Chapter 187: Sins and Punishments of the Soul Society
How hard was it to cross worlds?
For Aizen, it was both impossibly difficult and deceptively simple.
In a world like Naruto, where anyone with chakra could tear open time, slip through a timeline, and wander the universe as if it were a map, bridging two worlds was not as unimaginable as it sounded. In a sense, the worlds were already connected. He had merely tightened the threads until they could bear weight.
Yet that was only the lie told by results.
The truth was far uglier.
Aizen's first transmigration, the transfer of his consciousness itself, had likely been an accident, a rare phenomenon occurring somewhere at a multiverse scale. The universe was vast beyond calculation, which meant even the rare could become frequent when numbers grew large enough. But natural power did not belong to individuals, and certainly not to someone like him.
What he was doing now was different.
Now it was as if something had guided him into forcing an imitation of cosmic projection, launching his physical body and that chakra compass into unknown space. Using spirit and knowledge as coordinates, he became a slingshot stretched to the limit, repeatedly pulled forward and hurled across nothingness.
He did not travel.
He was fired.
And before he shattered, before his existence broke apart entirely, he had barely managed to find somewhere to land.
Otherwise, how could Seireitei's devices have detected him at all? How could he have allowed events to unfold without intervening? He had killed the other version of himself only because he understood himself, and at that time, had the control and clarity to do it.
And most importantly…
"Even if I am seriously injured," Aizen said, voice calm, "it does not mean others have become stronger. It is a very simple principle."
Cracked patterns spread across his skin like broken porcelain. He pushed up his glasses, as if the dying, fragmented body did not belong to him.
"For me, this pressure is both burden and gift. If the information accumulated in these scars, and the structure of these scars, can be recorded, then they become the finest living specimen imaginable. A map of the risks that exist in the universe, and a method to face them."
His tone remained gentle, almost conversational.
"I came to you not because I am weak, Kisuke. At our level, restoring strength has countless paths. I can absorb the spirit particles of Soul Society, or the spirit particles of Hueco Mundo's desert. Even nature itself can help me return to normal."
Aizen's eyes did not waver.
"Recovery is simple. These traces are not. They are precious."
He spread his hands slightly.
"I wish to move forward with others, rather than walk alone. I could do it alone, certainly. But compared to passing this on, compared to having everyone help me reach the peak, it would be far too slow."
A small pause.
"I learned that in another world."
Then, quietly, he added, "It is true that I am injured. It is also true that I want to fight alongside you, and face the darkness of this universe together."
Kisuke stared at him, at the magma like surface that had been hidden beneath the buttoned shirt. He could not tell how much of it was sincerity and how much was strategy.
Yet Aizen was not wrong about one thing.
At their level, there were many ways to recover. But methods to obtain traces and aura from the outer universe, to turn harm into coordinates, were rare beyond measure. If Aizen's logic held, then each wound was not just damage, it was an anchor.
A loss was still a loss.
But if he could truly tether himself to certain areas through those marks, using blood and energy as location, then the more riddled with wounds he became, the more he could pinpoint, the more he could return, the more he could depart again.
Kisuke did not ask why Aizen did not simply remain in Soul Society.
Because if the answer was real, Kisuke intended to leave too.
If chakra could solve the Soul King's cycle, then there was no reason to keep living inside a cage disguised as duty.
Even if, in Kisuke's eyes, that road was far too dangerous.
"Scars and damage as signposts," Kisuke said finally. "Effective, perhaps, but the risks are too high."
Aizen's smile curved.
"Oh. Should I interpret that as concern for my safety."
Kisuke scowled.
"Of course. If you suddenly die, it will take an unknown amount of time, and far too many detours, to start this research again. Chakra is still too foreign to me."
Aizen had buttoned his shirt back up by then, and once more looked flawless, as if the monster beneath the fabric did not exist.
Kisuke's dissatisfaction deepened.
"And even now, I cannot believe how much of what you do is driven by so called righteousness, and how much is ambition. You have always wanted to stand ahead of everyone, unrestrained. Now you speak of walking with others. I do not accept it."
Aizen's voice remained mild.
