Chapter 207: Persuasion and Interruption
Whether chakra was truly omnipotent was still up for debate.
To be blunt, even Aizen did not know how many traps hid inside that power. Some of the conclusions he had already drawn brushed against absurd heights, moving planets, influencing the universe itself. What would happen later, what price would appear, and how far it could truly reach, all depended on the user.
Yet regardless of pitfalls, regardless of theory, even if chakra was some alien demon's bait meant to tempt mortals into ruin, it represented an undeniable fact for Soul Society.
They were not alone.
The world of the Three Realms was not the only stage in existence. Beyond the reach of the Soul King's system, distant worlds lived and breathed, filled with other forces, other civilizations, other people clawing their way through life.
Birth, aging, sickness, death, love, hatred, grudges, all of it belonged to time and space.
But when time and space hardened into something fixed, everything else became meaningless.
Soul Society's corruption was inevitable, because the order of the Three Realms itself was immutable.
There were no external influences, no horizon left to chase, no farther worlds waiting beyond the border. The Eastern and Western Bureaus might be separated by distance, but both knew exactly how large Soul Society and the Human World were. They understood the system, they understood the seal, they understood the rules.
In the end, they were trapped in a zero sum game inside a bonsai world with limited resources.
It would never grow.
It would never truly end.
They could only maintain the seal, endlessly cycling, endlessly suppressing the hell beneath them, and even the Hell Butterflies that followed the Shinigami felt like a reminder of that truth.
In a world without a future, what was the point of courage?
Even if Aizen's own motives were loneliness and fear, he still did not possess the power to shatter the Soul King's order and rebuild the Three Realms from nothing. And Yhwach, the so called son of the Soul King who claimed he could save him, was even more ridiculous. He had no method to save anyone. He merely wanted to kill the Soul King and drag everything back into primal chaos.
In a frozen world like that, all that remained were relationships, politics, and endless games.
That was why Aizen admired Ichigo so much.
To Aizen, everything beyond the border was unknown, and Ichigo dared to challenge the unknown. He dared to speak for his friends, for the people he wanted to protect, and for the future he refused to surrender.
That courage was what Aizen respected.
And it was also Soul Society's tragedy.
Now, there was finally a possibility of breaking the cycle.
Scientists naturally fixated on what that meant for the future, measuring risk, studying vulnerabilities, searching for the price hidden behind the miracle.
But for those already exhausted by the world, and for those entangled in politics, the existence of another world was not hope.
It was crisis.
A message like the sky collapsing.
The moment Kyōraku heard it, his body reacted before his mind could catch up. Katen Kyōkotsu slid free, the blade leveled at Aizen's chest.
Kyōraku did not know why his instincts screamed so loudly, only that the fireball floating in Aizen's palm made his spine go cold.
It was pure flame.
Not spirit particles.
Not Zanpakuto power.
Not Kido.
It could be sensed, yet it carried none of the familiar texture of reishi. It was a sphere of fire that spat solar like prominences, heat radiating outward so fiercely the air itself felt dry and brittle.
It was like the sun.
No, it was the sun.
Aizen had formed a living sun with chakra.
Seeing Kyōraku's wariness, Aizen's smile only grew warmer, almost indulgent.
"What is there to fear, Commander Jinglan?" Aizen asked gently. "If you truly hate this corrupt, decaying world, then this is an opportunity. The blade you should raise is not toward me, but toward the ones who are truly rotten."
"It is no longer that sad world with no choices. Now there are new paths, new possibilities."
Aizen's eyes narrowed slightly, still calm.
"Since you also pursue a world that does not stagnate, why point your sword at me? I have given enough. Yet you still do not trust me."
He paused, then added, voice mild.
"Of course, that difference can be erased through dialogue."
It was a little wordy, even by Aizen's standards.
Kyōraku's brows knit as he hesitated, as if questioning his own reflex.
Aizen calmly dismissed the burning sun in his hand. The oppressive heat faded, and the air inside the chamber became tolerable again.
Then he spoke, smiling, and dropped another truth like a blade.
"When I travel through worlds, there is always a trajectory."
Kyōraku's eyes sharpened. "Meaning?"
"When people walk, they leave footprints," Aizen said. "When space is pierced, it leaves a disturbance. When I use chakra to leap across time and space, anyone pulled by that leap leaves a chakra trail in the void."
He even placed two clear footprints on the stone, as if teaching a lesson to a classroom.
Kyōraku followed the distance between them, the marks on the ground, the logic of the explanation, and his expression shifted.
Act first, report later.
No, worse.
Aizen had acted first from the very beginning.
"It is a smooth road," Aizen continued, voice even. "There will be no obstacles. I have already removed them."
Kyōraku's stomach tightened.
Aizen's gaze lifted, faintly distant.
"If the two overlapping universes that truly control chakra are pursuing me, it does not matter. Even if they want to kill me, it is futile. The chakra universe is also moving. The worlds will collide sooner or later, and when they do, they will burst into brilliant sparks."
Kyōraku's breath caught. "…Are you trying to destroy the world?"
Aizen looked at him with quiet regret, as if Kyōraku had missed something simple.
"If the desire is to make primitive things more advanced," Aizen said, "if the desire is to let more people live better lives, if the desire is to liberate an innocent person, then perhaps it would be better if such a world was destroyed."
