The sky was dim. Endless pale dunes stretched in every direction, a sea of lifeless sand. Yoru Chikao looked up and saw only desolation.
He had wandered this barren land for what felt like an eternity. Not a single living creature crossed his path. It was as if this white desert was his final destination.
"Is this... the world after death?"
Yoru's final memory was of a cramped hospital room—the dust-covered ceiling above him as he drew his last sorrowful breath and quietly faded away.
He had once been a humble small-town student, a test-taker who spent more than ten years clawing his way up. He'd finally fulfilled his dream—escaping poverty, graduating from a top university, and landing a job in a major company.
After years of relentless work, he broke into the middle class. He bought a car, a house in a tier-one city, and became a local legend in his hometown. His name echoed through villages as the golden child—the one others were compared to.
Just as he was about to enjoy the fruits of his labor, a diagnosis of advanced gastric cancer shattered his newfound peace.
Because his illness was caught so late, he only managed one round of chemotherapy. His parents sold everything—his car, his house—and brought him back to a small hospital in their home prefecture. It was framed as "conservative treatment," but Yoru knew better.
His condition worsened rapidly. Within two months, he was gone.
"The past is dead."
His memories flashed before him like fading embers—but he let them go, one by one.
...
Standing in the colorless desert, Yoru shifted slightly, and a strange sound came from behind him—a rustling beneath the sand. A massive, segmented body coated in white bone writhed into view. A broad shell shimmered faintly, and jagged blade-like limbs rose and fell.
"Ah—what the hell is that?!"
"…Wait. That's my body?"
"…Okay, that's fine then."
"I've turned into a centipede-monster with a human upper body...?"
It had likely been too long since he'd spoken to another soul. Yoru muttered to himself as he examined his form.
No mirrors. No water to reflect himself. He could only piece together the truth with his own eyes: he was a towering creature—his upper half vaguely human, his lower half that of a monstrous centipede, stretching four to five meters in length.
His human-like arms were covered in a white bony exoskeleton, thick with strength. He instinctively knew he could crush an adult skull in a single hand.
At the junction of his humanoid torso and monstrous body was a round hole.
"Wait… this form… this place… Hueco Mundo? Have I become a Hollow?"
Yoru reached up and touched his face. Cold and hard—he was wearing a mask. A bone-white mask etched with strange patterns.
"So I've transmigrated… into the world of Bleach?"
Back in his previous life, Yoru had been a massive fan of the Bleach anime. He never expected that, after death, he'd wake up in Hueco Mundo—as a Hollow.
But instead of fear, he felt a strange excitement.
"This is… kinda awesome."
Then the reality of his situation hit him. Hollows were hunted in this world—by Soul Reapers, by Quincies, even by other Hollows.
If a Hollow was slain by a Soul Reaper and was innocent in life, they might get reincarnated in Soul Society. But if they were judged sinful—they were sent straight to Hell.
If a Quincy got to them… there was no reincarnation. Just obliteration.
And under Aizen's reign? Hollows were mere pawns in his twisted Arrancar experiments. Countless had died.
"Damn... being a Hollow is rough. I just hope the plot hasn't started yet. If it's before everything goes down, I might have time to grow. But if it's already mid-series? I'm screwed."
"ROOOAR!!"
A thunderous growl ripped through the silence behind him.
A green Lizard Hollow, nearly two meters long, charged toward him—dark yellow saliva dripping from its gaping jaws.
"BOOM!"
Yoru's massive centipede tail shot from the sand like a whip, smashing the Lizard Hollow into the ground with a sickening crunch.
He twisted around and pounced—delivering a flurry of heavy blows with his bony fists.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Grrkk… ughh…"
The Lizard Hollow, embedded deep in the sand, let out pathetic whimpers. Its white mask shattered, claws broken, body broken. Blood the color of poison splattered everywhere. But Yoru didn't stop.
He kept punching until the creature stopped moving.
"Haaah…"
Yoru exhaled slowly. Though the fight wasn't hard, there was something deeply jarring about killing. In his old life, he hadn't even killed a chicken.
But he had to adapt.
This world didn't care about comfort or morality. It only cared about strength.
No matter what the timeline was, if he didn't grow stronger—fast—he wouldn't survive.
He stared at the Lizard Hollow's corpse.
He remembered: in the original series, Hollows could grow stronger by devouring others. Those who thrived became Menos Grande… some even evolved into the legendary Vasto Lorde.
With no hesitation, Yoru picked up the Lizard Hollow's mangled forelimb and brought it to his mouth.
Crunch. Crunch.
He bit down. Chewed. Swallowed.
To his surprise—it wasn't revolting. It was… good. Was it the Hollow's taste, or had his entire being shifted?
The moment he swallowed, he felt a spark—his spiritual power surged slightly.
Yoru's eyes gleamed.
Without hesitation, he dove into the sandpit—feasting on the rest of the Lizard Hollow's corpse.
If this world offered power through blood and battle… then so be it.
He would devour his way to the top.