The war between the two Adjuchas had raged for what felt like an eternity, shaking the desolate dunes of Hueco Mundo. Their battle drew the wary attention of even the most distant Hollows—Gillian-class Menos Grande included—who instinctively fled the area. They knew better than to get caught in the crossfire; the sheer spiritual pressure alone could tear lesser Hollows apart without a single direct blow.
BOOM!
The final clash ended with a blinding flash—Nelliel Tu Odelschvank's Cero, precise and overwhelming, carving a crater into the barren sands. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez staggered back, his body laced with deep gashes and scorched flesh. He let out a guttural snarl, eyes blazing with fury—but not recklessness. For all his pride, Grimmjow knew when he was outmatched.
He turned and vanished into the shifting sands without another word.
Nelliel exhaled slowly. "It's finally over…"
She turned away from the fading echo of Grimmjow's retreat and walked back toward the Shinigami who had been watching from the edge of the battlefield. His reiatsu was still faint, but steady—recovering.
"You're a Shinigami," she said, arms crossed. "What are you doing all the way out here in Hueco Mundo? Alone, no less?"
Akira Kurokage sat calmly amidst the dust, his posture relaxed despite the tension of the recent fight. He glanced up at her with a faint smirk. "Didn't expect an Adjuchas to stand between me and a fight."
"I wasn't protecting you," Nelliel corrected, though her tone lacked bite. "I told you—whomever attacks first, I side with the other."
Akira nodded. He didn't push the point. Instead, he closed his eyes and focused on restoring his reiatsu, the air around him humming faintly as his spiritual energy began to stabilize.
After a while, Nelliel broke the silence, her voice quieter this time. "I don't understand you… You know I'm a Hollow—an Adjuchas. The sworn enemy of your kind. And yet you sit there like you're waiting for tea."
From her experience, Shinigami either charged in swinging their Zanpakutō or fled the moment they sensed a Hollow's presence. But Akira? He hadn't so much as reached for his sword.
Akira opened his eyes and offered a small, knowing smile. "Because I know you're different, Nelliel."
The words landed with unexpected weight. She blinked, caught off guard.
"He… trusts me?" The thought unsettled her—yet brought an odd warmth she hadn't felt since before she lost her memories.
"Maybe… not all Shinigami are what I thought."
Once Akira had regained enough strength, he reached into his shihakushō and pulled out a small, sealed container—standard-issue emergency rations from the 12th Division, gifted to field operatives for extended missions in hostile realms. He hadn't won it in a lottery; such frivolity had no place in Gotei 13 protocol. But he'd been issued it nonetheless.
He offered it to her. "You helped me out back there. Consider this a gesture of thanks. Not sure if it'll suit your palate, but spiritually, it should be digestible."
Nelliel stared at the food—real food, with actual aroma and warmth—as if it were a mirage. "Where… did this come from? Is it a Zanpakutō ability?"
"In Hueco Mundo, food is practically myth," she added, voice tinged with disbelief. "And you didn't even release your sword…"
Akira chuckled lightly. "No special ability—just Shinigami logistics. We're both spiritual beings. If it sustains me, it'll sustain you."
Hesitantly, she took the container. "…Thank you."
A beat of silence passed. Then, curiosity getting the better of her, she asked, "You know my name… but I don't know yours."
"Akira Kurokage," he said. "Just Akira is fine."
"Akira… Kurokage…" she repeated softly, the name lingering in the dry air like something new—something worth remembering.
A thoughtful look crossed her face before she hesitantly spoke again.
"Since we know each other's names now, and you even shared food with me… does that mean we're friends?"
Akira blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected that question—but as he looked at Nelliel, who seemed uncertain yet hopeful, he realized she might still carry traces of her past self: the kind, gentle Arrancar exiled from Las Noches, not just a Hollow shaped by instinct.
He smiled.
"Of course."
Nelliel's eyes widened. She'd regretted asking almost immediately. After all, how could a Shinigami be friends with a Hollow—let alone an Arrancar, one of their sworn enemies? She'd expected rejection, maybe even hostility.
But he'd agreed without hesitation.
For the first time, Nelliel met a Shinigami who didn't see her as a monster—who didn't judge her simply for the mask on her face or the reiatsu in her core.
Her expression softened into a small, genuine smile.
"…Alright, then! Let's be friends. I'll be counting on you!"
She spoke just a little shyly before picking up her chopsticks and taking a bite of the catfish noodles.
The moment the noodles touched her tongue, their smooth texture and rich flavor overwhelmed her senses. Her eyes lit up.
"Delicious! I've never had anything this good before!"
"As long as you like it," Akira replied calmly. He took a few bites himself before setting his bowl aside, his focus shifting inward—to recovery, to vigilance.
He was waiting for nightfall. That was when the system would deliver his survival reward.
Today, I was surrounded by six Menos Grande. One was on the verge of evolving into an Adjuchas—potentially strong enough to rival early-stage Espada. Without a doubt, this was the most dangerous fight I've faced yet.
The promise of rewards after such a desperate battle stirred a quiet anticipation in his chest.
---
Hueco Mundo – Outskirts of Las Noches
Though most Hollows in Hueco Mundo roam as solitary, mindless beasts, those who evolve beyond Gillian status gain intelligence—enough to form factions, wage wars, and build hierarchies.
And towering above all is Las Noches—the white palace that symbolizes absolute dominion over this desolate realm. It belongs to the one who claims it by strength alone.
At the apex of this merciless order once sat Baraggan Louisenbairn, the self-proclaimed "God of Hueco Mundo" and the strongest Vasto Lorde of his age.
Now, seated upon his skeletal throne within the ruins of his former domain, Baraggan slowly opened his ancient, blood-red eyes.
"What do you want?"
The voice that answered belonged to Charlotte Chuhlhourne, flamboyant even among the future Fracción of the Espada.
"Your Majesty," Charlotte intoned with theatrical reverence, "I wish to begin the hunt."
"We've received reports of a Shinigami moving through the wastes. He's been cutting down Menos Grande left and right—six just today. One was nearly an Adjuchas."
Baraggan let out a low, rumbling scoff. "A Shinigami dares to bleed my land? His arrogance is an affront. His very presence is a death sentence."
His voice carried the weight of a god who once ruled unchallenged.
"Charlotte. Abirama. Findor. Choe Neng Poww. Ggio Vega. Nirgge Parduoc." He named them like curses. "You six—track him. Corner him. And erase him from this world."
"Yes, Lord Baraggan!"
In an instant, the six elite Adjuchas-class Hollows—each destined to become Arrancar under Aizen's reign—vanished into the crimson sky, their reiatsu vanishing like shadows on sand.
They were hunters. And their prey had just stepped into the lion's den.