Sengoku Ryū, born of a lower noble family, once served in Squad 10. Thirty years ago, he achieved *Bankai*. With no openings among the captains of the Gotei 13, he volunteered for the expeditionary force, filling its vacant captain's post.
It was he who first discovered signs of the Hollow assault on Soul Society, and it was he who reported it.
Unfortunately, most of Central 46 had dismissed his intelligence. Hueco Mundo had been quiet for so long that nobles had forgotten the terror of Hollows.
Thankfully, the Head Captain had believed the report and prepared accordingly. Otherwise, the losses would have been far worse.
Still, the outcome was grim.
The nobles' fury had been ignited, and Sengoku Ryū and his expeditionary squad bore the brunt of their ire. His old superior, too, was dragged into misfortune.
The nobles blamed Sengoku Ryū's cautious wording—"possible" instead of "certain"—claiming that ambiguity had led Central 46 to err.
And because Squad 10's captain defended him, that man was also sent to Hueco Mundo on this thankless task.
The good news was that the previous invasion had drained most of Hueco Mundo's fighting force. Over the past month, the expedition and Squad 10 had easily met their quota of capturing Gillians.
Only the order for twenty Adjuchas seemed absurd.
"Do they think Adjuchas are as common as cabbages? This is Hueco Mundo, not Soul Society. If those Hollows want to flee, how can we stop them?"
Sengoku Ryū was exasperated. As someone who had struggled in Hueco Mundo for years, he knew how laughable Central 46's command was.
But his old superior, the captain of Squad 10, thought differently.
A former Rukongai peasant who rose to captain, he followed Central 46's orders to the letter. It was said his dream was to marry into nobility.
Now Sengoku Ryū stood on a barren ridge, gazing toward Las Noches. Should he pray for his superior… or simply pray?
Las Noches was Baraggan's domain. Adjuchas roamed there in numbers, yes, but before going, one ought to ask: could they truly defeat Baraggan himself?
"Captain, are we just going to watch Squad 10's captain go alone?"
His vice-captain, Zuo Niao Ming, asked with worry.
"What else? We have an understanding with Baraggan—so long as we don't approach Las Noches, he won't interfere with our hunts. Break that, and the next time Soul Society wants to cull Hollows to maintain the balance of the three realms, the cost will be far higher."
Sengoku Ryū was no fool. He knew the expedition's true mission. Hunting Hollows for the nobles' pride was trivial. The real goal was maintaining the balance between Soul Society, Hueco Mundo, and the World of the Living.
"But if Squad 10's captain falls to Baraggan—"
"He won't. As long as he wants to escape, even Baraggan will struggle to slay a captain outright. That title carries weight. And we're here for support. If he retreats this way, Baraggan will understand our stance. Unless he truly wishes to drag all Hueco Mundo into open war with Soul Society."
Confident words.
Zuo Niao Ming held his tongue, though inwardly he scoffed: *If attacking Soul Society with family and army in tow isn't open war, what is?*
He knew his captain's nature—this was part of Sengoku Ryū's charm. Reassured his leader had thought it through, Zuo Niao Ming prepared to return to the main force and organize the squad for support. Their current position, though optimal for interception, was too far from camp.
If anything happened there, neither he nor Sengoku could return in time.
But Zuo Niao Ming had gone less than five hundred meters when he froze.
"A shinigami?"
Before him stood a man with brown eyes, short black hair, dressed in shihakushō. At his waist hung a jade-green zanpakutō with dragon-and-phoenix engravings.
Zuo Niao Ming racked his memory. Nothing. Not among the Squad 10 shinigami who had come to Hueco Mundo, not anywhere.
"First time meeting. My name is Higashino Shuuichi. Twenty-one years ago I became vice-captain of Squad 4. Now I serve as its Third Seat."
Higashino Shuuichi smiled warmly, like a spring breeze.
He could have chosen another approach, one safer, more reliable.
But in the end, he hadn't.
For survival, his moral bottom line could sink as low as needed. But facing opponents weaker than himself—especially "innocents" in the truest sense—he felt no need to embrace cruelty.
If one day his heart froze completely, if he fought only to cling to life, what meaning would survival have left?
So he offered Zuo Niao Ming a respect that meant nothing, but was, for him, the last kindness.
Zuo Niao Ming could not know this. But instinct honed by years of battle stirred unease in him. Whatever Higashino said, he felt danger.
He stepped back, hand on his zanpakutō's hilt.
"Then, Third Seat Higashino Shuuichi, can you explain why you're here? I don't recall Squad 4 sending you on this expedition."
No doubt—the expedition was elite. Their memory and awareness outstripped the average Gotei shinigami. Their strength likely rivaled any regular squad.
Why history never recorded their glory… "Perhaps there was another reason," Higashino thought with a shrug.
It made no difference. The destined would die, whether by his blade or another's.
But to Zuo Niao Ming, his casual manner was baffling. This so-called Third Seat of Squad 4 was far too strange.
As he wavered between drawing his sword or retreating to warn his captain, Higashino struck.
But even then, he honored his last shred of mercy.
"I came here to kill the expeditionary captain, Sengoku Ryū. You were unlucky—when he strayed, you happened to be at his side. So I'm sorry…"
His tone turned cold, his eyes sharp as a blade. "You'll die here as well."
"Advance, Heisha!"
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