Aizen moved forward with determination, though each step revealed the fragility of his new body. Fatigue was a constant, a constant reminder of his current weakness. The plan was to find a path and follow it until he reached a village. He had no idea how far away the nearest village or road might be, or what their names might be. However, staying in one place without resources was a sure doom. Mobility would provide options, and options, in turn, power. However, executing this plan was proving much more arduous than anticipated. He had no idea how far he had to travel or what kind of civilization awaited him at the end of his journey.
The weather helped him decide, as it too was beginning to work against him. What had once been an autumn breeze now turned into a biting, cold wind. I had no way of accurately measuring the seasons of this world, but if my perception was correct, winter was approaching, and without provisions or adequate shelter, survival would soon become more complicated. The margin for error narrowed. While my knowledge of this world was almost nil, one basic principle remained: the south was usually warmer. Without a better plan, following that logic was the best option available.
I positioned myself with the sun on my left shoulder and moved forward.
The first day was a bearable transition. My legs were still holding up, and the water I'd found in the pond allowed me to continue without too much fatigue. However, I soon realized the magnitude of the problem.
"This body... is still insufficient."
The next few days of travel were a test of endurance. Food quickly ran out, forcing him to stop periodically to search for sustenance. His attempts to hunt had been fruitless due to his lack of experience with primitive methods. He caught a rabbit with a makeshift snare, but the trap was ineffective, and the animal managed to escape after a struggle. Aizen observed the result with cold objectivity. He was neither frustrated nor irritated. It was a lesson, a reminder that while his intellect remained intact, his reliance on skills he had once considered insignificant was now becoming evident.
"Fatigue accumulates quickly. It's not just the lack of food, but the very structure of my current physique. I had already assumed my strength was restricted, but experiencing it so palpably is irritating. With each passing day, my energy decreases more than I recover. It's not sustainable."
Water was another constant problem. There were days when he couldn't find a single drinkable source, forcing him to ration what little he could get. When he finally found a stream, he drank sparingly, ensuring the water was uncontaminated before consuming large quantities. It was a small victory, but in his current state, every victory was significant.
The uneven ground and constant walking began to take their toll on his body. His feet, unused to such prolonged travel without adequate rest, protested with every step, covered in blisters and sores. He wasn't worried about the pain; what troubled him was the inefficiency of reduced mobility, a cruel reminder of the limitations of the human body. He had had centuries to refine his mind, but now he was restricted by a mortal body. If he encountered danger in this state, his room for maneuver would be slim.
"A reminder that power without support is irrelevant. This experience, though degrading, is nonetheless instructive."
One attempt was to compensate with Shunpō. Not as a primary means of travel, but as covert training. Small flashes of speed, fragments of a second where his body responded with a reflection of what it once was. It wasn't much, but it was something.
During the nights, I practiced as much as possible. I couldn't afford exhaustive training, but every tiny bit of progress in executing Shunpō was a victory.
"Deficient, yes, but not a setback." I reflected, "The technique is responding, but my stamina is deplorable. If I can strengthen this foundation, perhaps I can rebuild my connection to the other skills."
The idea was curious. Never before had I needed to think about the progress of such a basic technique. Shunpō had been a tool, not a hindrance. Now, however, it became a key: a direct reflection of my condition. If I could restore its fluidity, it would mean the reishi could still be manipulated within its current limitations.
"If fatigue didn't limit me so much, this process would be more efficient. I need nourishment. I need stability."
The immediate priority remained the same: find a settlement. Information. A deeper understanding of this world and its rules. Only then could I begin to chart the true path to restoring its power.
With that thought in mind, I continued forward, each step a combination of calculation and perseverance.
The next cycle was an ordeal. Food was scarce, and my body was beginning to resent it in ways I'd never considered relevant in my past life. Hunger, fatigue, the cold piercing my muscles as the sun set. Despite everything, I moved forward.
The small dirt road I'd found led to a wider one, and then to an even more well-traveled one. It was a sign. Eventually, if I followed these paths, I'd find a settlement. That meant information. It meant resources.
Finally, after days of traveling, the small dirt road I followed led to a wider road, and then to an even larger one. That meant civilization wasn't far away. The mere existence of a well-trodden path indicated human activity somewhere nearby, and eventually, if he followed these trails, he would find a settlement. That meant information. It meant resources, which, while predictable, was a possibility that had to be approached with caution.
Aizen paused for a moment, contemplating the road that stretched out before him. His body was exhausted, but his mind remained lucid. He had lost much, but he still retained the most important thing: his will to move forward and his ability to adapt. Every day in this world was a challenge, but also an opportunity to rebuild.
Without further delay, he adjusted his cloak to better protect himself from the wind and resumed his march. It didn't matter how long it took or how many obstacles arose in his path. His ultimate destination wasn't a simple village or a new life. His destiny was absolute dominion. And to do that, he must first understand the rules of this world… and learn to break them.
a few days later
The forest had grown quieter as he advanced. An unnatural stillness hung over the air, as if something had scared the animals away. Aizen didn't ignore the signal. While his spiritual perception was weak, his instinct remained sharp. He had learned, through countless confrontations, that when nature fell silent, a predator was nearby. A low growl broke the silence.
