Nelliel… were you always like this?
He remembered how, in the original story, Nelliel had been sneak-attacked by that despicable Number Five, Nnoitra.
One of the top-three Vasto Lorde, yet she'd been taken down in such a fashion by a weaker, lower-ranked Arrancar who hadn't even reached her level—she hadn't even had time to use her Resurrección… uh, not exactly the brightest, was she?
He rubbed his forehead, a headache coming on.
In the original, Aizen's Arrancar army—aside from Numbers One to Four, who were genuine Vasto Lorde and could barely be called top-tier—what on earth were Numbers Five to Ten, let alone those three-digit scrubs?
Nnoitra (No.5), Zommari (No.7), Szayelaporro (No.8), Aaroniero (No.9)… every last one a rush-job promoted by the Hōgyoku, nothing but pumped-up fakes!
Underneath they were still just Arrancar, nothing more. They might have Captain-level reiatsu on paper, but their combat skill, soul depth, and potential ceiling were all garbage.
And that small-fry Wonderweiss—don't even mention him; pure cannon fodder.
To Aizen they were expendables, easily swapped out for newer, more obedient Arrancar.
The Espada ranks, beyond the first four Vasto Lorde, were a bargain-bin display.
Even the top-three Vasto Lorde Arrancar had their own problems.
Nelliel: naive, gullible, lacking vigilance (he glanced at her on the platform, still testing her new 'leg').
Harribel (No.3) was shackled by Aizen's 'Kyōka Suigetsu' suggestion—she couldn't resist.
Baraggan (No.2) was arrogant and decrepit, obstinate; his power strong but overly reliant on the aging rule, leaving an obvious weakness… only Starrk (No.1)… When he spoke of Starrk, Hiroki's tone carried a rare sigh and a sharp pang of regret.
That guy—what a waste!
He'd wandered Hueco Mundo alone for millennia. His reiatsu was so overwhelming it would crush and kill any spiritual being nearby without distinction.
Not a single Hollow could approach him, keep him company, or even stay beside him without dying.
And there were plenty of Arrancar in Hueco Mundo—just look at old Barragan, who had whole platoons of them under him.
Yet before Starrk split himself into Starrk and Lilynette, even Arrancar couldn't survive next to him.
The sheer pressure would pulverize and disintegrate them on the spot.
That alone showed how terrifying his peak reiatsu had been!
Vast, pure.
It had already surpassed ordinary First Class Spiritual Pressure and touched a higher realm.
Loneliness wasn't his choice; it was the curse that came with that power.
Meanwhile, the so-called 'Emperor of Hueco Mundo,' Espada No.2 Baraggan Louisenbairn, had a whole retinue of Arrancar under him (like Ggio and Abirama).
They lived and worked around him, albeit tainted by his death aura—proof of the gulf between peak Starrk and Baraggan.
What a shame! Hiroki sighed again.
Unable to bear the endless, soul-freezing solitude, Starrk gave in to weakness.
He tore apart, weakened, his greatest weapon—splitting his singular, mighty soul.
Thus were born the separate beings Starrk and Lilynette.
That split sent his power plummeting.
Damage to the core of the soul is fundamental and irreversible.
He could never again wield the crushing reiatsu or the near-godlike potential of his complete self.
Even so, with his foundation, he barely clung to the Vasto Lorde level.
After self-initiated Arrancar transformation, Aizen judged him the 'strongest Espada' (No.1).
Imagine: no longer at his peak, yet with residual strength alone he could suppress the fully-powered old fossil Baraggan—unthinkable!
Just picture it—if Starrk had never split himself, if he'd kept his intact soul and overwhelming reiatsu… what heights might he have reached?
He'd have long since surpassed mere Vasto Lorde.
He'd have become Hueco Mundo's one and only 'special-grade combatant.'
A being beyond the limits of Vasto Lorde and Shinigami, able to stand against Soul Society's 'Blazing Demon' Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto, even force Aizen Sōsuke to a draw—or threaten his ultimate evolution—perhaps even rival Squad Zero's ever-smiling fat monk, Ichibē Hyōsube!
That monk commands 'names' and 'primordial power,' tricky beyond belief.
But peak Starrk might well have set foot on that battlefield.
Pure power can shake the very rules.
So remember Starrk's lesson: the integrity and strength of the soul are the bedrock of power!
Once the soul is damaged—especially split or missing its core—it's the deepest, hardest wound to heal, the fastest route to ruin and the hardest climb back.
Look at Espada No.8, the mad scientist Szayelaporro Granz.
For his twisted experiments and so-called 'perfect evolution,' he too dared to split his soul.
And the result?
A miserable fall: from top-tier Vasto Lorde straight down to a mindless Gillian.
