Aizen Sōsuke did not possess the arrogance to reject everything the Quincy once created.
In the world of the Shinigami, whether it was the Shinigami or the Quincy, their essence was the same — both were methods of manipulating spirit particles.
The only difference lay in approach: one drew upon external spiritons, the other meditated them within.
But in the end, both were simply forms of energy manipulation.
There was no such thing as superiority — only perspective.
With that mindset, when Aizen turned his gaze toward Konoha's chakra-based ninjutsu system, he found that many of its techniques could be developed into something entirely new, so long as one was willing to think beyond convention.
Take Seijūzō (Still Blood Armor), for instance.
The Quincy's Blut Vene operated by infusing the blood vessels with flowing spirit particles, dramatically increasing physical resilience and defense. When Aizen studied its underlying principles, he found the concept promising — though developing it further would require direct modification of the circulatory system, something that clashed with his long-term plans.
Even so, it was a perfect cover project.
In this world, defense and offense were gravely unbalanced.
A defensive secret technique capable of shrugging off kunai and low-grade jutsu — even with heavy limitations — would naturally invite curiosity and acceptance.
Everyone understood the value of medical-nin, but a defense-based art that drastically enhanced survival rates? That was something every shinobi could appreciate.
Even if the technique remained crude, barely more than a prototype, it would be enough to gain credibility.
Curiosity bred tolerance.
And with Aizen Sōsuke as the developer, there was no one more trusted in Konoha to pioneer such a method.
He was, after all, the village's model citizen — an amiable chūnin whose research helped others, whose presence comforted the people. He was someone even the ANBU and Root found no fault in.
A conservative mid-level shinobi developing a defensive art to protect others — the Hokage could hardly ask for a more convenient figurehead. A chūnin's restraint in exchange for the survival of countless genin? It was a trade any leader would approve.
In truth, even if Aizen wanted to step onto the battlefield, Hiruzen Sarutobi would never permit it — not for political or practical reasons, but because his very existence had become a symbol of reassurance.
Aizen's image — white haori over black robes, moving quietly through the village and helping the helpless — had become something of a barometer for public morale.
If even he were to fall, the entire village would feel as though disaster were near.
He might not make a difference on the battlefield, but his presence unified the people, steadied their hearts, and fostered trust.
Aizen Sōsuke — kind, brilliant, incapable of harm — was a figure no one could bring themselves to distrust.
He held the people's hearts in one hand, and modest yet meaningful innovation in the other.
His standing in Konoha wasn't flashy, but it was immovable — as eternal as the mountains and rivers.
So much so that when a jōnin entrusted the care of their children to someone, the first name that often came to mind was Aizen Sōsuke.
In this cruel world, having someone who could guarantee a child's safety… was a warmth few could afford to lose.
---
"Yo, you're already here, Aizen."
"Good morning, Akimichi-jonin."
Standing before the council chamber, Aizen greeted the round, middle-aged man with his usual serene smile and bow.
"May I ask what kind of meeting requires my presence? I'm only a chūnin, hardly qualified for high-level affairs."
Akimichi Tokaze scratched his head. "If I had to guess, probably the team assignments. Graduation season's near. Still strange though — what's a chūnin like you doing at a jōnin meeting?"
Aizen's expression mirrored his confusion perfectly — polite, calm, and unassuming.
As one of the Second Hokage's former guard corps, Tokaze was among Konoha's oldest veterans. Though semi-retired, his clan often oversaw gatekeeping duties and occasionally served as security at key locations, such as the Hokage's office.
Meetings of this kind were common, but what drew attention was Aizen's presence.
He stood among the rows of jōnin in their green flak jackets, wearing his spotless white haori. Not out of vanity, but because he'd been granted permission to forgo the standard uniform.
Still, it looked strange — one chūnin standing amidst elite jōnin.
Was there some hidden meaning to this?
A subtle signal?
Should they be preparing to support him?
As murmurs spread through the room, the doors opened again.
The Third Hokage, pipe in hand, entered wearing his ceremonial hat.
This time, however, he was alone — no Koharu, no Homura.
—
"Normally," Hiruzen began, his tone steady, "this meeting would be about team assignments for the upcoming genin graduates."
He paused, scanning the room.
"But before that, there's an announcement I wish to make."
The crowd quieted.
"I would like to appoint Aizen Sōsuke as Konoha's Acting Advisor."
A stunned silence swept through the room.
