The question was so sudden that even Arima Shinya ended up showing a visibly embarrassed expression.
He couldn't understand what Aizen was really thinking.
So… what did he mean by that just now?
Was he trying to test if I had discovered his true nature?
And what am I supposed to answer to that…?
While hesitating, Arima Shinya saw Aizen suddenly relax his expression and then extend a hand, giving a light pat on his shoulder.
— Hehe, seems like this question made you quite uncomfortable, didn't it?
— In that case, feel free to think it over, torment yourself… Shinya-kun, don't trust people too much. Even me.
— After all, who can know the true nature hidden beneath the skin?
The sudden change in tone left Arima Shinya dumbfounded.
Damn it… is he joking with me?
This hardly ever happens…
It took him a while to digest everything he had heard, and then he ended up speaking without being able to hold back:
— Aizen-sensei, did something happen to you?
For a brief moment, the other's expression stiffened.
— Why do you think that, Shinya-kun?
Arima Shinya pondered for a moment, tilting his head slightly, a curious expression on his face.
— I just thought… if it were the usual Aizen-sensei, he wouldn't say something like that.
People become sensitive and strange when they experience something unexpected or hard to bear.
This principle applies to anyone…
Thinking about his conversation with Urahara Kisuke, Arima Shinya quickly deduced:
probably, the research on the Hōgyoku had advanced, but he encountered some kind of obstacle — a true "bottleneck."
Even someone as formidable as Aizen would have his problems.
It was easy to imagine.
Maybe if he were more direct in showing support, the effect would be better.
But there was nothing to be done — Arima Shinya was still "outside the circle," and he couldn't act too intimately.
Otherwise… how could he explain his actions later?
With these thoughts swirling in his mind, he raised his right hand, trying to imitate the tone Aizen normally used when speaking.
— After all, if it were the usual Aizen-sensei, he would have said something like: "Blind trust is a bad habit, but on the other hand, people like that are good at approaching others," right?
Reasonable, balanced, and at the same time hard to argue against.
That was the Aizen of old — a "three-dimensional" presence, attacking and defending perfectly, leaving anyone hot-headed!
Hearing this, Aizen looked at Arima Shinya in a different way.
His lips moved for a few moments, and after two pauses for breath, he finally showed a rare smile.
Not that superficial smile he always wore.
The corners of his lips lifted naturally; his body even trembled, unable to contain itself, and a light "pfft" sound escaped…
Soon after, the laughter flowed like a flood bursting a dam.
Aizen laughed without caring about his image.
— Hahaha… Shinya-kun, you are truly interesting.
Arima Shinya could only press his forehead with his fingers.
Really? And what exactly are you laughing at? You're making me look like I've done something absurd here…
— So, Aizen-sensei, what exactly is so funny about that?
The other adjusted his glasses calmly, and his expression returned to his usual serenity — like the surface of a still lake.
— Hehe, answers are more valuable when we find them ourselves, Shinya-kun.
Alright… looks like he's back to normal.
But still, being made fun of for no reason is not pleasant at all!
— Shinya-kun, it seems it's getting late… how about I invite you to dinner outside before we return to the Academy?
— …Hm?
Suddenly, Arima Shinya became more excited.
I take back what I said. Long live Aizen-sensei!
— Thank you very much, Aizen-sensei!
— Heh, you only get excited when you hear something like that.
— After all, the 12th Division's food isn't made for humans; no wonder you're always hungry.
— Can I mention this to Captain Urahara next time?
— Urgh… just that, please, don't!
And so, master and apprentice walked side by side, exchanging teasing remarks, disappearing under the orange light of the evening.
As mentioned before, the Seireitei was vast — and considering the division between residential areas and barracks, usually only the zones near the center, or the outskirts of a few Squads, had busier commercial districts.
The restaurant where Aizen took Arima Shinya seemed old.
From the outside, nothing stood out, but inside it was surprisingly lively.
One could see several shinigami drinking and talking loudly.
The air was heavy with the smell of alcohol and fried food, mixed with the greasy scent of aged wood — which made Arima Shinya wrinkle his nose.
A bit suffocating, to be honest.
But at the same time, it was clear that the place was frequented by shinigami — after all, he had already recognized some officers among the customers.
— Shinya-kun, you might not be used to this environment. This is a very old establishment… they say even Commander Yamamoto himself came here back in the day.
— Ah, that makes sense.
The style was entirely traditional Japanese; solid wooden tables and benches, everything looking authentic.
Not the type of place I like, but since I was invited… there's not much to complain about.
Aizen, with the ease of someone already familiar with the menu, ordered some dishes and then glanced at Arima Shinya.
— Shinya-kun, do you drink?
— A little won't hurt.
— Understood.
Smiling, Aizen nodded and spoke to the kimono-clad waitress beside him:
— Please, bring him a grape juice.
What the hell… he just ignores what I say now?
With no strength to protest, Arima Shinya just pretended he didn't hear.
