“Aizen, could you stay behind and help your teacher wipe the chalkboard?
You know—”
“Mr.
Shimizu, you don’t need to say it.
I know your back isn’t what it used to be.”
“Good kid!
You’ve already learned to anticipate the question!”
Aizen hummed in agreement, methodically erasing the chalkboard while chatting idly with Haru.
Two months had passed.
The original Kidō instructor, Mr.
Yuki, had been plagued by a mysterious illness that only ever acted up while he was inside the Shin’ō Academy.
After seeking treatment at the Fourth Division to no avail, the poor man became convinced he was cursed and voluntarily requested a transfer to a different department.
Assistant Instructor Haru smoothly ascended the ranks, becoming the undisputed king of the classroom.
During these seemingly uneventful two months, the unassuming Sōsuke Aizen—who always hid in the crowd and kept a low profile—was consistently held back by Mr.
Shimizu to clean the board.
Aizen had grown accustomed to this routine.
At first, he suspected Haru had some ulterior motive.
But as the weeks rolled by, Haru really just kept him around to wipe the slate, mostly to gossip and occasionally offer a few brilliant pointers on Kidō.
The young Aizen benefited greatly from these private sessions, genuinely believing Haru was an excellent mentor with strong moral character.
Aside from being incredibly lazy, the man was practically perfect.
“Come to think of it, Mr.
Shimizu,” Aizen began, wiping away a streak of chalk, “you can’t be much older than I am, right?
How is your back…”
“Insolence!
How dare you disrespect your teacher!” Haru gasped in mock offense.
“I feel like you’re implying something!”
Aizen blinked behind his glasses, looking entirely innocent.
He was just a student; he didn’t know anything.
“What do you know?
I’m just planning for a rainy day, understand?”
Now Aizen was genuinely lost.
What was the necessity in that?
Planning for a rainy day?
“A man like you, destined to stand at the top of the heavens, could never understand the hobbies of mortals,” Haru sighed.
‘This guy is going to be so bitter and full of hatred in the future,’ Haru thought to himself.
‘Is it because he’s never experienced the beauty of romance?
Should I introduce Omaeda’s daughter to him?’
“Let’s go, Sōsuke.” Seeing that Aizen had finished cleaning, Haru waved him over.
“Just looking at you, I can tell you grew up poor.
Come on!
Today, I’m going to blow your mind and show you the decadent lifestyle of the nobility!”
One hour later.
Haru and Aizen were squatting on the curb by the side of the road, each clutching two cheap steamed buns, watching the bustling carts roll down the street.
The commoners of the Rukongai pushed heavily loaded wagons bound for the Seireitei, beads of sweat rolling down their brows.
Every so often, they would sneak jealous glances at the steamed buns in the two Soul Reapers’ hands and swallow hard.
“Mr.
Shimizu…” Aizen began weakly.
“Mmm?” Haru mumbled, his mouth completely stuffed with bread.
“Didn’t you say you were going to show me the world of the nobility?
This is…” Young Aizen was utterly speechless, his stoic facade cracking under the sheer absurdity of the situation.
Haru choked on his bun.
He frantically waved his hand, grabbed the canteen Aizen offered, and took a massive gulp of water to wash the dry food down.
“This is the noble lifestyle!” Haru declared as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Yep, absolutely.
The luxurious life of a great lord.”
He took another bite and looked at his student.
“Sōsuke, what do you think nobles are really like?”
Aizen froze.
He didn’t know how to answer that.
Did he, a boy who grew up in the harsh slums of the Rukongai, hate the nobility?
He did.
But he couldn’t quite articulate why.
He harbored vague, budding resentments toward the system, but those feelings hadn’t yet formed into a cohesive ideology.
And sitting right next to a noble who happened to be a teacher he actually liked, he couldn’t bring himself to voice his darkest thoughts.
“Heh, Sōsuke, Sōsuke.
You could train for ten thousand years, and you still wouldn’t be able to hide those little thoughts from my eyes!” Haru chuckled, poking Aizen in the shoulder.
Not waiting for an answer, Haru stood up and walked away.
Aizen remained squatted on the curb, completely unsure of what to do.
From across the street, Haru yelled back at him, “What are you spacing out for?
Hurry up!
I have a date tonight!”
The two resumed their walk.
They were currently in the West 5th District of the Rukongai.
Although it was technically outside the walls, being this close to the Seireitei meant the living conditions here were phenomenal compared to the outer, lawless districts.
Many aristocrats even purchased private estates in this area.
Haru secretly schemed about buying a house here someday.
‘When the time comes, I’ll lock that brat Yoruichi in here and thoroughly put her in her place!
Hehehe!’
“Mr.
Shimizu…”
“Hmm?”
“You’re smiling…
very strangely…”
“Ah, my apologies.
Just thinking about something beautiful.” Haru rubbed the back of his head, leading Aizen on a meandering tour through the winding streets.
