"Here is…"
Out on Hueco Mundo's blinding white dunes, Cole and Orihime stepped from the rift and scanned the sameness around them.
"How far are we from Las Noches?"
Hueco Mundo never changed—either the dim Forest of Menos or an endless desert. Jump to a new spot and it felt the same as the last.
Thankfully, the golden staff could feed Cole a bearing—enough to judge how far Las Noches really was.
"Let me see…"
He focused—and promptly felt a headache coming on.
"This is even farther than before!?"
From the previous location, a hard three days' sprint might have reached Las Noches.
Here? At least half a month.
"Hueco Mundo really is too big…"
He clicked his tongue and triggered Kaikū (Space Sever), cutting a black corridor open—and stepped into the Seireitei.
A black fissure bloomed inside the Tenth Division captain's office.
Rangiku, cheeks rosy, was sipping warm sake over a tiny brazier. She blinked blearily at the boy who stepped out.
"Ah—human kiddo… didn't you return to the living world? You came to drink with me?"
Cole rapped her lightly on the forehead. "Granny, drinking on duty's against the rules."
"Don't call me granny or I'll deck you." Rangiku pouted, raising her cup with a hiccup. "It's fine. Captain Tōshirō's still a kid. I heard he just bought flowers to visit Momo… hic…"
Cole sighed. "That eternal little shota—hasn't even grown hair yet, but his wandering eye works great…"
"Cole!!!"
The shout exploded from the doorway. Hitsugaya, face scarlet, brandished his zanpakuto.
"You bastard—why are you here!?"
Cole rolled his eyes and stepped right back into the black corridor. "The appetite's big, but the body's small. Judging by that look, you got kicked out again, huh?"
"COLE!!!
Bankai—Daiguren Hyōrinmaru (Great Crimson Lotus Ice Ring)!"
Furious, Hitsugaya's frost flooded the room. The brazier froze into a lump; Rangiku shivered, peeking up.
"Captain… were you kicked out again?"
Hitsugaya almost popped a vein. "Vice-Captain Rangiku—you're drinking again!?"
By then, Cole had already left the Soul Society—rending space once more to drop into Hueco Mundo.
He re-checked the staff's position. Still far. He tore space again.
Twelfth Division.
Just as Mayuri's eyes glittered over a near-finished experiment, Cole tapped his shoulder.
"Hey—Urahara said you're not as good as he is."
Mayuri blinked—then his test article surged into a violent flare.
BOOM!
The lab disintegrated. After a long beat, Mayuri clawed his way out of rubble—only to find Cole gone.
"I—am—NOT—inferior—to Urahara!"
Sixth Division, Seireitei.
Byakuya set his quill down, picked up a small mirror, and examined his hair with satisfaction.
"Excellent. No need to adjust. Today as well, the honor of the nobles—"
A black fissure split open behind him. Cole stepped through and quipped,
"Brother-in-law, you're this narcissistic—does Rukia know?"
"Kh—"
Byakuya actually coughed, a rare flush in his cheeks. "Cole…"
But Cole was already gone.
"Yo, Kyoraku-oji—give my regards to Katen and Kyōkotsu. Long time no see."
Kyoraku nearly leapt out of his chair. "Cole!?"
"Shiba Kukaku—long time. Still gorgeous!"
Two hands thrust from a black slit and ruffled Kukaku's hair inside the barrel of the Shiba Cannon.
Kukaku whipped around like she'd seen a ghost. "Cole!?"
It went on like that—dozens of times. Cole still hadn't reached Las Noches, but the Seireitei was on the brink of a meltdown.
More than a few Shinigami ran to complain to the Head Captain. Yamamoto only scowled; there wasn't a better answer. Normally, Hollows couldn't just walk into the Seireitei—the barriers weren't for show. But this was different: the Seireitei itself had opened the way to invade Hueco Mundo, thinning its own defenses.
Thus, Cole's merry "back-and-forth through the halls" continued.
He waved goodbye to the ever-ailing Ukitake and split space again—back to the alabaster desert.
This time, when he felt for the golden staff, he paused—then his eyes lit up, swinging to the southwest.
"There!"
It was close—mere kilometers. Las Noches' walls were already visible.
"Orihime, we found Tatsuki!"
Laughing, Cole gathered the equally elated Orihime and stepped—his body a streak of black across the sky.
A black line carved the heavens like a falling star.
…
At the plaza of Las Noches, Nnoitra was still hammering the dimming gold field. He wasn't alone now: a herd of massive Gillians had been called in, heads lowered, maws yawning as red Ceros poured out one after another. The blasts never stopped; the ground around the thin gold glow was crumbling, and the light was flickering.
