Much like countless girls who, even after so many years, still amused themselves by repeating Twilight's classic lines as if they were sacred mantras-because, let's be honest, there is one thing all men can agree on: nothing is more unforgettable than hearing Edward declare "I have the skin of a killer" while sparkling like glitter-a very similar phenomenon had begun to spread, almost disturbingly, among Bleach fans.
Sōsuke Aizen's lines had ceased to be mere dialogue from a TV series.
They had evolved.
They had become symbols.
They had become identity.
They had become, practically, an unofficial internet religion.
They were everywhere-short video edits, forum comments, people using villain quotes to reply "good morning" in family group chats. And when compared to the lines loaded with subtext, psychological games, and refined irony from political dramas like House of Cards-the kind that practically required a degree in body-language analysis just to fully grasp-Aizen's words felt brutally honest.
Direct.
Cold.
Surgical.
Each sentence sounded like a finely honed blade: short, elegant… and ready to cut anyone clean in half.
There was an undeniable literary quality to them, almost philosophical, blended with a calm arrogance-the kind that never needs to prove itself.
Aizen didn't shout.
He didn't lose his composure.
He simply spoke, and the world seemed to fall silent automatically, just to listen.
Nowadays, if a guy went out with friends to drink, chat, or complain about life and failed to drop at least one classic Aizen quote into the conversation, it was almost the same as publicly admitting he was outdated.
Something like: "Sorry, guys. I stopped keeping up years ago."
When the power of an idol reached that level, it was no longer mere influence.
It was cultural domination.
…
…
With the release of the two most recent episodes, Bleach officially stopped being "just" a massive hit.
It was thrown-without appeal-straight into the pantheon of legendary works.
Rotten Tomatoes score: 9.8.
A number so high it almost felt insulting to every other production on the platform.
But the most curious part wasn't the score itself-it was the comment section.
That place no longer resembled a review area.
It looked like occupied territory.
Aizen's fans had taken over.
For many of them, there was no discussion to be had:
at least 7.8 points of that score belonged exclusively to Aizen.
[This is the best action series of the last ten years. Historical drama, modern drama-it doesn't matter. It might be the best national production ever made.]
[Alex didn't act as Aizen. He humiliated the previous standard. This series went from "excellent" straight to "legendary."]
[Help… after seeing Alex play Aizen, I can't look at his older roles with the same respect. Eric Tucker, Owen Miller, Gabriel Hawk… they all feel suspicious now.]
[Exactly! I went back to watch Alex's older shows after Bleach, and every time that face appears, I feel like he's plotting something evil behind that smile.]
These comments weren't exceptions.
They were the norm.
…
…
Until the previous month, the biggest beneficiaries of Bleach's explosive success had, naturally, been the most obvious leads.
Mark, as the central character of the story, rode an enormous wave of popularity.
Jiao Enjun, with his prominent role, also received a long-overdue surge of recognition, as did several other members of the cast.
As for the female lead, Samantha, the situation was downright absurd.
Her follower count on Instube didn't just grow-it detonated, jumping from a modest five-digit number to an indecent eight digits, already threatening to reach nine.
Only then did many people experience a belated epiphany.
Long before Bleach, back when Alex was still filming The Blue Lantern Legacy, that small, seemingly harmless "Rukia Kuchiki" had already shared scenes with him.
At the time, Samantha had played a child character-a tiny role, almost decorative-but one that now, in hindsight, felt like a curious omen of destiny.
However, with the release of the four most recent episodes over the past two weeks, any remaining doubts were mercilessly crushed.
This was no longer just a successful series.
Without exaggeration, it had become Aizen's solo show.
Every appearance of the character devoured the audience's attention like a narrative black hole.
Every glance sparked analysis.
Every pause generated theories.
Every line became a mandatory quote.
And the greatest beneficiary of this media carnage was, obviously, Alex himself.
Curiously, though, his follower count didn't grow as explosively as Samantha's.
The reason was simple-and slightly cruel.
Alex was already too famous.
After more than ten years stacking iconic roles one after another, practically every human being with an Instube account and even a minimal interest in entertainment already followed him.
His follower count had reached a level that bordered on statistical disrespect.
Perhaps only someone like Cillian Murphy-if he ever decided to open an account-could compete. But Cillian Murphy didn't care about that sort of thing.
The ceiling had already been reached.
There was nowhere left to climb-only to accumulate.
Where Alex truly felt the brutal impact of Bleach's success was in another, far more honest aspect.
Money.
As soon as the last two episodes aired, the second and third licensed merchandise stores he had opened-in Kyoto and Seoul-officially began operations.
And all it took was a single post from Alex to make everything crystal clear.
The following week would bring the grand finale of Bleach-or, more precisely, the conclusion of the Soul Society arc.
To any reasonably attentive fan, this made perfect sense.
After those episodes, it was obvious that the real confrontation between the protagonists and Aizen was only just beginning.
Ending everything in two episodes wouldn't merely be impossible.
It would be criminal.
When confirmation came that all profits from the stores would be reinvested into producing the next part of Bleach, the reaction was immediate.
The series' popularity-which was already absurdly high-simply shattered its limits.
To fans, this felt less like a financial decision and more like a sacred vow.
After witnessing Aizen's absolute dominance, the collective desire was nearly unanimous:
to wear the same shihakushō, don the captain's haori of the Fifth Division, and wield a Kyōka Suigetsu capable of destroying any notion of narrative balance.
And once it became clear that every cent spent would directly fund the continuation of the series, no one bothered pretending to resist.
"-Shut up and take my money!"
The phrase became a motto.
Within days, all three stores were completely wiped out.
Empty shelves.
Zero stock.
Employees staring into nothingness, trying to understand what had just happened.
Standing before the barren display windows, Alex rubbed his chin, feeling a faint discomfort stir somewhere deep in his conscience.
Isn't this a bit cruel?
Am I exploiting the fans too much?
That moral flicker lasted exactly until the financial report arrived.
The numbers were far too large to allow remorse.
This is all to make a better work.
And besides, if they want to buy and I want to sell… where, exactly, is the scam?
As he ran the numbers, his eyes shining like someone who had just discovered a new religion called revenue, his phone rang.
It was Mark.
Alex sighed.
Here we go…
Ever since Alex had chosen him to play Ichigo Kurosaki-and the character had become a runaway success-Mark had practically transformed into his number-one fan.
A professional yes-man.
Right behind him came Jasper.
Aside from Alex and Samantha, no one had benefited more from Bleach's absurd success than those two.
Mark, despite having reached the top tier years earlier with Paladins of Destiny, had always lived under comparisons.
Audiences loved pitting him against Alex's Eric Tucker, pointing out everything he supposedly lacked-charisma, looks, presence.
Now, with Ichigo Kurosaki, those voices had finally been silenced.
As for Jasper, the issue was different.
Age was making it increasingly difficult for him to find truly suitable roles.
This cold, restrained, imposing version of Byakuya Kuchiki was, without a doubt, the best role he'd had in years.
So good, in fact, that he seemed willing to go beyond the professional…
To the point of expressing interest in introducing Alex to his own daughter.
Thinking about it, Alex couldn't help but find the situation… curious.
Seriously.
Did he really not mind that Alex was almost ten years older than her?