7 Potential

Aizen moved through the village streets, his steps measured and purposeful. The whispers and rumors that permeated the air provided an intriguing backdrop to his thoughts. The news of their supposed victory against him had spread like wildfire, filling the villagers with a sense of relief and newfound confidence. However, Aizen knew that their perception of triumph was nothing more than an illusion, carefully crafted by him.

As he delved deeper into the village, Aizen's acute senses detected a gathering of villagers near a local tavern. Curiosity piqued, he approached the crowd, his disguise allowing him to blend in effortlessly. The voices grew louder as he drew closer, the chatter filled with excitement and speculation.

"It was an epic battle! I saw Hogake-sama, Kakashi, and Itachi in action!" one villager exclaimed.

"Can you imagine the power it took to defeat Aizen? The shinobi of Konoha are truly remarkable," another responded.

Aizen's lips curled into a hidden smile as he absorbed their words. The misconception that he had been vanquished fueled his ego, affirming his belief in the superiority of his plans. He relished the irony of their misplaced confidence, knowing that their perceptions were far from reality.

As he listened to their conversations, Aizen's monologue echoed within his mind, his thoughts intertwining with his observations. 'Their perception of victory is a fragile illusion, easily shattered,' he mused silently. 'They believe they have triumphed over me, their faith in the shinobi unwavering. But little do they know, their celebration is premature.'

Hidden within the crowd, Aizen allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. The villagers' unwavering faith in the shinobi's victory only played into his hands. It provided him with the opportunity to observe, gather information, and manipulate the situation to his advantage.

Aizen's mind worked relentlessly, calculating his next move with meticulous precision. He understood that patience was his greatest ally. While the villagers reveled in their imaginary triumph, he would use this period of complacency to gather vital information and assess the village's power structure.

He scanned the crowd, searching for key figures, individuals whose words and actions would offer insight into the village's inner workings. The high-ranking officials, the Uchiha and Hyuga clans—each held a piece of the puzzle he sought to solve. His monologue guided his thoughts, reminding him of the efficiency with which he must proceed.

Aizen's eyes narrowed as he heard the discussions within the Hokage's office with his unhuman senses. "Their attempts to make sense of the recent events will prove futile," he whispered to himself. "Their strategies, their plans—they will unknowingly dance to my tune."

The Uchiha and Hyuga clans, their discussions filled with whispers of strategies and alliances, became the focus of Aizen's attention. 'The eyes of the Uchiha,' he contemplated, 'a powerful tool that can be exploited for my own purposes. And the Hyuga, their Byakugan—perhaps I can manipulate their loyalties to further my designs, and also experiment on them.'

His monologue continued, guiding his every step. It reminded him of the importance of patience, of allowing the villagers to revel in their false sense of security.' Their trust and faith in the shinobi of Konoha will be their downfall,' he thought with a self-assured smirk. 'They will become the unwitting pawns in my grand scheme.'

The village of Konoha carried on, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing beneath its tranquil surface. As Aizen, disguised as Takemichi, disappeared into the shadows, his monologue whispered secrets of conquest and manipulation. The final act awaited its cue, and Aizen was determined to claim his rightful place at the center of the stage.

As he approached Takemichi's home, Aizen's mind was filled with anticipation. Stepping inside the modest abode, Aizen heard a voice, filled with love, "Welcome home, dear!"

Aizen's eyes widened as he heard the voice, filled with warmth and affection.

He turned to see Takemichi's spouse, a kind smile gracing their face as they embraced him. He responded to Takemichi's spouse with a smile of his own, seamlessly slipping back into the role he had assumed.

"I'm home, dear." Aizen said with a smile on his face, as he embraced her.

Takemichi's spouse spoke of their day, sharing stories of mundane activities and the happenings in the village. Her name was Mira, it was written on a picture between her and Takemichi.

Aizen's embrace tightened, though his thoughts were elsewhere. He listened attentively as Mira spoke, feigning interest in the village gossip.

As Mira continued to talk, Aizen's mind analyzed the information she unknowingly provided. Snippets of dialogue about upcoming events, potential alliances, and the village's inner workings danced in his thoughts. He absorbed every detail, recognizing the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.

Aizen maintained the facade of Takemichi's loving partner, responding with affectionate remarks and nods of understanding. Aizen seized the opportunity to inquire further, subtly probing Mira for additional information. With careful words and feigned curiosity, he steered the conversation towards matters of the village's leadership and their plans for the future.

Mira, caught up in the joy of her husband's return, opened up unwittingly, unaware of the hidden motives that guided Aizen's every move. Her words, innocent and sincere, provided valuable insights into the inner workings of Konoha's power structure.

A few weeks later..

'It's time to check on the Fire Temple and Sora.' Aizen thought, as he finished meditating under a tree with his Zanpakuto.

He stood up with grace as his sword disappeared, and thought, 'It will be suspicious if I just disappear suddenly.'

He began to walk to Takemichi's house, which now was his, stepped in, and took a paper. Mira wasn't home, she was doing her favorite activity, gossiping with other villagers.

With that, he finished writing the letter, and disappeared.

At the Fire Temple, there were three mountains that surrounded it. On one of those, there could be seen a young man meditating under a waterfall, with a sword on his lap. It was Sora, who has undergone changes, not enormous, but easily noticeable, since he last saw Aizen, both physically and mentally. His muscles were more refined, brimming with energy, and also appearing a bit more handsome.

Before his transformation to a new body, Sora had straight shoulder-length, dull blueish-gray hair, and brown-coloured eyes.

His current hair became slightly longer, and the color of it resembled water when it was concentrated on a large scale, like an ocean.

His previous brown eyes were nowhere to be seen, replaced with shimmering emerald-like eyes which exluded an air of kindness.

As Aizen approached the mountain, he marveled at the serene beauty that surrounded it. The sound of rushing water from the waterfall filled the air, blending harmoniously with the tranquil atmosphere. His sharp senses allowed him to locate Sora easily, meditating under the waterfall, his transformed appearance capturing Aizen's attention.

As he observed Sora's changed physicality, Aizen couldn't help but acknowledge the successful outcome of his experiment. Though, now that he posessed more knowledge of chakra, he knew he can create an even better vessel.

Aizen's monologue resonated within his mind, reminding him of the potential that lay dormant within Sora. 'This is just the beginning,' he thought, his thoughts intertwining with his observations. 'Sora's current form is impressive, but with further experimentation, I can create an even more formidable vessel.'

Drawing closer to Sora, Aizen's presence disrupted the tranquility of the waterfall. Sora's eyes flickered open, the shimmering emerald-like orbs meeting Aizen's gaze. There was a moment of recognition in Sora's eyes, an understanding that his fate was entwined with Aizen's grand design.

"Sora," Aizen spoke with a calm yet commanding voice, "draw your sword."

Sora, still immersed in the meditative state, obeyed Aizen's command without hesitation. He reached for the hilt of his sword, slowly unsheathing it from its scabbard. The blade shimmered with an otherworldly aura, reflecting the sunlight that filtered through the waterfall.

"Your transformation has given you power, Sora," Aizen continued, his voice resonating with authority. "But now it is time to refine that power, to unlock its full potential. Prepare yourself. "

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