When the towering white walls of the Seireitei were finally visible in the distance, Aizen couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“Mr.
Shimizu, did you have a specific reason for bringing me out here today?”
“What kind of ulterior motive could I possibly have for a scrawny kid like you?” Haru scoffed.
Suddenly, his eyes lit up as he spotted a street vendor.
“Sōsuke, stand right here and don’t move.
I’m going to go buy some oran—I mean, honey.”
Returning a moment later with a small jar wrapped in twine, Haru continued.
“Like I said earlier, you look broke.
I know for a fact you aren’t getting full off the academy cafeteria food.
Since we get along so well, I figured I’d bring you out, expand your horizons, and let you experience the extravagant life of us aristocrats.”
“But Mr.
Shimizu…
do nobles really just sit on the street and eat cheap steamed buns?”
Young Aizen’s entire worldview was taking a severe beating today.
“Ahem!
Little Aizen, you need to learn how to think critically.
You have to look at problems dialectically.
Not all nobles are evil, wealthy tyrants.
There are also impoverished, kind-hearted, benevolent nobles like me, right?
You can’t just paint everyone with the same brush.”
Aizen looked thoughtful.
“Furthermore, you have no right to speak on a matter without doing the proper research.
If you hadn’t come out here with me today, how would you know that this is all I eat on a daily basis?”
Aizen nodded, deeply convinced by his teacher’s profound reasoning.
Just then, a frail old woman in ragged clothes hobbled under the eaves near where they were standing.
She tapped her walking stick on the ground, her cloudy, grey eyes struggling to see the path ahead.
Haru glanced at her, grabbed Aizen by the arm, and deliberately stepped across the street to give her a wide berth.
Initially, Aizen assumed Haru was simply disgusted by the dirty commoner and was moving to avoid touching her.
After all, in his mind, that was exactly how nobles behaved—viewing anyone beneath their station with undisguised contempt.
But could Haru—the man who was just happily squatting on the dirt eating street food with him—really be that kind of person?
Sensing Aizen’s confusion, Haru spoke up.
“Are you wondering why I just moved out of the way?”
Aizen, fully accustomed to his teacher reading his mind by now, simply nodded.
Haru sighed.
“You should know what happens when we stand too close to fragile souls with our level of Spiritual Pressure, right?”
Aizen fell completely silent.
‘So that was the reason…’
No one ever cared about trivial things like that.
The mighty Soul Reapers certainly didn’t, and frankly, Aizen hadn’t either.
Yet Haru cared enough to actively step aside so his passive Reiatsu wouldn’t crush her soul.
This realization forced Aizen into a deep, heavy train of thought.
“Do not grovel before the strong, and do not trample upon the weak.
It sounds simple, but it is incredibly difficult to truly practice, Sōsuke!” Haru stood up straight and patted the boy firmly on the shoulder.
“If overturning a corrupt system requires sacrificing the lives of the weak to pave the way, then what fundamentally separates the revolutionaries from the corrupt oppressors they seek to destroy?
On the scales of life, wouldn’t their disregard for the weak simply make them another iteration of that same rot?”
“These are the things worth thinking about, Sōsuke.”
After watching Aizen walk back through the Shin’ō Academy gates, Haru doubled over and gagged.
“Ugh, those buns were awful!”
After ten years of living a thoroughly pampered, decadent noble lifestyle, he had just wanted to try some simple street food for a change of pace.
He never expected his stomach to be the first thing to protest.
He simply couldn’t go back to the rough, impoverished days anymore.
“It’s easy to go from rags to riches, but impossible to go from riches to rags!
Yoruichi ruined me!
She completely ruined me!”
As evening approached, the setting sun cast a stunning, blood-red glow over the pristine white walls of the Seireitei.
Haru stood on the street corner, silently watching the sun dip below the horizon before suddenly vanishing in a blur of Shunpo.
Thanks to his little brother-in-law’s generous funding and secret manuals, Haru’s mastery over the Flash Step was improving at an astronomical rate.
His personal philosophy was simple: it’s perfectly fine if I can’t beat you in a fight, but I’ll be damned if I can’t outrun you.
Because of this, he poured an immense amount of effort into his speed training.
“Should I strap on some ankle weights like Rock Lee?” he muttered to himself, the words lingering in the empty air before being scattered by the wind.
The Shin’ō Academy was situated right between the Seireitei and the Rukongai, acting as a sort of third, neutral zone within the Soul Society.
It lacked the oppressive solemnity of the Seireitei, but was far more orderly than the chaotic Rukongai.
With rumors of rebellion brewing and the undercurrents of the Soul Society growing increasingly turbulent, the academy had somehow become the only true sanctuary left.
It was still early.
The night was too young for stealing secrets or seducing women—the atmosphere just wasn’t right yet.
So, Haru decided to find something else to kill the time before his date.