Darkness.
Kurokujaku's consciousness floated within a void deeper than any abyss he had ever known. No sound, no weight, no shape—only an endless expanse of nothingness.
And then, there was pain.
A surge of raw, searing energy coursed through him, reshaping his very being. His body—no, his existence—was unraveling and being stitched back together in a new form, something beyond what he had once been.
His mind pulsed with the weight of evolution.
The power of Oblivion wrapped around him, consuming and remaking him in its image. He was no longer a creature ruled by instinct and hunger—his essence was being refined into something sharper, deadlier, and more complete.
And then—he felt it.
Heat.
A rush of warmth spread through him, unlike the cold hollowness of Hueco Mundo. His first sensation in this new body was the pulse of his own lifeblood, something he had not felt since his death as a human.
His eyes snapped open.
Golden irises gleamed as his vision adjusted to the world once more. The darkness of the Forest of Menos remained, but something was different.
He could feel everything.
The air brushed against his bare skin—warm, alive.
Not bone. Not a monster's hide.
Flesh.
His hands twitched. His fingers, now human in form, curled into a fist. The sensation sent a shiver of powerful euphoria through him.
A body. A true body.
He looked down at himself, drinking in every detail.
His chest was broad and toned, covered in faint, ethereal markings that glowed for a brief moment before fading into his tanned skin.
A layer of bone-like armor adorned his shoulders, layered like the elegant yet menacing plumage of a raven and peacock fused together. The feathered pauldrons of his former form remained, now hardened into sleek, segmented armor that extended down his back like the folded wings of a predator.
He traced a hand over his face.
His mask was gone—no longer an oppressive cage, but instead a remnant. A sharp, elegant fragment ran along his jawline, curving up toward his temples like a crown.
His once-hollow golden eyes gleamed with sentience. With control.
And then—his gaze dropped to the object embedded in the sand before him.
A blade.
His hand reached for it before his mind even caught up.
Fingers wrapped around the hilt, and the moment his grip tightened—it spoke to him.
Not in words, but in power.
A pulse of energy surged up his arm, an understanding forging itself in his soul. This was no ordinary sword.
This was him.
A manifestation of everything he was, everything he had been, and everything he would become.
The blade was long and elegant, obsidian black with silver engravings that shimmered like dying stars. The guard took the shape of a peacock's fanned tail, its edges sharp as blades, its design intricate yet lethal.
Kurokujaku exhaled, the breath shaky—not from weakness, but from elation.
He raised the sword, inspecting it under the pale light of Hueco Mundo's eternal moon.
This was freedom.
This was evolution.
He flexed his new power. His spiritual pressure stirred, no longer the wild, overwhelming aura of a Hollow, but something refined, controlled, and devastating.
This was what he had sought.
This was what he was meant to be.
A smirk pulled at his lips.
"…So this is what it means to be an...Arrancar."
His golden eyes gleamed as he took his first step into his new existence.
The old Kurokujaku was gone.
What remained was something greater.
Something worthy of the name he would carve into history.
The soft echo of slow, deliberate clapping filled the quiet expanse of the Forest of Menos.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Kurokujaku's golden eyes flicked to the source of the sound, his grip tightening on his newly formed blade. His instincts—razor-sharp even after his transformation—warned him that whoever had approached was no mere Hollow.
From the shadows of the towering quartz trees, a figure emerged.
Sōsuke Aizen.
His pristine white haori and black Shinigami robes stood in stark contrast to the muted hues of Hueco Mundo's eternal night. His presence was impossibly calm, his reiatsu refined to the point of absolute control. Even though Kurokujaku could tell it was vast, it felt as if Aizen allowed only a fraction of it to be sensed—like a bottomless abyss veiled beneath still waters.
Aizen's brown eyes held a glint of intrigue as he observed Kurokujaku's new form. The slow claps came to a halt as a faint smile curled his lips.
"Magnificent. Truly magnificent."
Kurokujaku remained silent, his sword still raised slightly at his side. He studied Aizen carefully, analyzing the presence of the man who now stood before him. He had sensed powerful beings before, but this—this was different.
This man is no ordinary Shinigami.
"You are exactly what I expected… No—more than that. You have exceeded even my expectations," Aizen continued, his voice smooth as silk. "The moment I sensed your transformation, I knew you would be special."
Kurokujaku tilted his head, his golden gaze flickering with both curiosity and wariness. "And who, exactly, are you?"
Aizen chuckled softly. "Ah, forgive my lack of introductions. My name is Sōsuke Aizen. I am the one who will reshape the very balance of this world."
Kurokujaku's brow raised slightly. "Ambitious."
"I prefer to call it inevitable." Aizen's smirk widened, and he gestured toward him. "And I would like you to be part of that inevitability."
Kurokujaku remained silent for a moment before speaking, his voice cool. "You say that as if you already know my answer."
Aizen's eyes gleamed. "Because I do."
