Bleach: Stirring Up a Storm

”Captain Aizen, you shouldn’t need to come today, right?” Walking side-by-side with Aizen into the Shin’ō Academy, Kōe asked unhurriedly, ”There are no tactical courses today. Is it a calligraphy class? Apologies, my memory is a bit fuzzy.”

Although they had agreed to teach together, the man was still the Captain of Squad 5. He couldn’t just idle away every day at the Shin’ō Academy nurturing the next generation; that would truly be a waste of his talents.

So, factoring in the reconstruction time, Aizen had been coming about twice a week on average over the past month. To be honest, this frequency was already quite high. Members of some squads in the Gotei 13 might not even see their own captain five times in a single month—the most classic example being Squad 13.

After spending this past month with Aizen, Kōe’s biggest impression was comfort. It was genuinely comfortable.

In terms of teaching, even without prior communication, Aizen could immediately grasp his intentions. Then, using Kyōka Suigetsu, Aizen would manifest those intentions into reality, thoroughly humbling the brats who originally thought tactics were irrelevant.

During their free time chatting, Aizen made people feel completely at ease. He wasn’t a dazzling presence who stole the spotlight or dominated the conversation; rather, like green leaves complementing a vibrant flower or a gentle drizzle nourishing the earth, he made the overall atmosphere incredibly harmonious.

Temporarily setting aside their opposing stances and animosity, Kōe had to admit that Aizen was an extremely charismatic person. A god-tier teammate always made one feel comfortable and secure—and this was even with the man holding back.

Knowing Aizen’s true colors, Kōe understood that the man, like most dangerous things in the world, possessed a fatal attraction. It really wasn’t surprising that Hinamori Momo from his previous life’s memories had been so dependent on Aizen.

But thinking about it carefully, there was a problem with this. Before he dropped his facade and revealed his true, domineering nature, Aizen would absolutely never be someone who occupied a central, irreplaceable position in anyone’s life.

How should one understand this? It was like how Hinamori Momo always maintained a sense of longing, perhaps even adoration, toward Aizen. Abarai Renji vaguely harbored similar feelings as well.

But just like Hitsugaya to Hinamori, or Rukia to Abarai Renji, there might be distance between people who were important to each other, but it would absolutely never exist in the form of absolute superiority and inferiority.

To put it more bluntly, even after Hitsugaya became the Captain of Squad 10, Hinamori would still call him Tōshirō. But in her heart, Aizen would always be ”Captain Aizen.”

To anyone, Aizen could be an elder, a mentor, or some other figure of authority, but he would never be a close friend you could joke around with.

With this sense of distance existing for everyone, one couldn’t help but suspect that the problem lay with Aizen himself. That is to say, he was deliberately maintaining an appropriate and safe distance from those around him. You might think you understood Aizen Sōsuke well enough, but in reality, you hadn’t even scratched the tip of the iceberg.

Perhaps Hirako had also faintly sensed this, which was why he distanced himself from Aizen? The answer to this question was unknowable; perhaps even Hirako himself couldn’t articulate the exact reasons.

But this actually wasn’t strange. Aizen was someone who could quickly become friends with others. Just like right now, he was chatting amiably with Kōe, seemingly without any reservations.

”A few graduating students submitted their graduation applications. Today is their graduation test, so I came to take a look,” Aizen said, adjusting his glasses as he explained his purpose.

Although the Shin’ō Academy had a six-year curriculum, its students could apply for graduation at any time. Kaien and Ichimaru Gin, for instance, had graduated after studying at the Academy for only a single year.

Passing the graduation test was practically equivalent to entering the Gotei 13. Aside from a few squads with specific requirements, graduating from the Academy meant stepping right into the Gotei 13.

However, there were exceptions. The captains of each squad could organize their own enlistment tests to replace the graduation test. Great noble families didn’t even need to attend the Academy or take an enlistment test to join the Gotei 13.

