#shikai

Aizen did not look like he remembered.

Every time Shinji thought about him (and he did — often, and never fondly, not since that guy turned him into his little science project), he pictured those nerdy glasses, that bland, boring face, and the crime of a haircut. In short — a man with all the personality of a wet napkin.

Even that hideous caricature Hiyori had drawn — the one the Vizards used as a dartboard — had more charisma than Lieutenant Stick-Up-His-Ass himself.

But the Aizen standing before him today?

A completely different sight — slicked-back hair, overdressed, glowed up like a bride at a cheap wedding in a barn.

Mr. “I’m Too Good to Look at You” — live and in person.

Shinji nearly burst out laughing.

Seriously — did this guy design his outfit just for world domination?

Also, no way he’s getting those bloodstains out of that white coat when they’re done with him.

But enough about fashion. Shinji hadn’t come here to talk trends (though he could — the man had style).

Without further ado, he released his Shikai.

Sakanade spun around his hand, humming with anticipation.

Aizen only watched — eyes somewhat glassy, cold, like that same frozen fish. Just slightly more alive.

But something was off. Up close, Aizen didn’t look so great — and it wasn’t just the over-styled hair. No.

Glassy eyes. Red nose. A bit of sweat on his forehead.

Wait a minute…

Is he sick?

Shinji blinked.

No way. Must be another one of his illusions, right?

Because, come on — evil doesn’t get sick.

Colds don’t touch people who play god.

And besides, back when Shinji was his captain, the bastard never even sneezed once. No scratches, no bruises, not even a paper cut. The guy was perfection incarnate — like a smug little marble statue.

Evil doesn’t catch colds. Evil doesn’t sneeze. Evil doesn’t sniffle.

And yet, Aizen was standing there — looking like shit.

If this wasn’t an illusion, if Aizen was actually under the weather... Oh, Hiyori would never let him hear the end of it. He could already hear her yapping: “Beating up a sick guy? Real classy, Baldy!”

So how was he supposed to get revenge with dignity now?

“Hey, Aizen?” Shinji asked, trying not to sound too awkward.

“You sure you’re up for this? You can still surrender, y’know.”

“Why would I do that?” he asked, voice weirdly nasal.

Then he sniffled — loudly, like it was all part of his plan.

No way! That wasn’t an illusion!

That was an honest-to-god runny nose.

“I dunno,” Shinji shrugged. “Maybe because you’re about to snot all over your pretty coat?”

Seriously — who shows up to a war with a cold? This was a battlefield, not a walk-in clinic!

If Shinji were still his captain, he’d order Aizen straight back to Las Noches — under a warm blanket, with tea, honey, and a deep sense of shame.

But of course, Mister God Complex just had to show off.

Fine by him. Shinji hadn’t waited a hundred years just to call in sick now.

Sakanade spun faster, filling the air with that sweet floral scent.

Pink mist surrounded them both.

“I don’t sense any difference,” Aizen said — smug and congested. “Has it gotten colder?”

Shinji snorted. “No, genius. That’s your fever. But don’t worry — things are about to change.”

Aizen shivered slightly — chills, not fear.

Shinji stared in disbelief.

Then sighed.

“Smell that?” he asked. “Nice fragrance, huh?”

Aizen stared at him. “Can’t smell anything.”

He sniffed again. Louder this time.

Silence fell.

Long, awkward, and unhealthy.

The Inverted World should’ve kicked in already.

But Aizen just stood there — still sick, but perfectly fine.

Shinji didn’t get it.

Because nothing happened.

Absolutely. Nothing.

And that was a huge problem.

Normally, the scent triggered the flip of your senses. But apparently, sinus congestion beat his Shikai’s logic.

Then—

“A-aaah-CHOO!”

Aizen’s sneeze — dramatic. Because of course, he had to be.

And Shinji almost said “bless you” by reflex. Almost.

Instead, he hissed, “Oh, go to hell, you jerk!”

Never — never — in the history of ever had a common cold canceled out Sakanade’s power.

And of course it had to happen with Sōsuke freaking Aizen!

“How’d you know?” Shinji growled.

Aizen gave him that same superior, all-knowing look.

“I anticipated this,” he said coolly. “Everything is going according to plan.”

Then he smirked — though the drip under his nose sort of ruined the effect.

“Only idiots don’t catch colds,” he added.

Shinji knew exactly who that jab was aimed at.

What he didn’t know — what he couldn’t know — was that Aizen was lying through those smirking, chapped lips.

There was no master plan.

Just mucus.