"The Kōmyōdai clan has stood at the very heart of Soul Society since its founding. Their lineage spans countless ages, a colossal force among the realms. In all three worlds, only a handful of families—Kuchiki, Shihōin, Shiba, and a few others—can even begin to rival them. Together, these form what are known as the Five Great Noble Houses. To put it plainly, the Kōmyōdai are nobles among nobles.
Even the Central 46, the body that judges all disputes in Soul Society, and the Gotei 13 are bound to their influence. To be blunt, the Central 46 are little more than the Kōmyōdai's watchdogs. So even if a branch member of the clan kills another Shinigami, they face no punishment whatsoever…"
That magnetic voice whispered in the ear of a man born blind.
"Damn it… why is the world like this?" the man growled, fists clenched.
"There is no other way," the voice replied softly.
It recited from the Great Shinigami Codex:
"Seek not the aesthetics of clashing blades.
Seek not the honor of dying without return.
Think not of your own life alone.
To protect the King and the Five Houses,
all enemies hiding in the shadows must be purged."
"To bow to the Soul King and the Five Houses—that is the Shinigami's creed. To stand against the Kōmyōdai clan is to stand against all of Soul Society. So tell me—knowing this, can you still raise your blade against the man who killed your dearest friend?"
The blind man trembled. After a long silence, he finally spoke:
"I… I cannot strike him down. Even if he killed Kakyō."
"…Why?" The voice was filled with disbelief.
"Because if Kakyō were alive, she would never want me to kill her husband. No matter what, her heart was always filled with boundless kindness."
The man's body shook as he spoke. His one light in life had been extinguished, yet he chose not to avenge her. To abandon vengeance took a courage few could fathom.
"I see… You truly are like Miss Kakyō," the voice sighed. "I only met her a handful of times, but I can say this much—take this blade. It was hers. I believe she would want someone like you to inherit it."
A sword slipped into his hand. Not a Zanpakutō anymore—its master was gone—merely an asauchi.
"This is… Kakyō's sword?!" The man's hands trembled as he gripped the hilt. He recognized it instantly—his friend's Zanpakutō.
"Then farewell… Tōsen Kaname."
The voice faded, leaving Tōsen with the blade of his friend.
"Wait! At least… tell me your name!"
Though blind, Tōsen held the sword tightly, unwilling to owe a nameless debt.
"…You truly wish to know? You'll regret it." The voice grew cold.
Tōsen's heart sank. He already had an idea who it was. Only one person could have rescued him from the Central 46's guards and returned Kakyō's blade.
"I do!"
"…My name is Kōmyōdai Jitan. I am of the very clan you despise. Cousin to the man who killed your friend—Kakyō's husband. He sent me here. If you had chosen vengeance, I was to kill you with her own blade. Dying by the sword of your beloved—he thought that would be your greatest happiness."
Jitan sneered. "But you're too foolish. Foolish, like Kakyō herself. That foolishness saved your life. Treasure it. Live on—for that is what she would have wanted."
He patted Tōsen's shoulder and walked away with light steps.
"…Live on?"
Tōsen collapsed, tears spilling down his cheeks. Clutching the Zanpakutō, he questioned everything—Should he avenge her? Could he? What was left for him in this world?
"Perhaps… dying by her blade would truly be my only happiness…"
He drew the sword, its cold light filling the void before him.
"Ah… such a fine blade, sharp yet without a wielder. Tell me—might I borrow it?"
A new voice rang out, calm, noble, filled with quiet authority.
"Who… are you?" Tōsen asked instinctively, using honorifics without knowing why. He felt compelled to show respect.
"I am Aizen Sōsuke. Nothing more than an ordinary Shinigami."
His words carried warmth and sincerity that stirred Tōsen's heart.
One a man with boundless ambition who needed a blade.
The other a blade with no purpose left in life.
Their meeting seemed destined.
"What do you need me to do?" Tōsen asked.
"I need you to become my sword. To cut down all obstacles before me… and open the path to a new world."
Aizen smiled faintly, extending his hand. Light gleamed on his glasses.
"…A new world?" Tōsen hesitated.
"This world is rotten. A false King sits above the sky. Decayed, cowardly nobles cling to power. In such oppression, someone must rise—someone must carry the burden—someone must overthrow the false King. You, who already know Soul Society's darkness… will you stand with me?"
Aizen's words were soft yet brimming with confidence, as though he already knew Tōsen's answer.
"…Tell me. Is this justice?"
Tōsen's hand hovered inches from Aizen's, then froze. He needed to know.
"I cannot answer that," Aizen said calmly.
"…Why not?"
"Because justice is not the same for all. Each person defines it for themselves. If you believe your path is justice, then it is. No one else can decide it for you."
Tōsen trembled, then bowed his head. "Aizen-sama… then grant me one request."
"What is it?"
"If ever I falter—if ever I am forgiven, pitied, or my sense of justice wavers—then please, kill me."
"…Very well."
Aizen agreed without hesitation.
"Then I am yours." Tōsen clasped his hand firmly.
"Aizen-sama… when shall we begin?"
"Not yet. First, graduate from the Academy. Then join the Gotei 13. Before we act, all obstacles must be cleared."
Inwardly, Aizen thought of one obstacle above all—Shihōin Yūshirō. The one man who made even Aizen feel pressure.
"All is within my plan," Aizen murmured with a faint smile.
For there may be men stronger than him.
There may be men wiser.
But none were both.
And Aizen Sōsuke would prove it.