In the end, Alex accepted the invitation to appear on that massively popular countryside variety show - two episodes only, just enough to satisfy the promotional obligation without letting it become a habit.
The van rolled along a narrow road, hemmed in by green hills and trees that seemed to stitch the sky into arches. Inside, everything felt too calm for his liking. Calm in the way stories always use as a curtain - quiet only so the absurd can hit harder.
One of the staff members in the front seat glanced at him through the rearview mirror, careful the way people get after working long enough to read faces for a living.
"Alex… you good?" he asked, trying to sound casual. "You look kind of off."
"It's nothing." Alex answered lightly, almost distracted, as if his mind were elsewhere.
And it was.
There was no universe where he'd admit out loud that, for one stupid second, he'd imagined the worst kind of "rural setting" - the kind where urban legends weren't legends. The kind where there was always a "low-profile" guy living at the end of the road, raising dragons in the backyard, performing rituals at midnight, or just waiting for a TV crew to show up so he could put on a smug smile and humble everyone on camera.
It was a ridiculous paranoia… and the most annoying part was the detail Alex preferred not to look at too closely: he wasn't exactly normal either. He'd crossed an impossibility to end up in this world. If there were "freaks" hiding out somewhere, he didn't have the moral right to act shocked.
The van took a bend, asphalt giving way to rougher ground. The sound of the tires changed.
So did his heartbeat.
Far away on the other side of that same road, director Warren Reed stared at a monitor with an expression caught between anticipation and frustration. Beside him, the assistant director held a clipboard like it could double as a shield.
"He's really only doing two episodes?" Warren asked, and the emphasis on really carried genuine pain.
He already knew who was about to walk into the show.
Alex.
Or, for a massive portion of the audience, the man who'd become synonymous with Sosuke Aizen.
The news that Bleach Season Two had begun filming hadn't just stirred the local scene - it had crossed oceans, exploded into trends, sparked reactions in different languages. It was the kind of thing that created waves even in places that normally didn't pay attention to "foreign" productions.
Alex was traffic. Clicks. Unavoidable conversation.
Two appearances and gone felt like… a waste.
"Stop it, Warren." The assistant sighed, already tired of having the same argument. "He doesn't do variety shows at all. He only agreed because the network owner called him personally, asking him to come promote both series. If it were up to Alex, he wouldn't set foot here even for one episode."
Warren pressed his tongue to his teeth, like something pinched.
It was an ugly feeling - like you're starving, someone finally hands you warm bread, and the moment you take the first bite, they demand it back with a straight face.
At the house where everything happened - the famous Mushroom House, surrounded by plants, simple fences, and a yard that always looked ready for a perfect photo - the atmosphere was exactly what viewers loved: domestic, light, almost family-like.
Mia stood by the entrance, absentmindedly playing with the dog as if this routine were the safest place on earth. She was the one who suddenly remembered something.
"Wait… who's today's guest?" she asked, turning her head. "Do we never find out ahead of time?"
Teacher Hugo, washing his hands, shrugged with the ease of someone who'd long mastered pretending he knew nothing.
"I don't know either. Warren just said it was a heavyweight guest…" He dried his hands and looked down the path - and then, in the distance, a figure appeared, walking toward the house. "Oh. Looks like they're here."
He didn't get to finish.
Ben, who'd been nearby, blurted out a curse without a shred of restraint, like he'd just seen a goddess descend in broad daylight. He shot forward so fast he nearly collided with the dog, who darted away on instinct.
"ALEX!" Ben shouted, his voice trembling with excitement.
Mia got a clear look at the newcomer, and for a second it was impossible to hide what flashed in her eyes: admiration… and a small, childish sting she would never admit on camera.
Because she'd auditioned for an important role in Bleach before. A role she wanted with a quiet kind of hunger.
Samantha Burnes.
She was considered the breakout name of her generation, the kind of pick people called "a sure bet." And yet Alex had chosen another actress - someone with less fame, less spotlight, less noise. For Mia, it had been a small defeat, but humiliating in the way only personal defeats can be.
Teacher Hugo smiled with that harmless mischief of someone who knew exactly which button to press.
"So it really is you… our Sosuke Aizen." His tone was teasing, but it carried genuine respect.
Alex lifted an eyebrow, honestly surprised.
"You watched?" he asked, like that was the most unexpected detail of the day.
Bleach dominated conversations, sure - but it wasn't the kind of show literally everyone watched. It wasn't a phenomenon that crossed every age group without resistance. There was still an entire generation that looked at it and, with brutal honesty, said they "didn't get the appeal."
Teacher Hugo chuckled.
"I watched with my daughters. Both of them were completely hypnotized." He pointed at Alex like he was delivering a verdict. "And I'll tell you - your acting in that role? It's insane. Genuinely scary good."
"Thanks." Alex replied with a short, controlled smile.
"Don't smile at me like that." Teacher Hugo shot back, pretending to be uneasy. "I keep expecting you to pull a knife out of nowhere."
Alex let out a low, discreet laugh - just enough to feel human, just enough not to become a scene.
Ben, who never knew how to sit still when it came to anything he loved, was already leaning in, hungry.