"I do not want to step on others, nor do I want them groveling at my feet. I want equality. Courage. Is that kind of world so unfamiliar to you."
"Do not talk nonsense," Kisuke snapped. "Even mastering chakra is impossible in this kind of world. If that is your ideal, then you are more insane than I thought."
Aizen sighed, almost disappointed.
"A shame. I thought someone as smart as you would support it."
"It is precisely because I support it," Kisuke said, cold and tired, "that I am pessimistic. Even that boy over there, the Soul King, even the great nobles, none of them succeeded. There is no hope on that path. You are using it as an excuse to carry out your ambitions."
How will you know if you do not try.
Aizen did not say it out loud. He simply shook his head.
With a flick of his finger, he snapped Kisuke's invisible barrier as if it were a thin thread.
Compared to his peak, he was indeed barely clinging to life.
Compared to the people of this world, he was still a monster.
Kisuke's crude technique, reliant on spirit particles and still unrefined, meant nothing to him. It reminded Aizen of a concept from the human world, a joke hidden inside truth, that once technology reaches a certain level, old defenses feel as soft as fresh bread. You simply poke the flaw, and everything collapses.
Outside, Ichigo was tossing his three Truth Seeking Balls like sandbags, catching and releasing them with casual control. He noticed the shattered barrier and waved.
"Hey, Aizen, geta hat. What are we doing next."
"Do not be impatient," Aizen replied. "Impatience does not change progress. Only action does."
He glanced once at Kisuke, who remained silent beside him, a silence that felt like reluctant agreement, then turned toward Ichigo with a calm smile.
"Simply put, you need an excuse to break into Soul Society. Only then can you plant the chakra seed there."
His tone sharpened slightly, as if outlining a battlefield.
"Among the three cycles, the human world, Soul Society, and Hueco Mundo, only Soul Society is truly easy to breach, and it is the core. To solve the problem, you only need to influence Soul Society in the short term."
Ichigo's eyes narrowed.
"How."
"It is simple," Aizen said. "The Hogyoku."
"Ah…"
The moment the word left Aizen's mouth, Kisuke's face shifted into a weary understanding. He sighed as if someone had reopened an old wound.
"Aizen, you already possess chakra. Why are you still obsessed with that method to push the world forward. Do you not have better options. Or are you going to pretend you do not have that power, and do things your own way."
Aizen's smile did not falter.
"It seems even you are chained by memory. Yes, it resembles the original plan, but the result will be different."
He spoke slowly, as if carving the distinction into stone.
"Our goal is not to obtain the Hogyoku. We are using its existence to demonstrate chakra."
"…I see," Kisuke muttered.
Ichigo, who had been watching them talk in perfect mutual understanding, frowned.
"What are you two even saying. Can you talk like I am standing here and not locked outside my own conversation."
He looked genuinely offended, and it was almost impressive, because he had spent six months in Aizen's sealed space absorbing knowledge like a starving man. He knew Seireitei's structure, combat basics, even the ugly truths of the system.
Yet the word Hogyoku was new.
And he hated, above all, being treated like the only person in the room who could not read the invisible subtitles.
Kisuke and Aizen exchanged a glance. Kisuke turned his face away. Aizen's gaze returned to Ichigo, patient, as if speaking to a stubborn student.
"Very well. The Hogyoku is a wish granting device that Kisuke and I developed together. It converts external spirit particles, then responds to inner desire, granting what the heart demands."
Aizen's voice remained even.
"But to you, to Kisuke, and to me, the Hogyoku is meaningless now. With chakra, we can convert what we need directly."
Ichigo blinked slowly, as if forcing his brain to accept that such a thing existed.
Aizen continued.
"However, its existence is a tightly guarded secret in Soul Society. I began arranging these events long before I awakened. In fact, Kisuke cooperated with this operation all along, a tacit understanding between us."
Kisuke did not deny it.
Aizen's eyes narrowed slightly.
"The Hogyoku is hidden inside Rukia's soul. According to my original plan, I would kill the nobles of Central 46 within three days, forge documents, and demand Kuchiki Rukia's trial."
"…Huh," Ichigo said, stunned. "Why is Rukia being tried. She tried her best. She did nothing wrong."
