do you think you're going now?"
Seeing his sudden departure, Sarugaki Hiyori immediately chased after him.
"To pay a visit, of course," Shinji said dryly, slipping on the long-sleeved haori bearing the Fifth Division insignia. "To that Aizen Sōsuke you think is so pure he's untouched by mud."
With a leisurely pace that belied the tension in his mind, Hirako made his way in the direction of the Tenth Division barracks.
…
Mao Kendo Dōjō.
Fifteen minutes before the class was scheduled to begin, Akira and Aizen Sōsuke entered the main gate side by side.
After the enlightening Jinzen session with Shiba Isshin the day before, many of the students had experienced significant growth overnight, particularly those from Rukongai who had never truly communed with their Zanpakutō before.
Inside the dōjō, students had already begun to gather in small clusters. Among them stood Tōsen Kaname and Tenbei Shūsuke from Rukongai, as well as Shihōin Yoruichi and Urahara Kisuke—both from prestigious noble families. Despite their vastly different backgrounds, they all turned and greeted the pair with visible respect.
"Akira."
"Aizen."
Their voices held an ease that only came from admiration.
Akira was recognized unanimously as the undisputed top student at the Shin'ō Academy his spiritual pressure unmatched, his mastery in Hakuda, Zanjutsu, and Kidō already rivaling seated officers. But Aizen, who had released his Shikai Kyōka Suigetsu the previous day in a rare public demonstration to help classmates understand Jinzen, earned admiration for his humility and warmth just as much as for his talent.
Especially among students like Tōsen and Shūsuke, Aizen's willingness to help had left a deep impression. In gratitude, and remembering Aizen's casual mention of his fondness for tofu, the two had even brought tofu-based breakfast for him this morning.
"Thanks," Aizen said with a gentle, practiced smile, accepting the food with both hands.
As he turned to share one of the boxes with Akira, a hand suddenly extended toward Akira a dark, chocolate-toned hand offering a carefully wrapped bento box.
"This is for me too?"
Akira blinked, momentarily surprised.
He wasn't shocked that Aizen had breakfast gifted to him—on the way to the dōjō, several students had stopped them with offerings—but it did surprise him that someone had prepared a meal for him, and that it came from none other than Shihōin Yoruichi.
Given her status as the Shihōin clan's young mistress one of the Four Great Noble Houses Akira hadn't expected such a gesture from her, especially not personally made food.
"You better eat that with some gratitude," came a teasing voice.
Shiba Konghe, the only girl in Class 1 aside from Yoruichi, grinned wickedly.
"Our Miss Shihōin actually came to me in the middle of the night for tips and practiced that bento just for you."
"Akira, you'd better savor it, or she might unleash her full Hakuda skills on you."
Konghe's voice was playful, but her jab made Yoruichi blush ever so slightly.
"Konghe, seriously don't spout nonsense."
"I just felt like trying to cook. I made too much and thought I'd share it with the class. Nothing more."
"It's a waste to throw away food saturated with high-level reishi, so I brought it here. That's all."
At this point, Shihōin Yoruichi hadn't yet become the famously irreverent "cat-girl captain" who transformed from feline to human form without shame. In her current state as the heir to the Shihōin clan—she was still refined, restrained, and only showed glimpses of the carefree woman she would one day become.
Her presence was noble and dignified, the kind that her loyal attendant Suì-Fēng would one day describe as "elegant and terrifying." Fully robed in the current era, Yoruichi still carried herself with a noble's poise, far from the free spirit who would one day bathe publicly while transformed back from a cat.