"This zanpakuto's going to shatter," Szayelaporro murmured, licking his lips at the golden staff inside the glow.
"When it breaks, don't touch it. I'll be studying its structure."
Aaroniero chuckled.
"Aren't you afraid its owner will come? I have a feeling he's very strong."
He'd wrecked Yammy and Ulquiorra, and his zanpakuto alone had tanked Nnoitra for the better part of a quarter-hour. In Aaroniero's mind, that owner stood on the same monstrous tier as the current king of Hueco Mundo—Aizen.
Nnoitra didn't care. "I'm the strongest. A mere Shinigami? If he shows up, I'll cut him into eight pieces!"
Starrk shook his head. "Your death aspect is despair, huh?"
Among the Espada, Nnoitra's "death" was despair—he lived to force others into it. He was also the most combative of the lot.
"Boring."
Tier Harribel finally spoke, turning away with a cool glance.
"Ambushes. Bullying the weak. Perfectly in character for you, Nnoitra."
She'd waited to see whether the staff's owner would come. The shield was nearly dead—and still, no one appeared. Either he didn't dare, or he couldn't breach Hueco Mundo.
Starrk ruffled his hair. "Let's go, Lilynette. We'll take the human girl along."
"What, that stinky woman?" Lilynette jabbed a finger at the gold.
Starrk sighed. "She might be useful. No reason to let her die now."
"You're just soft," Lilynette huffed. "Don't forget—humans are our food."
While they bickered, Nnoitra's tongue slid out; golden light pooled at its tip as he howled:
"The last one!!!"
BOOOOM!
The blinding Cero smashed home—and the pale-gold radiance, which had guarded Tatsuki all this time, went gutter-dim, guttering like a candle about to blow out. The Cero kept pouring. The shield was seconds from collapse.
Starrk had already prepared to intervene.
But someone was faster.
"Shinjin Teikai (Divine Sea-Settling Needle)!"
A voice rang from afar. The golden staff flared blindingly bright—its gravity-laden pressure spiked hundreds of times.
Cracking echoed across the plaza as tiles failed under the weight. Nnoitra's legs buckled—one knee almost hit the floor before he caught himself.
The Gillians weren't so lucky.
With a series of dull pops, dozens of Gillians were crushed—bodies bursting into drifting spiritual confetti.
Every Arrancar present stared, stunned. Harribel herself halted mid-step.
Gin's eyes narrowed. "This feeling… that brat really came?"
Every gaze swung to the edge of Las Noches—to the black speck standing atop a titanic pillar.
Bare-chested, black fire-hemmed skirt rippling, a girl cradled in his arms. A hollow hole gaped at his chest. Black-red, abyssal flame bled off him in sheets—godlike, demonic, an abyss let loose.
Nnoitra rubbed his eyes.
"That guy… is a Shinigami!?"
He'd just commanded the golden staff with a word; that proved it. And yet… he looked more like an Arrancar than the Arrancar did. If Nnoitra had just arrived in Hueco Mundo and someone pointed at Cole and said, "That's the Primera," he wouldn't have doubted it.
Even those who'd heard Ulquiorra's report were shaken seeing it with their own eyes: a Shinigami turned Hollow—and somehow more terrifying than they were.
Gin slid back a few steps with his fox's smile. "So overbearing, Cole. Planning to take the girl by yourself?"
The Espada snapped out of it, eyes hardening as they fixed on Cole. Shinigami or Hollow—whatever he was, he was the enemy. To snatch someone away, alone, from their midst… how arrogant could one boy be?
Cole looked at Gin retreating, tightened his left arm around Orihime, and lifted his right hand, index finger aimed like a sight. His voice went cold.
"Gin… your mouth is a bit too chatty."
"Gran Rey Cero (King's Flash)."
Black-red light—thick as blood—coalesced on his fingertip, compressed to a needlepoint, then lanced out like a falling star.
Even Gin was rattled. For all his century at Aizen's side ruling Hueco Mundo, he'd never seen a Cero this vicious.
Shouldn't have talked…
He grimaced, snatched up his zanpakuto, and snapped:
"Ikorose—Shinsō (Shoot to Kill, Divine Spear)!"
The blade's tip leveled—and in the blink of an eye the sword shot out for kilometers, a silver line ramming the oncoming black-crimson torrent.
Silver met black-crimson—
—and the next second, the sound of shattering rang out. Gin's pupils tightened as the thousand-meter Shinsō bloomed hairline cracks along its bright edge.
(End of Chapter)
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