"Captain Saitō, it's this way."
"A bit further ahead."
A voice cut through the swirling sand, sharp and commanding.
He clutched a new positioning device from the Research and Developnt Institute, its dials twitching as he asured the air, leading the charge.
Spotting a clue, he shouted back...
But before he could finish, a petite figure streaked past like a gale. Her full-force Shunpo outpaced even a Hollow's Sonído by a hair, twin deep-purple ponytails whipping into taut lines.
With a sword at her hip, Saitō Furofushi raced toward the faint echo of imnse reiatsu residue. Her face lacked its usual thrill for battle, her single eye shadowed with rare gravity.
Yorita Shiba, upon returning to the Genji School, had recounted how Makoto and Sasakibe faced Hollows, staying behind to hold the line.
Sasakibe's fate mattered little.
But Makoto…
In every sense, he was a cornerstone of the Genji School now.
When the news broke that he'd faced a Vasto Lorde and an Adjuchas alone, despair gripped the school. Even a seasoned, middling instructor could perish against such odds if careless.
Let alone Makoto, a genius yet to fully bloom.
Yet among those guarding the site, only Katori stood dazed, while Saitō and another fiercely objected.
In the end, Unohana now overseeing the crisis, set the tone.
"He should survive."
Her face remained a mask as she spoke.
But Saitō, long accustod to that fiend, caught a faint thread of expectation in her words.
"Damn it, isn't he your student?!"
Saitō muttered a curse, unsure what she was even railing against, her steps quickening.
Whoosh!
She reappeared at the heart of a desolate plain.
Her gaze fixed on the center, thick with abnormal reiatsu traces.
There, a figure lay, life or death uncertain.
Saitō's lone eye widened. In a flash, she knelt beside him, rolling him over.
Makoto!
Her thin lips pressed tight, her eye flickering with an unreadable emotion, no trace of panic or doubt. Her pale hand pressed his chest, delicate reiatsu probing his Saketsu.
One touch and relief washed over her.
Her taut lips parted into a faint, grateful smile.
Reiatsu remained!
But…
Still buoyed by that thought, Saitō scanned the flattened expanse around them.
The near-deserted plain clashed starkly with the darker, weed-choked soil beyond.
"This kid's foe was no pushover."
A rare thrill crept into her voice, her serpentine tongue brushing her lips, her eye glinting.
Then, closer inspection revealed more. She stepped before Makoto, eyeing dark bloodstains on the ground.
Marks of his enemy's wounds, perhaps?
Given her Zanpakutō's blood affinity, Saitō crouched habitually, fingers grazing the stain.
The mont they brushed the sand, it sank inward.
Saitō froze.
This depression… a sword mark?
A hunch sparked. She whipped around to Makoto, then flung out a hand, unleashing a gust of pressure.
A howl tore through the air, clearing a hundred-ter radius of dust.
Beneath lay a vast pit, once hidden.
Saitō stood silently before Makoto, staring at a gash stretching to the horizon, endless. Her eyes widened.
She stood dazed, lost in thought.
After a long pause...
The twin-tailed girl stomped her foot, grinding it into Makoto's face, fury boiling over as she bellowed.
"You bastard!"
"You really only swing a blade like this in a life-or-death pinch?!"
"You're… pissing off!"
"I've never even seen it!"
Mid-rant, she spun, ponytails arcing like wings, her voice rising.
"Hey dical team, hurry up, baldy!"
Beneath Makoto's grip, the scabbard's cords swayed, two pairs of pink-and-white tabi charms fluttering in the breeze, then settling.
Tied tight.
…
Hueco Mundo.
Sand churned under a moonlit sky.
In the Hollow world, night reigned eternal.
White desert dunes rippled, shifting with the wind, dotted by rare skeletal trees in the far distance.
Crouch low and the sand grains revealed their truth.
Each speck was a minuscule Hollow, souls of insects, bacteria, and fungi, too weak to stand alone, amassed over eons across Hueco Mundo's endless wastes.
Normally, they'd clash and devour, vying to evolve. Sensing strong reiatsu, they'd play dead or be crushed outright.
A larger Hollow, half-dead, mask intact, immobile, beca their feast.
Today, though, luck ran dry.
Clack!
A hoof sank into the sand, leaving a shallow pit.
Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck trudged forward, each step a labor. One hand gripped her lance, the other dragged Buchā's halved form.
No Gillian or higher road nearby.
Proximity to the 'Soul Society passage' had lured most into that fleeting 'paradise.'
Thus, Hueco Mundo grew oddly safe.
A wound on Neliel's right chest knit slowly.
Lacking High-Speed Regeneration, she relied on saliva for healing.
Her Vasto Lorde resilience nearly inhuman had borne her through that grievous blow, dragging her back to this desert.
Exhausted, she found a wind-shielding rock.
She tossed Buchā aside to recover, then curled her hooves beneath her, enduring pain as she waited to nd.
"S-Sorry, my lord."
Buchā's voice trembled with guilt, "This ti, I dragged you down."
"To have you haul this broken husk…"
"I-I deserve death!"
"Useless as I am… please, eat !"
Neliel lay still, eyes half-closed.
"I've told you."
"Stop saying such nonsense, Buchā."
"But your wounds…"
The Adjuchas pressed on.
She lifted her head, fixing him with a glance.
Buchā fell silent, tending his own injuries.
"Oh, my lord."
As if recalling sothing or unable to hold back, Buchā whispered, "What happened back there?"
"Why didn't you kill that Shinigami?"
"Eating him could've restored so strength, no?"
To Buchā, she'd rely locked eyes with the Shinigami.
Then, the tide turned cataclysmically.
An onlooker, he'd missed everything within the Script.
Still oblivious now.
Clearly...
Playlife's events eluded real-world witnesses.
"…"
Neliel fell silent.
Her mind drifted to the arena clash with that Shinigami.
Ti had passed, and even her simple heart grasped the oddity of their duel.
Yes.
A Shinigami with reiatsu five tis hers, how could he match her in close combat?
Hollows rarely fought with weapons, relying on claws and limbs, yet Neliel felt Makoto's Zanjutsu outclassed her self-taught spearmanship by leagues.
If… if he'd gone all out, crushing her outright in that arena...
She pictured him chained, helpless, and slipped herself into that scene.
Her antelope body bound tight, hands and hooves pinned, sprawled pitifully, reiatsu drained, powerless. Chains yanked outward, her trembling tail hugging low, failing to shield her ass…
The re thought chilled her to the bone.
Wouldn't he have had his way with her?
Had that happened, even victory would've scarred her soul.
Thankfully, he hadn't.
Instead… he'd left the script's end in her hands.
Her gaze softened with complexity.
Dignity or life...
Which mattered more?
"…Makoto Fujimiya, huh?"
That stranger's na etched itself indelibly into her depths.
A warped, perverse inner world, yet a strangely honorable soul?
The paradox left her at a loss.
For a long while, she'd steer clear of the Soul Society.
"My lord?"
Buchā missed her shifting eyes.
Neliel's cheeks flushed instinctively and her head turned aside. Three faint pink hearts glead in her night-shadowed pupils as she murmured.
"Let's… call it repaying a favor."
"Huh?"
...
As they spoke, both snapped their heads up.
Far on Hueco Mundo's eternal horizon, a blinding flare erupted.
It pierced the sky.
***
Bonus Chapter:
100 Power Stones = 1 BC
300 Power Stones = 2 BC
500 Power Stones = 3 BC
700 Power Stones = 4 BC
1000 Power Stones = 5 BC
***
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