Candor

Every student's gaze turned to him at once, and the classroom, which had been somewhat noisy, fell silent.

The teacher at the lectern was silent for a moment.

"Do you know the procedure for applying for early graduation?"

"I do. I challenge a teacher assigned by the school and fight them using any means, including Zankensoki. If I win, that goes without saying. If I lose, the teacher decides whether I pass."

"Good. Since you know the procedure, you aren't acting on impulse." The teacher nodded. "Then I'll schedule the exam for tomorrow—"

The teacher's voice seemed to catch all of a sudden. The world before Baiye's eyes began to fill with unnatural static, like a monitor with a bad signal, its image jittering repeatedly on a single frame. A piercing noise stabbed at his eardrums. He tried to frown, but his body wouldn't obey him at all. The anomaly lasted a few seconds, then everything returned to normal. The teacher's voice resumed smoothly, as if nothing had happened.

"Let's hold the exam today. You can go to the third dojo. The teacher in charge of the exam is already waiting for you there."

He really had intervened, and he hadn't bothered to hide it.

The last trace of hope in Baiye's heart was shattered. But Baiye found that the last emotion left in him was neither disappointment nor fear, but acceptance. He turned and walked toward the door, placing each step on a seam in the classroom's wooden floor. At the doorway, he looked back at the familiar classroom—the blurred faces, the teacher at the lectern he had never truly known, the afternoons spent practicing Zankensoki over and over for six years. Then he stepped through the door.

It was the first time he had passed through the classroom door without being sent back to reality.

Underfoot was a wooden corridor he had never seen before. The floor was polished like a mirror, understated calligraphy scrolls hung on the walls on either side, and the faintest scent of tea lingered in the air. He spread out Reiatsu Detection—there was a soul fluctuation at the end of the corridor. Gentle and calm, like a cup of tea that still retained some warmth.

Sōsuke Aizen.

Baiye didn't retreat. He had nowhere to retreat to. Resting his left hand on his sword hilt, he walked forward, his footsteps echoing softly on the wooden floor. At the end of the corridor was a paper door, warm yellow light filtering through the gap. He slid it open.

Inside was a tea room. Four plain white walls surrounded a low table in the center, with a complete tea set arranged on top. The water in the iron kettle had just boiled, and a slender stream of white steam rose from its spout. Sōsuke Aizen knelt on one side of the table, holding a teacup and watching him calmly. His eyes were as gentle as ever.

"It's been a while, Gekkō."

"It's been a while, Aizen-sensei."

Baiye bowed slightly in greeting. Although the last curtain between them had been lifted, Aizen really had given him ample instruction over the years. Baiye had no reservations about offering this bow.

"Sit."

"All right."

He walked over and sat down opposite Aizen, unfastening the Tachi from his waist and placing it within reach at his side. Aizen picked up the iron kettle and poured him a cup of tea, his movements unhurried, as if he were receiving a guest he hadn't seen in a long time. Baiye picked up the cup and took a sip. The tea was warm, not hot.

"To be honest, your decision to apply for early graduation today surprised me a little."

"Even you get surprised, sensei? I thought everything was under your control."

"People change. Thinking you can completely control someone is immensely arrogant." Aizen set down his cup. "If I hadn't been caught somewhat off guard, I wouldn't have let that scene in the classroom happen—it was far too crude."

"I thought that was a show of force, sensei, just like a few days ago."

"So the anomalies a few days ago troubled you. But that couldn't be helped." Aizen's tone was calm, as if he were explaining a theoretical problem he had been asked about repeatedly in class. "I had to test what degree of interference would have an effect on you, the World Child."

"World Child?"

"This is a world created for you. Isn't World Child a fitting name for you? Or would you prefer the name 'Child of God'?"

Baiye gave a wry laugh. "Some Child of God... You discovered me on the very first day, sensei."

"You were still very inexperienced then, after all. If you were as you are now, it would have been much harder for me to notice anything amiss."

Baiye fell silent for a moment. Six years. From the first day onward, every word this man had spoken in class, every seemingly casual glance, had been deliberate.

"So you've been testing me all along."

"'Testing' isn't quite the right word." Aizen picked up his teacup and turned it gently. "I mean you no harm, Gekkō. I simply want to understand you. There are too many things about you that I can't explain—your fear, your wariness, your attitude toward me: you seem to know me inside and out, yet you're deeply secretive about it. Those contradictions are the best puzzle in themselves. And I've always had plenty of patience for puzzles."

"Do you understand me now, then?"

"Partly." Aizen set down his cup and interlaced his fingers on his lap. "For example, I know you come from outside this world. Yet your knowledge of Sōsuke Aizen goes far beyond what an ordinary student should know. You know his personality, his abilities, and what he's been doing in secret. After all, when you first saw me, your fear and panic were all too obvious."

He tilted his head slightly.

"So the answer is obvious. His plan didn't succeed, did it?"

Baiye's fingers paused on the rim of his teacup for a moment, then he gently set it down. "Yes. His plan was stopped."

"I see." Aizen picked up his teacup. There was no disappointment in his voice, only the calm of someone having something confirmed. "If he had truly risen above the heavens, he wouldn't have allowed anyone to create me."

Baiye looked at the man before him. No disappointment, no anger—he had simply accepted the fact that another version of himself had failed.

"Aren't you disappointed?"

"Disappointed?" Aizen smiled slightly. "Why should I be? He intended to overturn the order of the entire world. Failure was only to be expected."

Baiye's fingers rested on the rim of his teacup, his gaze flickering slightly. "In that case, why do it at all?"

For once, a trace of bewilderment appeared on Aizen's face. "Now that's a novel question... When you've already reached the pinnacle of a certain field, and then discover that the so-called 'god' is merely a tool imprisoned by others, incapable of doing anything, and that the ones controlling the world are a group of shortsighted people... isn't it only natural to overthrow them?"

Baiye said nothing.

"I told you long ago that fate is an excuse for the weak." Aizen's tone grew calm again. "Fate should be held in one's own hands. Everything else is merely an obstacle."

"Controlling your own fate." Baiye looked at the tea in his cup. "It seems you've already found a way to do that, sensei."

"Aren't you also accumulating trump cards?"

Baiye raised his head. Aizen's gaze was as calm as still water, with no intention of pressing him further.

The unspoken understanding between them reached a subtle balance at that moment: each knew the other was hiding something, and neither pressed to find out what.

Baiye stood and tightened his grip on the sword hilt.

"Then the exam is about to begin, isn't it?"

Aizen stood as well. Their hands settled on their sword hilts at the same time, the blades gleaming coldly beneath the tea room's warm yellow light.

"The rules of the graduation exam are simple." Aizen's voice was gentle and unhurried. "You need only make me acknowledge your strength."

"Will you fight with all your strength, sensei?"

"Don't worry. I'll fight using only the same level of reiatsu as you, and I won't release my Zanpakuto's abilities either... Otherwise, it wouldn't be much of an exam, would it?"

Baiye drew his sword.

"Then please show me what you can do, sensei."