Sosuke Aizen

Sosuke Aizen, male, registered in Konoha at the age of twenty.

One of the orphans adopted by Konoha Orphanage, he was sent to the Ninja Academy to study. Three years later, he graduated with ordinary grades and joined Konoha as a Ninja.

His record was spotless. It could be said that no one in Konoha had a cleaner background than him. He had lived under the watchful eyes of ANBU and Root since infancy, a native-born Konoha resident through and through—of impeccable pedigree, without the slightest issue.

Of course, if anyone could perceive his heart, they would understand that there was a huge problem with him.

Because he was not Sosuke Aizen of this world. He was not even Sosuke Aizen from the Soul Reaper world.

His current state was somewhat like that of Ichigo Kurosaki, whom he had always thought highly of.

Sosuke Aizen from Soul Reaper, the young Sosuke Aizen from Konoha, and a modern young man had all mixed together. That was how this entirely new him had come to exist.

As for the modern-world version of him from before he arrived in Naruto, regrettably, he had actually been a devoted Soul Reaper reader. When he realized he had transmigrated to Konoha, even he could not help wondering whether he had arrived in the wrong place.

By all rights, shouldn't you transmigrate into whatever you watched? Shouldn't he have carried the memories of Thousand-Year Blood War Aizen and transmigrated into Aizen from Rukongai, changing his fate against the heavens?

What the hell was Naruto?

He had never even watched Naruto.

He had only vaguely heard that a whole bunch of bizarre bosses showed up later, that they started fighting aliens, and that Chakra was supposedly some enormous conspiracy. What the hell was all that? Why would a massive brawl between Ninja villages involve aliens?

At first, he had been rather curious, but as Thousand-Year Blood War ended so hastily and he began working, that interest gradually faded away.

It was not until he heard that Thousand-Year Blood War had resumed and Aizen was appearing that he realized how much he had once loved a work in his youth.

By then, he had already found success in his career and accumulated some savings. Happily, he sat in his home theater with the projector on, watching the screen. Then Aizen appeared, and amid his excitement, there was nothing after that.

When he woke up, he was already a student at Konoha's Ninja Academy, named Sosuke Aizen.

At the same time, he had inherited all of Sosuke Aizen's memories up to the Thousand-Year Blood War.

Judging from his name and condition, it was highly possible that Sosuke Aizen himself had brought him along during his transmigration. But he did not care about such trivial matters.

Since he was here, he would make the best of it. With a new Physical Body and new memories, Sosuke Aizen was confident that he could live peacefully in this world.

Perhaps he might even find a few people who understood him.

Then he discovered that he had been wrong.

Spectacularly wrong.

He found someone who understood him: himself.

He completely understood why Aizen had been the way he was in Soul Society.

Because now, as Sosuke Aizen in the Naruto World, he had developed almost the exact same thoughts. He had even set foot upon the same path.

At first, he had been fairly satisfied living in this village. Compared to the environment of Soul Society's Rukongai, Konoha was undoubtedly far more civilized. It could not compare to the modern world where he had originally lived, but it was still better than the alternative.

But as the war began, the ugliness displayed by the various villages, including his own, made him increasingly disgusted with this world—this deformed world.

The empty, impractical Will of Fire. Ninja who had no clue what to do except throw child soldiers onto the front lines. The strong could clearly determine the course of a battlefield, yet they did not hesitate to send useless children to their deaths to gather intelligence.

It was not as though no one knew that children would be far more useful in the future. But that was the future, not the present. What needed doing now was what they did now.

Such twisted and grotesque things operated in this world as though they were truth itself.

They slaughtered one another for money of unknown significance. They slaughtered one another for so-called mission lists.

Human life was even more meaningless than in Soul Society. At least when Soul Society killed people, it was often to preserve the balance of the Three Worlds and Hell—an unavoidable act that followed the laws of nature.

Though there was the ugliness of the Soul King and all kinds of problems, Soul Society had ultimately chosen not to disrupt other regions, instead handling matters within Soul Society itself. That was their morality. But what about this world?

Compared with Central 46, it was hard to say which was more rotten. Compared to Soul Society, which had festered over millions of years, the people of this world were colder and more ruthless than Aizen had imagined.

The Tailed Beasts distributed by the First Hokage were not symbols of war, but proof of peace and friendship.

He had hoped the many villages would no longer quarrel. He had hoped Chakra and the Tailed Beasts would become bonds through which this world could understand the meaning of peace.

Yet in truth, his death became the fuse that almost instantly ignited the Ninja World War. Morality and faith, respect and propriety—these seemed like things that did not exist at all in the hands of this world's Ninja.

Most frightening of all, they did not even respect history.

Aizen had once visited the Great Library guarded by Central 46 and the nobles, where he found countless books recording the truth.

