Bleach: The Fifth Division Captain

Work is always tedious.

Especially when it involves repetitive administrative tasks.

In most cases, to ensure smooth progress:

You need to adjust relationships.

Smooth out the interactions between people.

That's the core of all work—

To keep things moving smoothly.

Because of that—

Even a forced smile or feigned politeness can have value,

As long as it serves a purpose.

It's okay.

Adapting is just part of growth.

"Thank you for your help. I look forward to working with you again."

It's okay.

I'm walking a path that's both bright and correct.

"The error this time was on our side. Please don't blame others. As Vice-Captain, I take full responsibility."

Work is the adhesive that binds masks to our faces.

"Understood! We'll be more careful next time."

Pretend. Adapt.

So you won't stand out too much.

"It's nothing. For us in the Fifth Division, this is no problem at all."

Repeat yourself endlessly.

"This was truly a valuable experience. Thank you for teaching me. Until next time."

I am Aizen Sōsuke.

"I sincerely look forward to our next collaboration."

Day by day—

Adapt. Get used to it.

But eventually…

Even I feel tired sometimes.

Sitting alone in his office, Aizen's calm expression remained unchanged.

The room was quiet.

A faint sense of weariness crept in—

The natural exhaustion that comes after finishing one task after another.

Sometimes…

He thought about taking a break.

Reaching for a calligraphy brush, Aizen began writing a few characters.

The frame of the paper was perfectly square.

The brushstrokes flowed neatly within it—

Never exceeding the borders.

The lines were deliberate. Controlled. Precise.

Too far, and it's messy.

Too restrained, and it's boring.

Aizen's calligraphy followed the same rhythm as his life.

Always measured.

Always perfectly aligned.

Like patching cracks in a mask with thick adhesive paste.

"Everything must remain flawless."

Even if the process is… painful.

But today—

Something felt off.

Aizen stopped writing, placing the brush aside.

For a moment, his expression darkened.

The usual calm mask he wore…

Felt too heavy today.

He turned to gaze out the window, his eyes reflecting nothing but indifference.

His thoughts remained a mystery.

Suddenly—

A sharp series of footsteps echoed from outside.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Aizen's gaze shifted back.

Adjusting his glasses with practiced precision, he straightened his robes.

Then, his lips curled into that familiar, perfect smile.

"Come in."

The door slid open.

A young messenger entered, bowing deeply.

"Aizen-fukutaichō! You have a letter!"

"Ah, thank you. I appreciate you going out of your way."

"No trouble at all, sir! Considering how much you've helped us, this is the least I can do! I'll take my leave now."

"Please do. And thank you again."

The door closed behind him.

Aizen's expression didn't change as he picked up the letter from his desk.

It was just another letter.

Meaningless.

Most letters he received were filled with shallow sentiments.

People, desperate for connection, always poured their hearts out in these letters.

They believed themselves special.

They sought warmth. They wanted to bare their souls.

Pathetic.

Aizen had seen it all before.

No matter how passionate their words were—

In the end, they were just temporary warmth.

Like flesh cooling after death.

And honestly?

It was disgusting.

Aizen's brow furrowed in mild irritation.

He was tired of reading these letters.

They left a bad taste in his mouth.

But then—

His gaze fell upon the signature.

Seiya Arima.

For a brief moment, Aizen's expression softened.

Strange.

Just seeing that name lifted his mood.

Even the mask that clung to his face no longer felt so suffocating.

This was his student.

The man he had personally shaped.

And now—

That student had grown so much.

Without realizing it, Aizen found himself smiling—

A genuine smile.

Unfolding the letter, he began to read:

To Aizen Sōsuke, my dear teacher:

It's been a while, hasn't it?

I think it's been about four months since my last letter… Sorry!

I promised to write every three months, but things have been crazy on my end.

The Captain-Commander's training is intense!

Every day, I'm completely drained.

There were a few times when Okiba-san had to carry me out of the dojo…

Apparently, I almost died a couple of times?

Ahaha! I can't remember much.

I did see something called the "Sanzu River" once, though…

That can't be good, right?

Anyway, the Captain-Commander is relentless.

He even makes me scrub my body with dry towels every morning.

He says it builds resilience…

But honestly? I just think I'm getting sick more often!

Still, my Hakuda has improved a lot!

I hope I get a chance to show it off soon.

My internship only has two months left.

I miss you and Tōsen.

By the way, did Tōsen already start at the Ninth Division?

I feel like he's rushing things a bit… but I'm sure he knows what he's doing.

Anyway, I really hope we can all get together again soon.

Maybe even share a drink.

Of course, I'll have to stick to non-alcoholic drinks.

You know how it is with me and alcohol…

That's all for now!

Looking forward to seeing you again, sensei!

Best regards,

Seiya Arima.

Aizen's gaze lingered on the final lines of the letter.

Though his face remained composed, the corners of his mouth twitched.

There was no hiding it.

He was happy.

Suddenly—

The door creaked open again.

A familiar blonde head peeked in.

"Yo, Aizen! You in here?"

With a sigh, Aizen set the letter down.

"Hirako-taichō…"

"Yup! That's me."

Hirako Shinji strolled in, his usual grin plastered across his face.

"Ran into the mail guy. Heard Seiya sent you another letter?"

Aizen's expression remained polite.

"Indeed."

Shinji crossed his arms.

"Tell him to work hard under the Captain-Commander, will ya?"

"Of course. I'll pass it along."

With that, Shinji turned to leave.

But before stepping out, he glanced back.

"Oh, and Aizen—"

"Yes, taichō?"

"You're not working too hard, are ya?"

Aizen's smile didn't falter.

"It's no trouble at all."

"Good. Just checking."

As Shinji left, Aizen's expression darkened ever so slightly.

"Trying to keep me in check, are you…?"

Aizen chuckled softly, brushing his fingers against his chin.

It didn't matter.

He had already planted his seeds.

And Seiya—

Would be his strongest tree.

Smiling once more, Aizen picked up his brush.

"Time to write a reply."

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Powerstones?

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