Warm water cascaded over my body, tracing lines across muscles honed by centuries of combat and silence. A luxury, truly—one I hadn't experienced since being entombed in Muken, the deepest prison of Soul Society. It was almost laughable that Yhwach, with all his godlike foresight, didn't die of my scent when I fought him.
But this wasn't just a physical cleansing—it was spiritual.
A baptism for a soul tainted by ambition.
I focused on my chest, where the Hōgyoku once embedded itself in my flesh. Even while sealed in Muken, I remembered the moment it pulsed—radiant and violet—before merging completely with me. It was then the world shifted… and I awakened here, a century before it all began.
I channeled the faint reiryoku I still possessed into my chest. A familiar pressure responded. With effort, a crystal emerged into my palm.
It was the Hōgyoku.
Dim. Dormant. Depleted.
But not destroyed.
A spark flickered when I fed it power—brief, but real. It needed time. Reiatsu. Nothing more. No sacrifices. No lives stolen. In this timeline, I wouldn't need to create Hollows or manipulate Shinigami for its awakening.
Stomping ants offers no satisfaction, after all.
Unfortunately, that meditation left me standing in the shower far too long.
Time to be a student again.
****
Hours later, outside the classroom, two second-year students stood awkwardly by the door: a boy with short brown hair and a girl with pigtails, fists clenched like she was ready for war.
"Tch, I wanted to live a low-key life, but now I'm public enemy number one on my first day..."
I rubbed the lump forming on my head.
"Hiyori, was that really necessary?"
Saruaki Hiyori, naturally, glared at me.
"You were staring off into space while I was getting scolded! Then you ignored me! You're lucky I didn't aim lower!"
"I was contemplating the metaphysics of death and spiritual singularity. Basic coursework is beneath me."
I flicked my hair confidently.
"Also, I am not bald."
"Bald doesn't mean hairless, genius. It means your brain is empty! You look like a deer in the headlights. Tch. Never mind, I'll let you treat me to lunch after school. That'll fix things."
She grinned like she'd just won the lottery.
This woman is food-motivated.
****
An hour earlier, I had chosen a seat near the window—the classic backdrop for protagonists, loners, and brooding geniuses. My plan was to sit quietly, observe, and hide my overwhelming superiority. If I made too much of a stir, someone might call me "once-in-a-century talent." And honestly, I was getting tired of that title.
Unfortunately, fate had other plans.
"That idiot Hirako Shinji got into Class 1! Why am I stuck in Class 2?!"
The desk quaked under Hiyori's wrath as she pounded it. I watched her curiously. In my last life, I don't recall ever speaking to her during our academy days. I was too focused on becoming the strongest Shinigami. Back then, the library was my true companion.
Perhaps I missed something... entertaining.
****
My rebirth placed me in Class 2—likely because of my own preference for remaining under the radar. Class 1 had prestige, but this class had anonymity. I could grow unnoticed.
"My name's Aizen Kazuki," I said during introductions.
"I may not look it now, but someday I'll be Vice-Captain of the 5th Division."
Hiyori smirked.
"I'm Saruaki Hiyori. You look like the type who gets bullied. Just shout my name, and I'll flatten anyone who messes with you."
Her "big sister" attitude wasn't just for show—she wanted to prove something. Probably to Hirako, her rival in Class 1.
Oddly... reassuring.
****
Then class began.
The teacher droned on about basic reiryoku flow, Kidō incantations, and soul burial procedures. I could teach this lesson in my sleep—and probably had.
I stared out the window instead.
In the distance:
The Kidō training field exploded with bursts of red flame—clearly students testing Hadō #31: Shakkahō.
Patrols of seated officers marched through the streets, expressions solemn.
A few drunken Shinigami stumbled home from early drinking bouts, haori disheveled.
Above all, the blue sky stretched endlessly. How peaceful. How... unlike Soul Society's future.
"Aizen! Aizen!"
"Stop staring at the clouds!"
Hiyori's voice pierced through me like a level 90 Bakudō.
The teacher snapped.
"You two at the back—out! Go reflect on your behavior!"
As we stepped outside, I could practically hear the teacher's inner monologue about discipline and respect. His smile was too forced. The cracking sound in his hand? Likely his joints—or his patience.
Standing outside wasn't so bad, though. I leaned against the wall, letting the breeze brush past. It was almost comforting to be punished for something so trivial, rather than for orchestrating a coup against the Soul King.
Low-key life? Impossible. Not with her.
****
By the time class ended, Hiyori yanked me by the wrist like a predator claiming her prey. We reached the cafeteria before anyone else.
A peaceful student life… That was the plan.
But in this new timeline, perhaps fate still finds ways to entertain me.