COTE: Sōsuke Aizen, The Poet Chapter 1 1

—It was a terrible headache.

A sensation as if my brain were being directly stirred… like sinking into thick mud. Like a drop of ink spreading slowly across water, a sudden foreign presence had flowed into my mind.

(…Who am I?)

mories of being born and raised in modern Japan.

ssing around with a smartphone, casually enjoying manga and ani, living an utterly ordinary student life.

…And yet, strangely, the personal details—like my original na or my family's faces—were frustratingly vague, as if hidden behind frosted glass. The only thing I could clearly grasp was that I had been an average student living in modern Japan.

Then suddenly, those mories violently collided with and fused into my current, ongoing identity—as a five-year-old child.

"..."

Slowly, I opened my eyes.

What entered my vision was nothing but pure white.

The ceiling, the walls, the floor—everything was an insane, spotless, inorganic white.

(…Wait, what is this? Did I… get reincarnated?)

No, hold on. If I was reincarnated… that ans I died in my previous life, right?

Was it illness? So accident? I couldn't even rember how I died. But sohow, instinctively, I understood that my previous life had ended, and I had awakened here as a completely different being.

Trying to calm my confused mind, I searched for information about my current self.

My na. Right—my current na is—

"Sōsuke Aizen."

(...Huh?)

Inside, I completely froze.

Sōsuke Aizen. That na was far too familiar.

Captain of the 5th Division of the Gotei 13, the man who declared he would stand atop the heavens. The overwhelming charisma of him breaking his glasses and brushing back his hair—those images were vividly engraved in my vague past-life mories.

(You've got to be kidding !? I'm THAT Lord Aizen!? I got reincarnated into the world of BLEACH!? And of all things, I'm one of the biggest final bosses!?)

A wave of anxiety made my heart pound.

At this rate, wouldn't I eventually betray the Soul Society, fight Ichigo in a deadly battle, and end up sealed in Muken?

No—wait. Calm down. First, assess the situation.

I slowly turned my head.

It was a vast, open space. And besides , there were other children—around five years old—wearing the sa white clothes, seated at equal intervals.

What stood out… were their eyes.

Completely devoid of emotion. Hollow. Like finely crafted dolls that rely breathed.

(…Where is this? Was there a place like this in BLEACH?)

The Soul Society I knew had a more traditional Japanese feel. I had never seen such a sterile, sci-fi-like white space.

A research lab from the Departnt of Research and Developnt? No… even then, this was too strange.

…Could it be so hidden dark facility of the Soul Society? A secret brainwashing institution for orphans before entering the academy? Sothing like a hidden "Maggot's Nest" operated behind the scenes by Central 46?

"Sōsuke, you seem off. What's wrong?"

A voice suddenly ca from beside .

Suppressing the urge to flinch, I turned to look.

A boy with brown hair stood there. Like the others, his eyes were empty—but there was sothing deep and unfathomable about him.

I searched my mory… Right. His na was Kiyotaka.

(Kiyotaka…? Was there a character like that in BLEACH? A novel-only character? Or just a background character who dies before the story begins?)

My past-life knowledge and current mories mixed in confusion.

But acting strangely would raise suspicion. I should just say sothing simple like, "I've got a bit of a headache. Just a weird dream."

I took a breath and opened my mouth.

"—The world appeared terribly small. I rely felt a slight dizziness."

(Huh!?)

I was internally shocked at my own words.

What was that!? I didn't think that, and I definitely didn't an to say it!?

"The world?"

"Yes… I was simply sighing at the shallowness of this white miniature garden that binds us. My apologies for worrying you, Kiyotaka."

(No, no, no!! What is this poetic nonsense!? My mouth is moving on its own!?)

No matter how normal my thoughts were, the mont they passed through my voice, they were automatically converted into arrogant, intellectual "Aizen-like" speech!

While I panicked inside, my outward self even perford a graceful gesture—pushing up imaginary glasses that I wasn't even wearing yet.

"I see. The next curriculum will begin soon. Don't be late."

"Thank you for the warning… though no one can delay my steps."

(This is so embarrassing!! A five-year-old shouldn't say that!! Sorry, Kiyotaka!!)

Yet Kiyotaka showed no reaction, simply turning forward again.

Apparently, my "auto-poetic speech" was being interpreted here as profound words from a genius.

A sharp electronic sound rang out.

The door opened, and adults in white coats entered—likely instructors.

"We will now begin intelligence and basic physical ability tests for the fourth generation. Proceed to your assigned terminals."

The children moved like machines.

I followed and looked at the screen.

(…Huh? Calculus? Probability and statistics? And this linguistics problem… Russian!?)

I was stunned.

We're five years old!! Why are we being tested on college-level subjects in multiple languages!?

But despite my shock—my hand moved smoothly.

(…Huh?)

I could understand everything perfectly.

Formulas I could never solve before appeared naturally in my mind.

(I can solve this… no, this is easier than breathing!)

This was Aizen's intellect.

The overwhelming genius of the man who would later create the Hōgyoku.

(This is insane… I could probably top Tokyo University like this!)

I finished instantly.

Glancing sideways, Kiyotaka was also solving everything effortlessly.

(That guy… he's doing it too? At age five? I should stay on his good side.)

Next was physical training.

Real combat against adults—with no restraint.

Children were beaten down one after another.

(Are they trying to kill us!? This is beyond abuse!)

Then an instructor attacked .

A sharp kick aid at my head—

—Slow.

It looked like slow motion.

My body moved perfectly.

I dodged and swept his leg, then struck his solar plexus.

The instructor collapsed.

(Whoa… I'm so cool right now!! This must be Shinigami hand-to-hand combat!)

The room froze.

(Uh-oh… maybe I overdid it. I should apologize—)

But again, my mouth betrayed .

"—Don't use such strong words."

(NO, THAT'S NOT WHAT I ANT!!)

"You'll appear weak."

(I SAID IT!! I ACTUALLY SAID IT!!)

Outwardly calm, inwardly dying of embarrassnt.

The instructor backed away in fear.

Then I noticed Kiyotaka watching.

"…I see. Sōsuke, you truly are unfathomable."

"You overestimate , Kiyotaka. I am rely—"

(Please! Normal words!)

"…preparing to stand above the heavens before anyone else."

(I hate this auto-translation function…)

(…Whatever. No matter how harsh this place is, I have Aizen's abilities! I'll escape this 'White Room' soday and enter the academy!)

Completely unaware that he was actually in the world of Classroom of the Elite, where neither spiritual powers nor Shinigami exist—

The reincarnated Sōsuke Aizen began his overwhelmingly dominant life in the White Room, burdened with absurd abilities… and a cursed "auto-poetic speech" system.