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Atop the mountain.
Kuchiki Ginrei stood high, peering through a Kidō lens at the unfolding scenes in that tiny village far below.
As over a dozen Adjuchas erged within the Negación, the young boy's expression shifted through a kaleidoscope of emotions.
The old man beside him watched in silence.
Witnessing the grotesque transformation of dozens of villagers, Ginrei instinctively turned to the elder, his already reddened eyes now tinged with incomprehension. "Shōgo-sama… did we really need to use so many Pluses as bait? They're supposed to be…"
He wanted to say innocent.
But before the words could fully form, Tsunayashiro Shōgo cut him off.
The old man's tone was flat. "It's their honor, Ginrei."
Ginrei's face stiffened.
The youthful Heir of the Kuchiki still little more than a teenager, bore the sa traits as any of his age, questioning authority one mont, blindly trusting it the next.
Tsunayashiro Shōgo, the shadowy linchpin of the five noble houses, was undoubtedly one such authority in his eyes.
Ginrei didn't dare argue.
But Shōgo, sensing the boy's unease, pressed on patiently.
"The Rukongai is a birthplace for the dead. These souls contribute nothing to Soul Society, nor do they bear the burden of balancing the three realms as we nobles do. Their sole purpose is to siphon reiatsu, expend it, and return it to the cycle upon death. You need to understand, Ginrei... they're different from us. Even killing them now rely skips the expenditure phase, sending them straight to reincarnation. It's no sin."
Ginrei had never set foot in the Rukongai, never heard how those around him spoke of it. This was his first brush with such a perspective, and his eyes widened in shock.
They look just like us, how can they be re 'things'?!
He couldn't fathom it.
"Hm?"
Just as he opened his mouth to voice his confusion, Shōgo's brow furrowed. The old man's wrinkled face contorted, a flicker of astonishnt breaking through his composure. "That woman… could it be?"
Without a mont's pause, he stepped past Ginrei, barking at the Kidō Corps behind him.
"Erase all traces of the array imdiately. Task force, ergency retreat. We can't stay here."
"Yes, sir!"
The Kidō Corps sprang into action, needing no input from the boy. Their response was swift and precise.
Left standing alone, Ginrei's small face remained etched with bewildernt.
In this Soul Society, too much eluded his grasp.
…
If Makoto's battle was a desperate gamble, a blood-soaked struggle atop a mountain of corpses, clawing for survival with every ounce of his being, then Unohana faced an entirely different beast.
That snow-white figure, her long hair trailing loose, strolled toward the swarm of nos Grande as if on a leisurely walk. She carried no guard, her presence devoid of even a whisper of reiatsu.
Until she stood before the bull-headed Hollow who'd spoken first.
For Adjuchas-tier nos Grande, survival in Hueco Mundo's brutal crucible demanded the ability to endure solo against overwhelming odds. Naturally, they banded into packs, groups of a few or a dozen, where the strongest claid first dibs on prey, hastening their ascent to the pinnacle, Vasto Lorde.
To enforce this ruthless hierarchy, every pack needed a leader with the might to command respect.
The bull-headed Hollow, dubbed Jarquez, was that leader.
Yet, from the mont she approached, it froze.
Utterly still.
"Hey! Jarquez!"
Below, an Adjuchas pawed the ground, its appetite stoked by the tantalizing scent of Reishi. Only Jarquez's dominance held it back, its hoarse cries ringing out.
"Why'd you stop?!"
Unohana turned her head toward the voice.
In that sa instant, before the eyes of the dozen nos Grande, a sharp rip split the silence.
The bull-headed Hollow's massive fra, spanning dozens of ters, parted down the middle. From the vertical seam cleaving its mask to its neck, torso, and tail, it split cleanly in two, broth and all, collapsing in a wet thud to the ground.
In that breathtaking mont, even the most reckless, frenzied Adjuchas fell silent, jaws clamped shut.
They knew Jarquez's strength and their own.
In that fleeting instant, not one had seen when the woman drew her blade.
An eerie stillness lingered for nearly a minute.
Unohana turned her head, her gaze sweeping from left to right over the encircling Adjuchas like a butcher appraising fish on a slab. A faint, scornful curve tugged at her lips.
"Small fry."
Her mature voice carried none of the lilting, girlish pitch one might expect, only a dispassionate recitation as if reading from a bureaucratic scroll.
That single phrase ignited the fury of every Adjuchas before her.
Transford into Hollows, their minds harbored no trace of 'reason.' What little intellect they possessed served as a re tool for survival, restraint and patience were laughable notions to them.
"It's a Zanpakutō!"
"A blade with special powers!"
One among the Adjuchas pack seed to stumble upon a grand revelation, its near-hysterical roar ringing out as if the discovery could bolster their courage.
In truth, they all knew.
What truly stoked their deepest, ravenous greed was the staggering volu of reiatsu this overwhelming strength implied, a beacon of evolutionary potential.
And a fact none dared voice…
They might not escape.
ROOOAR!
The nos Grande's signature, guttural bellows resounded in unison.
A dozen Adjuchas charged toward Unohana as one.
The sheer, terrifying bulk of those titanic beasts dwarfed her petite fra in a visually jarring clash. Their combined mass lood like a tsunami poised to engulf a fragile sandcastle on the shore.
Until a slow smile blood across Unohana's face.
Her pale, slender fingers rested on her hilt, drawing the blade inch by asured inch.
The mirror-bright steel reflected the Adjuchas' frenzied, near-mad contortions.
But the mont that blade swung,
Everything stopped.
Unohana stepped lightly past the behemoths, her stride a stark counterpoint to their thundering rush, like a goddess walking against a herd of stampeding horses.
Yet with each step, blood trailed in her wake.
Every Adjuchas that lunged past her t the fate of an elephant charging a lattice of lasers, gouts of splattered blood, ragged chunks torn asunder, vivid wails, and shattered bone masks.
A chaotic array of debris arced through the air, forming a scattered chain of impacts that rained upon the earth around her.
Not just those at the forefront, even the stragglers goading their kin to die while slinking toward the Hueco Mundo rifts were bisected by a distant, sweeping stroke.
In the Forest of nos, across the lower reaches of Hueco Mundo, these Adjuchas reigned as kings, exalted by countless Gillians. Yet before Unohana, they were frailer than infants.
Not one could withstand a single clash.
When the slaughter was done, the woman seed to have leisure enough to drift back to the village, her eyes settling on Makoto's final strike.
As Makoto held his sheathing stance, on the verge of puffing up with pride, a cool hand suddenly brushed his head.
Unohana gently ruffled his long hair, a trace of satisfaction in her touch at last. "Very nice."
Makoto jolted.
Turning, he glimpsed the vast swathes of splattered corpses strewn behind her.
A chill sank into his gut.
As expected from Unohana-mama!
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