There are no Arrancar in Hell.
Higashi Shuuichi had asked Kuryashiki Kenpachi several tis, and every ti, the answer remained the sa—he'd never seen one.
Back when Kuryashiki stord Hueco Mundo, he'd crossed blades with Baraggan. But at that ti, Baraggan had only just recovered from his centuries-old injuries. He had not yet undergone the transcendence of form and soul that was Resurrection—he hadn't beco an Arrancar.
If even Baraggan hadn't reached that state, then there was no need to ntion the other ancient nos.
Soone like Coyote Starrk—an exception among exceptions—was far too rare.
And without Arrancar, there was no Resurrection.
This was precisely why Shuuichi had little regard for the ancient nos wandering Hell. No matter how massive or violent they were, they hadn't reached that next level.
After all, Shuuichi hadn't risked everything just to help the Douma Clan solve their little spiritual plumbing problem.
He had co to Hell to do what Jūmakurō had done—to absorb the power of the Sinners, and use it to elevate himself.
If he could manage it, he wouldn't even mind helping pave the way for Kurosaki Ichigo's future; becoming the Soul Society's early scout for Hell, and earning the right to wield its power properly—without relying on the Douma Clan's ancestral artifact.
And so Shuuichi naturally set his sights not on the wild beasts, but on the humanoid Sinners—those who had once been notorious criminals in Rukongai.
Of course, he couldn't just say that out loud.
Kuryashiki Kenpachi might ask: Why the hell would you go this far just to obtain such dangerous power?
From Kuryashiki's point of view, Shuuichi's strength already placed him among those untouchable in both Soul Society and Hueco Mundo. Why risk it?
And Shuuichi couldn't very well say, "Because in the future, so guy nad Aizen is going to try to ascend to godhood by stomping Soul Society and reaching the Soul King's Palace. Then, a Quincy nad Yhwach will co on day one and slaughter most of our forces. Oh, and by the way, a rogue noble nad Tokinada is going to cook up a backup Soul King using a corpse and blow everything up again."
Compared to that, his current strength ant nothing. Even Yamamoto Genryūsai—said to be the strongest Shinigami in history—would end up falling.
Without so kind of cheat, without so dumb luck, being Captain-class just ant you were next on the chopping block.
So instead, Shuuichi wore his usual thick-skinned sincerity.
He shared a carefully redacted version of what had happened to Jūmakurō, with a bit of innocent pathos thrown in.
Avenge a respected Captain?
What nobler motive could there be?
Kuryashiki had no reason to refuse him.
But he did have conditions.
If Shuuichi wanted revenge, he would have to earn it himself. No handouts. No stepping in to finish the fight for him.
Otherwise, it wasn't vengeance. It was cowardice.
Shuuichi couldn't agree more. That was exactly what he wanted.
In Hell, there were no maps. No north or south. No markers.
Everything was black, dim, shifting. Even terrain that resembled mountains or valleys held no permanence. A few hours later, it might be gone—or moved.
The sheer power flowing through this world reshaped its landscape like breath reshapes mist.
You moved by instinct. Direction ant nothing.
Shuuichi had no idea how Kuryashiki navigated, but after following the man in a zigzagging path, they finally arrived.
Ahead of them, in a clearing surrounded by ancient nos, was a forest of chaos.
There—Ikeda Yukisuke.
A Mohawked madman, barefoot, draped in the sa tattered black cloak he'd worn in life. A ghost of a criminal. A demon in human skin.
He reveled in the endless battle around him.
Ceros fired from every angle. Fists smashed down like siege engines. Feet stomped like falling towers.
And Yukisuke?
He blocked most of it. Countered all he could. Laughed at the rest.
The few tis he was struck down, he returned within seconds—laughing, reborn amidst blood and smoke.
It was a battle with no end.
Neither side could die. Neither side could win.
Shuuichi thought of Unohana.
She'd love it here.
A savage thought, but not untrue. That woman—sweet and serene in appearance, chaos incarnate inside—would've seen this place not as Hell but as paradise.
If she'd known what Hell truly was, Shuuichi doubted even Kyōraku would've had to convince her. She would've volunteered to die and co down herself.
"Shuuichi, if you want to back out, now's your last chance."
Kuryashiki stood beside him, arms crossed.
"This fight is your test. I won't step in like last ti. You're on your own."
He ant it.
Because Shuuichi hadn't entered Hell through the proper channels, his soul bore no hellbrand.
Which ant—he wasn't immortal.
Sure, the Soul King fragnt embedded in him gave him near-infinite regeneration, but all that did was narrow the gap.
It didn't close it.
"Captain Kuryashiki," Shuuichi said calmly, "I understand. And I won't let you down."
He knew the risks. But he'd made his choice long ago.
He had turned his back on safe promotions and orderly advancent to forcefully drag himself upward.
If he couldn't even pass this trial...
Then he deserved to die here.
"Bankai."
There was no need to hold back.
His Shikai offered only one usable trick in Hell. The other two abilities were ineffective against Sinners—and one was entirely sealed off.
There was no point waiting.
"Dragon of defiance, filth of the earth, wrath unstoppable, source awakened in nightmare. Storm, fla, frost, thunder, stone—erupt through karma, return through ruin, destroy all, return to beginning..."
"Hadō #99: Goryūtentsu—Five Dragons of Annihilation!"
The battle had begun.
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