And then he saw it.
Aizen stopped in his tracks. His eyes scanned the thick undergrowth until they found two golden orbs staring at him from the gloom. Then came movement: A beast emerged from the trees, advancing with slow, heavy steps. It was a wolf, but its size defied any natural norm. Its back reached the height of a warhorse, its muscles bulging beneath thick, grayish fur, and its eyes glittered with a primal hunger. Aizen measured the distance between them. That monster wasn't a simple animal; it was an aberration of nature, something that belonged to this strange world and not his own.
He maintained his composure. He couldn't afford the luxury of surprise or hesitation. Drawing Kyoka Suigetsu had been an automatic act, a reflex of centuries of experience. The feel of the steel in his hands was familiar, comforting. But his body... his body wasn't responding as it should.
He gritted his teeth.
"If I had my old body, this fight would be over before it even began..." Aizen thought with disdain, but that was an empty excuse. He had repeated that justification to himself too many times since awakening in this world. It didn't do him any good. It wasn't enough. And, above all, he didn't care. He'd had enough. Being reduced from what was strictly a god to a mere wreck tired him, irritated him.
The wolf launched itself at him with brutal speed, its stride covering the distance in an instant. Aizen barely had time to swing his Zanpaku-tō to block the impact. The shock ran through his arm with a painful shudder: his body was still too weak to withstand the beast's force. He was thrown backward, his feet dragging on the ground until he managed to stabilize himself.
"So even a mere animal can stagger me..." The thought revolted him.
He had been a warrior at the height of his power, a god among men. Now, his new form could barely adequately hold a simple fighting stance. His grip was firm, but he felt the lack of strength in his muscles. His balance, once impeccable, was now compromised by the lack of coordination in this immature body. It was an utter humiliation.
The wolf snarled and launched itself at him with brutal speed. Aizen tried to move,
"Shunpō."
His body moved in a flash, but the movement was inefficient, erratic. He barely managed to evade the attack and ended up stumbling, feeling the ground bite against his back.
"Again..." he thought, his frustration burning hotter than the pain.
The wolf gave him no respite. It spun on its paws with monstrous agility and lunged again. Aizen rolled to the side, barely avoiding the jaws that closed with a brutal snap where his neck had been seconds before.
He sat up quickly, but his breathing was rapid. Not from fear, but from humiliation. His body... his damned body. His mind was the same, his knowledge intact, his experience with the sword hadn't faded. But this youthful, weakened vessel wasn't worthy of holding that knowledge. It was like trying to fight with the reflexes of a master and the skill of an apprentice.
Another attack, another shunpo, and his body disappeared in a blur, but the execution was flawed. He appeared just a few meters from his original position, staggering from the unbalanced weight distribution. Only by instinct did he manage to spin in time to block the beast's slash with his sword.
"One mistake, another mistake, another mistake, another, another, another!!!"
His feet sank into the ground from the force of the blow, and the pain made it clear how pathetic his current state was. Had his body been as it had been, he would have responded with an immediate countermeasure, a clean and fatal slash. But now, he could barely stand.
"This is unacceptable."
The beast would give him no respite. It lunged again, its fangs seeking his neck. Aizen forced another flawed Shunpō, moving a few meters away, though he felt his own movement betray him, causing him to fall to one knee. He remembered his first attempt at hunting in this world, the multiple failures, the shame of not being able to do something as simple as catching prey with rudimentary methods. He'd told himself he'd get better, that he'd adapt. But here, at this moment, in a truly life-or-death situation, that excuse meant nothing.
Aizen raised his Zanpaku-tō to block another attack, but the impact was brutal. The blow threw him against a tree, his back hitting the bark with a dull thud. Blood rushed to his mouth, and he spat it out contemptuously.
"It's not enough. It's never enough."
The wolf was preparing for the next attack. Aizen knew it. He couldn't afford to fail again and again.
His mind worked with lightning speed. His shunpō was flawed, but it still functioned on a basic level. He couldn't rely on his strength, but his precision and technique were still superior. He could win... he had to win.
The wolf attacked again, and this time Aizen forced another shunpō. His instinct told him the leap would be flawed, and it was. But in that instant, he understood something.
"It's erratic... but it has power."
He had shot out at the wrong angle, landing heavily on an exposed root. However, the speed of his body generated a small burst of wind and dust. His shunpō was uncontrolled, but if he could predict its failure, he could use it.
The wolf lunged again, this time with its jaw ready to crush. Aizen waited until the last instant and repeated the movement. His faulty shunpō launched him in an unexpected direction, the burst of his uncontrolled speed briefly stunning the creature.
"Interesting."
Aizen rolled on the ground, recovering quickly. His brow furrowed in annoyance, not so much from the pain, but from the clumsy execution of his movement. "I can't trust the accuracy of shunpō... but I can use it another way."
