Hueco Mundo—a rippling white desert of pale dunes and endless stillness.
Through a hidden Garganta secretly opened by Kurotsuchi Mayuri, Higashi Shuuichi arrived, bringing with him his subordinate Yoshima Ōshu.
Though Tsunayashiro Tokitani had promised to spread the word about the Arrancar threat, gossip alone wouldn't be enough—it needed a spark. A real, recorded Arrancar assault.
Tokitani wanted to wait for an actual incident to occur.
Shuuichi, however, saw no need. He had his own mod soul experiment in need of a battlefield.
A pretext to draw the Gotei 13's attention to Hueco Mundo—to clear the chessboard.
So he came in person.
But not before checking in with his former patron, Aizen Sōsuke.
Aizen had nothing but contempt for Tokitani and gave Shuuichi a casual go-ahead.
To Aizen, Hueco Mundo's Hollows were nothing but experimental waste. Failed Arrancar needed culling anyway. If Shuuichi was willing to clean house, so be it—just don't kill Szayelaporro, Aizen's favorite lab assistant.
Even if Shuuichi wanted to take down the likes of Starrk or Baraggan, Aizen wouldn't interfere.
It fit perfectly with what Shuuichi expected of Aizen—the kind of boss who used people the same way he used chess pieces: cold, calculating, indifferent.
Had Shuuichi not proved his worth during the Kōkaku rebellion incident—an attempt to drag Squad Zero into noble affairs—he'd have vanished as mere collateral.
"Lord Shuuichi, this is… Hueco Mundo?"
Yoshima Ōshu's boots sank into the white sand, excitement brimming in his voice. He hadn't expected this. One moment he was running final diagnostics on the prototype mod souls, the next, Shuuichi was requesting Mayuri bring him along.
He thought he'd have to earn his place beside Shuuichi.
But no—
Lord Shuuichi really does care…
"First time here?" Shuuichi asked.
"Yes! Thank you for the opportunity! I'll give it my all!" Ōshu said, voice trembling with zeal.
Shuuichi found his enthusiasm slightly overblown. He only brought him along because grabbing a random Hollow for testing was dull work. Better to train Ōshu on-site—he'd be part of the coming operation after all.
The fact that Ōshu still hadn't achieved Bankai was a red flag. Shuuichi doubted he could serve as the "final boss" of the mod soul experiment without it.
Soul Society's power may have dropped slightly since the war, but not enough to make up for incompetence.
If Ōshu collapsed in ten seconds, what dignity would that leave Shuuichi when facing Yamamoto?
He didn't want to hear Tokitani's smug voice say: You're betraying the Gotei over a weakling like that?
Hueco Mundo wasn't massive, but it wasn't small either.
As they journeyed toward Las Noches, Shuuichi tutored Ōshu in Zanpakutō mastery and clarified long-held Kidō questions.
Soon, several spiritual pressures closed in.
"What's wrong, Lord Shuuichi?"
"Hollows… incoming."
He raised a hand and snapped his fingers.
Bakudō #26 – Kyokkō.
A thin veil of reishi shimmered over them, merging them into the landscape.
"Didn't you say this Kidō was useless?" Ōshu whispered.
Shuuichi nodded. "In Soul Society, yes. But not here. Hueco Mundo's reishi is denser, and most Hollows lack spiritual awareness training. Kyokkō is enough."
Moments later, they saw them—four female Arrancar, bloodied and fleeing, pursued by a single unharmed male Arrancar.
Shuuichi recognized all five.
The worst injured, with brown skin, emerald eyes, and armor that barely concealed her ample chest, was Tier Harribel—future Espada No. 3. There was no tattoo yet—she hadn't joined Aizen's ranks.
Flanking her were:
Emilou Apacci, blue-black bob haircut, rhino-like mask fragment.
Cyan Sung-Sun, long green bangs, three teardrop markings beneath one eye.
Bringing up the rear: towering, voluptuous, dark-haired Franceska Mila Rose, injured but pausing—choosing to delay the pursuer for the others.
Their attacker was unmistakable.
