Bleach: The Two Gods of One Family

[Hey guys, I've written a one-shot story as an extra plot for this fanfiction.]

[Let me know how you liked it—and if I should write more bonus stories like this in the future!Drop your thoughts in the comments]

...

A Few Years Earlier...

Two boys, no older than thirteen or fourteen, sat quietly inside a dilapidated shack. The structure barely held together, its walls cracked and roof sagging under the weight of time. A pale moonlight filtered through the holes in the wooden planks, casting broken rays onto the dirt floor where the boys sat.

They looked strikingly similar—frail, thin from hunger, and dressed in tattered robes—but their hair distinguished them: one had tousled brown hair, the other pitch-black.

The brown-haired boy broke the silence. "Brother, I'm done. You should eat too."

The black-haired boy, Aiyan, gave a small smile, patting his younger brother's head. "Aizen, you eat more. I know this little food won't fill you halfway, but I don't need much to get by. You have higher Reiatsu—your body needs more. Don't worry about me."

This was Aiyan, the older brother. He lied, of course. His stomach betrayed him with a loud growl.

Both brothers exchanged a helpless glance and sighed. They'd only recently arrived in Soul Society, and the 80th District of Rukongai—known for being the most chaotic and lawless.

Aizen's Reiatsu was stronger than Aiyan's, but ironically, it meant he needed more food to sustain himself. And so, the older brother always gave up his portion.

Food in this district was scarcer than gold, monopolized by violent gangs. Even clean water was a luxury.

"Aiyan, how about we just steal more food?" Aizen whispered.

Aiyan sighed deeply. "That's the limit, Aizen. If we steal more, they'll get suspicious and increase their guards. We won't get another chance. Better to take it little by little than risk everything."

He paused before adding grimly, "If they find out it's us, the only outcome is death."

Reluctantly, Aizen finished the food. He wanted to share, but Aiyan had, as always, insisted he eat alone.

Aizen lowered his head. "Brother... how long do you think we can survive here?"

Aiyan laughed softly, ruffling his brother's hair again. "Since when did you start fearing death, Aizen? I know my little brother—calm and confident, no matter the situation."

"It's not that..." Aizen mumbled, turning away. "I just don't want to be alone."

Aiyan paused. Then he laughed again, louder this time. "What nonsense! We're brothers. We'll never be separated. This suffering is just temporary. We're destined to stand at the top."

Aizen looked up at him—and for the first time that night, a small, confident smile returned to his lips. "You're right. We are inseparable. And we are destined… to stand at the top."

But just as the warm moment faded and the two brothers prepared to sleep, the shack's door was kicked open with a crash. Five men stood there, their faces twisted with cruelty. The tallest among them, a burly man with a scarred face and a sword on his hip, seemed to be their leader.

He stared coldly at the two boys. "Are they the ones who stole our food?"

One of the men nodded. "Yes, boss. I saw them. These brats took it."

The brothers instantly understood.

They'd been discovered.

In District 80, food was more precious than gold. With spiritual pressure came hunger—and hunger was death. You either died of starvation or died fighting for food.

Aiyan's mind raced. He had expected this day might come. They had been careful, but nothing went unnoticed forever.

Both brothers reached into their robes and pulled out handmade slingshots, aiming at the leader and the second-largest man.

Thwip! Thwip!

Two shots, two hits. Both men screamed as stones struck their eyes. In the confusion, Aiyan and Aizen bolted through a broken window into the night.

"Chase them! Catch those brats!" the burly man bellowed, clutching his bleeding eye.

The brothers exchanged a look and split in different directions. If the men divided, they could pick them off one by one.

Aiyan ran fast—faster than ever—but after 100 meters, he realized no one was following him. That meant they were all chasing Aizen.

"Damn it!" he cursed, changing direction.

He sprinted through the shadows until he came upon the scene he feared most: Aizen, beaten and bloodied, lay beneath two men. One was unconscious nearby, likely already dealt with.

Aiyan's eyes blazed red. He spotted a sharp-edged stone, picked it up, and flung it at one attacker's eye. The man screamed, stumbling back.

Without wasting a second, Aiyan dove for the fallen man's knife and tossed it to Aizen.

"Catch!"

Aiyan lunged at the uninjured thug, grabbing his arms and holding him in place.

Understanding immediately, Aizen rose shakily, gripped the knife, and with a swift motion, slit the man's throat as Aiyan held him down.

The last attacker, one eye bloodied, snarled and kicked Aiyan hard in the ribs, sending him sprawling.

Before Aiyan could recover, the man lunged, choking him with both hands in a blind rage. Aizen tried to intervene but was struck away.

Aiyan gasped, vision blurring. Then he saw it—a sword gleaming in the dark, swinging toward him.

