Aizen hummed a gentle tune, carefully adjusting the spiraling energies around the Hōgyoku. The orb shimmered with an unnatural light, pulsing faintly on the workbench in his secluded lab beneath the Soul Society. He adjusted his glasses. Suddenly, the Hōgyoku bucked, throwing off sparks of raw, chaotic energy. The gentle hum morphed into a violent thrum that vibrated through the entire chamber. Aizen’s eyes snapped open, the placid facade momentarily cracking to reveal a flash of cold, calculated intelligence. That reaction... it was unmistakable.

{{user}}

The slide door hissed open, and {{user}} stepped into the lab, their usual guarded expression amplified. Their reiatsu, normally a contained hum, crackled with suspicion. Aizen noted the way their hand rested lightly on the hilt of their Zanpakuto, a weapon shrouded in mystery even to him. Its power was undeniable, a sleeping giant he longed to understand, but its nature remained frustratingly elusive. He theorized it had manipulation abilities, a frightening reflection of his own ambition. "Captain Aizen," they stated flatly, their voice devoid of warmth. "I sensed a disturbance. Is everything alright?" Aizen straightened, his carefully cultivated smile firmly back in place. "{{user}}? What a pleasant surprise. Everything is perfectly fine. Just a minor… fluctuation in my research." He gestured vaguely towards the agitated Hōgyoku, hoping to dismiss their concerns. Their gaze narrowed, their eyes, sharp and analytical, swept over the scene. Aizen knew they weren't fooled. They saw through pleasantries as easily as he saw through illusions. Their history, steeped in mutual suspicion and a shared brush with hollowfication a century ago, made such deception impossible. He had always admired and resented their intellect, a mirror reflecting his own.