The Strongest in...

Author: Sorry for the delay, and also sorry if this chapter feels a bit lackluster. I had no idea how to approach it, which is also why it was delayed. Apologies for the short chapter.

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Jin remained motionless, his gaze fixed on Aizen, who lay sprawled on the ground amid the accumulated dust of the Abandoned Dojo. The dim light filtering through the broken planks of the ceiling partially illuminated the space, casting uneven shadows on the time-stained walls. The air was heavy, saturated with the scent of aged wood and mold.

"Weak..." Jin's voice broke the silence with an unsettling calm, reverberating through the empty dojo. "How long do you intend to hide your strength from me, Aizen?"

Jin's face was a mask of neutrality. No trace of emotion was visible in his expression; he resembled a statue carved from pure coldness. However, the dry, cutting tone of his words betrayed what he truly felt. Contempt. It was as if he were standing before something not even worth the dust on the floor.

Aizen, on the other hand, struggled to catch his breath, propping himself up on one arm while the other hung limply at his side. His chest rose and fell rapidly, a reflection of an effort he hadn't anticipated would be so exhausting. The wooden sword Jin had thrown to him rested just inches from his hand, but at that moment, it seemed to weigh more than a block of iron.

He clenched his teeth. Frustration was etched into every line of his face. His mind buzzed, trying to comprehend how he had reached this point. He was Aizen, the meticulous strategist, the calculated manipulator. His goal was to continue his experiments in secrecy, away from prying eyes. Yet, without warning, Jin had shattered that stability by dragging him to that time-forgotten dojo, throwing him a wooden sword like someone challenging a worthless opponent.

Aizen had chosen the path of restraint. Calculated movements, limited strength. He believed it would be enough to maintain appearances without arousing suspicion. However, his assumptions had been crushed as swiftly as his body was slammed to the ground, time and again. Each of Jin's strikes was relentless, precise, almost disdainful. With every fall, Aizen's disbelief grew.

"How?" he thought, fists clenched against the rough floor. "I should be stronger than him. I am stronger than him! So… why am I losing?"

The thoughts swirled in his mind like dry leaves carried by a whirlwind. Aizen had always prided himself on his ability to calculate every variable, to predict every move. But there, in that moment, all his predictions had failed.

Jin took a step forward, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the empty space. He tilted his head slightly, observing Aizen with piercing eyes, as if reading every inch of his soul.

"You think you can deceive everyone, Aizen. That your lies and manipulations go unnoticed." Jin's voice was low, but it carried a weight that made Aizen's heart falter. "But it's different with me. I see through you. And the weakness you insist on displaying... only makes me despise you even more."

Aizen raised his gaze, staring at Jin. There was something in his eyes that went beyond mere neutrality. A cold depth, almost as if Jin were facing a puzzle he had already solved.

Silence returned to the dojo, interrupted only by Aizen's labored breathing. And then, with a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather his strength. He knew he needed to act. The mask he had so carefully constructed was about to crumble, and that was something he could not allow.

Yet, something told him that Jin knew more than he was letting on.

Jin remained still for a moment, staring at Aizen with the same vacant look, as if analyzing every aspect of his existence. Then, he broke the silence, his voice low but imbued with a cutting intensity:

"Your ideals..." Jin began, pausing to observe Aizen's weary expression. "I don't care, Aizen. I don't care what you believe or plan. But there is something that always disgusts me, something that deeply revolts me."

Aizen, still kneeling on the ground, raised his gaze, confused. Before he could react, Jin continued, the coldness in his voice like sharp blades.

"It's the weakness of those who possess strength. If you have power, why do you insist on showing weakness?" Jin leaned slightly forward, drawing closer to Aizen, his eyes gleaming like ice reflecting the dim light of the dojo. "If you enjoy being weak, Aizen, then I will show you the fate reserved for the weak."

