"Ahhhhhh!"
"Hateful! Hateful! Hateful!"
"How dare you cut off my hands?!"
Yammy roared in agony, blood spraying from the stumps of his arms as he continued charging at Yuta with his massive jaws open wide. His momentum carried recklessly forward, unwilling to stop despite his mutilation.
Yuta only watched with a cold, steady gaze. To him, if Yammy took even one more step, it would no longer be his hands that were severed but his head.
Behind Yuta, Hinamori Momo remained close, retreating slowly with Inoue Orihime and Chad as they moved under the sheer weight of his spiritual pressure. To them, the crushing atmosphere would have been unbearable from anyone else, yet Yuta's presence brought stability. Rather than fear, his spiritual energy instilled security, as though no threat could touch them while he stood at the front.
Orihime clutched her chest lightly as she looked at Yuta's back. The moment she saw him arrive, she knew instinctively she was safe. His reiatsu carried a density and might far beyond her comprehension, so overwhelming that her body trembled even as she found herself unwilling to look away. It was like standing before something divine, something untouchable.
Beside her, Chad flexed his healed arm, quietly grateful for Orihime's restoration. Watching Yuta's unmoving figure anchor the battlefield, he couldn't help but feel a surge of resolve. That was the kind of power he sought-the kind that could shield his friends against enemies like these. He knew he could never reach Yuta's level, but perhaps through training he could still achieve enough strength to stand as protection when it mattered.
Arisawa Tatsuki stirred awake at Orihime's side. Her injuries had been mended, and though exhaustion lingered in her limbs, her eyes sharpened as soon as they focused on Yuta. Seeing his figure again after collapse, she was struck by the raw force radiating from him, a pressure that made resistance feel meaningless.
Before Yammy could close the gap, mocking laughter echoed from the side.
"Ha ha ha ha ha!"
From where Kurosaki Ichigo had fallen, a jet-black reiatsu surged upward with streaks of scarlet weaving through it. The malevolent energy twisted in the air like a storm of violence breaking loose.
"Finally… I can breathe again," came Ichigo's voice, sharp and distorted beneath the half-white Hollow mask now covering his face. The teeth of the mask were jagged and predatory, and thin red markings ran across its surface like traces of a Cero's glow.
Ulquiorra's expression stiffened as his gaze hardened on Ichigo. The signature of the reiatsu was unmistakable. This was Hollow reiatsu, and its density was climbing at a rate surpassing even his own. That contradiction made no sense-he had clearly measured Ichigo's spiritual pressure as weak only moments ago.
Before he could process further, Ichigo vanished with Sonído-like speed. A black arc of reiatsu appeared at Yammy's side and split his chest open in an instant, sending blood spraying into the air as Ichigo's blade tore through him cleanly.
Ulquiorra raised a finger, tearing open a Garganta without hesitation. His expression remained composed but his movements were decisive. He had already anticipated interference the moment Yuta appeared, and Yammy's lack of composure only made the situation worse. The order from Aizen had been clear-retreat immediately if confronted by this man. But Ichigo's sudden transformation deepened his caution further.
As Yammy staggered and growled angrily at his wound, Ulquiorra struck him in the stomach with one swift blow, shoving his massive form into the Garganta. Without pause, Ulquiorra stepped inside as well.
The black void began to close, but before it could seal completely, Yuta's voice cut across the battlefield with firm clarity.
"Did I say you could leave?"
The Garganta froze in place mid-collapse, its edges trembling as if pinned open against its nature. Yammy and Ulquiorra both turned in shock, their eyes widening at the impossible sight.
Yuta extended his hand lightly toward the portal, and ripples of power spread forth. In an instant, hundreds of faint human souls spilled violently out of Yammy's form, drifting free like scattered fragments of light.
Yammy's pupils constricted in disbelief. The souls he had devoured were ripped from him with no effort at all. This was not something possible for those who understood Hollows, let alone Arrancar. Devoured souls did not return unless the Hollow itself was destroyed outright.
Ulquiorra's composure cracked as he stared at the phenomenon. His own knowledge confirmed how impossible this feat was. Even advanced science could not replicate such precision without harming the souls. To recover them intact in a single motion of the hand-this was beyond the reach of anything he had studied. It reflected mastery over reishi that was incomprehensible, a control refined down to the smallest particle. For someone to do it naturally shattered the framework he understood of spiritual existence itself. The implications were unthinkable.
Yuta lowered his hand finally. "Go," he commanded.
The Garganta resumed its collapse, sealing shut in silence. On the other side, Ulquiorra remained frozen as the image of Yuta lingered in his mind. Yammy's earlier arrogance had been drained entirely away, leaving only the same hollow sinking he felt in Aizen's presence-an oppression so absolute that resistance seemed meaningless. Side by side with Ichigo's monstrous transformation, Yuta stood as something farther still, something untouchable.
When they returned at last to Las Noches, their appearances drew the stares of every Arrancar present. Yammy's wounds were grotesque, his hands gone, his chest slashed deep enough to expose bone. For one of the Espada's exalted soldiers, it was a humiliating sight. Murmurs rippled across the upper floor.
Ulquiorra approached the throne steadily, looking up toward Aizen seated above them. His voice remained level when he spoke. "We have returned, Lord Aizen."
The leader's calm tone replied, "So you have. Speak of what transpired before your twelve comrades."
Ichimaru Gin tilted his head with a faint grin as his eyes drifted over Yammy's state. "Now that's a rough look. What happened to you out there?"
From the side, Grimmjow rested his chin against his palm and gave a low scoff. "Pathetic. You couldn't even put down Shinigami on their own ground?"
Ulquiorra's eyes moved briefly toward Yammy before turning back to Aizen. His voice carried no emotion as he delivered the truth. "We encountered Yuta."
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