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The afternoon sun poured down upon Karakura Town, shadows stretching long across an alley where a young man in gaudy clothes strolled at ease.
It was Su Li, his attention buried in the book he carried.
"Lisa… this woman, unbelievable… these poses… magnificent…" His face flushed red, eyes sparkling as he flipped the page. The so-called "book" was, in fact, the treasured collection he had forcibly taken from Yadōmaru Lisa. To call it borrowed would be generous—Lisa had nearly fought him to the death to keep it, and had only relented when Su Li promised to return it intact. Otherwise, blood would have stained the floor that day. And it certainly would not have been his.
The soft pa-ta, pa-ta of flip-flops followed his unhurried pace. They were not stolen from Hiyori, but rather purchased—by Hiyori, for him.
Su Li had already entrenched himself as the "honored guest" of the Visored. Their factory hideout had become his home, their coffers his wallet. At first, the group resisted, even Shinji shouted in anger, but after several "physical education lessons," resistance melted into despair. Enslavement or not, life went on. They could only accept it.
Only now did the Visored fully grasp the saying: It is easy to invite a god, but impossible to send him away. They had invited their own god-tier tormentor, and now, even weeping, they had no choice but to endure him.
Su Li, meanwhile, remained utterly untroubled.
At a street corner, a few delinquents sat smoking, laughing and boasting.
"Haha, did you see that brat? I dropped him in one hit!"
"Big Brother Kuroto, you're amazing! The man at the top of Suzuran High School!"
"Yeah, guys like that are nothing, you can crush them with one hand…"
Their laughter died as a voice cut through.
"Hey. Hand over your money."
The punks blinked, startled by the sight of the brightly dressed stranger in flip-flops.
"Huh? Who the hell are you, brat?"
"Think you can mouth off to us? You've got a death wish—"
Bang.
The next second, they were sprawled unconscious across the pavement. Su Li calmly tucked Lisa's book into his pocket, crouched down, and began rifling through their pockets.
"You could've just given it to me. Why make me work?" His tone carried no trace of remorse as he searched them with meticulous care. He gathered a pitiful handful of crumpled notes and sighed.
"So poor, and yet you call yourselves delinquents. What a waste… duck poop."
This was Su Li's new routine. With no use for Soul Society currency, and Kisuke as well as the Visored perpetually broke, he had turned to robbing thugs for pocket money. His daily needs—KTV, bars, adult shops, maid cafés—demanded funds. The Visored treasury alone could not sustain him, and the Seireitei certainly could not intervene. Central 46 was still rebuilding, and Yamamoto had no time to discipline him. Besides, he had harmed no one… technically.
Pocketing the money, he waved toward an empty corner. "You there. Come here."
Though invisible to ordinary eyes, a pale girl's spirit emerged hesitantly, pinching her nose against the lingering cigarette smoke. She stared at Su Li in awe.
"You… you can see me?"
Without hesitation, Su Li drew his ZanpakutĹŤ. His voice softened only slightly. "I am a Shinigami. I'll take you home."
Before she could respond, a seal bloomed upon her brow. A glow flared, then vanished as her soul passed on. She was gone. Su Li slid his blade away, stretching lazily.
"Work is so annoying. In weather like this, a nap in the park would be perfect… then maybe hit a show at night." A mischievous grin tugged at his lips as he strolled on.
Far away, in a quiet park, a massive crater yawned open where grass once lay.
"I came here back when I wore the mask… this world's reiryoku is still pitifully thin." A colossal man with a half-mask sneered, his bulk towering above the pit.
"I told you I could do this alone, Yammy. You insisted on tagging along," said a slim figure beside him, voice icy and detached. His eyes gleamed a strange, cold green beneath his half-mask.
They were Espada of Las Noches—No. 4, Ulquiorra Cifer. No. 10, Yammy Llargo.
"Yeah, yeah, sorry," Yammy muttered with feigned carelessness as he stepped forward, his gaze sweeping the crowd that had gathered around the crater.
"Was it a meteorite? There's nothing here!"
"What fell?!"
They could not see the two Arrancar. Only the gaping wound in the earth.
Watching their confusion, Yammy grinned viciously. He opened his mouth and inhaled.
Wind howled. The crowd collapsed where they stood, eyes rolling back, bodies limp upon the grass. Their souls wrenched free, drawn into Yammy's gaping maw.
One after another, like dominoes, humans toppled across the park. The pull expanded, spreading outward into the streets beyond. Passersby collapsed into empty shells, their souls devoured.
At last Yammy exhaled in disgust, stomach bulging slightly. "Tch. Tasteless."
"Of course," Ulquiorra replied coldly. "Weak souls will never satisfy."
Yammy spat at the corpses, scowling. "Ants. Worthless." His scowl shifted into a grin as he turned. "So, Ulquiorra… how many are we killing this time?"
"One," Ulquiorra answered without hesitation. "There is no need to slaughter beyond that. The rest are insignificant."
"One?" Yammy's brow twitched. "Out of this swarm of insects, just one?"
"Indeed. In this world, there are no more than three individuals with reiatsu of combat-worthy magnitude. All else is garbage."
Yammy's grin widened. Killing was all he desired.
A faint rustle disturbed them. Both turned.
A short-haired girl in a white gym uniform staggered to her feet, trembling. Arisawa Tatsuki—Kurosaki Ichigo and Orihime's classmate.
Her face drained of color as her eyes swept the field of fallen bodies. "What… what's happening?"
Through her blurred vision, she caught sight of two pale figures approaching.
Who… what are they…?
Yammy chuckled darkly. "Oh? Still standing after my soul-suck? You must have some spirit left. That makes you mine." His eyes gleamed with hunger as he advanced. "This the one, Ulquiorra?"
Ulquiorra barely spared her a glance. "Look closer. Her soul is collapsing simply from your presence. Trash."
"Che." Yammy's grin soured. His foot rose, poised to crush her like an insect.
Boom!
A massive black arm blocked the blow, shielding Tatsuki. Yammy blinked in surprise as two figures stepped between him and his prey.
Sado Yasutora. Inoue Orihime.
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