Aizen's tone did not soften.
"It is a grave crime for a Shinigami to give power to a human. Rukia was spared only because she is the adopted daughter of the Kuchiki family. Central 46 would hesitate."
He tilted his head slightly.
"I would remove that hesitation. I would let the law fall on her, then make it appear that other nobles pushed it, so no one dares move rashly."
Ichigo's face drained of color.
Aizen kept going, merciless in his clarity.
"Byakuya has already violated noble rules twice. A third violation leaves him conflicted. He will not move immediately. Tokinada Tsunayoshi will also be involved, which forces the nobles into mutual restraint."
He adjusted his glasses.
"And because Central 46 was sealed by Kyoka Suigetsu, the situation could be framed as internal deliberation among the nobility."
Ichigo's mouth opened, then closed again, as if words refused to come.
Aizen delivered the final piece with the same quiet certainty.
"Rukia would be executed at Sokyoku. That place represents Soul Society's order. It is where traitors and criminals are erased."
His gaze turned sharp.
"As the adopted Kuchiki brought there under Byakuya's insistence, her execution becomes an honor killing, a noble declaration that draws a line between nobles and commoners, and a warning to the Kuchiki family."
Aizen's smile returned, gentle and horrifying.
"That is why I chose it. It was a perfect murder."
Ichigo's shoulders slumped as if his soul had been hit with a brick.
"…I am sorry," he said, numb. "I will not question your statements anymore."
He bowed, obedient, as if admitting defeat.
Then he lifted his head, eyes tired, voice pleading for mercy.
"Can you be brief. Just tell me what I do next, where I go, who I fight, and what I am supposed to accomplish. I do not think I need anything else."
Aizen smiled brightly.
"It is simple. Follow your instincts and save Rukia. Switch into chakra while releasing your spiritual power."
His tone sharpened at the end.
"But do not intentionally damage their Zanpakuto. I still have use for them."
Kisuke stepped forward with a bright grin, paper fan fluttering as if he were about to share a fun secret.
"And speaking of Zanpakuto, do you know why every Shinigami treats theirs like a treasure. It's because every Zanpakuto is forged by the same person, and the materials are top secret, they are…"
Ichigo looked at him with something close to pity.
"…The souls of Shinigami," he said quietly.
Kisuke froze mid gesture.
Ichigo shook his head once, as if apologizing for ruining the reveal.
"In six months, Aizen explained it all."
His voice carried no pride, only heaviness.
A Zanpakuto was not just a tool. It was a partner, a mirror, the other half of a Shinigami, and that part was true.
Because the forging required souls.
Countless Shinigami souls compressed, forged, refined, until a blade was born. A Shinigami's death meant a Zanpakuto could pass on, and a shattered Zanpakuto meant the complete dissipation of a soul.
When Aizen created Hollow White, Oetsu Nimaiya once remarked the technique was essentially the same as forging a Zanpakuto. That was why Hollow White became Ichigo's blade.
And to some extent, Soul Society's splendor was built on vanished souls and wandering spirits ground into fuel.
That was why those who climbed high eventually broke.
Even Yamamoto, faced with such a brutal system, chose to paint Seireitei beautiful on the surface, because the truth beneath was unbearable.
In Soul Society, no one was innocent. Everyone had been stained, by blood, by souls, by steps taken upward.
It was only a question of how many, and in what way.
Ichigo exhaled slowly, then looked at both of them.
"I will listen to Aizen. I will also listen to you, geta hat. I just want to pull everyone out of that hell as soon as possible."
His eyes were steady, sincere.
"It might be hypocrisy, but until I find a real way out, I cannot watch them live in purgatory."
Kisuke stared at him, then sighed and pulled down the brim of his hat.
"…Fine," he muttered. "We follow Aizen's plan."
For a moment, Kisuke looked older than he should have, not by years, but by wear.
In front of Ichigo's pure gaze, both Kisuke's calculation and Aizen's scheming felt ugly, crude, like dirty hands reaching for something that should have been clean.
But there was no other way.
Will alone could not break a system that was built on bones.
Kisuke lowered his head further, as if hiding his eyes.
He did not want to look directly at the boy who still believed the world could be saved.
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