“Well?
Wasn’t what I just said incredible?
Pretty philosophical, right?”
Aizen nodded in genuine agreement.
The statement was so profound that he instantly decided to adopt it as his personal motto.
“Don’t celebrate too early, kid!
That advice is only useful for mediocre people.”
Aizen frowned, thoroughly confused.
For the first time, he felt his teacher was wrong.
In young Aizen’s mind, that quote represented the absolute truth for a true genius: If my Reiatsu is higher than yours, I can simply crush you.
Only ordinary people needed to rely on Zanjutsu, Hakuda, or flashy Zanpakutō abilities to win fights.
Yes, at this stage in his life, Sōsuke Aizen genuinely believed that Zanpakutō abilities were nothing more than flashy gimmicks.
Who knew if he would bitterly regret that childish mindset when he grew older?
“What if you face an opponent whose Reiatsu is exactly on par with yours?
What then?” Haru challenged.
“Then I would defeat them using Zanjutsu and Kidō,” Aizen replied without missing a beat.
Haru crossed his arms, playing the ultimate contrarian.
“Let’s take it a step further.
Assume every single one of your stats is completely identical.
The enemy is effectively a perfect clone of you.
How do you win?”
Aizen fell into a deep silence.
He didn’t feel like Haru was just picking a fight or messing with him; he was seriously trying to formulate a strategy against such a hypothetical enemy.
Seeing Aizen lost in thought, Haru finally offered the answer.
“I would choose to develop my own unique abilities, rather than walking the well-trodden paths left behind by our predecessors.”
“Develop yourself?”
“Exactly, Sōsuke.
Soul Reapers might have an upper limit, but do you have a limit?”
Aizen blinked, his brown eyes filled with curiosity.
“You remember that little trick I pulled in class, right?”
Aizen’s eyes instantly lit up.
“You were the only one who noticed.
Snapping my fingers was just a misdirection—a way to draw the audience’s attention.
That in itself is a form of emotional manipulation.
But I digress.” Haru waved a hand.
“In reality, I directly interfered with the ambient Reishi surrounding the student’s spell.
By disrupting the structure of his Reiatsu and destroying its stability, his Kidō naturally fizzled out.”
“I call this technique…
Spell Countering.”
Aizen was utterly speechless.
“Mr.
Shimizu…
I’ve never heard of a technique that directly cancels out someone else’s Kidō.”
“That’s because your horizons are too narrow, kid!
You’ve got a long way to go!” Haru scoffed.
“Though, to be honest, I’ve never heard of anyone else doing it either.
I suppose it’s just a flaw in how you mortals think.”
“How mortals think?”
“Zip it, and listen closely while Mr.
Shimizu breaks it down for you.”
Haru looked around the riverbank, massaging his lower back.
“Standing is exhausting.”
Taking the hint, the model student Aizen quickly used his sleeve to wipe a large boulder perfectly clean, gesturing for his teacher to sit.
Haru nodded in satisfaction and took a seat.
“Normally, Kidō is cast using the user’s body as the epicenter, drawing upon and forming Reishi within a specific, close-range radius.
But think about it dialectically: if I can influence the Reishi immediately surrounding my own body, why couldn’t I influence the Reishi further away?”
Aizen looked incredibly thoughtful.
“Of course,” Haru continued, “in a real combat scenario, distance and the interference of the enemy’s own Reiatsu make it extremely difficult to directly manipulate their spell like I did in class.
So, we change our approach.”
Haru held up both hands to demonstrate.
“Let’s say I’m standing here on this bank, and you’re standing across the river, casting Byakurai.”
“If it’s too difficult to interfere with your spell from this distance, what if I simply pretend to cast Byakurai myself?”
“Pretend?” Aizen’s eyes gleamed with sudden understanding.
“What if we use mental suggestion to simulate the entire casting process?
We mobilize the exact same Reiatsu structure, mimic the spell’s frequency, and then fire that ‘virtual’ Byakurai directly into yours.
What would be the result?”
“Hanki Sōsai…
Reverse Demon Cancellation,” Aizen murmured, staring at the flowing water.
“Exactly.
Hanki Sōsai.” Haru fought the urge to laugh.
The ‘youth edition’ of Aizen couldn’t hide his depths anymore.
He clearly already knew about these highly advanced, classified techniques.
“Of course, pulling that off requires an immense amount of practice and unyielding perseverance.
But believe it or not, that’s still just a beginner-level trick.”
