A rainy night. The wind was still. Ti to leave.
Once everything was "prepared" (which, in truth, ant Higashi Shuuichi didn't prepare anything at all), he pushed open the gateway forged by Yomi Basa.
Beyond the door was blackness—bleak, barren, a boundless wasteland.
First impression: it felt a lot like Hueco Mundo.
Shuuichi stepped through. The gate shut behind him, and Yomi Basa returned to its blade form in his hand.
Then the distant wasteland began to rise like a tidal wave. The barren terrain morphed into tangible spiritual pressure, crashing down around him.
"What the hell is this?!"
It was his first ti experiencing anything this bizarre, but Shuuichi's reaction speed—sharpened by years in the Gotei—didn't fail him.
"Advance, Soldier! The cleverest warrior thrives on deception! Bakudō #73, Fiery Reverse Crystal!"
An inverted pyramid of black spiritual crystal enveloped him in an instant. Flas wreathed its edges, adding a heat-shield layer of defense.
But then ca the light.
Countless beams of light burst across the space, too many to count.
He'd been a sparring dummy in Hueco Mundo enough tis to recognize them imdiately.
Ceros.
As the saying goes, the sound follows the light.
The mont the blinding radiance lit the void, the world exploded in a deafening chain of detonations.
Spiritual particles shattered.
Shuuichi threw everything he had into countering the barrage—blades, movent, defensive kido—but it was all cramped space and ceaseless light. Too many Cerōs. Nowhere to dodge. Nowhere to retreat.
For a mont, he thought he was getting stomped by Coyote Starrk himself.
When the assault finally ended, he crashed to the ground, body mangled, gasping for breath.
His infinite regeneration must've triggered dozens of tis just to keep him alive.
No wonder this place had contained Soul Society's strongest monsters through the ages. Just the "welco package" alone had humbled him completely.
Still, the fault was his.
He hadn't expected Hell's version of a greeting to be instant kill on sight—no warning, no test, no hesitation. Just a full-blown bombardnt.
Only now did Shuuichi see what had attacked him.
An ancient nos, towering several stories high, lood before him. Its head, shaped like a snapping carnivorous plant, was already glowing—another Cerō forming in its throat.
Wait... did I fall from that height?
For so reason, that was the first thought that popped into Shuuichi's head.
He lifted his Zanpakutō.
"Rooted in strategy—Bankai: Blade Behind the Smile!"
A burst of intense spiritual pressure surged from his body. The surge granted by Bankai restored much of his stamina.
And with stamina ca the return of his regenerative ability.
"Pride of Heaven, fortress forged in steel! Dragons soar, lions roar, tigers shriek, wolves run—seal heaven and earth before it all collapses! Bakudō #81: Dankū!"
An eight-petaled black flower blood above him. A translucent barrier ford in the air.
Shuuichi jumped up, one hand pressed to the back of the flower-shield, using it like a buckler to climb through the rain of Cerōs.
A technique he'd learned fighting Cap Hols.
The blasts hamred down like a storm of bullets. He knew Dankū wouldn't hold long.
But—
"I just need to get level with you!"
He made it back to where he'd first fallen.
As he'd suspected, the "endless wasteland" had been a camouflage—just the interior illusion of the giant nos's hollowed skull.
Before Dankū shattered, Shuuichi Shunpo'd to the top of its head. He let the Cerōs pierce his flesh and plunged his Zanpakutō into the Hollow's skull.
A whispered incantation followed.
Explosions and howls rippled through the air, drawing the attention of two more colossal nos from afar.
"Hadō #99: Goryūtentsu!"
Dragons roared from the heavens.
Clouds parted. Mist swirled. And the massive Hollow's body was obliterated—torn apart, consud, annihilated.
But was it over?
Shuuichi wanted to say yes.
But reality refused to play along.
As he watched the creature's body begin reassembling—at a speed he couldn't understand—he realized sothing terrifying.
In Hell, everything has regeneration more broken than his own.