The boldness of the statement would have irritated a lesser being, but Kurokujaku simply stared, intrigued. There was a confidence in this man—not arrogance, but something more calculated, as though he had already seen the path laid before them.
"You are not the only one to achieve this evolution," Aizen continued, his tone carrying a hint of amusement at Kurokujaku's slight shift in posture. "There are others like you—Arrancar who have transcended the limitations of Hollows. Beings who, like yourself, have shattered their masks and emerged as something far greater."
Kurokujaku's fingers drummed against the hilt of his sword. "…Others?"
"Yes." Aizen's expression didn't change, but there was a glint of satisfaction in his gaze. "I have gathered them under my banner. The strongest of them bear the title of Espada—my elite warriors. Each one represents the pinnacle of Hollow evolution, wielding power that even the Soul Reapers would fear."
The idea intrigued Kurokujaku. He had always pursued strength, always sought to evolve beyond his limits, and now he had proof that he was not alone in this ascension. Others had achieved what he had. Others had shattered their masks and claimed their own power.
And yet, a question remained.
"…And why do you seek me?"
Aizen chuckled, as if the answer was obvious. "Because your potential is limitless."
For a brief moment, silence stretched between them, tension unspoken but undeniable.
Then, Kurokujaku exhaled softly and sheathed his sword. His golden eyes gleamed as he took a step forward.
"Show me."
Aizen's smirk deepened.
"Come, then. Welcome to Las Noches."
The journey across Hueco Mundo was silent at first. The endless white sands stretched before them, illuminated only by the pale moon that had never changed.
Kurokujaku walked beside Aizen, his strides measured and composed, his golden eyes flickering with a quiet intensity. The weight of his new existence was still settling in, his senses heightened, his awareness sharpened. Every grain of sand beneath his feet, every ripple of spiritual energy in the air—everything felt more real than before.
Aizen, as always, was unreadable. His presence was like a calm sea, concealing the depths beneath.
For a time, neither spoke.
Then, Kurokujaku broke the silence.
"You spoke of inevitability." His voice was smooth, curious but laced with something keen—something testing. "That our gathering under you is fated. Is that what you truly believe, or is it simply convenient?"
Aizen smiled, his gaze forward. "Fate is an illusion, Kurokujaku. It is a story the weak tell themselves to justify their stagnation. I do not believe in fate—I believe in will. My own. Yours. The will to elevate beyond the chains that bind lesser beings."
Kurokujaku hummed in understanding, his clawed fingers drumming lightly against the hilt of his sheathed sword. "And yet, you gather us—Hollows, Arrancar. Why?"
Aizen glanced at him, his expression unreadable but his eyes piercing. "Because you are proof of my ideals. The Soul Society sees Hollows as mindless, as nothing but monsters to be slain. But look at you. You were born in darkness, shaped by conflict, yet you have evolved beyond them. You now stand as a higher existence. Just as I knew you would."
Kurokujaku chuckled, low and rich. "You're an interesting man, Aizen. Most Shinigami seek to destroy us. You, however, seem intent on molding us."
"Destruction is easy. Evolution is the true challenge." Aizen's tone carried a quiet confidence, a certainty that was neither boastful nor forced. "Las Noches is more than a stronghold. It is the foundation of a new order. One in which beings like you—like us—are not bound by the laws of lesser minds."
Kurokujaku's golden eyes gleamed in the moonlight. He understood the unspoken message.
You are not beneath me. You are part of something greater.
He smirked. "You certainly know how to make a compelling argument. But tell me…" He turned his gaze toward Aizen, studying him. "Do you expect obedience? Blind loyalty?"
Aizen chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No. That is not what I want from you. I did not approach you to demand submission—I approached because I knew you would recognize what I offer."
Kurokujaku's smirk lingered. "Power. Purpose. And a battlefield worth fighting for."
Aizen's smile deepened, his brown eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Exactly."
The two walked in silence for a few more moments, the wind whispering across the dunes.
Kurokujaku exhaled, gaze forward. "Very well. Show me this Las Noches of yours."
Aizen didn't need to respond. He simply led the way.
And Kurokujaku followed.
The grand halls of Las Noches stretched wide before Kurokujaku, an expanse of pale stone and eerie stillness. The presence of Hollows was suffocating yet strangely refined. Unlike the wild and untamed beasts of Hueco Mundo's deserts, these beings exuded control, purpose—strength.
Aizen led him forward, his steps calm, measured. Kurokujaku followed, his golden eyes sweeping the halls, already analyzing.
At the far end of the chamber stood the Espada.
Each one distinct, each one radiating their own presence.
Cirucci Sanderwicci, arms crossed, her sharp, purple eyes scanning him with a mix of disdain and curiosity. Her pink hair was wild, her long lashes framing an expression of arrogance.
Gantenbainne Mosqueda, broad and imposing, his afro adding to his already formidable presence. His expression was unreadable, but there was an underlying amusement in his dark eyes.
