"What?"
"Aizen."
"You're going to show us your Zanpakutō's Shikai?"
…
The announcement sent ripples of astonishment through the class.
The moment Aizen said he was going to demonstrate his Shikai, the entire department stirred. Even the typically reserved Komamura Sajin and Tenbei Shuzou could barely contain their excitement, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.
Even those hailing from remote corners of Rukongai understood that a Zanpakutō's release—especially Shikai—was a deeply guarded secret for every Shinigami. Revealing a Zanpakutō's ability was akin to laying one's weaknesses bare. Once known, abilities could be countered, exploited, even turned against their user.
Yet Aizen—who had known them barely a day, whose name many still mispronounced—was now preparing to unveil his Shikai in full view, without hesitation. He wasn't doing it for credit, self-interest, or pride. He wasn't demanding anything in return. He simply wanted to share what might become a rare glimpse into an advanced Zanpakutō, hoping it would offer insight to his peers.
"Yes," Aizen replied with a gentle nod. "My Zanpakutō, Kyōka Suigetsu, falls under the water-type category. It creates illusions by refracting light through mist and water, confusing the senses and leading enemies to turn on each other."
His tone was disarmingly modest.
"Would you all like to see it for yourselves?"
His smile was soft, humble, and utterly sincere on the surface—as if he had nothing to hide.
Shihōin Yoruichi crossed her arms and smirked faintly. "So frank… what a humble gentleman."
Urahara Kisuke, adjusting his hat thoughtfully, muttered, "Power paired with virtue. I'm not even in his league."
Byakuya Kuchiki, aloof yet watching closely, stated flatly, "It's regrettable that a man of such integrity wasn't born into nobility."
Shiba Kaien nodded with admiration. "Among all the people I've met, none are more generous or broad-minded than Aizen."
Akira: "…"
Hearing the endless stream of admiration and flattery around him, Akira stared at Aizen—who stood calmly in the center of the crowd, bathed in goodwill and reverence.
He said nothing.
He simply exhaled and dropped his head slightly, propping one hand against his forehead, subtly covering his eyes.
He had no choice.
If he didn't hide his face, Urahara Kisuke and Shiba Kaien—two men who played the fool but were in truth dangerously perceptive—would surely notice the look in his eyes.
A look that screamed: "Are you all seriously this gullible?"
Because in Akira's eyes, they were idiots.
Kyōka Suigetsu was already in its Shikai state. The moment Aizen drew his blade at the start of the lesson, the ritual of Kanzen Saimin—Complete Hypnosis—had already begun. The sword didn't just manipulate fog and water. It controlled all five senses with total precision, embedding false realities into the minds of anyone who saw the release.
They were already under its effect—and now they were lining up to get hypnotized again, willingly.
Akira knew Aizen well enough to realize: this wasn't a performance.
It was stage setting.
Aizen was reinforcing the illusion of trust and vulnerability—creating a version of himself everyone could admire and never question.
Seeing his "little brother" already beginning his manipulation so smoothly, Akira had no intention of interfering. If Aizen wanted to dance, who was he to interrupt the music?
"We would," Komamura Sajin stepped forward, hand clenched over his heart.
"Aizen, thank you for your kindness. If you ever need help, you need only ask. Being your classmate already means a great deal to me."
Tenbei Shuzou echoed the sentiment eagerly.
Even Tōsen Kaname, the blind youth who relied entirely on spiritual perception, stepped forward.
Although he couldn't see, his sharp sensing of Reiatsu would allow him to detect the moment of Shikai activation—and he wanted to feel it for himself.
And they weren't alone.
Byakuya, Yoruichi, Urahara, and even other noble-blooded students who had already unlocked Shikai-level powers all turned toward Aizen in curiosity.
Because even if Aizen had "explained" his Shikai's properties, no one believed that was its full truth. A water-type illusion Zanpakutō? Rare, yes—but vague enough to leave many details open to imagination. What exactly did it do? How far did the illusion go?
No one wanted to miss the demonstration.
Gossip would fly. The crowd would swell. Curiosity would consume the entire class.
Akira muttered quietly under his breath:
"One look at Kyōka Suigetsu, and your five senses are no longer your own."
Then Kaien stepped in, clapping his hands loudly.
"Ahem! Everyone, listen up."
His voice, for once, was devoid of humor.
"Aizen has graciously chosen to show you his Shikai. Not everyone would do this. In fact, very few ever do."
"You should all be grateful for his trust. And more importantly—you should keep your mouths shut."
Kaien's face turned serious, his tone unusually sharp.