Although he later clawed his way back to the Arrancar level by some unknown means, the price had been horrific—his foundation was shattered, forever barring him from even touching, let alone stepping into, the Vasto Lorde realm.
The splitting of his soul had directly severed his path to the peak!
While Hiroki was lost in deep thought about the nature of power and the wholeness of the soul, Nelliel's voice rang out again, hesitant and dazed from her brush with death:
'Where is this place?' She studied the strange space of cold metal, soft light, and precision instruments; it felt like neither Hueco Mundo nor any corner of Soul Society she had ever sensed.
Hiroki's thoughts scattered; he came back to himself and answered casually, 'Oh, this? My private training facility.'
He waved vaguely at their surroundings, offering no further details.
'Eh?' Nelliel blinked, jade eyes glinting. 'Did you save me?'
She remembered the crushing darkness after the battle—then waking here.
Her mind was simple and direct: wake up wounded but safe in a stranger's domain, and you assume the owner rescued you.
Hiroki arched a brow, amused by her reaction.
Without the slightest tact, he punctured that naïve fantasy:
'No,' he corrected clearly.
'My subordinates caught you.'
'Ah???'
Nelliel's eyes snapped wide; bewilderment turned to shock and renewed wariness, her body tensing instinctively—though the motion was clumsy.
Caught? Then he's the enemy?
Why bring me here?
To perform that bizarre'surgery'?
Seeing her expression like an overloading CPU, Hiroki's lips curled in his trademark, slightly wicked smile.
He added unhurriedly, 'Of course, capturing you was just an accident.'
He paused for emphasis. 'You weren't our target.'
It was the truth—Itachi's real aim had been ordinary Arrancar; stumbling on Nelliel had been pure chance.
After all, Hueco Mundo is vast and desolate.
'...Oh...'
The twist left Nelliel's mind blank again.
An accident? Not intentional?
The news eased her tension a fraction, but mostly it left her feeling wronged and lost: 'Then why grab me at all?'
Like a frightened animal with nowhere to run, she stared helplessly at Hiroki.
Hiroki slipped the Hōgyoku into an inner pocket of his haori, hands sliding into opposite sleeves as he regarded Nelliel on the operating table.
The topic took a sudden leap:
'Don't you want world peace?'
'...Huh?' Nelliel's thoughts couldn't keep up with this mysterious, powerful captain.
'Is that... so?'
She did long for Hollows to live in harmony, to end Hueco Mundo's endless devouring and strife—that desire lay deep in her gentle nature.
But 'world peace'? The concept felt too vast, too distant.
Where did 'the world' begin and end? Every Hollow and every Shinigami?
How could that be possible?
And he opened with such an ultimate goal?
Hiroki ignored her doubtful question and self-doubt.
In a tone that sounded self-evident, seductive, almost rousing, he continued:
'I'm working toward that very goal!'
His eyes grew deep and resolute, as though bearing some grand mission.
'So I need your power!'
'Me?' Nelliel jabbed a finger at herself in disbelief.
Her power? A Vasto Lorde who'd just been caught by his men and inexplicably remade?
What use could she be?
'Exactly.' Hiroki stepped closer to the table, leaned slightly in, gaze sharp on her flustered eyes.
'Don't underestimate yourself! Your kindness, your wish to coexist with your kind—and even other beings—is rarer than you know!'
He raised his voice deliberately. 'It might be the key to breaking the deadlock! You can persuade more Hollows to join us!'
'Persuade?' Nelliel latched onto the word.
'Yes!'
Hiroki straightened, sketching a blueprint as he spoke.
'Imagine: a being of your power—a Vasto Lorde—actively seeking peace, offering goodwill. That alone is a revolutionary shock!
Your very existence is a symbol, living proof that Hueco Mundo's survival-of-the-fittest order can be overturned!'
His words brimmed with future visions—or brainwashing:
'If your kindness can sway more Hollows to abandon pointless fights and their devouring instincts, and join us on the path to coexistence...'
'Even better, if it can influence certain Shinigami, letting rational forces see the possibility of peace...'
'Wouldn't that be a solid step toward world peace?'
Nelliel's heartbeat quickened.
Hiroki's speech felt unreal in its grandeur, yet it struck the faint hope hidden deepest in her heart.
A peace she could start, a hope to change Hueco Mundo's fate?
The road ahead would be thorny, success almost unimaginable—but simply having her wish seen and claimed by another thawed something long frozen within her.
'I'm in!'
In cat form, Yoruichi watched the scene speechlessly.
Are Hollows really this simple?
A few sentences and that scoundrel Hiroki has her aboard?
Is this Hollow a sweet, naïve fool?
A Vasto Lorde-level sweet, naïve fool at that...