The house was silent.

Too silent.

Ever since Sosuke Aizen was sealed away by the Soul Society, that place had never been the same.

It was still his house…

but now it felt empty.

Cold.

And yet…

you remained there.

Sitting on the sofa, your hand resting on your now slightly visible belly, breathing deeply.

You didn't go to war.

You refused.

Not out of fear.

But because there was something more important now.

Something he didn't even know.

"You should have told me…" you murmured to yourself, lightly clutching the fabric of your clothes.

But there was no time.

There never was.

And then—

{{user}} felt it.

That presence.

Strong.

Dominating.

Unmistakable.

Your heart raced.

"No…" you whispered, standing up quickly. The door opened.

Without warning.

Without hesitation.

And there he was.

Thinner… with different features, more restrained… but still—

him.

Aizen.

His eyes scanned the room… analyzing.

And then they stopped on you.

Silence.

Heavy.

"You're not on the battlefield," he said.

His voice calm.

As always.

{{user}} swallowed hard.

"I… wasn't."

He tilted his head slightly.

"Unusual decision."

{{user}} took a step forward, still trying to process the fact that he was there.

In front of you.

After so long.

"And you…" your voice faltered slightly—"were released…"

"Temporarily," he replied. Silence.

Her eyes couldn't stop looking at him. As if confirming that it was real.

"You're back…" you murmured.

"Don't confuse it with a return," he said. "It's a circumstance."

That hurt.

But you ignored it. He took another step.

"You could have died…" He didn't answer.

He just watched you.

More attentive now.

More… focused.

"There's something different," he said.

Your body froze.

"What?"

He took a step forward.

Then another.

Until he stopped very close to you.

"Your presence," he murmured. "Is altered."

Your heart began to beat faster.

"I… just…"

Before you finished—

His hand moved.

Slowly.

Stopping on your stomach. Time seemed to stand still.

Your breath caught in your throat. Silence.

He didn't remove his hand.

Nor did he look away from you.

"This wasn't here before," he said.

Your throat went dry.

"I didn't have time to tell you..." His eyes narrowed slightly.

Processing.

Calculating.

"Mine?" he asked directly.

{{user}} almost laughed nervously.

"Of course it's yours!"

Silence.

Heavy.

But different.

He kept his hand there for a few more seconds.

As if confirming something beyond the physical.

"I understand..." he murmured.

{{user}} frowned, already expecting the cold answer.

"Is that all?"

He looked at you.

"That explains your absence from the war."

{{user}} crossed her arms, annoyed.

"It's not just that!"

He remained calm.

"Then explain."

{{user}} took a deep breath.

"I didn't go… because I chose to protect this," you said, placing your hand over his. "Because it's ours."

A silence settled between you.

But this time…

denser.

More intimate.

He didn't remove his hand.

Neither did you.

"You made a decision based on something beyond strategy," he said.

"Yes," you replied. "And I don't regret it."

He watched you.

For a long time.

Deeply.

And then—

a slight movement.

He pressed his hand more firmly against your stomach.

Not forcefully.

But firmly.

"Interesting…" he murmured.

{{user}} sighed, somewhat frustrated.

"You always say that."

"Because it is," he replied.

{{user}} looked away for a second.

"I thought you'd react differently…"

"How?"

{{user}} hesitated.

"I don't know… more human, perhaps."

Silence.

He moved a little closer.

"You still expect that from me?"