Charlotte Chuhlhourne—Baraggan's Primera Fracción. A walking contradiction: hulking muscles wrapped in frilly pink and garish makeup. Death Barbie incarnate.
If Charlotte was involved, the reason was obvious:
Harribel must have rejected Baraggan's invitation again.
Shuuichi remembered: even before her Arrancar conversion, Harribel—then a Vasto Lorde—refused to grow stronger by devouring others. She rejected Baraggan, and later only joined Aizen out of gratitude, never respect.
She detested the Espada. Especially Szayelaporro and his sadistic experiments.
A Hollow with principles—a rare breed indeed.
But now came the question: Who should Shuuichi support?
Harribel and her comrades?
Or Charlotte, Baraggan's lapdog?
Or both?
Memories surfaced—every petty excuse Baraggan ever used to challenge him. The answer was obvious.
"Ōshu."
"Yes, Lord Shuuichi!"
"That flamboyant creep? He's yours."
No personal vendetta involved. Really.
Meanwhile, Mila Rose turned to face Charlotte. Harribel shouted behind her.
"Mila! Who told you to stay behind?! Get back!"
Mila refused. "Don't worry about me, Harribel-sama!"
She raised her giant broadsword, prepared to intercept Charlotte's brutal arc of light.
"Damn it, Mila!"
Harribel's body couldn't move. She'd taken Baraggan's aging power head-on. No Sonído, no Resurrección. They'd only gotten this far because Charlotte had been toying with them.
Now all she could do… was wait for a miracle.
But will one come…?
Charlotte grinned from above.
"Why stop running? Was I too fast~? I can slow down, you know!"
She posed dramatically.
"Oh~? You wanna fight back now? Well then! Behold the dazzling, elegant, spellbinding, Euro-chic, ECONOMIC, and SUPERHUMAN brilliance of—Charlotte Chuhlhourne!"
He swung his glowing blade.
"MILA!"
Harribel screamed.
She knew this technique. It had once torn through her defenses. Mila couldn't stop it. Not in this state. Not with one arm.
But Mila stood tall.
At least let me buy her time to escape.
She didn't flinch.
And then—
A cold, clear male voice echoed from behind them.
"Bakudō #81 – Dankū."
A transparent reishi barrier snapped into place between Mila and Charlotte's attack.
At its center—an eight-petaled black blossom bloomed.
The blast vanished like mist hitting glass.
"Bakudō? A… Shinigami?!"
Charlotte stared.
But what stood there wasn't a Shinigami—it was a Hollow, mask still intact, not yet Arrancar. Beside him stood a green-haired man—clearly Shinigami.
"Who are you?! Why hasn't Charlotte Chuhlhourne ever seen you before?"
As Baraggan's top servant, he thought he knew all the heavy-hitters.
This made no sense.
Shuuichi only replied with a low scoff.
Beside him, Ōshu's eyes lit up.
He'd been waiting.
From his hands, a silent chant poured out—refined through Shuuichi's tutelage.
"A sigil of filth, chaotic talent unrestrained. Surge, deny, paralyze—strike down the sleeper.
Crawling iron princess, self-mutilating clay doll—
Bind, rebound, spiral to earth, know your helplessness!"
Hadō #90 – Kurohitsugi.
A black coffin exploded from the ground, swallowing Charlotte whole.
"I did it!"
Ōshu squealed like a child.
"Battle's not over, Ōshu."
Shuuichi shook his head with a sigh.
Ōshu quickly apologized, drew his Zanpakutō, and dashed toward the coffin to finish the job.
He ran right past Harribel's group—completely ignoring them.
They stared.
Was this man… an ally?
He used Bakudō, but his face bore a Hollow's mask. The other was clearly Shinigami.
But they'd… saved them?
Harribel's mind reeled.
And yet…
As Ōshu charged past without a glance, she locked eyes with Shuuichi.
Then slowly, silently, she gathered her Fracción—Mila, Sung-Sun, Apacci—and stepped toward him.
Because maybe, just maybe—
This man… was their miracle.