Hueco Mundo. Void Night Palace. Sixth Palace.
Once a grand structure, the Sixth Palace now lay in ruins. Though spared the devastation of Su Li's earlier sword-light, the violent clash that raged here before had already reduced its majesty to rubble.
"Tick… tock… tick… tock…"
The sound of droplets echoed in the stillness. Grimmjow stirred awake, his face wet and sticky. Forcing open his eyelids, his blurred vision caught the sight of a small girl, mouth agape, drool dripping continuously onto his face.
"Wha—!"
Startled by his sudden movement, the girl shrieked and darted behind a boy, peeking nervously at Grimmjow from the safety of his shadow. Grimmjow lifted his head with effort, gaze narrowing. There were three others with her. At the forefront stood a young man clad in flowing white. Recognition struck Grimmjow instantly.
"…It's you…" His voice was low, his expression conflicted.
The one before him was none other than Su Li, flanked by his companions.
"Long time no see, Grimmjow," Su Li greeted lightly, tone casual as if speaking to an old acquaintance.
The ease in his voice only deepened Grimmjow's bewilderment. His eyes shifted, realizing his wounds were closing. His body was slowly healing. That only confused him further.
"…Why?" he rasped. "Why would you save me?"
The girl's actions were obvious—she had healed him under Su Li's instruction. Yet it made no sense. They were enemies. Su Li had no reason to help him.
"Ah, since I ran into you, I figured I might as well," Su Li replied, his smile careless. "Besides, I have something I want to ask."
Grimmjow fell silent. He knew what question was coming.
"That woman—" he began.
"Do you still have clean clothes at your place?" Su Li interrupted.
"???"
Grimmjow blinked, stunned.
"My clothes are a mess. Feels sticky on my back… don't know what Szayelaporro washed them with, but the smell's wrong, the texture's worse." Su Li scratched irritably at his shoulder, frowning.
Nilu swallowed hard, embarrassed, while Grimmjow stared, speechless. Was this the real reason he had been saved? Because Su Li wanted to borrow clothes? The lofty image of a god-tier warrior collapsed in his mind at once.
"…I have some," Grimmjow muttered reluctantly.
"The kind without the chest open?" Su Li asked, eyes glinting mischievously.
Grimmjow's face darkened. He remained silent.
Su Li chuckled, delighted. "Nilu, give him a bit more of that fluid."
Obediently, Nilu stepped forward and opened her mouth wide over Grimmjow.
"Hey, hey, wait—!" Grimmjow's face twisted in horror, but with his body crippled he couldn't move. He suffered the same fate as Dorudoni before him, drenched in Nilu's restorative drool.
Covered in saliva, Grimmjow lay humiliated. To him, this "treatment" was almost worse than death.
Moments later, Su Li reappeared freshly changed, hair damp, face bright with satisfaction. Grimmjow's expression darkened further. Not only had this man borrowed clothes, he had even bathed. Was he really here as an enemy? Or just a tourist passing through?
"Wuhu, refreshing~~" Su Li stretched contentedly, clean and dry again. "Thanks. I'll return the clothes next time."
"Next… time…" Grimmjow murmured, eyes wavering. He raised his head slowly, confusion in his voice. "You really don't intend to kill me? I'm your enemy."
"That's unnecessary," Su Li said simply, smiling.
Grimmjow froze.
"Truth is, you're not a bad kid. Live on. A bigger stage is waiting for you."
Su Li's words struck him deeply. A hand fell firmly on his shoulder, not in hostility but in encouragement. Grimmjow's thoughts went blank. He couldn't understand what this boy was. Not an enemy. Not an ally. But something entirely beyond his comprehension.
"Let's go." Su Li beckoned Nilu and the others, turning away.
Grimmjow watched them leave, mind a blur. At last, forcing himself upright, he shouted hoarsely:
"That woman—you'll find her in the fifth tower!!"
The boy waved lazily over his shoulder. "Got it."
Their figures soon vanished from view. Grimmjow stood alone, more confused than ever.
—
Fifth Tower. Top floor.
The battle here was fierce. Two silhouettes clashed with ferocity, shockwaves splitting the air.
One wore the black Shihakushō of a Shinigami, face hidden beneath a hollow mask, black blade clutched tight—Kurosaki Ichigo.
His opponent stood in pristine white, black wings stretching from his back—Ulquiorra Schiffer.
A violent exchange blasted them apart, the air trembling. Ichigo panted heavily, yet the fire in his eyes burned hotter than ever. Ulquiorra glanced down at the wound across his chest, face unreadable.
Whether from the healing of his earlier injuries, or from sheer unshakable resolve, Ichigo now radiated a strength far beyond before. Forced to release his Resurrección, Ulquiorra still found the boy matching him blow for blow.
"Perhaps I underestimated you," Ulquiorra said coolly. "I believed you unworthy of my attention compared to that other man. I take that back. You are an obstacle worth eliminating."
"Shut up!" Ichigo's voice thundered. "This time I won't need anyone's help! I'll defeat you with my own hands! Release Inoue!!" Reiatsu surged violently around him, raw and defiant.
Ulquiorra's gaze sharpened. "Then I'll show you the truth."
His body shifted. White garb tore away, wings stretching broader, arms darkening into black. His form twisted into something far more demonic.
"This is my second stage—Segunda Etapa. No one in Las Noches has ever seen it. Even Lord Aizen is unaware."
His obsidian wings unfurled wide, his presence exploding. Reiatsu of suffocating density ripped into the heavens. Ichigo gasped, overwhelmed, feeling his own spirit energy crushed beneath its weight.
"Now… die quietly," Ulquiorra intoned.
His figure vanished. Ichigo's eyes widened, unprepared. In an instant Ulquiorra appeared before him, fingertip pressed to his chest, black light sparking.
A roar split the air. The Cero Oscuras tore through Ichigo's body, carving a fresh black hole through his chest.
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