Deep within the endless white expanse of Hueco Mundo, among towering stone pillars formed from condensed reishi, Raizen Kō's true body was in the midst of a hunt.
A Gillian-class Menos Grande writhed violently before him, its enormous mask already cracked, its massive form trembling under the pressure of overwhelming reiatsu. Raizen Kō stood calmly, his posture relaxed, as if the creature's desperate howls were nothing more than background noise.
Then
A sudden connection snapped into place.
Raizen Kō's lips slowly curved upward.
"It succeeded."
The sensation was unmistakable.
The clone had been purified.
Not destroyed.Not erased.But severed cleanly by a Zanpakutō its Hollow taint stripped away and its soul forcibly returned to the cycle of transmigration.
Raizen Kō let out a low chuckle, rich with satisfaction.
"So the Soul Society judged it… innocent."
That meant the clone had not been condemned to Hell.
Instead, it had entered Rukongai.
The Menos Grande before him attempted to flee.
Raizen Kō's reiatsu surged.
The hunt resumed.
Soul Society Rukongai Transfer Zone
Rukongai was the first destination for all souls that passed beyond the Human World.
When Raizen Kō's clone regained awareness, the first sensation it experienced was crowding.
Endless bodies pressed in from all sides—souls of every age, height, and appearance packed together in a slow-moving tide. The sheer density was suffocating, leaving no room to step aside or even control one's pace.
The feeling was disturbingly familiar.
It reminded him of rush hour from a long-forgotten life being carried forward by momentum alone, not by choice.
Ahead loomed a massive structure built from pale stone and wood, oval in shape and faintly glowing with spiritual light. Souls entered through its wide gates in orderly lines, guided by Shinigami stationed along the perimeter.
At the entrance, a long wooden table had been set up.
Several unseated Shinigami sat behind it, processing arrivals with mechanical efficiency. Each soul that passed through was briefly stopped, registered, and handed a wooden identification plaque etched with district markings.
Raizen Kō's clone now entirely human in form allowed himself to be carried forward by the crowd.
When his turn arrived, the Shinigami at the table did not even look up.
"Here," the man said flatly, sliding a plaque across the table. "Assigned to East Rukongai."
Before the clone could ask anything, he was already being pushed along by the souls behind him.
"…That's it?" he muttered internally.
The crowd funneled onward, splitting toward four massive tunnel entrances carved directly into the bedrock. Above each passage were bold kanji designations:
East. South. West. North.
Without resistance, the clone followed the flow into the Eastern passage.
The tunnel stretched on for a long time, dim and echoing, until a pale glow finally appeared ahead. As the souls emerged, they were met by another massive gate this one shimmering with a thin veil of reishi.
The moment the clone crossed through
Light swallowed his vision.
"Hey! New soul!"
A sharp, impatient voice cut through the haze.
"What are you standing around for? Identification plaque now!"
The clone blinked as his vision cleared.
He was still inside a large administrative hall. Before him stood a tall desk piled with documents. Behind it sat a young female Shinigami with short white hair and an unmistakably irritated expression.
"Hurry it up," she snapped. "If you slow things down, I'll send you straight to District Eighty."
Raizen Kō's clone suppressed the instinctive surge of killing intent and forced a polite smile.
"Yes, yes sorry."
Inwardly, his thoughts were far less pleasant.
If this were Hueco Mundo…
"Name?" the Shinigami demanded.
"Ito Makoto."
The name had been prepared long ago.
The white-haired Shinigami glanced down at a document that was already waiting—information gathered automatically at the moment of purification.
"Ito Makoto. Time of death: unknown. Place of death: Karakura Town. Apparent age at death: nineteen."
She paused briefly, then continued in a monotone.
"Assigned to East Rukongai, 57th District."
With a flick of her wrist, she stamped the plaque.
"Next."
A guard in white robes gestured sharply.
"Move along. Don't stop."
Ito Makoto stepped forward, irritation simmering quietly beneath the surface.
Just then, raised voices erupted behind him.
"Hey! Why does he get District Fifty-Seven, but I'm stuck with Seventy-Eight?!"
Ito turned his head.
A middle-aged man with a thick afro was arguing loudly with the same white-haired Shinigami.
"We process assignments according to regulation," she replied coolly. "If you have an issue, file a formal complaint."
As she spoke, she calmly took the man's plaque back and with a single stroke, altered the number.
78 → 80
The man's face drained of color.
"That's abuse of authority! I'll report!"
He never finished the sentence.
Two guards seized him immediately and dragged him away. Moments later, he was unceremoniously tossed through a side gate, his plaque now clearly marked District 80.
Ito Makoto watched in silence, lips twitching faintly.
Then he turned and continued forward, exiting through the gate marked 57.
East Rukongai — 57th District
Rukongai was divided into four great regions surrounding Seireitei, the heart of the Soul Society.
Each region contained eighty districts.
The closer a district was to Seireitei, the better the order, safety, and living conditions. The farther away one went, the more lawless and impoverished life became.
District Eighty was the worst.
A place devoid of stability, food, and even spiritual density where survival depended entirely on violence and theft.
Compared to that, District Fifty-Seven was… tolerable.
Ito Makoto emerged onto a street lined with single-story buildings, their tiled roofs weathered but intact. The roads were dusty but orderly, and the air itself felt richer with reishi than the outer districts.
Compared to the West Rukongai slums he had once glimpsed through borrowed memories, this was almost peaceful.
Instead of heading directly toward the assigned residence listed on his plaque, Ito Makoto detoured toward a narrow stream running alongside the road.
He crouched and stared into the water.
The reflection staring back at him belonged to a young man of eighteen or nineteen tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp black eyes and dark hair. His features were striking, with a prominent nose and a calm, intelligent gaze.
The resemblance was uncanny.
Nearly identical to the face he once wore in another life.
Ito Makoto smiled slowly.
"So this is my new shell."
He straightened.
"From now on," he murmured, "this identity will be Ito Makoto."
Beyond the Surface
The plan had succeeded.
Raizen Kō's main body would continue its evolution in Hueco Mundo hunting Menos, refining power, and advancing toward Vasto Lorde.
This clone, now Ito Makoto, would walk an entirely different path.
He would enter the Shin'ō Academy.Become a Shinigami.Join the Gotei Thirteen specifically the Thirteenth Division.
Two paths.One soul.
When both reached their limits
Reintegration would complete the final transcendence.
(For clarity: from this point forward, the clone residing in the Soul Society will be referred to exclusively as Ito Makoto.)