Though they were neither noble nor anything but thoroughly corrupt, they had not altered history. They had still calmly recorded the ugly deeds of their ancestors in the library, documenting them without any emotional coloring.

But this world was different.

In less than fifty years, everyone had stopped talking about it, and history had become utterly unrecognizable, with right and wrong hopelessly confused.

A story from merely a thousand years ago had already become a myth, while figures from less than a century ago had become legends. Everyone tacitly erased the First Hokage's influence, as though the world had always been made up of villages.

For a moment, Aizen could not say which of the two worlds had the greater problem, but he soon unearthed an evaluation of such behavior from another set of memories.

Those who falsify and alter history are destined never to learn any lessons from it.

That was why the Ninja World was like a Colosseum, slaughtering itself amid chaos and hatred, an endless bloody war hanging over their heads.

Combined with the vague memories he had once possessed, Aizen seemed certain that this world was like a cage. A cage centered on ignorance, hatred, and twisted will.

And Sosuke Aizen, whether in his original memories, his memories of Soul Society, or even his memories of the modern world, had unanimously hated this above all else.

He had not been without his so-called struggles over the village's ignorance and the villagers' simple kindness.

But he soon saw through it. It took less than a month.

As long as both sides were real, that was enough.

He had never deceived anyone. It was simply that most Ordinary people could not escape their cages, circling within invisible prisons due to the limits of their horizons or knowledge.

Then, when he lacked the ability to do otherwise, blending in with them was not an unacceptable choice. But people always had to face danger.

People always had to move forward.

Even if everyone around them slept beside fierce beasts.

Yet taking a step forward toward the danger of the future, facing the towering clouds above—that was courage.

"Mm, this will do."

As long as one's heart held no confusion and did not turn back, that was enough.

Looking at the three characters, "Do Not Turn Back," written upon the table, Sosuke Aizen nodded in satisfaction.

He took out the rice paper, rose to hang it on the crossbar behind him to dry naturally, and only after doing so did he turn toward the boy kneeling on the floor.

"What a rare guest. Kakashi-kun. I thought I would have to look for you at the cemetery again today. Why did you suddenly come here? Have you worked something out in your heart? Or did you wish to speak with me?"

"..."

Kakashi Hatake, kneeling on the floor, said nothing. He merely stared blankly at his surroundings.

A day had already passed. He had thought that no matter what, he should come see this Sosuke Aizen, so he had come. It was also his first time visiting the home of Konoha's legendary good man.

Rumor had it that this enormous residence had been personally gifted by the Hokage, yet Aizen had converted most of it into a free inn. He only charged a token fee for meals, helping those without homes and victims of Domestic Violence. Only this spacious Calligraphy Room and a small room inside truly belonged to Sosuke Aizen.

Though he had not seen the supposedly humble little room, this elegant Calligraphy Room alone had left even the fairly well-informed Kakashi stunned.

One grand and imposing piece of Calligraphy and Painting after another hung unmounted from the beams, draping down like curtains and dividing this open Calligraphy Room in every direction.

Black Ink, White Rice Paper, and Sosuke Aizen seated in the center, dressed in a Pure White Haori with Black Lining. The bespectacled man still wore a gentle smile as he pushed up his glasses along the Bridge of Nose.

But as Kakashi Hatake looked at the enormous three characters, "Do Not Turn Back," hanging behind him, he inexplicably felt afraid.

The calligraphic phrases all around him resembled ferocious Giant Beasts, looking down from their black ink upon a tiny child.

A breeze stirred, making the papers flutter. Accompanied by the ringing sounds of Natsuhi, the six-year-old boy actually shuddered when Aizen gently questioned him, then lowered his head.

Only after a long while did he finally speak in a low voice.

"...Can I trust you?"

"Please do not ask such childish questions, Kakashi-kun. It will make you seem very weak."

Picking up the paperweight, Aizen took out another sheet of rice paper and spread it flat. He turned, picked up his brush, sat properly on the floor, and began laying down his Ink Mark upon the paper.

"What a person truly is depends on his behavior and his actions, not on what others say. Otherwise, prejudice and rumors will create mistaken perceptions."

"Trust an enemy's words, and you will become hostile toward your own people. Trust an outsider's words, and a rift will form between you and your family. These may seem like insignificant matters, but at their core, they disrupt your understanding."

"What is oneself, and what is another? Who will accept you, and what position does another person occupy? These are the first things you must understand... though perhaps that is asking too much of you right now."

Still just a six-year-old child?

Or perhaps... was he merely pretending not to understand?

Turning to look at Kakashi's bewildered expression, Aizen sat on the floor and pushed up his glasses with a hint of regret.

"Then I will say it directly. This was something I intended to tell you three days from now."

Setting the brush upon the paperweight, Sosuke Aizen formally rose and turned around. Facing Kakashi Hatake's complicated expression, he extended his hand.

"Become my son, Kakashi."

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