...

"How many human souls did you fuck up before you successfully managed to make that first Zanpakuto?"

The amusement vanished from his face, his eyes blinking a few times in the process.

It had been a very, very long time since someone had had the audacity to call him a criminal of sorts...

He tilted his head the slightest bit, his strained smile disappearing from sight as he took in the utterly indifferent shinigami across from him.

At first, he stared at him in bemusement, his mind wondering just what on earth could be running through those emotionless eyes. To his side he could practically feel the captain commander's somewhat unnerving gaze, both he and his firey spirit practically trying to see through him.

The old man had always had a rather soft spot for humans, but what surprised him more was just how quickly his view could tint with a few words. How quickly the older-looking shinigami could turn on him on a dime, over a question no less.

For some odd reason, he really trusted what had to be the most suspicious asshole to ever grace his presence. Over him. A Royal Guard.

There was something deeply unsettling going on here.

"What's wrong Katsu?" He blinked at that, his gaze settling back on the ignorant fuck now smiling at him. "Cat got your tongue?"

He scoffed at the man, rolling his eye-

Did he call him Katsu!?

"It's Oetsu." He remarked thinly, fixing his position as he straightened out his shoulders, his eyes narrowing at the grinning problem in front of him. "And as far as your needless assumptions go, you're going to have to try a tad harder to get under my skin." He scoffed again. "The number of souls it affected? Please. Even if it were millions it wouldn't have mattered." Did the fool even understand his own history?

The nobles' own history?

His own freaking job?

Still, he was glad to see the man narrow his eyes at him in response.

"It was a different time kid," He rolled his eyes. "Different rules back then, and as far as everyone is concerned, what I created is without a doubt worthy of its costs, and far more." He let out another scoff. "Unless you'd rather go around fighting hollows without a Zanpakuto aiding you..."

The commander beside him's gaze turned less unnerving, his eyes minutely turning towards his 'walking stick,' appraisingly. Oh Yamamoto was still uncomfortable, of that he was sure, he was just smart enough to read the writing on the wall- Unlike the one in front of him.

"But," He snorted, leaning back into his seat, one hand idly tapping into the table. "If you must know... If it'll get ya to take this recruitment pitch or death sentencing a little more seriously," He paused for effect, letting the smile on his face grow as he took in the other. "One." He answered.

The smile on Aizen's face dimmed as he, for a moment, blinked owlishly at him.

"One?" He questioned, a dumbfounded look on his face.

He nodded, enjoying the look of confusion. "One soul. That's all it took kid," He stopped his needless tapping and waved a hand lazily. "Poof, best success story ever."

"You managed it in one go?" Aizen's face turned passive as he leaned forward, a judging look on his face.

"What can I say?" He raised an eyebrow at the other. "It's the perks of being talented. And working with whatcha got!"

Aizen's passive look, at his words, for some reason turned... Clouded. The look, for some other reason, made him feel a tad wary as he felt a strange shift in the room.

The commander to his side removed the judging look from his face, a hint of surprise in it instead- As if he'd gotten an answer he'd been dreading, and found himself surprised by its contents. Aizen however...

He blinked a few times, wondering why the man looked... Disappointed?

Had he wanted that number to be higher? To prove a non-existant point.

Sheesh. And he called him the bad guy-

"It was your soul wasn't it?" The man questioned after a moment.

He gave him a deadpan look for the stupid question.

"No it was my dog's- Of course, it was my own soul, ya daft punk!"

Despite the cheerful tone he'd used, Aizen's gaze hadn't shifted the slightest bit. The wariness in it was still openly shown.

Why did that make him feel so uncomfortable-

"Sayafushi..."

He froze, hints of dread filling him as he heard the man continue to speak.

There was no feasible way for him to know that name! Had he miscalculated?

Yes, there were some incidents in the past that may have allowed a female shinigami or three to glimpse what they shouldn't have but Sayafushi wasn't some name he'd just crossed into his freakin' entrance!

There was no way for him, or anyone not of the Royal Guard to know that name-

"The world's sharpest blade..."

Shit.

His tapping on the table resumed. His breath turned slow while his free hand etched to pull a blade out- But everyone was watching. Everyone was here- His gaze shifted around minutely before they landed back on the man across his face.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was just lucky? Maybe he really was from the future?

It wouldn't be utterly out of the world for him to know his blade's name thanks to that.

Perhaps that was all it would be? Perhaps that was all he'd figured out-

"You wanted to rock the world with it..."

He blinked, somewhat confused about those words. His earlier hints of dread disappeared, as a sense of, well, stupidity at his own panic, surfaced.

As he remembered the fact that the only thing that had annoyed Ichibe about the man before him was his strange name. That the only reason he'd been asked into the Royal Guard was that he'd figured out a way to permanently etch his name to his own standards. To prevent anything else from interfering with it. Not to mention the fact he'd basically put the Hollow World on a choke hold for the next few centuries, or until they all somehow, someway, unanimously decided to follow another new hollow as king. And even then, he doubted any of the current 'Espada' would have the balls to pick another fight with Soul Society, as long as the fucker before him lived.

The effects of his Bankai as well, from what they'd seen, only proved their validity that he was worth their rank-

"Because you'd already used it to cut it."

OH SHIT!

Numbness overcame him. Filled him to a staggering degree- Such that he, quite frankly, couldn't bring the need to raise his blade. To leap from his place. To charge for the other man's head.

Ichibe had been wrong.

Gods that fatass had been so fucking wrong!

"Ōetsu Nimaiya..." The man in front of him was no longer smiling. No longer amused.

No... Now he simply stared at him with pure utter disgust.

And yet he could do naught but watch. He could already feel the commander beside him building reiatsu- Evidently taking his cue from the other shinigami in the room.

Every sense of preservation told him to attack first. Told him to strike. Told him to kill.

And yet... Yet, for some odd reason, even as his worst secret unveiled itself...

For the first time in his life, he felt peaceful.

Felt as if a weight on his shoulder had finally lifted.

"You're the one who cut up the Soul King."

...

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