Then There Was Only Good News

As long as the Hogyoku remained intact, Aizen Sōsuke's body could be endlessly recreated.

Unless Aizen Sōsuke's will or heart developed a problem, or the not-yet-fully-fused Hogyoku separated from him, sealing was the only way to deal with Aizen Sōsuke.

Thus, having reached this point, Chiba Makoto had no choice but to weigh how much possibility remained of forcibly subduing the supremely arrogant Aizen Sōsuke through sheer force.

The Hogyoku's instability had instead become a major flaw Aizen Sōsuke had exposed.

"Aizen, it seems even the Hogyoku does not completely obey your wishes," Chiba Makoto said probing.

"Merely a slight change in thought."

The tangible Reiryoku fluctuating over Aizen Sōsuke's surface swiftly vanished, and he replied as if unconcerned.

Chiba Makoto's gaze shifted slightly. Looking at the white figure beneath Hueco Mundo's eternal night, he inexplicably sensed a feeling of loneliness from Aizen Sōsuke.

It was a loneliness even more intense than that of every Menos Grande Chiba Makoto had ever encountered.

"What thought?"

Chiba Makoto rarely took the initiative to ask, as though responding to Aizen Sōsuke's earlier assertion that his opinion mattered.

At his words, a flash of delight passed through Aizen Sōsuke's calm eyes, and the corners of his lips rose unconsciously...

Understanding!

At last, Makoto had begun trying to understand each other?

At that moment, Aizen Sōsuke, who was exceptionally skilled at controlling microexpressions, understood that he should not reveal such delight. He should be composed, calm, detached...

After all, only equality could serve as the foundation for maintaining mutual understanding!

Just as admiration was the emotion farthest from understanding, one could not achieve mutual understanding from an excessively weak and humble position.

Yet Aizen Sōsuke suddenly found that suppressing his upturned lips this time was remarkably difficult, even harder than a human in the World