In the vast desert of Hueco Mundo.
A figure cloaked in a captain's haori stood motionless, his presence a stark contrast to the emptiness around him.
His eyes swept across the endless expanse of white sand and swirling dust. A frown tugged at his brows.
"Truly… what a disgusting world." Kenpachi Azashiro muttered with disdain.
A snide voice echoed beside him, laced with mockery and amusement.
"Wow, you actually hate something? That's shocking. Did this world offend you somehow? Maybe it mocked your haircut? Or was it one of those pesky hollows that hurt your feelings, and now you can't help but want to wipe them all out?"
The voice belonged to Urozakuro, the spirit of Azashiro's Zanpakutō—an unpredictable and maddening presence that rarely stopped talking.
Azashiro cast her a sideways glance, his irritation barely concealed. "Shut up."
"Oho? Someone's grumpy." she teased, placing a hand over her mouth theatrically. "You're really funny when you're angry!"
Azashiro's reiatsu flared ever so slightly, a silent warning.
Not wanting to trigger a beating, Urozakuro quickly mimed zipping her lips shut, giving a smug smile. But her silence didn't last long—as always.
"So, are you really sure you can find her?" she asked, this time without mockery.
"If it were another arrancar, it might be difficult. But that woman—she can't fully control the Negación threads emanating from her body. All I need to do is follow them." Azashiro's tone was gruff, but informative.
It was a rare moment—Urozakuro had asked a normal question, and Azashiro had given a normal answer. But the calm didn't last.
"That's soooo weird. Like she's a hollow GPS with bad reception! Hah! I bet even Szayelaporro couldn't make something so dysfunctional!"
Azashiro ignored her antics. After so many years, he'd grown accustomed to her endless chatter. As long as she didn't push too far, he usually didn't bother to silence her.
…
Elsewhere, deeper within Hueco Mundo—
Kyouraku Shunsui and his companions stood atop a ridge, examining the barren landscape with mixed expressions. In his hands was a crude-looking device, bristling with sensors—one of Kurotsuchi Mayuri's hastily-built inventions.
Shunsui furrowed his brow. "So it's true… No wonder she could infiltrate Seireitei so easily."
He turned the device slightly. A faint ping pulsed from the screen.
"Her body constantly emits Negación threads, connecting her with the outside world—like a living beacon."
Shunsui's voice turned solemn as he continued, "Using those filaments, she was able to bypass the Sekkiseki (Spirit Reducing Stone) walls, infiltrate Seireitei, and lead the arrancars through the path she carved. And she may not have even realized it."
Zaraki Kenpachi and Ashido, standing nearby, exchanged glances. Neither was the type to analyze such abstract phenomena. They were warriors—what mattered was whether their blades would be needed.
Shunsui continued, "Her ability is remarkably similar to the one used by Kenpachi Azashiro. Maybe that's why he values her so much. But… unlike him, she can't control it. It's been running wild for a year now."
The image of a girl leaving ghostly imprints across the world flashed through his mind—blurry sightings, unexplained rifts, places touched by the spiritual. It all made sense now.
Ordinary humans, lacking spiritual awareness, shouldn't have been able to perceive her. And yet, she had left traces.
"Her filaments fuse with the material world. She becomes partially of the world, forced to project an image into it. A phantom, caught between two planes of existence."
After the incident in Seireitei, the Twelfth Division had begun investigating her—Roka. Through numerous data points and spiritual residue readings, they had confirmed that she was the mysterious arrancar haunting the human world.
Mayuri had then developed the current detector to trace the Negaciónthreads released from her body. With it, locating her became theoretically possible.
Of course, Shunsui didn't fully trust the device. Anything rushed out of Mayuri's lab came with the risk of exploding—or worse.
Zaraki cracked his neck and muttered, "Let's just hope that Azashiro hasn't found her yet. I didn't come all the way here for nothing."
Ashido, ever the composed soldier, nodded. "If he's already captured her and taken her elsewhere, then this whole trip will be meaningless."
The delay had cost them. Soul Society needed to authorize the mission, secure backup, and wait for Mayuri's invention. In the meantime, Azashiro had a head start.
Their only hope now was that the Negación-detecting device would prove more effective than Azashiro's instincts.
…
On the other side of a sand dune—
A forgotten research lab lay buried beneath the dunes—its architecture twisted and erratic. Few would imagine that Szayelaporro Granz had once built such a place here. But those who truly knew him wouldn't be surprised.
Madness was his nature.
Once stripped of his title and consumed by his own ambition, Szayelaporro had been a monster in pursuit of perfection. Years ago, he had discarded countless experimental body parts in his grotesque attempts at evolution. Now, in an ironic twist, he sought to reabsorb them.
Having recently devoured some of these long-abandoned tissues, Szayelaporro could feel himself nearing rebirth.
But one vital component remained—not his corpse, but his older brother: Yylfordt Granz
Once, he had devoured Yylfordt to gain strength. Later, to study embryonic replication, he split himself apart again, which led to his fall from Espada ranks.
Now, to recover fully, he needed to reclaim the part he had lost.
With Roka by his side—docile, silent, her presence eerie—Szayelaporro prepared to move.
And then, without warning, a shadow descended before them.
A man in a captain's haori.
"Is this the synthetic freak pulling your strings, making you the reason for Soul Society's chaos?" the man asked, his voice low, gaze fixed on Roka.
Szayelaporro's pupils shrank. He recognized the man instantly.
'Kenpachi… Azashiro.'
Back then, this man had carved a lasting scar in Szayelaporro's memories. His power, his madness—it was unforgettable.
"You… it's really you." Szayelaporro whispered, taking a cautious step back.
Azashiro looked him over with unwavering intensity. "Looks like you do remember me."
Szayelaporro clenched his jaw. The last time they'd fought, Azashiro had overwhelmed him with sheer force. And now, this man had appeared once again.
But before either of them could act, Azashiro's head turned, sensing a new presence.
"Curious as I am…" he murmured, "Now's not the time. Another annoyance is coming."
His eyes narrowed toward the nearby dunes.
And there, emerging from the white sand with a calm yet daunting presence—was a man clad in white robes.
*****
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