Originally, Makoto thought having friends like Ikkaku and Ayasegawa was already a blessing, but little did he expect that Aizen was even more extraordinary.
Ikkaku was straightforward, his thoughts revolving solely around battle. Thinking beyond combat often led to decisions that left others speechless. Ayasegawa, on the other hand, had one clear goal: to recruit Makoto into the Eleventh Division. He sought every opportunity to get closer to Makoto and further his "research" on him.
Ayasegawa believed his intentions were well-concealed, but Makoto had long since noticed the scheming glint in his friend's eye.
They were all seasoned warriors, their zanpakutōs perpetually semi-released. How could they not see through each other's machinations?
As for Aizen's claim of being a friend—Makoto naturally didn't trust it.
Yet... the deaths of three seated officers and twenty-three squad members from the Tenth Division weighed heavily on him. Among them was Kujo Taimei, a sharp-tongued but warm-hearted man Makoto had come to know well.
"Sigh…"
Makoto let out a deep sigh, his heart heavy with sorrow and helplessness.
Even if he hadn't held back at the time, the spiritual pressure gap between himself and the Adjuchas-class Menos Grande—equivalent to a Captain-level Shinigami—meant the outcome wouldn't have changed.
Instead, assisting the Tenth Division by binding the not-so-intelligent Adjuchas with bakudō while awaiting reinforcement from the Seireitei had been the best decision under the circumstances.
Suddenly, Makoto frowned, recalling a fleeting moment during the battle. A deadly lapse in focus had occurred—not just for him but for all the Tenth Division Shinigami's
Was it the Adjuchas' ability? Or… Aizen's doing?
Aizen, noticing Makoto's furrowed brow and melancholic expression, offered soothing words.
"Makoto, this news is tragic, but you did your best. Don't blame yourself too much."
Makoto weakly shook his head, guilt weighing down his words.
"No… If I had done better, maybe I could have saved more lives. I… bear undeniable responsibility. Vice-Captain Aizen, I just need some time alone."
Aizen's warm gaze lingered on Makoto for several seconds, enough to unsettle him, before the vice-captain nodded and said, "Take your time to rest. We'll talk again once you've recovered."
"Mm…"
Pale and feeble, Makoto responded dismissively, as if consumed by grief and self-blame.
Just as Aizen was about to lift the tent flap and leave, he paused and turned back.
"Makoto, even your spiritual pressure is almost completely gone. That proves you truly gave it your all. Perhaps their sacrifice was simply fate's arrangement."
"Spiritual pressure… gone…"
The phrase sent a jolt through Makoto's heart, though he betrayed no reaction outwardly. Years of practice had perfected his facade.
Outside, Aizen's steps faltered as his calm eyes momentarily flared with intensity.
The spiritual pressure… had returned.
To confirm his suspicion, Aizen had approached Makoto earlier, observing him closely. Now, it was undeniable—Makoto's spiritual pressure had resurfaced.
Moreover, Aizen recalled the terrifying injuries Makoto had sustained—nearly half his body obliterated by a Cero blast. Yet now…
He had healed.
Not from Unohana's treatment. No, this recovery resembled a Hollow's high-speed regeneration. Makoto's wounds had completely healed on their own.
Aizen halted outside the tent, turning back with an obsessive gleam in his eyes.
'Makoto… have you begun to transcend the limits of a Shinigami? Not through external means, but through your own power?'
'Oh, Makoto… could you be a peer, standing on the same height as I? This is exhilarating… fascinating…'
'I must uncover everything you're hiding…'
For over ten seconds, Aizen stood outside the tent, staring at Makoto's silhouette as if gazing at a long-lost companion capable of truly understanding him.
A slow, exaggerated smile spread across his face, betraying an unmistakable arrogance tinged with loneliness.
"Makoto, you must feel it too… Under fate's arrangement, we, who stand at the same height, are being drawn closer together…"
Inside the tent, Makoto shifted, rubbing his numb backside.
Pretending to be gravely injured wasn't as glamorous as it seemed—lying down all day had made his rear sore.
He began to methodically review his interactions with Aizen.
The coincidental encounter in the medical department…
At the time, he had informed Unohana to reject Aizen under the Fourth Division's name, ensuring no loose ends.
Later, he had joined Unohana in investigating the soul disappearance incidents, only to be attacked by the Adjuchas.
The mastermind behind the disappearances was undoubtedly Aizen, who was likely experimenting with the creation of the Hōgyoku…
As for the Adjuchas' attack, given Aizen's cunning personality, it had likely been orchestrated to deflect suspicion onto the Hollow, thereby resolving the crisis without implicating himself.
'Still… Aizen shouldn't know how much I already suspect. We've only directly interacted twice…'
'The only potential risk is if Aizen witnessed my true shikai—Shinro Bansho—and the moment of Perfect Spirit Body Transformation when my spiritual pressure vanished.'
'Should I secretly alert Unohana-sensei and suggest stabbing Aizen in the back? She might uncover his schemes and expose his true nature…'
'Too risky…'
'Aizen's intellect and foresight are unparalleled. Such a move might backfire and reveal my hand.'
'Perhaps I'm overthinking. Everyone is trapped in their own bubble of knowledge. Aizen's arrogance may blind him to my significance…'
Having mastered Shinro Bansho's true power, Makoto felt reassured. It was a trump card that drastically enhanced his survivability.
For now, avoiding direct conflict with Aizen and focusing on strengthening his Perfect Spirit Body transformation was the wisest path.
With that thought, Makoto abandoned the notion of stabbing his "friend" Aizen.
For him, planting seeds and achieving Perfect Spirit Body remained the utmost priority. Delaying confrontation with Aizen would only work to his advantage.
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