"After this demonstration, no one is to repeat what they've seen today. Not to another student. Not to another division. Not even to your own instructors. This is a personal gift between classmates, and it stays here."
"Yes, Instructor Kaien!" the students chorused in unison.
Akira stood at the back, sighing softly.
He wasn't worried about Aizen's secrets being revealed.
After all—
They wouldn't even remember what was real to begin with.
Everyone in the room nodded one after another, their expressions grave, their tones filled with solemn respect.
"Don't be so tense. We're classmates now, and one day, we'll be colleagues in the Gotei 13—maybe even comrades-in-arms on the battlefield."
"Even if my Shikai is exposed, it's fine. Don't worry about it," Aizen said casually, his voice calm and without the slightest pretense.
"Besides, I plan to visit other classes in the Shin'ō Academy and show my Shikai to those students as well."
"Aizen, why would you…?"
The entire room fell silent, stunned.
All Shinigami—regardless of birth or background—understood the unspoken rule: once you mastered your Shikai, you concealed its abilities as tightly as possible. The fewer people who saw it, the better. After all, Zanpakutō abilities were deeply personal and tactically invaluable. Revealing them was tantamount to inviting defeat.
No one in their right mind went around advertising their Shikai—let alone demonstrating it to other classes.
Except for Aizen.
"In the other classes beyond First Division," Aizen said slowly, "most of the students are average in talent, with limited spiritual aptitude. Compared to you all, they're like fireflies next to the full moon."
His tone was empathetic, not arrogant.
"It's different if you're from a noble family. But many students come from Rukongai—just like I did. I know what it takes. The path from the slums to becoming a Shinigami is steep. Every step forward demands ten times the effort of a noble-born. Sometimes a hundred. Sometimes more."
He paused and looked around, voice softening.
"So if I can help them, even in a small way—if watching my Shikai gives them some inspiration, or even a little hope—then I must do it. This is the only way I can think of to support them."
Aizen adjusted the brown-rimmed glasses perched on his nose and gently shook his head.
"You don't need to worry on my behalf."
"Because once I graduate from the Shin'ō Academy—if I am lucky enough to earn a seat in the Gotei 13—I will strive to become a lecturer. Then, every aspiring Shinigami in the Soul Society will be able to witness my Shikai."
"If revealing the ability of Kyōka Suigetsu helps create more Shinigami, if it pushes even one more student to reach their dream, then what's the harm in making my Shikai known across the entire Soul Society? In the grand scheme of things, it's a trivial price."
The moment those words left his lips, the atmosphere shifted.
Even Shiba Kaien, who usually played the clown, stood quietly in awe.
Urahara Kisuke, who had always prided himself on keen judgment and caution, narrowed his eyes in deep thought.
"…"
Akira silently watched Aizen's flawless performance—radiating benevolence, ambition, and the spirit of a future saint of Soul Society.
He could practically picture the stunned expressions of every captain and lieutenant who, years from now, would realize they had once looked directly into the blade of Kyōka Suigetsu and believed they were seeing truth.
Now, he understood.
Why the Visoreds, once noble Shinigami, ended up despising Aizen to their core.
Why Urahara Kisuke, calm and cunning, once prepared an entire web of Kidō, traps, and counter-measures just to corner Aizen—and still failed.
Because Aizen hadn't simply betrayed them.
He had performed for them.
And they had applauded.
"Akira, aren't you watching?" Shihōin Yoruichi asked, finally unable to contain her curiosity.
She had noticed that Akira had kept his head low the entire time, one hand obscuring his eyes, his face unreadable.
"Shikai demonstrations aren't going anywhere," Akira said quietly. "You see it once, you've seen it. There's no difference between me seeing it and the others seeing it."
"But I'd rather let those who need it more have the spotlight."
He raised his head just slightly and smiled faintly.
"Aizen has another goal beyond showcasing Kyōka Suigetsu—he wants to surpass me. If I were to accept this act of goodwill without reciprocating, that wouldn't be fair."
"A man doesn't need to be great, but he mustn't be petty either."
With that, Akira lowered his head again, palm still shielding his eyes.
"Akira, you and your brother are truly noble," Yoruichi said softly. "You may not hold noble titles, but your hearts are worth more than half the noble families in Seireitei."
"If there were more Shinigami like you among the aristocracy, the Soul Society would be a far better place."
Even Byakuya Kuchiki, who had once suffered a stinging defeat at Akira's hands—and quietly resented it for the damage done to the Kuchiki family's prestige—turned to glance sideways at him.
He didn't speak.
But the look in his eyes said it all.
Even a Kuchiki knew when to acknowledge true nobility.