After a long silence, the hand gripping the hilt finally relaxed.
"…Thank you. Also, though I cannot see, please don't act overly considerate. Treat me like anyone else."
"Ha, quite proud, aren't you?"
"I'm simply reminding you—there's no need for excessive concern when dealing with someone who has a disability."
Watching the other person drain the cup of water in one gulp, Arima Seiya tilted his head and smiled.
"Then, may I know your name?"
"Tōsen Kaname, Class 2-6."
The brief yet resolute self-introduction left Arima marveling inwardly.
What kind of world was this?
Yesterday, he encountered the greatest manipulator ever born. Today, it was the most loyal subordinate in history...
It seemed like he was fated to cross paths with people aligned with Aizen.
Honestly, Arima didn't have a strong impression of Tōsen from the original story and hadn't realized this guy was also a Shin'ō Academy graduate.
And just one year ahead of him, no less.
Wait a minute.
Thinking about it, most Gotei 13 members were academy graduates—except for a few outliers in the 11th Division.
Tōsen composedly adjusted his steps, lightly brushing the object hanging from his waist. Though his movements were still unsteady, they were noticeably better than the day before.
Standing before Arima, Tōsen spoke gravely.
"Arima Seiya, I thank you for your assistance. But please, do not get too close to me."
After all, he had already provoked the nobles. If they pursued the matter, things could become troublesome.
"I know—I don't need the reminder. If anything happens, I'll be the first to run."
Arima understood perfectly why Tōsen acted this way—he had joined the Gotei 13 with a thirst for vengeance.
His friend had been murdered, yet the perpetrator escaped justice.
That's why Tōsen carried a proper Asauchi at his waist—his friend's keepsake and a standard tool of a Shinigami.
Students were only allowed to handle genuine blades during specific lessons, akin to a temporary loan. To truly own an Asauchi, one had to graduate first.
Tōsen, however, had his own principles of justice, which he upheld as he eventually rose to the position of Captain of the 9th Division.
Arima had always thought of him as the enduring, stoic type. Yet, this version of Tōsen seemed impulsive and rash.
Time truly is a whetstone.
Even this headstrong blind man had been polished into a smooth and refined figure.
Tōsen fell silent at Arima's response.
When he reached the doorway of the dorm, he paused and, without turning, said, "Arima-kun, thank you."
Arima responded with a cheerful grin, his teeth shining brightly—though, of course, the blind Tōsen couldn't see it.
"Ha, no problem!"
Because Arima had spent time helping Tōsen, he arrived late to his class that day.
Unfortunately, it was the Kidō course, taught by one of the academy's most fastidious instructors. Arima was penalized by being made to stand outside and had his privilege to audit the lecture revoked.
To make matters worse, the instructor complained about him afterward, which led to Aizen seeking him out during the break.
"Seiya-kun, could we have a word?"
Arima had no choice but to comply.
Following Aizen down the corridor of the teaching building, they chatted casually.
"So, what happened?"
Choosing a public setting rather than an office made the interaction feel less formal.
Aizen wasn't there to hold him accountable—he seemed genuinely interested in understanding the situation.
Arima didn't hold back, recounting everything about Tōsen.
Aizen's expression remained calm, though his tone carried a hint of regret.
"I see. So, you were late because you were helping someone. That does sound like you, Seiya-kun."
"Eh? Sensei trusts me so easily?"
This morning's Kidō instructor had dismissed his reasons as mere excuses.
Faced with Arima's doubt, Aizen let out a hearty laugh.
"I think I have a decent understanding of your character, Seiya-kun. You're not the type to make excuses to shirk responsibility. If it wasn't necessary, you wouldn't have been late, correct?"
This near-intuitive level of trust, usually shared only between close friends, left Arima a little touched.
"As your mentor, I do hope you grow to be a person of integrity and kindness. But life is unpredictable. Just like your classmate Tōsen, people often grapple with challenges and discontent."
"And in such times, what should one do?"
"Haha, sometimes, you need to think for yourself. I'll give you three minutes to come up with an answer."
Aizen led Arima to the ground floor of the academy building, asking him to wait for a moment.
When Aizen returned, he carried two steaming rice balls in his hands.
"After helping Tōsen, heading back to the dojo, and rushing to class… You probably didn't have time to eat, did you?"
Squawk! This guy really was charismatic.
Arima's stomach growled audibly.
"It seems you can't deny it any longer."
As Aizen had guessed, Arima could only mutter a quiet thank-you and accept the rice balls.
Both were for him—one filled with salmon, the other with pickled plum.
"So, Seiya-kun, have you come up with an answer?"
Arima hummed softly before responding.
"Either submit or overthrow everything."
The first option was compromise; the second, rebellion. Both carried their own meanings, though Aizen clearly viewed the matter as more nuanced.
"Oh?"
Aizen adjusted his glasses and sat beside Arima.
"An unusual perspective, Seiya-kun. It seems you possess wisdom beyond the ordinary."
Not really, not really...
I'm just parroting lines from a certain mastermind I admire, standing on the shoulders of giants to sound clever.
"It's just a passing thought. What about you, Aizen-sensei? How would you approach such a question?"
"A counter-question? My, my… While such tactics might make others feel disrespected, I don't particularly mind."
Aizen rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands as he supported his chin. Behind his glasses, his eyes were as calm as still water, devoid of ripples.
"If it were me, I might lament the unfairness of fate."
"Wouldn't you think of rebelling against it?"
"You're quick to say such bold things, Seiya-kun. Truly, you are unique."
Arima could sense that Aizen still held a certain reverence for the rules. After pondering for a moment, he hesitantly asked, "Sensei, have you ever considered standing above the heavens?"
Aizen's expression shifted slightly.
Raising his brows, he let out a thoughtful hum.
As if on instinct, he turned his gaze to Arima, but an indescribable aura lingered in the air.
It was as though he had chewed on the question, swallowed it, and digested its meaning.
Finally, his lips curled upward.
As if amused by a child's naive remark, he chuckled softly.
"Standing above the heavens? That's quite the amusing and arrogant notion."