Dordoni Alessandro Del Socaccio, smirking with a cocky air, his curled mustache twitching as he tilted his head, evaluating the newcomer.
Nnoitra Gilga, standing with that ever-present sneer, his single visible eye narrowing. The moment Kurokujaku met his gaze, he could feel it—resentment.
Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck, composed, elegant. Though she said nothing at first, her green eyes lingered on him, analyzing, calculating.
And at the farthest end, leaning lazily against the wall, was Starrk. His half-lidded eyes barely flickered toward Kurokujaku, as though the entire event was too much effort to care about.
Finally, Baraggan Louisenbairn, the self-proclaimed "God-King" of Hueco Mundo, sat upon his self-fashioned throne of stone and bone, exuding an air of inevitability.
Aizen took a step forward, his voice calm, but absolute.
"I have brought you all here to meet our newest addition. He has only just ascended, yet he has already proven himself worthy of standing among you."
The reactions varied.
Cirucci scoffed. "Another one? Aizen-sama, I do hope he's more impressive than the last disappointments."
Dordoni grinned. "Hah! A fresh-faced Arrancar, eh? I hope he's got some bravado, or else he won't last long!"
Gantenbainne nodded slowly. "He carries himself well. I'll reserve judgment until I see his abilities."
Nnoitra clicked his tongue, rolling his shoulders. "Tch. Another weakling to fill the ranks? What a joke."
Kurokujaku turned his gaze on him, smirking slightly. "You seem awfully pressed about my presence, Nnoitra. Why is that? Did someone already take your spot?"
The sneer twisted into something darker, but before Nnoitra could respond, Aizen spoke.
"There will be a shift in ranks. Based on what I have seen of Kurokujaku's abilities, he will take his place as Espada Número Tres."
A ripple of reactions.
Cirucci's expression froze, her arrogance flickering into something closer to shock before she quickly masked it.
Dordoni let out a low whistle. "Número Tres already? Dios mío, that's quite the jump."
Gantenbainne raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Nnoitra scowled, fists clenching at his sides.
Nelliel's gaze sharpened, her posture still elegant, but there was a shift in her expression—one of careful consideration.
And Starrk… he just sighed. "More shifting, huh? Feels like too much work to bother caring about."
Kurokujaku, however, only chuckled.
"Número Tres?" He glanced at Aizen, amusement in his golden eyes. "You certainly don't waste time, do you?"
Aizen smiled. "Why waste time when strength speaks for itself?"
Nelliel finally spoke, her voice calm but firm. "That means I move down to Número Cuatro." Her green eyes flicked toward Kurokujaku. "You must be formidable, then."
Kurokujaku tilted his head, meeting her gaze with mild curiosity. "I'd say I prefer efficient."
Nnoitra took a step forward, bristling with barely contained anger. "This is bullshit." His single eye locked onto Kurokujaku like a predator spotting its prey. "You just got here, and you're already above me?"
Kurokujaku turned fully toward him now, expression unreadable. "You seem offended, Nnoitra." He took a slow step forward, his presence suffocating, pressing against the taller Arrancar like an unseen weight. "If my rank bothers you so much…" His smirk widened slightly. "Why don't you do something about it?"
The room tensed.
For a brief moment, it seemed like Nnoitra might lunge—but Aizen's presence was absolute.
The former Shinigami merely smiled. "Nnoitra." His voice was soft, but it carried authority. "If you wish to challenge him, you are free to. But remember…" His brown eyes gleamed. "Rank is not given. It is earned."
A long pause.
Nnoitra gritted his teeth, muscles coiled tight with frustration. But, ultimately, he stepped back, clicking his tongue. "Tch. Whatever."
Kurokujaku let out an exhale, his interest in the confrontation already fading.
Aizen turned his attention back to the rest of them. "Now that the ranks are settled, return to your duties. There is much to prepare for in the days to come."
One by one, the Espada began to disperse.
Cirucci gave Kurokujaku one last sharp look before flipping her hair and walking off.
Dordoni chuckled, shaking his head before striding away.
Gantenbainne offered a final nod of acknowledgment.
Nelliel studied him a moment longer, her gaze unreadable, before finally turning and leaving.
Nnoitra lingered, before finally scoffing and storming away.
Only Starrk remained, watching Kurokujaku with a lazy, lidded stare. After a moment, he let out a slow sigh. "Número Tres, huh?"
Kurokujaku smirked. "Try not to fall asleep before we fight, Número Uno."
Starrk actually chuckled at that. "No promises."
And with that, the Espada departed.
Aizen, standing beside Kurokujaku, clasped his hands behind his back. "You handled yourself well."
Kurokujaku exhaled, stretching his shoulders. "I always do." He glanced at Aizen. "So... when do I get to see what these ranks truly mean?"
Aizen's smile was knowing. "Soon. Very soon."
And so, Kurokujaku took his first true step as an Espada.