Seventh secret: Too, too brief
[The feed clicks on to reveal Aizen kneeling before a low wooden writing desk, apparently within one of the Japanese houses. He has a brush in hand, holding it to his lips in a thoughtful gesture, but no paper. He also looks profoundly - not quite distressed, it's deeper than that, and at the same time, quieter.
His glance at the PCD is reluctant.]
Pardon my asking at such a time, but... how certain are we that these Animus are indeed capable of this feat that they intend? If they are truly the masters of comings and goings here, then surely...
[He trails off. His hands clearly seek paper as he holds the brush, compelled to put thought to writing. But he has no paper, and the thoughts press.]
I know that you will not accept this from me... Hitsugaya-taicho, Matsumoto-fukutaicho... Inoue-san... but I am sorry. I am so sorry. What I go to terrifies me. If only I had more time...
[A moment later he despairs of it, and covers the PCD with his hands before the feed is switched off.]
His glance at the PCD is reluctant.]
Pardon my asking at such a time, but... how certain are we that these Animus are indeed capable of this feat that they intend? If they are truly the masters of comings and goings here, then surely...
[He trails off. His hands clearly seek paper as he holds the brush, compelled to put thought to writing. But he has no paper, and the thoughts press.]
I know that you will not accept this from me... Hitsugaya-taicho, Matsumoto-fukutaicho... Inoue-san... but I am sorry. I am so sorry. What I go to terrifies me. If only I had more time...
[A moment later he despairs of it, and covers the PCD with his hands before the feed is switched off.]