"Aizen…"
"Did I just hear that right?"
"Was that really… his name?"
Inside the dim light of an abandoned warehouse,
the moment Urahara Kisuke's calm voice echoed from the video,
Hirako Shinji's entire body stiffened.
Around him, every Visored Captain reacted the same—
as if struck by lightning.
Their eyes widened to their limits, their fists clenched,
and every gaze locked onto the glowing screen ahead.
"This is it…"
"Finally… is Aizen's true face about to be revealed?"
Sarugaki Hiyori's voice trembled.
Her tone was dazed yet filled with emotion.
This day—
they had waited for it for a hundred years!
From the very start of these ranking videos,
the Visoreds had silently harbored the same thought:
"If anyone deserves exposure,
it's the man behind it all—Aizen Sōsuke."
They were convinced that eventually his crimes would come to light—
his manipulations, his experiments, his betrayal.
So they endured,
sitting through video after video,
watching future battles where they themselves would be beaten or humiliated,
all for the same reason—
To see him unmasked.
And now, that moment had finally come.
"Thank goodness for Urahara Kisuke…"
"If it weren't for him starting this round of rankings,
Aizen wouldn't have been exposed so soon!"
Muguruma Kensei's voice broke the silence,
his fists trembling with excitement and fury.
Hope reignited in his eyes like fire.
If the next scenes showed Urahara confronting Aizen—
if he could so much as wound him, restrain him, or—best of all—
reveal his true face before the world…
Expose the power of his Zanpakutō, Kyōka Suigetsu (Mirror Flower, Water Moon)—
strip away that perfect illusion for everyone to see!
Any of those would be enough.
Kensei's teeth clenched.
A century of rage and pain burned in his chest.
"Aizen… it's time you paid for everything!"
Meanwhile, inside the Fifth Division's secret base,
the atmosphere had turned heavy and strange.
As soon as Urahara's voice rang out,
all eyes in the room turned to one man.
The light from the glowing projection reflected across their faces—
each expression utterly different.
"Captain Aizen…"
"It looks like this time… it's finally your turn on screen."
Gin Ichimaru spoke quietly,
his eyelids half-raised—yet for once, his usual sly smile was gone.
No mockery.
No teasing.
Only an unfamiliar seriousness.
Inside, his emotions twisted.
He hadn't expected Aizen's reveal to come this soon—
the ranking had only reached the fifth round, after all.
And yet, with just one voice,
the focus of the entire world had turned to Aizen Sōsuke.
"Could this… all be part of Urahara's plan?"
"Even this kind of dramatic entrance?"
Gin let out a soft laugh—half admiration, half awe.
"Scary, ain't it…"
But quickly, his humor faded, replaced by quiet composure.
He glanced sideways toward Aizen, pretending casual conversation.
At that moment,
the calm man beside him—the man who always smiled faintly—
showed something Gin had never seen before:
Emotion.
Just the sound of Urahara's voice
had stirred something deep within Aizen.
Excitement.
Anticipation.
A flicker of exhilaration he could no longer hide.
Because to Aizen, this wasn't exposure.
It was confirmation.
In his mind, the battlefield already played out:
the fusion with the Hōgyoku (崩玉),
the moment of transcendence beyond Shinigami and Hollow—
the first step toward becoming a higher being.
Of course Urahara would appear.
Of course he would try to stop him.
That only proved how close Aizen's ascension truly was.
A cold gleam lit his eyes.
The corners of his mouth lifted in satisfaction.
"Gin," he said softly,
"be ready."
"The empty throne of heaven is soon to be filled again."
"It seems our defection may happen sooner than planned."
Meanwhile, in the video—
The camera panned forward,
following Urahara's gaze—
and there he was.
Aizen Sōsuke.
Elegant as ever.
But not the same man the Gotei 13 once knew.
No more bangs shading his face—
his hair slicked back neatly,
revealing sharp, regal features.
And that faint, confident smile—
charming, magnetic, terrifying.
Most striking of all—
he was no longer wearing a Shinigami's black uniform.
Instead—
a pure white coat, the same as the Espada.
"It's been… about a hundred years, hasn't it?"
The voice was calm, almost nostalgic.
And in that instant, across all of Soul Society—
Chaos erupted.
"What… what's the meaning of this?!"
Inside the Eighth Division,
Kyōraku Shunsui froze.
The tea cup slipped from his fingers, shattering on the tatami.
His wide eyes trembled behind the brim of his straw hat.
That uniform—
the Espada's uniform—
he'd seen it too many times before in these videos.
But on Aizen?
"No way…"
"That's impossible!"
"Aizen… he's the kindest captain in the entire Gotei 13!"
"The man everyone respects—the one nobody dislikes!"
His voice cracked.
Even he didn't realize he was shouting now.
The truth on screen had shattered his worldview.
Aizen Sōsuke—
Captain of the Fifth Division,
teacher at the Shin'ō Spiritual Arts Academy,
the very image of composure and kindness—
a man trusted by everyone, even the Captain-Commander himself.
Now revealed…
as a traitor?
A man who had joined forces with Hollows?
The thought alone felt like the sky collapsing.
Shunsui's tea spilled across the floor,
its reflection shimmering like a mirror—
a mirror that captured not only his horror,
but the faces of every Shinigami across the Seireitei,
all staring, speechless, at the same revelation.
Inside the First Division,
the air itself trembled.
"Aizen…"
"Why does he appear like this?"
"Where are his robes? His captain's haori?!"
The old man slammed a palm against the desk.
Yamamoto Genryūsai's eyes burned like twin torches.
The authority in his voice shook the walls—
but beneath it was disbelief,
the desperate refusal of a leader who could not accept what he saw.
Silence followed.
Not a single voice answered him.
Even Chōjirō Sasakibe, normally composed and loyal,
sat frozen, his mind blank with shock.
This couldn't be true.
Not Aizen.
The man they had trusted, admired, and relied on.
Yet the screen said otherwise.
The white coat, the flowing reiatsu, the calm smile—
each detail an undeniable proof.
Ironclad.
Unshakable.
Even if Sasakibe wanted to defend him,
to speak up and deny it all—
his throat locked.
Shame sealed his voice.
No one dared to move.
Even with the heat of Ryūjin Jakka (Flowing Blade, Like Fire) flickering in the room,
it suddenly felt like an ice cellar.
Cold sweat dripped down every neck.
And then—
the video continued.
Urahara's voice returned, calm and cutting:
"A hundred years… and you've changed your look, haven't you?"
His hat cast a shadow over his eyes,
but his tone was unmistakably cold.
Across from him, Aizen turned with deliberate grace.
The camera caught the moment the faint white mist swirled around his chest—
the Hōgyoku fused into his body,
its spiritual energy congealing into a strange, pearly substance,
rising and floating around him like smoke.
"Yes…"
"Everything evolves."
"And evolution, by its nature, can be… ugly."
His words dripped with calm arrogance.
But the pressure behind them—
the sheer spiritual force—
was beyond anything the world had ever felt.
For the first time,
even the strongest of the Shinigami could no longer sense his reiatsu at all.
It was as if Aizen had stepped beyond their understanding entirely.
The world fell silent.
One short clip—
one man—
and everything changed.
"Not good…"
Inside the Urahara Shop,
the real Kisuke Urahara narrowed his eyes.
The brim of his hat shadowed his expression,
but his voice was grim.
"The worst outcome… has already begun."
(End of Chapter)
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