The beast didn't give him time to reflect further. It charged again, and this time Aizen didn't try to escape quickly. Instead, he used the faulty shunpō to his advantage. The moment he activated the technique, he let the uncontrolled momentum launch him in an unexpected direction, and at the last instant, he used the blade of his sword to divert its trajectory, slicing the point along the wolf's flank. The animal roared in pain, staggering. The wound wasn't fatal, but it was a step forward.
Aizen landed awkwardly, feeling the impact ripple through his body. It wasn't the graceful execution of yesteryear, but it had worked. "I can't control speed... but I can predict failure."
He got up immediately, adapting. He couldn't rely on his previous technique, but he could use this flaw to his advantage. Instead of seeking precision, he could utilize chaos. The strategy formed in his mind with the clarity of a perfect picture.
The beast roared and leaped with all his might. This time, Aizen pretended to move to the side, but he activated his flawed shunpō on purpose. His speed spun out of control for an instant, but instead of resisting it, he used momentum to spin in the air, narrowly avoiding the wolf's attack.
As the wolf leaped, Aizen moved as well.
He took a deep, calming breath.
He didn't have the power he'd had before, but he was still Aizen Sōsuke.
The memories of a thousand battles fueled his mind. He didn't have brute strength, but he had precision. He didn't have absolute speed, but he could anticipate. His eyes hadn't lost their sharpness.
The wolf leaped again, and this time Aizen moved without trying to force total control. He used shunpō in its flawed state, allowing the lack of precision to add a level of unpredictability to his movements. The result was an erratic shift, a series of illogical movements that confused his enemy's instincts.
The first slash landed on the wolf's hind leg. A clean cut, but not fatal. The beast spun around, searching for the attacker, but Aizen was no longer where he should have been. Another flash of speed, another controlled stumble, and his blade found the creature's lower torso. His enemy snarled, spinning frantically in an attempt to catch the blurry figure dancing around him.
Each failed Shunpo led him to a new, unexpected position. But Aizen began to notice patterns in his mistakes. Each shift had a predictable direction depending on how he initiated the step. If he focused his weight on his left leg before moving, his exit was more abrupt and uncontrolled, but if he distributed it at just the right angle, he could force its trajectory to a controlled point.
"It's not perfect... but I can make it work."
The wolf tried to adapt, but Aizen had already taken control of the battle. He tried again, letting his Shunpo fail intentionally. His foot slipped in the loose sand, and instead of resisting it, he let the slide carry him, spinning in the air, landing right behind his enemy, sword ready. A swift slash crossed the back of the beast's thigh. A howl of pain rose into the air.
"If every mistake has a pattern... I can predict the outcome before it happens."
This time, the shunpō carried him wildly to the side, but by calculating his landing point, he managed to position himself at an advantageous angle. Another slash, this time at the base of the wolf's neck. The beast thrashed furiously, slashing desperately, but Aizen was no longer there. With each flawed movement, he created the illusion of chaos as his mind calculated every deviation.
The wolf, wounded and panting, attempted one last charge. Aizen remained motionless until the last instant. One more shunpo. His shunpo was ineffective, clumsy, but enough to position himself alongside the beast in the air. His muscles protested, his body threatened to betray him again, but he ignored it all. He twisted his wrist with surgical precision, and with a clean, calculated movement, his sword drew a perfect line along the creature's neck.
He landed awkwardly, one knee hitting the ground, but he held firm. Behind him, the wolf fell. Its head separated from its body before it touched the ground.
Silence returned to the forest. Aizen remained motionless for a moment, feeling the weight of its breathing.
He felt no pride. No relief. Only a deep dissatisfaction.
He had won. But it had been a pathetic sight.
Aizen didn't move immediately. His heart pounded, not from fear, but from anger. Not because of the battle itself, but because of what it meant. It had been a fight against a mere animal, and even so, he had been at a disadvantage. Yet a lesson had been learned from this experience. Although his body wasn't responding as it should, he could still forge victory with ingenuity. His current weaknesses weren't a curse; they were a temporary hindrance. And Aizen wasn't one to allow the temporary to become permanent.
He sheathed his zanpakutō, determination burning in his chest. He wouldn't repeat this humiliation. He wouldn't make any more excuses. There was much to be done, and he wouldn't stop until he restored what belonged to him.
Then he slowly sat up and looked at the blood spattered on his sword.
"Unacceptable. It shouldn't even have come to this. This isn't a victory. It's... pathetic."
He couldn't afford to be weak.
He couldn't allow himself to be humiliated like that again.
He forced himself to catch his breath and closed his eyes for a moment. His Shunpo was ineffective. His body wasn't responding. But both could be corrected. What he did with Shunpo was a crutch. It was fine when he needed it, but if he used it, he would become useless. The battle had given him valuable information: although limited, he still had the means to fight. What he lacked in power, he would make up for in precision and strategy.
It was only a matter of time before he became the true Aizen Sōsuke again.
With calculated steps, he walked away from the scene, deeper into the unknown.
"Pathetic..." he muttered to himself, not hiding his disdain. "Even in this state, I am still superior. I just need to remember... that gods cannot afford to be weak."
He adjusted his cloak and, without wasting any more time, set off again. The road was still long, and then he disappeared into the trees, his mind already plotting the path to reclaim what was rightfully his.