‘There’s something even more advanced?’ Aizen’s full attention was instantly captivated.
“The technique I just described is simply something most people never think to try.
Once the concept is explained, an ordinary person can master it with enough practice.
However, what I’m about to teach you next can only be learned by a true genius, Sōsuke Aizen.” Haru suddenly used his full name, his tone completely serious.
“Are you willing to admit that you are just a mediocre talent?”
Aizen was silent for a long moment.
When he looked up, his gaze was absolute.
“Please teach me, Mr.
Shimizu.”
“Good.
Very good.” Haru smiled, looking incredibly gratified.
That evening, after treating Aizen to another round of cheap steamed buns, Haru headed back to his estate.
Reflecting on his teaching session, he felt immensely proud of himself.
He really was a dedicated, model educator!
‘Why would Aizen waste his time researching Hollows and plotting against the Gotei 13 when he has a perfectly good Soul Reaper career ahead of him?’ Haru reasoned.
‘I mean, researching taboo subjects is fine, but it needs to be done under the strict guidance of the Great Mentor Haru Shimizu so things don’t get messy!
What is he going to achieve fumbling around in the dark on his own?
He’ll just end up in prison!’
To spare his favorite student from a dark, dismal life behind bars, Haru had graciously given him a new life goal.
‘Just be Mr.
Shimizu’s obedient little pawn.
Help your teacher ascend to the throne of the heavens.
You can be the Crown Prince and inherit the empire later.
Isn’t that a much better deal?’
Speaking of pawns, Haru suddenly remembered someone else he needed to recruit as soon as possible.
The next day was his day off.
After thoroughly sleeping in, Haru stretched and prepared to head out.
He figured he would visit his little tsundere Shaolin and then track down his next target.
However, before he even made it out the door, a strangely dressed man materialized in the center of his courtyard.
“Haru Shimizu.
The Head Captain summons you.”
Haru paused.
He recognized the bizarre uniform.
This guy was a messenger from the Inner Court Communications Troop—a specialized unit tasked exclusively with delivering edicts for the Central 46 and the Head Captain.
Technically speaking, this unit fell under the jurisdiction of the Onmitsukidō.
Which meant, by extension, they fell under the Second Division.
Didn’t that make this guy his subordinate?
“Did no one teach you any manners?” Haru drawled, his eyes narrowing.
“You just barge into my private estate without even addressing me as ‘Lord Shimizu’?”
The messenger blinked, stunned.
Unemployed minor nobles like this guy were a dime a dozen in the Seireitei.
Where was this arrogance coming from?
Suddenly, the bright morning sky seemed to plunge into pitch-black darkness.
The gently smiling Haru standing on the porch abruptly morphed into a colossal, blood-drenched demon, baring horrific, jagged fangs.
An oceanic, suffocating pressure crashed down onto the messenger’s shoulders, pinning him to the dirt.
The messenger couldn’t breathe.
He felt like his heart was going to violently explode in his chest if he endured it for even a second longer.
In a flash of pure survival instinct, the messenger slammed his forehead against the ground, executing a flawless, Captain-level bow.
“L-Lord Shimizu!
T-The Head Captain requests your presence!”
“See?
That’s much better!”
The crushing pressure vanished instantly, as if it had all been a hallucination.
The sky was bright and sunny once more.
“Watch yourself next time,” Haru said casually, dusting off his sleeves.
“Remember to knock.
Otherwise, if you barge in and see something you shouldn’t, you might just lose your life.”
“Y-Yes!
I understand perfectly, my lord!” The messenger scrambled to his feet and vanished over the courtyard wall in a blind panic.
Haru hadn’t just bullied the man for fun.
His house was destined to become a villainous headquarters, a place where masterminds like Aizen would gather to scheme and plot against the Soul Society.
If these messengers kept teleporting in unannounced, it was a massive safety hazard for their own lives.
It was better to train them to knock now, just to avoid any unnecessary bloodshed in the future.
Muttering to himself, Haru tidied up his uniform and set off to see the Head Captain.
Along the way, he couldn’t help but wonder.
Had his reputation as a phenomenal, once-in-a-generation educator already reached the absolute top brass of the Gotei 13?
He used Shunpo all the way to the First Division barracks and was politely escorted into the Head Captain’s office by Lieutenant Sasakibe.
The moment Haru stepped through the doors, he realized he had been drastically overthinking things.
Yoruichi was also in the room, currently winking at him mischievously behind the old man’s back.
And standing right next to her…
was a very handsome Soul Reaper.