In a desperate move, he shifted his body and redirected his attacker into the blade's path.

Shink!

The sword cleaved the man in half. It belonged to the gang leader.

Aiyan rolled back, coughing, and put distance between them. Aizen knelt beside him, weak but conscious. The burly man now radiated a murderous aura.

But the brothers didn't flinch.

Aiyan knew escape was impossible. It was kill or die.

He lunged to attack, but the man easily outclassed him in strength and skill. Aiyan could only dodge, taking hit after hit. He was no match—but the odds weren't entirely one-sided.

The leader was already injured—one eye useless—and Aizen, using sling shots and stones, targeted that blind spot relentlessly, adding fresh cuts and bruises to the burly man.

Finally, fed up, the leader struck Aiyan hard and turned his attention to Aizen.

Aizen tried to stand, but his body refused to move. As the sword came closer, something snapped within him,

A pulse of raw power erupted from Aizen, shaking the ground. His Reiatsu flared, wild and dense, exceeding even that of most Shinigami officers.

The leader hesitated—slowed by the oppressive pressure.

Aiyan, gritting his teeth, sprang into action. Knife in hand, he sprinted.

Aizen opened his eyes just in time to see a silhouette blocking the blade.

Aiyan.

The sword pierced through his brother's chest, stopping inches from Aizen's face. Blood dripped from the blade's tip.

But Aiyan didn't hesitate. His own knife stabbed deep into the leader's throat.

The man slumped, dead.

Aiyan collapsed, the sword still in him, breath shallow. Aizen grabbed his hand, panic filling his eyes.

"Aiyan…?" Aizen whispered.

He dropped to his knees, cradling his brother's limp hand. His bangs fell over his hollow eyes, which glistened with disbelief, fear… pain.

"Brother… you promised me… you wouldn't leave me. Am I… alone now…?"

Aiyan's vision blurred. The pain in his chest was unbearable now. Blood filled his mouth. His heartbeat slowed.

It was over.

But just as the darkness was about to claim him—

Something inside him cracked.

Like a rusted lock forced open after an eternity, a mental barrier shattered in the depths of his consciousness. And in that instant, a flood of memories surged forth.

His breathing stopped.

Memories not of this world—

A family. A modern city. Neon lights. A childhood under school tests and anime posters. Manga collections. Late-night forums. Bleach.

"Bleach..." he whispered in his mind, almost laughing.

He remembered it all.

But the greatest shock was yet to come.

The boy kneeling beside him… that soft-spoken, quiet, dependable little brother…

"Aizen..."

Not just any Aizen.

Sōsuke Aizen.

The man who would one day shatter the Soul Society. The man who would rise above captains and kings. A god among gods—feared and revered.

And Aiyan... he was his older brother.

"What kind of absurd fate is this..." he thought, a strange mix of awe and bitterness rising in his chest.

"So I've been reborn into the Bleach universe… as Aizen's big brother."

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to scream. But he was too weak to do either.

"No wonder my soul pressure was odd... My growth, my mind—it was never normal. Because I was never meant to be here."

And yet, in this moment of revelation, regret swallowed him whole.

Too late.

His heartbeat was fading.

He had finally regained everything—his identity, his memories, even his purpose—but death had already placed its hand upon his shoulder.

Worst of all, he remembered the words he'd sworn only moments ago:

"We'll never be separated. I'll always be with you."

A promise to Aizen. A lie…?

"Damn it… Damn it all...!"

Tears of helplessness blurred his vision.

"I finally understand who I am, where I am… who my brother is. I was meant to guide him… change this world. And now I'm dying in a gutter like some forgotten soul?"

But then—like a whisper through a void—

Ding! 

A voice echoed inside Aiyan's mind.

[Your Reiatsu has awakened. Sensing Aizen's Reiatsu increase, your Reiatsu trained hard in secret and rose by two levels. Current Reiatsu Level 3.]

Aiyan's eyes widened slightly, breath hitching.

"What...?"

He barely processed the words, but something warm began to flow through his body—like sunlight after a long night.

He could feel it. His fading life slowly pulled back from the edge.

His breathing steadied bit by bit. The stabbing pain dulled just slightly.

His heart still ached, but… it beat stronger than before.

He managed to lift his trembling hand, ever so slowly, and tapped Aizen's forehead with two fingers.

Aizen flinched, then felt the pulse of life. He stared in shock.

"Didn't I tell you?" Aiyan whispered, blood on his lips. "We're inseparable. And was that... crying I saw, Aizen?"

He chuckled weakly, then coughed up more blood.

Aizen didn't reply. He just held his brother's hand tightly, his expression softening with relief.

The first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, casting golden light on the broken shack.

A new day had come.

For the two brothers—now bound by more than blood—a new chapter had begun.