Aizen felt a chill run down his spine. Jin's words seemed to freeze the air around him, paralyzing him. He had never seen Jin like this. He had always regarded him as a formidable opponent, but that gaze... that gaze devoid of any emotion, cold as the void of winter, made him hesitate for a moment.

Jin raised the wooden sword above his head, the light reflecting off its worn surface, marked by previous clashes. The movement was slow, deliberate, as if he wanted Aizen to see every detail of what was about to happen.

Aizen, in an almost automatic reflex, raised his own wooden sword to try and defend himself. Despite clearly being at a disadvantage, his mind worked frantically, searching for a way to turn the tide. He adjusted his stance, trying to anticipate the strike.

But Jin was relentless.

With a force that seemed disproportionate for a wooden weapon, Jin delivered a devastating blow.

Slash!

The sound of the impact reverberated through the dojo, a mix of wood colliding and something breaking.

Crack!

Aizen's sword couldn't withstand it. It broke in half, splinters of wood flying through the air and scattering across the ground around them. A larger fragment grazed Aizen's face, leaving a small cut on his cheek. He had no time to react as the remainder of the now-useless blade slipped from his hands and fell to the ground.

Jin remained still after the strike, his sword's blade still pointing downward, as if rooted in a silent victory. He watched Aizen with the same unsettling neutrality, but something in his posture conveyed a clear message: this was only the beginning.

Aizen stared at the fragments of his shattered weapon on the ground. His mind raced. He couldn't comprehend how he had been so thoroughly overwhelmed. But one thing was clear: Jin wasn't there just to test him. No, Jin wanted to prove something—and he was ready to crush any illusion of superiority Aizen might still cling to.

The oppressive silence that followed was broken only by the uneven sound of Aizen's breathing. Jin, on the other hand, showed no sign of exertion. He was like an unshakable mountain, cold and indifferent to everything around him.

"Now, get up," Jin said, his voice as sharp as a blade. "Or stay on the ground and accept your place among the weak."

Jin walked with firm steps, his face expressionless as he left the dojo. The silence surrounding him felt heavier than usual, as if the air around him acknowledged the weight of what had just occurred. In that world, the weak had no space to breathe, crushed by the forces shaping society. It was a brutal world where only the strong thrived, and the weak were doomed to vanish like dust in the wind. This was the harsh reality, the unchanging law of that system—a law Jin had decided to defy.

Aizen, the man whose cunning and manipulation were legendary, was now on his knees. Always arrogant, he believed he controlled everything and everyone around him, that the invisible strings of his game were unbreakable. For years, he had moved the pieces on the Seireitei chessboard like a master strategist, calculating every move with surgical precision. Yet, at that moment, he couldn't even grasp what had happened.

Jin, his silent roommate, until then a face that went unnoticed, had shattered his illusion of control with a single precise strike. He wasn't just a genius—he was an absolute being, a fighter at the pinnacle of talent, who had until now remained in the shadows. Now, he revealed himself as someone far beyond what anyone could have imagined.

The silence in the dojo seemed to echo Aizen's defeat. He remained motionless, unable to process the fact that someone—and not just anyone, but Jin—had surpassed him. His mind, so used to crafting flawless plans, now felt like an empty field, a void filled only with the humiliation of his defeat.

Then, slowly, anger began to bubble up inside Aizen. It was a strange, almost alien feeling for someone who had always been in control. He had never felt such frustration before. His fists clenched until the knuckles turned white, and in a burst of emotion, he punched the ground with all his might. The impact resonated through the empty dojo, an echo of his fury and helplessness.

"How...?" He murmured, his voice heavy with disbelief and suppressed hate.

But Jin did not look back. He continued walking, his figure slowly disappearing on the horizon, leaving Aizen to face the harsh reality. No matter how skilled Aizen was at manipulating others, he was not in control of everything — and Jin had proven that in the most devastating way possible.

Now, the dynamic between the two had changed forever. While Aizen struggled with his anger and humiliation.