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Hueco Mundo. Las Noches.
Inside the vast palace, the Espada stood scattered across the chamber—some seated, some leaning, all waiting. Upon the grand throne sat a man with his eyes closed, expression serene. Aizen Sōsuke—the ruler of Hueco Mundo, king of Hollows. At his side, as ever, stood Tōsen Kaname and Ichimaru Gin, their injuries long since healed.
The silence was heavy, filled only with expectation, until footsteps broke it. Ulquiorra and Yammy entered slowly, their figures framed by the pale light. Aizen opened his eyes, calm and deliberate.
"You have returned." His smile was mild, almost feigned.
"Yes, Lord Aizen." Both bowed low with the utmost respect.
"Then show us." Aizen's lips curved faintly.
Ulquiorra lifted his hand to his face. Without hesitation, he plucked an eye free. No one flinched—this was his ability, after all. "Please observe." With a simple squeeze, the eye shattered into drifting motes, scattering images and impressions through the air. Information spread at once, pouring into every mind.
Ulquiorra's voice was detached. "In my judgment, there is no need to kill that boy. His level is beneath consideration."
"What?!" The shout cut like a blade, sharp and arrogant. A man with wild blue hair and a half-mask sneered, voice dripping with disdain. Espada No.6—Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.
"You heard the order. When we're told to kill, we kill." His FracciĂłn at his side snorted with contempt, glaring at Ulquiorra as though the Fourth lacked spine.
"The order given to me," Ulquiorra replied flatly, "was to kill if necessary. In my assessment, it is not."
"Che. Always grinding words." Grimmjow's grin was vicious. His men chuckled mockingly.
Aizen smiled faintly, neither siding nor rebuking. For him, whether the boy lived or died was irrelevant. The only question was whether the pawn obstructed his design.
The flow of images continued. Ulquiorra's voice sounded again. "What draws my attention is not Kurosaki Ichigo. It is the other one."
Faces shifted slightly. They too had seen it—the boy in the floral robes.
"So he lives…" Aizen's smile cooled, eyes narrowing. The throne room grew silent, each Espada lost in the weight of what they had witnessed. Even Aizen himself grew pensive.
Only Grimmjow's expression remained different, curled into disdain. "Pathetic mess." His gaze snapped toward Yammy. "And you—useless lump! Beaten half-dead? What a joke!"
"Bastard…!" Yammy's rage boiled, veins bulging.
"Oh dear, not good…" Gin chuckled, but behind his foxlike grin a shadow of unease flickered. Tōsen touched his chest unconsciously, silent.
At last, Aizen broke the tension with a gentle laugh. "It matters little. He cannot hinder our plans. One man, no matter how strong, remains only one. I command an army, and more Arrancar are born each day. With careful arrangement, a single flame cannot quench a spreading inferno. Without knowing my true design, he can only thrash blindly—like a headless beast."
His smile deepened. "We continue as planned." Rising from the throne with effortless grace, Aizen turned and strode away. The Espada dispersed soon after, until only Grimmjow's group and Ulquiorra with Yammy lingered.
Ulquiorra's eyes brushed Grimmjow in passing. Grimmjow sneered openly, spitting his contempt. "Spineless trash." Yet as Ulquiorra and Yammy left, the faintest smirk tugged at Grimmjow's lips.
Three days slipped by in Karakura Town without incident. Peace returned—or the illusion of it.
Until, one afternoon, the sky split open. A Senkaimon shimmered in midair, sliding apart. From the light stepped a slender figure in a black kosode. Kuchiki Rukia.
Her gaze swept the familiar cityscape, emotions stirring. Drawing out her denreishinki, she dialed swiftly. The display did not read "Kurosaki Ichigo." Instead, it showed a peculiar entry: "The one I secretly admire."
The line clicked. "Hello? Captain Su Li? This is Rukia."
At that same moment, in a maid café, Su Li waved away a slice of cake with irritation. His expression soured. "What? Advance team? Just you and me?" His mood plummeted.
He knew the timeline well. Around this period, the Gotei 13 had indeed dispatched an advance team to the living world to back up Kurosaki Ichigo against the Arrancar. Urahara and the Visored had surely already reported events to Seireitei. Sending reinforcements was expected.
But why him? By memory, it should have been Hitsugaya, Rangiku, even Ikkaku.
Rukia's voice came through gently. "Captain Su Li, I am only here as support, to maintain contact with Soul Society. I'm not counted as part of the advance team."
"Then it's just me?" Su Li's voice cracked with rising despair. "Can that even be called a squad?!"
A pause of silence. Then, quietly: "This was Captain-Commander's decision. Everyone trusts you, Captain Su Li." Rukia's words carried warmth, encouragement.
Su Li wanted to curse, loud enough to shake Yamamoto's beard off his chin. He ground out one last hope. "Then… Hitsugaya Tōshirō? Matsumoto Rangiku? Ikkaku? They're not coming?"
"Why would they?" Rukia's tone was puzzled.
Su Li's world collapsed into darkness. His presence had twisted the course of events again. Once he thought such changes trivial. Now it felt like doom itself.
"Captain Su Li, where are you now? I'll come to you so we can plan together." Rukia's voice was gentle, but to Su Li it sounded like a final sentence. His eyes brimmed as he stood, body trembling.
Goodbye carefree days. Goodbye idle freedom. Goodbye maid cafés.
Tears streaked his face as he embraced the maids and clerks who had grown familiar. With shaking hands he emptied his wallet into the tip jar. Under their reluctant gazes, he turned and strode out the door.
His face hardened into a mask of suffering. His voice rose into the sky, cracking with fury. "Damn it all—Urahara Shop, charge everything to my tab!!" He slammed the call closed.
On the other side, Rukia held the phone in stunned silence. "D… did I say something wrong…?"
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