It wasn't just a trait—it was the rule of this world.
And he, Higashi Shuuichi, was the foreigner, the outlier. He didn't get to benefit from this rule.
"This is so bullshit..."
He gripped Yomi Basa tightly.
Hell was more troubleso than he had imagined.
In hindsight, for soone like Makizō Kujin—who might not have even reached captain-class strength—to last even half a day here was practically legendary.
In his current state, Shuuichi could probably kill this nos a few more tis.
But what would be the point?
No matter how many tis he cut it down, it would just regenerate again.
Which left him with only two choices:
Use Yomi Basa to engrave a divine sigil on the nos and "bind" it;
Re-activate Yomi Basa's Shikai, open the gateway, and retreat back to Soul Society.
As for the third option—exploring deeper into Hell—one look at the two approaching ancient nos told him that was a hell no.
Three of these bastards just at the entrance?
Anywhere else had to be even worse.
If more showed up, he might not even have ti to escape with Yomi Basa.
So, after a brief internal struggle, he opted to try Plan A.
He had to at least attempt to achieve sothing.
But ideals are ideal—and reality, well...
Reality was a brutal brawler.
The nos was just too large, too powerful, and too relentless. Shuuichi never got the ti or space needed to engrave the sigil properly.
Every ti he got close, sothing interrupted.
Either the marking spot got blasted apart by Cerō...
Or Shuuichi had to use his Zanpakutō's passive abilities to ease the pressure off himself—at which point, he'd accidentally maim the damn thing again.
And each ti he did that, the nos would do sothing impressive:
Suicide.
It would fire a Cerō into the softest, weakest part of its own body and blow itself up.
Every ti.
Even Shuuichi had to admire the efficiency. It was honestly brilliant.
Eventually, his stamina waned, and he knew this dance couldn't go on forever.
He took out Yomi Basa again.
Ti to go.
Maybe once he'd completed Hollowfication and fused more Soul King fragnts, he'd try again.
But fate—and weird monsters—love to show up late.
Just as he was preparing to open the gate, a white orb, bear-sized, with no limbs, eyes, nose, or ears—just a massive, tooth-filled mouth—floated into view.
And for so reason, Shuuichi felt like the world had grown darker around it.
"Cross the Mortal Shore—Yomi Basa!"
He didn't hesitate.
He Shunpo'd back, initiated Shikai, and cast a protective spell.
"Bakudō #73: Reverse Crystal!"
The familiar blue pyramid ford around him.
He felt no comfort whatsoever.
"Can soone explain... what the hell is this thing?!"
"And how the fuck did it EAT my Bakudō like it was a snack?!"
Shuuichi scread internally.
This thing—whatever it was—was demonic. Freakish.
That Bakudō, in his Bankai state, could take several slashes from Unohana before cracking.
And this thing just gulped it down?
Does that make it stronger than Unohana?!
And there was ANOTHER one nearby.
What kind of divine hellscape was this? So celestial at grinder?
He suddenly wanted to dig up Makizō Kujin and interrogate him.
How the hell did he survive half a day in this place?
Shuuichi estimated he'd been here maybe thirty minutes.
And he was DONE.
It reminded him of a ga he played in his previous life—so kind of military chess.
You flip tiles. Half are allies. Half are enemies.
He'd flipped all enemies.
Just as he prepared to slam Yomi Basa's hilt and flee—
A sandal-clad foot stomped down from the sky, right on top of the dinsional gate, cutting off his escape.
Yomi Basa instantly reverted to sword form.
And a deep, booming voice echoed from above.
"It's been a long ti since I saw a new Shinigami in here. And you're not even wearing a captain's haori?"
"What, kid—did you die before they promoted you?"
Shuuichi looked up.
He saw white.
A flowing captain's haori. And on its back—
A slashed, blade-scarred "11."
"Kuhakuyashiki-taichō?!!"
He gasped the na aloud.
The man smirked.
"Hey, you actually know ?" he said, stroking his chin with one hand, as if trying to rember.
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