"But the Arrancar arc - filming's started and nobody called me! I'm ready!"
Alex tilted his head, as if mentally checking schedules.
"Relax. There isn't that much for Peter in the beginning, at least. When the right part comes, I'll let you know."
He didn't add the rest - that almost everyone would have less screen time in that arc, except for a few who'd be pushed straight into the heart of the chaos. But that was backstage talk, and backstage was always dangerous territory.
That was when Alex noticed the invisible trap: too many cameras, too many ears, too much audience.
He turned and pointed at one of the cameramen with an expression that was half serious, half amused - asking a favor without begging.
"Hey, cut that part, alright?" he said quickly. "If that airs, it'll turn into spoilers."
Behind the cameras, the director let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. His worry hadn't been small. Geniuses often came with quirks, and a cozy, everyday variety show doesn't forgive people who break its "vibe." But Alex slipped in like the house was familiar, like he knew exactly where to place his silence and where to put the words.
That alone was a relief.
Night settled slowly, and the house took on that warm glow of simple bulbs and conversations that naturally stretched. Teacher Hugo cooked like it was his real job - and, honestly, the audience already believed it was.
As the smell of food filled the yard, Teacher Heleno spoke up with the curious spark of someone who makes a living out of conversation.
"I heard that besides Bleach Season Two, you're preparing a movie… written and directed by you. Is that true?"
Alex leaned back, loosening his shoulders like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.
"Planning to shoot in the U.S." he said, like he was commenting on the weather. "And honestly… with the studio money over there, you can do it without cutting corners."
For a second, the silence was so quick it almost didn't exist - but it did. Those words had a dangerous weight. Online, that kind of sentence could become a headline in five minutes, with the meaning completely twisted.
Ben's eyes widened, already dreaming out loud.
"And the cast? Have you decided yet?"
Alex opened his mouth like he was about to answer with no filter. And he did answer - but the way someone who understands publicity learns to answer: giving enough to light the fire, without putting his hand in it.
"We're in talks with Christian Bale." The line dropped like a stone into water.
Teacher Heleno made a surprised sound and tried to disguise it with a cough. Teacher Hugo nearly messed up the seasoning.
And because Alex had come specifically to promote upcoming work, he let a few more crumbs slip - small hints about the Arrancar arc and another dark adaptation waiting in the chamber, something in the vein of Death Note, the kind of project that makes audiences smile and shiver at the same time.
Mia, who'd been quiet ever since Alex arrived, went even quieter. Her expression collapsed into something that was almost silent drama, and her silence said more than any line could.
Teacher Hugo noticed immediately.
"What is it, Mia?" he asked gently, like he was speaking to someone who tried to hide her feelings and failed.
Ben, playful in the cruel way only close friends on camera can be, pointed like it was the funniest thing in the world.
"She doesn't like the… the new Samantha. Thinks she stole her idol."
Mia turned red - red with embarrassment and anger, a blend only young people can feel with that kind of intensity. She pinched Ben's arm hard enough to make him yelp.
Alex watched the little scene with a distant kind of patience, then - without thinking too much - reached out and ruffled her hair, quick and almost brotherly.
Mia froze.
Color flooded her face even faster, like her whole body betrayed what she refused to admit out loud. It was an involuntary reaction - raw, impossible to control when someone you admire steps into your space so simply, like they're allowed.
Inside, Alex found the contrast amusing. Audiences loved that dynamic: the "nation's little sister," the sweetheart, the clean image. He also knew how those labels could turn into cages. Variety shows brought money and reach… and they collected interest. They consumed you until there was no mystery left.
And Alex liked mystery. He liked control.
Teacher Hugo announced dinner with the kind of joy that felt like peace.
"It's ready! Come eat!"
Plate after plate came out, and Alex helped carry the dishes like it was part of his life's script. While he did, he found himself quietly laughing, because Teacher Hugo couldn't play any character anymore without that "family man who can cook" aura. The image stuck, and that was exactly how entertainment worked: you give people a piece of yourself and, before you notice, the public starts believing you're only that.
When the table was finally full, Ben almost bounced out of his chair.
"Now! Now! Let's watch!"
In the yard, the production set up an enormous TV, exaggerated and bright, shining like a modern altar. What they were about to play wasn't just anything: episodes that wouldn't officially air until the following weekend - JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Battle Tendency episodes six and seven.
It was strategy. The streaming platform knew exactly what it was doing. When those episodes dropped, the variety show episode would air alongside them, creating that perfect "event" feeling - like real life and fiction were walking hand in hand, pushing the audience to talk about everything at once.
Alex stared at the screen for a moment and felt a pinch of foreboding. He knew that stretch. He knew it well.
If his memory wasn't betraying him, those episodes carried two things that didn't forgive group dinners: Caesar's death… and the brutal, suffocating confrontation that would make everyone at the table forget what the food tasted like for a few minutes.
He let his gaze fall to the dishes, then to the people around him, and thought - with a clarity that was almost ironic - that this night had every chance of starting comfortable… and ending in a heavy silence, the kind that lingers in the air even after the cameras shut off.
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