#pendulum arc

I am basing it on two small beats from Pendulum Arc in which Aizen expresses something that looks like disappointment toward Shinji, his Captain, about not noticing it wasn't Aizen who followed him for last month. For not knowing about his machinations earlier (even when expecting them), and about not trying to get to know him, learn his mannerisms and such.

This big tirade Aizen gives to Shinji about all this sounds extremely bitter. And then, there is that one panel during this monologue showing Urahara trying to connect with his new lieutenant - Hiyori, which again - points out of his jealousy that a fellow genius Urahara IS able to connect with others, or at least he tries to.

Also, look at the two allies Aizen surrounds himself with (Gin, and Tosen). Both of them are written as deeply motivated by their connections (Gin's to Rangiku, Tosen's to Kakyo and later Komamura), and both are killed by Aizen because they chose their connections OVER his cause. Tosen has a change of heart and connects with Komamura again, and Gin betrays Aizen because he chooses his revenge for Rangiku's sake. Both have motivations that Aizen doesn't have, and perhaps doesn't fully understands or prioritizes.

Is he even able to connect? This we don't know, because we never see him try and fail. I think Ichigo comes close due to reaching Aizen's level of power so the momentary connection during their fight is created.

And now affection - this is another long and complicated topic when it comes to a character like Aizen.

Since he doesn't connect, I think, he'd treat affection like a tool, strategically, or practically. I mean, he would be for sure able to manipulate people to get their affection if that served a purpose (I'd say Momo comes close). So he would take it if this is something he provoked, created, designed to happen.

But what if he receives affection without causing it? Well, it could go both ways. Perhaps he'd still take it because even if it wasn't a part of his plan, it still could be used. He surely understand human psychology enough to recognize affection for what it is. But on his side, it probably would be only an empty gesture - something that looks like affection but is manipulation or repetition without emotion (mimicry). Or, if we go for the version of Aizen that is uncomfortable with being subjected to emotionally loaded situations that are out of his control, like being touched without him actually triggering and controlling it first, then I think he'd internally recoil. Because affection can be invasive. Especially unwanted, and I'd say in his case most of affectionate gestures would be unwanted because they could mean vulnerable position for him. Or worse, a loss of control for him (control over the situation and over another person's perception of him).

I could even go as far as suggestion that Aizen, being absolutely untouchable through the series, doesn't like being touched. Unless on his terms. And the fact that his reiatsu can literally disintegrate you if you try to touch him, says a lot about him.

With all that said, I think the type of intellectual and ideological connection is possible for Aizen. He might give up on it, but it shouldn't be out of limit in theory. And if he had that, then he might be also willing to develop a space for affection. The fact that in the end, he chooses to align himself with Soul Society means that he can share values and ideas with others (he is not separate from them).

Aizen, who had been standing for some time now in the half-open door, waited a moment longer. Then, he decided to remind Shinji of his presence.

“I brought you something, Captain.”

“Well, come back with that later,” Shinji snapped without turning. “Can’t you see I’m busy.”

“I can wait.”

Sōsuke apparently did not want to give up.

“This will take a while.” Shinji knew all too well that Aizen could be very patient; nevertheless, he tried to discourage him a little, and thus get out of the whole situation.

A conversation with his two-faced Lieutenant was the last thing Shinji wanted to engage in. Especially since he finally had a moment for himself. No meetings, no missions, no paperwork due yesterday—in short, free time. But Aizen apparently intended to ruin the beautiful prospect of blissful idleness.

Shinji still treated spending time in the company of his Lieutenant as a part of his duty as the Captain—unpleasant but necessary. How could he not? He didn’t want to improve their relationship, nor did he want to get to know Aizen better. He knew exactly as much as he needed to—the man could not be trusted.

“They’re hard to comb out,” he added, seeing the futility of his previous hint.

As confirmation of these words, the comb stopped upon tangled strands.

“I can help,” Sōsuke offered, not lowering his intrusive gaze for an inch.

Shinji cursed under his breath. He was fully aware that neither Aizen nor the tangled hair would be easy to get rid of.

“Had I ever seen you with a stylish hairstyle, I might even consider your offer. But with that mess on your head, you’re not very credible.”

Sōsuke smiled faintly. Sharp remarks like that were nothing new for him.

“Forgive me, Captain. I forgot that of the two of us, you’re the one with good taste.”

“Not just good taste, but apparently a sense of humor as well,” Shinji scoffed, then sighed. “I really don’t know what is wrong with you, Sōsuke…”

Aizen, as if expecting such words, smiled a bit bolder.

“There are a great many things you don’t know about me, Captain Hirako.”

Shinji paused, stopped combing.

He measured his subordinate’s reflection with a judging gaze.

Aizen noticed that look, and walked a few steps closer to the mirror. Paused just behind Shinji’s back, too close for the distance to feel neutral. The reflection showed a fragment of his face—a face strangely foreign, unknown to Hirako.

And in that moment everything became clear.

The reflection, Shinji thought—that was what Sōsuke had always been.

Not a real person, but an illusion, a mirage.

Shinji felt a chill running down his spine.

“Would you like to get to know me better?” Aizen asked softly, voice almost tempting.

Hirako already knew a thing or two about mirrors—they were nothing but little deceivers, showing whatever you wanted to see.

They were drawing your gaze to the smooth, polished surface while the truth lay elsewhere.

And for Shinji, all the mirrors were always crooked.

Sōsuke’s brown eyes stared at him through the reflective surface. There was something hard to define in them. Some meaning, some unspoken question.

It was so convincing, Shinji could almost believe it.

And yet, the reflection was just a reflection—nothing more.

Shinji returned to combing his hair. He left Aizen with no answer.

There was no point in talking to a mirror.