Bleach: The Fifth Division Captain

I haven't unlocked the true power of my Zanpakutō?

Just hearing those words made Seiya Arima's expression turn strange. He stared at the shallow blade at his side, dazed and speechless for a long while.

From anyone else's perspective, Aizen's words might have seemed difficult to understand.

But Seiya was different.

In the original timeline, both Renji Abarai and Yumichika Ayasegawa had faced a similar issue.

They were prime examples of Shinigami who failed to "reconcile" with their Zanpakutō spirits, either by mistakenly or intentionally calling out the wrong names.

So… according to Aizen-sensei, I'm just like them?

The more Seiya thought about it, the more it made sense. Despite achieving Shikai, he had never once encountered the spirit of his Zanpakutō.

I never thought I'd mess up the name of my own sword…

Seiya couldn't help but give an awkward smile.

Aizen, ever perceptive, spoke in a soothing tone, as if trying to ease Seiya's discomfort.

"There's no need to be disheartened, Seiya-kun. Each person's journey is different. Difficulties may seem harsh, but they temper the soul and help one reach greater heights."

Seiya quickly adjusted his mindset. Accepting reality wasn't difficult.

The question was: what should he do next?

"Aizen-sensei… what's the best course of action for me now?"

Aizen's smile deepened, and his response was calm, yet chilling.

"That brings us back to our original topic, Seiya-kun."

His tone was steady, his expression unchanging. But beneath that composed facade, his words carried a weight that made Seiya's heart tighten.

"As I said before… I want you to challenge Kiganjō again."

"Trust me, this isn't a reckless suggestion. It's a carefully considered conclusion."

Aizen leaned back slightly, his glasses glinting in the soft light.

"Perhaps you haven't noticed, Seiya-kun, but you're a rather slow burner. Incremental progress doesn't suit you. What you need is an external force to push you into action."

He knows me too well.

Aizen's observations were unnervingly accurate.

"You don't seem like someone who enjoys shedding blood," Aizen continued.

"That thought had crossed my mind before, but our recent conversation confirmed it. You're not someone who relishes conflict."

"I'm not saying that as a criticism. Quite the opposite. Kindness combined with strength is a rare and admirable trait."

Aizen's voice softened, but there was a sharpness beneath his words.

"Unfortunately, Seiya-kun, the Soul Society operates under the law of the jungle. Only the strong can survive. And if you don't strive to be stronger, you'll be swept away by the unseen currents."

He adjusted his glasses, his gaze steady and unwavering.

"We are travelers swimming against the tide, Seiya-kun. And if you fall behind… you'll be left behind."

Aizen's expression remained warm, his tone ever gentle.

"Yes, it's a brutal method. But there's no denying its effectiveness. In the face of death, one often finds true inspiration."

"As I said before, Seiya-kun, you require something different from most people."

"Lessons alone won't suffice. What you lack are opportunities to turn knowledge into strength."

"And that's why I believe this is the most suitable path for you."

Seiya couldn't help but chuckle wryly.

I'm supposed to fight Kiganjō… again?

"Of course," Aizen said with a soft smile, "I understand that this is a lot to ask. You can always refuse and continue your practical training with other divisions."

However…

Aizen's hand gently rested on Seiya's shoulder.

"But from a teacher's perspective, I sincerely hope you'll choose to push yourself."

"Because I'm confident that through this battle, you'll find the true name of your Zanpakutō."

He paused, his voice softening even further.

"Of that… I am certain."

His words weren't a command, yet the pressure they carried was palpable.

Seiya understood that Aizen's suggestion wasn't unreasonable.

From the very beginning, Aizen had pushed him to grow stronger — by sparring with him, by orchestrating conflicts with the 11th Division, and now by urging him to confront Kiganjō.

This time, he wasn't even pretending to be subtle about it.

He was saying it outright: Go. Fight him. Beat him.

Seiya lowered his gaze, staring at the sword resting at his hip.

"Sensei…"

"Yes, Seiya-kun?"

"What if I lose? What if I fail?"

"Then you'll die," Aizen said simply.

"Kiganjō has no reason to hold back. He's already declared publicly that he won't forgive you."

"…Do you think I have any chance of winning?"

"Your chances are slim."

Seiya grimaced.

"But not zero."

Aizen's smile deepened, his tone brimming with confidence.

"No, not zero at all. I believe you can win."

He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Because I believe your Zanpakutō, Ouroboros, holds infinite potential."

The conversation weighed heavily on Seiya's mind as he walked away from the meeting.

The second round against Kiganjō… is this really the best way?

As the days passed, Seiya wrestled with his thoughts.

But, just as Aizen had predicted, he couldn't deny the logic behind it.

Seiya didn't like fighting. He avoided conflict whenever possible. But he understood one truth:

In the Soul Society, standing still was not an option.

To walk alongside Aizen meant treading a dangerous path. There was no turning back.

Finally, after days of contemplation, Seiya made his decision.

Five days later.

Under the cold light of the moon, Kiganjō and his men stumbled out of a tavern, their laughter echoing through the deserted streets of Seireitei's outskirts.

The captain of the 11th Division, towering and broad, paused mid-step.

His keen eyes locked onto the figure standing silently in the distance.

After two breaths, Kiganjō broke into a wide, toothy grin.

"Heh! I've been looking for you, brat!"

Seiya met his gaze, his expression calm, composed.

"I've been looking for you too."

There was no avoiding it. No more running.

This wasn't a chance encounter. It was deliberate.

This was Seiya's chosen moment.

Adjusting the long strands of hair tied behind his head, Seiya stood tall, his hand lowering to rest on the hilt of his sword.

His opponent was a captain. There would be no mercy, no holding back.

Everything Seiya had done — preparing himself, choosing this isolated location, ensuring he was in peak condition — led to this moment.

As his fingers curled around the hilt, his voice was steady.

"Devour yourself, Ouroboros."

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