Aizen's shoulders eased, and his smile thinned.
He had hoped sincere words might sway Kyōraku.
But the Shinigami had spent too long within this system. The sunk cost was too high. Hundreds of years of habit, duty, and compromise. Many would rather rot safely in Soul Society than face competition in a broader universe.
Kyōraku truly cared about the future of the nobles and Seireitei, but at his core, he was a patcher. He would mend the structure, scrub the stains, make the machine look new.
He would not smash it and build something else.
"That is regrettable," Aizen said softly. "Captain Jing, I always believed you would understand, and join us."
"Understanding is understanding," Kyōraku replied, voice low, "joining is joining, Aizen."
He brought his hands together, Katen Kyōkotsu held in a guarded clasp, then glanced left and right, measuring the chamber, measuring Kaname's silence, measuring the corpses.
"I understand your anger. I understand your desire to revitalize Soul Society."
Kyōraku's eyes were steady now.
"But what you have done is too cruel, too blatant. We have time. We could change things slowly. We could make Soul Society better without resorting to this."
Aizen's expression did not harden, but his gaze deepened.
"Commander Jinglan," he asked, "when faced with putrid flesh and rot, do you let it hang and fester on a healthy body, risking worse infection, or do you grit your teeth and cut it away so the body can face better challenges?"
Kyōraku's jaw tightened.
"That is not rotten flesh," he said. "That is thousands upon thousands of Shinigami, and the people who live alongside them."
"Wandering spirits are not rotten flesh either," Aizen replied, calm as ever. "Is the life of a Shinigami more precious than the life of a wandering spirit?"
Kyōraku's expression shifted.
He had almost answered, instinctively, as the system had trained him to answer.
Shinigami were tools to maintain order. Wandering spirits were numbers to balance. Too many, too few, both meant catastrophe. That was why judgment existed.
But chakra changed the equation.
Wandering spirits could wield chakra too. If the Shinigami system collapsed, then nobles and Shinigami lost the privilege of claiming they mattered more. In that moment, they would be the same kind of people.
One scale.
One measure.
And when Kyōraku pictured the countless dead wandering spirits of Rukongai, beside the comparatively small population of Seireitei, his words caught in his throat.
In Aizen's eyes, the number of wandering spirits crushed beneath the Shinigami system far exceeded the Shinigami themselves. Breaking the system was necessary.
In Kyōraku's eyes, change could be gradual. Wandering spirits might still die along the way, but the Shinigami and the noble structure could be preserved, intact.
That was the true difference.
Moderate reform versus violent overthrow.
Kyōraku was known for clever speech, for shameless persuasion when needed. Yet now, with the two groups placed on a scale, the numbers made it difficult to justify his stance.
Saving the larger number was, logically, the right thing to do.
Compared to the countless people of the ghost streets, the Shinigami population was small.
Kyōraku did not say that Shinigami were more important. He did not dare to claim that nobles controlling their inferiors ensured peace. Under these circumstances, everyone understood what the powerful nobles and certain Shinigami truly were.
Aizen's voice remained gentle, yet carried weight like a verdict.
"It seems our differences are clear. Captain Kyōraku, you want change, but you still stand with corrupt Seireitei."
"You are a moderate reformer. You hope to correct the flaws from within, slowly."
"But in that process, the Five Great Noble Families and the noble system will be preserved to the greatest extent, and they will remain above others, even if you pretend otherwise."
Kyōraku's silence deepened.
Aizen's gaze sharpened slightly, and his tone grew colder, though he still spoke politely.
"This is womanly compassion, Captain Jing. You, who step into battle regardless of status, should understand that compromise leaves scars. Cruelty, pain, wounds that never fully heal."
His voice lowered.
"Our Soul Society was born from compromise."
"In the end, the Soul King became what he is. The five noble families became four."
Aizen's eyes fixed on Kyōraku.
"Are we going to continue this meaningless cycle?"
"If you choose to keep it," Aizen said quietly, "then I will be disappointed. Especially if that choice is yours."
Kyōraku gave a wry smile, weary and sincere all at once.
"As expected," he said, "I cannot win an argument with you, Captain Aizen. You truly deserve your title as the Dragon of Documents."
"You flatter me," Aizen replied, perfectly composed.
Kyōraku's expression shifted, the lazy warmth vanishing. He raised his gaze toward the sky beyond the chamber.
"But in the end, the one who can decide Soul Society's future is neither you nor me."
He pointed outward.
"It is my old man. He looks amiable, but he is dignified to the bone. If you cannot convince him, then convincing anyone else is meaningless."
The moment the words left his mouth, a thunderous roar shook the area outside Central Forty Six.
"You treacherous Aizen Sōsuke," the voice bellowed, heavy enough to crush the air itself. "Come out and surrender, and I will grant you a dignified end."
Kyōraku's eyes narrowed.
Captain Commander Yamamoto.
Aizen adjusted his glasses. His smile returned, gentle and calm, like a man greeting an expected guest.
"Well then," Aizen said softly, "how are your arrangements outside going?"
At the entrance, the white haired old man leaned on his cane, expressionless, his presence alone making the entire world feel smaller.
Aizen looked at him, and the light in his eyes did not waver.
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