"Hinoto in the Taishō era? Its history followed the same course as the Present World, but with subtle differences."
Sōsuke Aizen adjusted the black-framed glasses on his nose, a gentle, refined smile on his face as he gazed across the rice fields heavy with grain. Farmers in broad-brimmed straw hats worked diligently, lending the scene a particularly peaceful, harmonious air.
Aizen did not dislike this atmosphere. He viewed things as an outsider, looking down from on high at the world's endless changes. To him, the birth, aging, illness, and death of living beings were like watching a flower bud, bloom magnificently, then wither and fade. He might feel a little regret, but he would never develop any deep attachment to it.
Perhaps his long solitude had driven him to cultivate an opponent who could stand on the same level as him, but Aizen still regarded the world from far above, like an indifferent god. He cared nothing for victory or defeat, willing to abandon the Soul King's throne within his grasp simply for a passing fancy or a moment of boredom.
Ichigo Kurosaki, how I wish I could share my joy with you right now.
Feeling a little wistful, Aizen recalled the young intruder he had watched closely since birth. The strongest creation he had personally nurtured, bearing the blood of a Shinigami, a Hollow, and a Quincy, had also been the obstacle he chose to place before his ascent to the Throne of Heaven. In the end, that boy had defeated him on the path to that throne.
Although his own boredom had played a part, there was no denying that Ichigo Kurosaki truly possessed the ability to defeat him. Otherwise, no matter how tired he was of playing, he would never have picked some weakling to finish him