The meeting with Aizen took place inside the Shino Spiritual Arts Academy.
The sunlight was warm—gentle, even—falling softly on the once-devastated grounds of the Academy. It had just begun to breathe again after the brutal Hollow invasion. Many instructors had died in that assault. But now, life returned.
It was Higashi Shuuichi's suggestion that prompted Kamiyada Kamihara, head of the noble Kamiyada Clan, to approve a peculiar proposal: allow Shuuichi to recruit candidates for the Blade Hunters under the guise of teaching at the Academy.
After all, it wouldn't do for the Blade Hunters to always be understrength.
Having slain Barragan, the king of Hueco Mundo, and saved Seireitei at its darkest hour, Shuuichi's prestige had never been higher. Kamihara trusted him. Enough to give this "cultivation project" a chance.
So while Shuuichi's true purpose today was to meet Aizen—this pretense of formal Academy business served as cover.
As for why the meeting had to be so covert?
Purely because of Aizen's sick sense of humor.
He hadn't subjected Gin Ichimaru to Kyōka Suigetsu today, so Shuuichi couldn't risk meeting Aizen in plain sight. Instead, this rendezvous played out like some clandestine underworld exchange.
Public meetings like their last one—when Aizen openly represented the Gotei 13—were rare.
"This is a resolution from the Central 46… authorizing a new Special Class: Hirugetsu, within the Academy?"
Aizen's voice was soft as he finished reading the stamped document in the Academy's staff lounge.
In the current shortage of instructors, Aizen—a longtime Academy lecturer and Captain of the Fifth Division—had naturally taken on some administrative duties.
"Yes," Shuuichi replied smoothly. "Right now, the connection between the Academy and the Gotei 13 is too rigid. New graduates are tossed directly into dangerous missions. Too many die before they even learn advanced techniques."
He paused.
"And even if Vice-Captains wanted to teach, their squads are a mess of varying skill levels. There's no systematic structure for training."
But Aizen wasn't here for that answer.
"The truth?" he said flatly.
Shuuichi grinned—white teeth flashing.
"As expected of you, Lord Aizen… The real reason is this: the experimental Modified Soul Project I conducted with Mayuri Kurotsuchi was a success. He gathered excellent data."
Shuuichi leaned forward, voice low.
"Mayuri predicts that within five years, we'll be ready for phase two. But it involves true spiritual metamorphosis. We'll need test subjects stronger than the common grunts."
He folded his hands.
"Seated officers are too few, and most are bound to Soul Society. I can't rely on another random setup like last time."
"So instead of waiting for circumstances… I'll create them. I'll train a group myself, under my control. Then deploy them to a mission site of my choosing. That way, time, place, even participants—are all mine to command."
No need to hide it. The Modified Soul Project had nothing to do with Aizen's goals, so there was no point in being coy.
And this time, Aizen had even helped Shuuichi—deflecting Soul Society's suspicions and clearing the path for the experiment to proceed.
Still, Aizen's smile held disdain.
"So you're still obsessed with that Fullbring evolution program?"
He remembered well: Shuuichi had come to him first, seeking collaboration. Aizen refused. Then Shuuichi approached Szayelaporro, who lost interest quickly. Only then did Shuuichi settle for Mayuri.
But with Shuuichi's current spiritual pressure—bolstered by devouring Barragan's Hollow Core—he was now nearly Aizen's equal. He had his own techniques, tricks, and tools. If he claimed he could go toe-to-toe with Aizen, it wouldn't even be surprising.
Why chase after that broken Fullbring system now?
Was he just that obsessed with power?
Shuuichi nodded, completely sincere.
"Yes. I'm just… curious. I want to see what kind of Fullbring I can forge, now that my body contains fragments of the Soul King."
He laughed lightly.
"That curiosity is one of my few remaining pleasures."
He didn't need to read Aizen's mind. He knew exactly what his 'boss' was thinking.
