Vantage Point
Aizen sees waste and vulgar and all things apolaustic (and apocalyptic).
From his perch high-on up, he sees everything. And what Aizen sees, Aizen knows. And what Aizen knows, he does and so on and so forth till he's bled himself all dried out. Till he can't see anymore (his eyes are sanguine and his heart is sanguinary).
That is when he decides to do.
Make, break, just do something.
Because Aizen likes to think of himself (picture-perfect) as a god. The ultimate, beginning and end and so and so forth. Everything else: The Sacrilege.
-x-
He tells Gin of his utopia, tells Gin first (tells Gin everything, like how Matsumoto Rangiku was sleeping with you-know-who, that-who). Tells Gin always. Because it is Gin, and he could trust Gin.
Sometimes.
Like this, for instance.
For instance, when they are smiling like two drunk heroes, filled to their stomachs, aching and bursting (in agony) of victory. Victory not-there but will be. Soon.
Some time or another.
He thinks (and says, confident—reassured, as always).
-x-
So he decides, inevitably, this all must come down. Cataclysms, the whole can-do.
So, he peers down at all the little specks of rust below. And sees this person and that person, and this who will soon be dead, and that who will suffer a great deal.
A lot.
The lot of them.
-x-
Aizen on his throne, Aizen on his marble pedestal. Aizen the Great (he likes the sound of that, how it smoothly rolls off the tongue).
Aizen the Idiot, that one he does not like.
But Gin calls him that, when they are alone at night and the others are either dead or asleep. Or both (just because you can). Because Gin is furious, is positively burning in anger, narrowing his slit-eyes in pure venomous hatred.
Because that girl (Matsumoto, he thinks) is dead. And It Is All His Fault.
Or so Gin says.