Several years passed, confined within that all-white world.
My body was about to turn ten, but inside, I had transford into sothing else entirely—a fusion of a modern Japanese person with mories of a past life and the overwhelming capabilities of Sōsuke Aizen.
(…Another day, another round of Shinigami training. The darkness of the Soul Society runs deep.)
Grumbling inwardly, I finished solving the complex multivariable calculus problem displayed on the monitor in front of in the blink of an eye.
Looking around, only a handful of the peers who once sat beside remained. One by one, they had been unable to endure the extre stress, their minds worn down, disappearing from this "white cage."
The ones left were , that brown-haired boy—Kiyotaka Ayanokōji—and a few others deed "top masterpiece candidates."
(Even so… sothing's strange. Despite pushing my body and mind this hard every single day, there's still no sign of my spiritual pressure awakening.)
I stared at my palm.
Thanks to Aizen's specs, I could run 100 ters in the 10-second range, speak multiple languages, and treat adult martial artists like children. But that was still just the power of body and intellect.
There was no spiritual power to cast Kurohitsugi, no voice calling out from a Zanpakutō.
(…No, don't panic. My "spiritual core" must simply still be dormant. Even Ichigo started out as a normal human. If I keep training, I should eventually gain the spiritual pressure to stand atop the heavens…!)
Clinging to that misunderstanding, I calmly continued completing the curriculum as usual. However, that very "perfection" would soon set things in motion.
One day, I was summoned to the room of the man who stood at the top of this facility—Ayanokōji-sensei.
Kiyotaka's father, and the absolute ruler of this "White Room." His cold gaze pierced straight through my ten-year-old self.
"Sōsuke Aizen. As of today, you will be leaving this facility."
His voice was freezing cold.
(Oh? Finally a promotion exam? Are they going to say, 'Congratulations on joining Squad 5' or sothing?)
Contrary to my excited thoughts, the words that ca out of my mouth carried a heavy, imposing dignity of rejection.
"—I see. So at last, my existence has grown beyond what you can handle."
(Nooooo!! I just wanted to say 'Oh, I see'!!)
"How ironic. In a facility designed to artificially create geniuses, your existence—a true genius—is nothing but an impurity that completely denies our experint. No matter how perfect your results are, they are an irreproducible miracle. …We have no need for a god. What we require is a blueprint to mass-produce them."
The man declared coldly. This place existed to turn ordinary people into geniuses. A "complete" genius from the start was nothing but useless data.
(Wait, I'm fired!? Expelled!? After all this!? I'm going to end up holess!! At least give severance pay or sothing!!)
Ignoring my internal panic, my outward self—Sōsuke Aizen—gracefully turned his back.
"…It matters not. Just as a bird's song cannot reach the heights above the clouds, the boundaries you have drawn are far too fragile to define my existence."
(There it is again!! The poem!! I don't even understand it, but it sounds cool and now I'm leaving dramatically!!)
"That gaze may one day beco the spark that destroys us. …Go, Aizen."
Without looking back even once, I left the room.
The last thing that lingered in my mind was Kiyotaka's hollow eyes—sohow tinged with loneliness.
The mont I stepped outside the White Room—
For the first ti in years, I squinted under direct sunlight and looked out at the world.
"...?"
An overwhelming sense of discomfort struck .
(…It's quiet. No… it's too quiet.)
I focused and searched for the "presence" around .
My senses, sharpened by years of training under Aizen-level specs, precisely gathered information from the outside world.
What existed there… was simply air.
The sll of exhaust fus, the heat of asphalt, the noise of crowds.
No matter how I searched, I couldn't sense even the slightest fluctuation of spiritual particles.
Ordinary people. Salaryn walking normally. Ordinary crows. There wasn't even a trace—down to the molecular level—of anything like "soul energy."
(Wait, wait, wait. That's weird. This should be either the Soul Society or the human world, right? Why is it so… empty? Normally, there should be at least a wandering soul, so stealth force surveillance, or even a single Hollow around!)
I pressed a hand to my chest.
I could feel my heartbeat. But there was no voice of a Zanpakutō, no inner soul calling out.
(…Ah. I see now…)
Faced with a truth both brutally simple and utterly cruel, I collapsed inwardly.
(This… isn't the world of BLEACH at all!! It's just modern Japan!! No wonder I couldn't use spiritual power no matter how much I trained!! I've just been living for years as an insanely smart, chuuni kid whose mouth blurts out dramatic poems!!)
Blushing bright red from embarrassnt (though outwardly calm and composed), I was greeted by a black car from the facility.
As a forr "test subject" with no relatives, I was sent to an orphanage in Tokyo to maintain appearances.
"Starting today, this is your new classmate, Sōsuke Aizen. Please get along with him."
A few days later, I stood in a public elentary school classroom.
With a new identity prepared by the White Room, I had been thrown into peaceful daily life as a fourth-grade transfer student.
(Calm down. This is normal Japan. Forget spiritual pressure and Shinigami. Starting today, I'll live quietly and peacefully as a normal elentary school student…!)
I did my best to act like a normal kid.
First, greetings. I needed to show my classmates I ant no harm.
I opened my mouth, intending to say, "I'm Aizen, nice to et you."
"—I am Sōsuke Aizen. My presence within the scenery you behold is but a fleeting bloom… burn it into your eyes while you still can."
(NOOOOOOO!! IT HAPPENED AGAIN!! And it sounds super arrogant!!)
An unnatural silence filled the classroom.
The horoom teacher trembled with cold sweat, and the students froze, overwheld by an "aura" no ten-year-old should possess.
"…Th-that was intense…"
"He's cool… but really scary…"
The girls whispered, but it was clearly closer to fear than admiration.
(It's over… My school life is finished on day one. Why does my mouth move on its own…!?)
Drowning in despair internally, I gracefully moved to the back seat by the window.
(…But wait.)
I reconsidered.
Even without spiritual power, my genius intellect and physical abilities were real.
And more importantly—Kiyotaka Ayanokōji. The one person who stood on equal ground with . Soday, he too would co out into this world.
(If he cos out here… and I've beco just so ordinary guy… wouldn't he be disappointed? In that case, maybe I should fulfill my role. Even in a world without spiritual power, I should aim to stand at the top—in a different sense.)
I let out a small, self-deprecating laugh.
(It looked like the smile of a demon king plotting world domination to everyone else.)
(First… I need to train to suppress this overflowing poetic speech—at least to a level that works in modern society. I'll treat it like stealth training… concealnt techniques, here I co!)
Reincarnated Sōsuke Aizen, age 10.
In modern Japan, where he supposedly has no enemies—
He begins his greatest challenge yet:
Pretending to be a normal elentary school student.
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