Before anyone could speak, Aizen stepped forward, bowed deeply — and refused.
"I am unworthy, Hokage-sama. I am young, inexperienced, and of modest ability. I cannot accept such a position. Please, I beg you to rescind this order."
Hiruzen's brow lifted slightly.
"Are you saying my judgment is wrong, Sōsuke?"
"N-not at all, Lord Hokage, but—"
"If I am not mistaken, then why can you not accept?"
"Because… I—"
"This is the most suitable role for you," Hiruzen said, his tone final. "By the authority of the Hokage."
Aizen froze, his composure flickering for the briefest second — an almost human expression of logical disbelief.
Laughter rippled across the room. Even those who'd intended to object found themselves smiling, the tension dissolving.
When they thought about it carefully, it did make sense.
He wasn't being made Hokage — and that was enough.
Aizen as Hokage would've been… dangerous.
Too beloved, too trusted. If he ever called for action, the villagers would follow him without hesitation.
Appointing him advisor instead was perfect — influential, but harmless.
And it wasn't like the role came with real power. "Acting Advisor" was, by definition, symbolic.
Give him a few years, and he'd naturally rise to full Advisor. He wouldn't compete with the others for resources or missions — different lanes entirely.
The jōnin exchanged knowing smiles.
After all, Aizen was universally adored — Konoha's White Moonlight.
He helped anyone, asked nothing in return, and taught the Will of Fire to countless children. Even the Uchiha held respect for him.
Such a man was too radiant to be left without a title, yet too dangerous to let rise too high.
An advisor's seat was perfect equilibrium.
—
"Come on, Sōsuke," one of the jōnin chuckled. "Just accept it. The old man won't stop otherwise."
"Yeah, and your research will need clearance anyway. This gives you access."
"Being an advisor's not so bad. You just give opinions, nothing serious."
Whether they were plants or genuinely supportive, the room's tone turned jovial.
The jōnin offered smiles, laughter, and congratulations to the youngest advisor in Konoha's history.
...
After the noise subsided, Hiruzen's face grew solemn again.
"Truthfully, I'd hoped to groom you for something higher," he said quietly. "But the title of Hokage is the village's face. And your strength, Sōsuke… is not enough for that."
"Your Still Blood Armor is an extraordinary creation — but it's not enough to convince the other nations."
"Even so, I cannot let your talents go unrecognized. The position of Advisor requires not power, but heart — a heart that beats for Konoha."
The Third Hokage smiled, faint but genuine.
"No one loves this village more than you do, Sōsuke. Not even I. Your devotion to the Will of Fire outshines us all. Few would sacrifice everything for this village — but you would. That is why you deserve this."
A long silence followed.
Then Aizen lowered his head, thoughtful, before lifting it again — eyes calm, voice resolute.
"I understand, Hokage-sama. I will accept the position. If my guidance can help carry the Will of Fire forward, then I will dedicate myself fully to serving Konoha."
"Good," Hiruzen said warmly.
He smiled as he looked upon the young man before him — dignified, sincere, and radiating quiet conviction.
This was why he liked Aizen Sōsuke: he understood people.
Though his two old advisors had objected to this appointment, Danzo had already persuaded them otherwise.
And Hiruzen trusted Danzo completely.
"Then take your seat, Advisor. Familiarize yourself with your duties."
"Yes, Hokage-sama."
Aizen sat behind the Hokage, pen in hand, quietly taking notes as the discussion resumed.
Adding one more advisor didn't change the structure of Konoha much — it simply meant more closed-door meetings.
No clans protested, the daimyo approved, and the people adored him.
Everything was… perfect.
The real purpose of the meeting, everyone realized, wasn't about genin team assignments at all — it was to publicly install Aizen Sōsuke as Advisor.
---
Halfway through, a black-clad shinobi appeared silently beside the Hokage, presenting a scroll.
The room tensed. Such messages were never trivial.
Hiruzen unrolled it — and his face darkened.
"Everyone," he said slowly, "we have new information."
He inhaled deeply.
"The Sunagakure of the Land of Wind has undergone a major upheaval. The Third Kazekage, his personal guard, and the puppeteer known as Sasori have all gone missing. The report is confirmed."
A murmur of shock rippled through the hall.
Aizen adjusted his glasses, his expression unreadable.
While the jōnin reacted in alarm, he merely observed in silence.
So… the winds of change begin to blow once again.