But for the majority of students, especially commoners from the Rukongai, graduating from the Academy was their only path into the Gotei 13. For the various squads, it was also one of the primary methods to replenish their ranks.

”Is Squad 5 currently short on personnel? To the point that Captain Aizen needs to come personally?”

Kōe naturally knew what the Academy’s graduation test entailed, but having a captain come over seemed like making a mountain out of a molehill. Usually, having a seated officer from the respective squads come to observe was more than enough.

Could there be some noteworthy talent among the applicants? Kōe filtered through his memories but couldn’t recall anyone fitting that description. Most of the named characters of the future were already in his class. As a transmigrator, he had that much confidence.

”Gin—that is, my former lieutenant, Ichimaru Gin—has been promoted to Captain of Squad 3. Before he left, I had him take a group of people from Squad 5 with him to make things a bit easier,” Aizen explained, his eyes narrowing slightly. ”Furthermore, Captain Ichimaru is currently out on a mission, and he isn’t particularly familiar with Squad 3 yet. So, I came this time to help him recruit some suitable members as well. After all, the Gotei 13 has never had a concept of being at full capacity.”

The Gotei 13 indeed lacked the concept of a maximum capacity. It was constantly in a cycle of continuous attrition and replenishment. To be honest, the growth of its scale was incredibly slow.

Throughout the Seireitei’s nearly two thousand years of history, the average number of members per squad in the Gotei 13 peaked at around three hundred. That was during the time when Kōe, Yoruichi, and Urahara were young.

The subsequent eradication campaigns caused this number to drop to around two hundred at one point. Coupled with the later tragedy where Squad 10 was completely wiped out, purely in terms of average member count, the Seireitei had practically regressed to the level it was at a thousand years ago.

Add to that the chaos Kōe had caused in Hueco Mundo, as well as Urahara fleeing the Seireitei with Hirako and the others, the overall strength of the Gotei 13 had regressed overnight to a state worse than its founding era—perhaps even lower?

In the eyes of most people, the latter events might have caused greater harm, but in reality, the difference wasn’t that significant. This touched upon a common blind spot: the assumption that the captains equaled the Gotei 13.

Purely in terms of combat power, this was indeed true. The gap between a captain capable of using Bankai and the rest of the squad members, including the lieutenants, was difficult to quantify.

However, whether it was guarding the World of the Living or the Soul Society, the squad members—or more accurately, the number of squad members—held an importance far greater than that of the captains.

The four quadrants of the Rukongai comprised a total of three hundred and twenty districts. Even if the primary focus for maintaining security was only on the first forty districts of each quadrant, that still left a full one hundred and sixty districts requiring constant vigilance. If they relied solely on the thirteen captains rushing about—setting aside the sheer exhaustion—if incidents occurred in twenty-six different districts simultaneously, the Rukongai would inevitably suffer continuous losses.

It could be said that the sheer number of squad members was the true key to the Soul Society’s stability. After all, no matter how strong a captain was, their sphere of influence was ultimately limited.

Of course, captains didn’t exist just to throw their weight around or act as mere deterrent weapons. A captain’s presence wasn’t solely to serve as a unifying commander; they were also one of the most direct guarantees for the safety of their squad members.

Granted, the squad members could resolve a vast majority of issues, but there were always situations that exceeded the limits of their capabilities. That was when a captain was needed to step in and handle things.

Therefore, in the Gotei 13, captains sometimes appeared quite idle—drinking tea, basking in the sun, signing paperwork, or at most, heading over to Squad 1 for a routine meeting. But when things got busy, they would be run off their feet. Sprinting a thousand miles just to deliver a single slash was a common occurrence.

In truth, captains were far less glamorous than outsiders believed. Or rather, it was precisely because of the many people who revered them that they were able to live lives that appeared somewhat glamorous.

The Gotei 13 was never a group of thirteen individuals, but rather a collective of thirteen massive crowds, wasn’t it?