"Cough, cough..."
At the center of Kumamoto's enormous paw, an elderly man in a monk's robe lay there, weak and helpless. His eyes were lowered, his face etched with exhaustion, and his body was covered in minor injuries.
Aizen looked at him, his eyes gleaming, and spoke softly.
"We meet again, Bunpuku."
At Aizen's words, the old man struggled to open his eyes and gazed at him through a hazy stare.
Once he made out Aizen's face, memories from the past seemed to merge with the present in his cloudy vision, and he recognized the man before him.
"So it's you..."
His lips moved slightly as he murmured in a hoarse, aged voice.
He remembered Aizen clearly: the young man who, several years ago, had single-handedly wiped out countless Sand Ninja guarding him and fought his way into the Altar of Wind.
Back then, he had even tried to persuade the young man to set aside the hostility in his heart. But the boy had remained steadfast on his own path, killing without restraint.
A chilling aura hung over the blood-spattered Altar of Wind.
The young man faced the monk seated before him. In response to the monk's advice, he spoke softly, his expression resolute.
"This world was never perfect. There is neither truth nor lies. The law of cause and effect is nothing more than a tale the Buddha tells to deceive people. For most people, who are powerless, accepting such a tale lets them affirm their own truth."
As he spoke, his eyes narrowed slightly, and a faint smile curved his lips. He continued softly.
"But if you possess enough power, why would you need that to affirm yourself? I exist here, and even the Buddha must bow before me!"
Those words had left a deep impression on