About ten minutes later, the waitress returned with a tray.
— Sorry for the wait～ Here are the skewers and sashimi. Please enjoy.
The skewers, small but well-made, had juicy chicken cooked just right.
The sashimi, arranged over crushed ice, was visually appealing.
There was no denying it — any restaurant approved by old Yamamoto deserved respect.
Arima Shinya, taking the opportunity, also ordered a few more bowls of gyūdon to replenish energy.
While he ate enthusiastically, Aizen merely tried a few skewers, setting down the chopsticks shortly after.
He observed the environment calmly, occasionally glancing at Arima Shinya — which made him feel a bit awkward.
After finishing the third bowl, Arima Shinya wiped his mouth and asked quietly:
— Aizen-sensei, aren't you going to eat anything else?
— It's fine, I'm not very hungry.
— I see…
He realized it was an excuse, but it wasn't the time to insist.
Better focus on the food.
Good food deserves to be devoured with gusto!
During dinner, Aizen got up saying he would go to the restroom. Arima Shinya just nodded, watching him disappear at the end of the corridor.
While chewing absentmindedly, he thought:
Aizen-sensei seems pretty overworked… would telling some jokes in the next few days help lighten the mood a bit?
Then, from the second floor, a commotion was heard.
It seemed a fight had started — sounds of falling objects and raised voices echoed through the hall.
Shouts of men and a sharp, high-pitched female voice made everyone look up.
Upstairs were the private rooms, accessible only by reservation.
Did someone have a disagreement?
Despite his curiosity, Arima Shinya thought it best not to get involved.
The less trouble, the better.
But before he could conclude that thought, a shadow fell from the second floor.
When he focused, his pupils constricted sharply.
It wasn't a stranger.
It was the same waitress who had just served their dishes.
Her kimono was torn halfway, long braided hair had come undone and fell to the floor — a pitiful sight.
But the most alarming thing was the injury on her face.
The left side of her face was completely swollen — a sign she had received a violent blow.
Blood vessels had ruptured from the impact, causing blood and tissue fluids to pool.
In short — she had received a devastating slap.
Seeing her fallen at his feet, Arima Shinya could no longer stay still.
Immediately, he knelt and helped her up.
— Are you okay?!
— Uuuh… uuuuh… please, help me! Help me!
It was unclear whether it was from shock or confusion, but she could barely speak.
Then — mocking voices echoed from the corridor.
— Hey, hey, where are you running?
— Being chosen by us should be an honor for you.
— What a shame to ruin such a pretty face… ah, well, it's not visible from the back, right?
The vile and vulgar words made everyone frown.
And such insolence could only mean one thing:
The aggressors had arrived.
How can they be so brazen…?
Arima Shinya turned and saw a group of men staggering, drunk, coming down the stairs.
None of them had distinctive features, and their spiritual presences were insignificant.
But still — they were shinigami.
Official members, judging by their uniforms.
Unfortunately, scenes like this were not rare.
The Thirteen Protection Squads had been, a thousand years ago, an army of assassins.
Even today, they remained an organization maintained by necessity for stability — not for "justice."
The original manga always implied this.
During the Ryoka invasion, Inoue Orihime and Ishida Uryū even disguised themselves as shinigami — and Orihime was subjected to similar harassment.
She only escaped because she was one of the protagonists and had Ishida's help.
But, thinking coldly… what if it were a simple recruit, with no one around?
What could she do to protect herself?
A cruel question, whose answer only brings helplessness.
Fortunately, Arima Shinya did not romanticize the shinigami.
Thus, he remained calm even in front of the scene.
But when the others saw the crest engraved on the arms of the aggressors, panic spread.
— It's the 11th Division personnel!
— Get out of here, quickly… if they notice, it's over!
— Tsk! These lunatics are the worst possible to get involved with!
Arima Shinya blinked, confused.
Huh…?
Wasn't the 11th Division made up of fight-obsessed maniacs? Since when do they have this kind of vermin among them?
Could it be that Captain Zaraki isn't… wait.
Suddenly, he remembered.
A hundred years ago… the captain of the 11th wasn't Zaraki Kenpachi yet.
So… who's in command now…?
And the instant he thought that, a thick, lazy voice sounded behind the group.
— What's going on…? Took your time.
A pair of huge feet came into view.
Then a broad, heavy body appeared — the kind of presence that made the air dense.
The black kimono was stretched by swollen muscles.
Just walking a few steps made the gasping sound fill the hall.
— Women… women… women…
— I only asked you to bring me a woman.
— Can't even do that right? Huh? Useless lot!
He lifted his leg and delivered a brutal kick to the nearest subordinate.
The man screamed and flew, breaking tables and chairs until he hit the ground, covered in blood, barely alive.
Arima Shinya stared, stunned, at the motionless body… and then lifted his gaze.
Just in time to meet the eyes of the owner of that voice.
(End of chapter)
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