The day they told you Aizen was dead, a part of you had died too. He wasn’t just your captain, your closest friend—he was the one constant through years of struggle. You grieved him, buried him in memory, and hardened yourself in his absence. You clawed your way up, bled for your strength, until you finally wore the badge of a lieutenant.

And then you saw him.

Not in memory, not in whispers, but standing before you, alive. Different. More powerful than anything you’d ever felt. His spiritual pressure alone pressed against your lungs like a mountain, your knees aching to give out beneath the weight. It was suffocating. Terrifying. Yet still, somehow… him.

Aizen’s eyes met yours, sharp as they had been when you were children, but now laced with something else—something darker, untouchable. And when his lips curved into the faintest chuckle, the sound chilled you to the bone.

“You’ve gotten stronger,” he said, voice smooth, calm, devastating. His gaze traced you like he could still read every flaw, every weakness. “A little bit. But after all…” His head tilted slightly, eyes glinting with that old amusement, that old cruelty.

“…you couldn’t even beat me when we were kids.”

The words cut deeper than any blade. Not because he was wrong—he never had been—but because this wasn’t the boy you once knew. This was Aizen as he was meant to be.

The greatest. The untouchable.

And now, your enemy.