But Shuuichi had no choice. He lacked Mayuri's perverse scientific genius. He didn't have Aizen's celestial-level talent. If he wanted to survive the coming storm—amidst legends and monsters—he needed as many trump cards as he could forge.
He'd almost died this time, tricked by Barragan's twisted technology.
If not for a failsafe he'd created and forgotten—buried via Imagined Future—he'd be rotting in Hell, begging Kuriashiki "Papa" for rescue.
"Pleasure, huh? Hmph. Yes… that matters."
Aizen's expression softened. At their level, only curiosity still drove evolution.
Then suddenly—Aizen's gaze sharpened.
"But tell me… when you were in the Soul King Palace—did you feel any pleasure?"
He didn't ask if Shuuichi had gone. He knew.
No theatrics. No lies.
Shuuichi met his gaze and replied honestly.
"Those people up there? Dull. Lifeless. They sit guarding empty halls. My time in the palace was joyless."
"I see. A dull place, is it?"
Aizen's smile didn't change—but Shuuichi could feel the hatred behind it.
"A place that should never have existed."
Then Shuuichi added, "Though I wasn't there long, one of them—Hyōsube Ichibē, the monk—did invite me to join the Zero Division…"
Aizen laughed out loud.
"Then why did you refuse?"
He didn't need confirmation. He could tell from Shuuichi's unchanged body. Had he accepted, his flesh would've been overwritten with Ōken-enhanced Soul King essence.
"Joining the Zero Division might be the dream of most Shinigami. But it's not mine."
Vague, ambiguous. A non-answer.
But that was Shuuichi's strategy. The burden of trust now rested with Aizen.
As long as Aizen needed his services, he had no choice but to believe him.
"Shame I couldn't go with you," Aizen said, changing the subject.
Shuuichi smiled brightly.
"But it's not impossible, Lord Aizen."
"Oh?"
Shuuichi nodded.
"Though I declined their offer, they granted me a one-time return visit—if I arrange it with the Shiba clan representative in charge of Soul King transport."
He leaned forward, still smiling.
"If you like, we could go together."
But inside, he was already calculating how much he could sell Aizen for.
Getting Aizen into Soul King Palace was a golden ticket.
Even Aizen, with the completed Hōgyoku, wouldn't be a match for Ichibē alone—let alone Zero Division's collective might.
And that bald monk, that soulless script-bound priest, who might be the Soul King's mouthpiece in disguise… wouldn't kill Aizen. Not if Kurosaki Ichigo still needed to be born.
No, they'd beat Aizen into spiritual mush, then hurl him back to Soul Society to simmer in defeat.
Shuuichi would lose nothing—and might even gain favor with Zero Division for delivering the "problem."
He could already imagine the rewards…
But once again, Shuuichi underestimated Aizen.
He had overestimated the monk's indifference.
And underestimated Aizen's pride.
"Go together?" Aizen chuckled. "Have we just met, Shuuichi?"
"The Great Spirit Book Gallery states this clearly: the residents of the Soul King Palace can observe all that occurs in Soul Society."
"They know who I am. They know what I've done.
They even know I'm talking to you right now."
"And yet—they chose to invite Ōetsu Nimaiya.
They chose to invite you.
But not me."
He stared at the ceiling.
"I am not naïve. They knew. They knew about you and me.
And they still turned their backs."
Shuuichi finally understood.
Back when Aizen had orchestrated the Kasutari Clan's rebellion, he never bothered placing agents in the main battle zones.
Because Aizen knew: if Zero Division cared, they'd come for him directly.
But they didn't.
That silence?
It stung deeper than any defeat.
"To them, I'm nothing but an upstart—a fool daring to reach too high.
Their silence is a challenge."
"If I follow you into the Soul King Palace now, I've already lost."
Shuuichi wanted to protest—say Ichibē was just following some script, that it wasn't personal. But Aizen's logic was… solid.
Every word could be justified. Every assumption could be proven.
"I will go to the Soul King Palace someday..." Aizen said, staring through the ceiling as though seeing the throne beyond the sky.
"But I'll do it… my way."