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The Forest of Menos Grande... could it truly expand on its own? The very idea left Moyu stunned, eyes widening in disbelief as he struggled to process it. The Forest, hidden beneath the endless white sands of Hueco Mundo, was already a domain so vast that even veteran Shinigami found it beyond comprehension—an underground ecosystem teeming with innumerable Hollows, their population a chaotic, incalculable swarm.
Urahara Kisuke had once entered the Forest on a mission of research, choosing a single mapped zone for exploration and, even then, barely scratching the surface of its enormity. That partial glimpse had been enough to etch its scale into his memory, a haunting sense of limitlessness that Moyu now grasped firsthand. But today, it wasn't just its vastness that disturbed him—it was the fact that the Forest seemed to be expanding, pushing upward through the white crust of Hueco Mundo like an invasive infection. Proof of this surfaced with the sudden eruption of quartz trees—unnatural and jagged—ripping through the ground, and from within them, the hulking silhouettes of colossal Gillians began to rise like ghosts waking from slumber.
Their blank, blood-hued eyes swept across the terrain with an eerie detachment, void of recognition or concern. These were not cautious creatures—they were simply unaware, guided by instinct alone. Most Gillians, formed through the fusion of hundreds of lesser Hollows, lost all semblance of identity during the process, their minds dissolved into the vast unconscious. Unless they transcended their state and evolved into Adjuchas, they would remain trapped in those towering, mindless bodies until death. Only the rarest among them retained any sense of individuality—Aaroniero Arruruerie, the 9th Espada, stood as a grim example, once a Gillian, later turned Arrancar by Aizen's manipulations.
That memory flickered through Moyu's mind as he turned his gaze to Urahara, who stood beside a humming control panel with a calmness that felt almost performative. "You don't look surprised," Moyu muttered, narrowing his eyes. "This doesn't shock you at all, does it?" Urahara's long fingers danced across the console, inputting complex commands with the grace of a pianist performing an invisible melody. The screen shimmered, shifting from surface-level readings to an even deeper, more shadowed region.
"This," Urahara said, gesturing to the screen, "is the true Forest of the Menos Grande. After the Hueco Mundo war, I installed spiritual conversion sensors in multiple regions. When paired with Reiatsu-capture tech, they allow us to receive dimensional surveillance—provided the spiritual density remains stable." His tone remained neutral, analytical. "The moment the region experiences significant fluctuations in Reiatsu, the transmission degrades or fails entirely."
He hadn't answered Moyu's question outright, but the implications were clear enough. "In this zone specifically," Urahara continued, "the detectors picked up thirty-eight major Reiatsu signatures." Moyu's brow creased as the meaning sank in. "Arrancars? Or Adjuchas?" he asked. Urahara gave a solemn nod. "Exactly. Thirty-eight unique signatures, each powerful enough to rule out basic Gillians. This zone isn't ruled by typical Menos anymore. It's a territory now occupied—perhaps governed—by Adjuchas or something stronger." His expression sharpened as he looked at Moyu directly. "And possibly even Arrancars. Do you understand what that means?"
Moyu exhaled heavily, mind already racing ahead. "If Menos-class Hollows of that caliber start surfacing in the Human World… Seireitei won't have enough forces to contain them. Even seated officers aren't equipped to handle Menos-level threats casually. And once our defensive lines weaken, others in hiding will see it as the perfect moment to strike."
Urahara's grin curled slightly, pleased by the deduction. He always had a soft spot for fast learners. "Exactly," he said, hitting another switch as the display reverted to the barren exterior of Hueco Mundo. "If the Forest of Menos Grande is truly expanding, then we're looking at a multi-dimensional crisis—one that threatens both the Human World and Soul Society."
He paused, eyes narrowing beneath his striped hat. "At first, I suspected a post-war mutation, maybe an unexpected consequence of residual spiritual energy left behind by the combatants—but no. That isn't it." Moyu crossed his arms, thoughts layered and sharp. "If the Gillians and Adjuchas had devoured one another during the war, their overall population should've declined, not grown. The forest should be thinning, not expanding. That kind of cannibalistic evolution reduces the herd—it doesn't multiply it."
A glimmer of admiration touched Urahara's eyes as his grin returned in full. "Well said, Mr. Moyu. Seems those rumors floating around the Spiritual Arts Academy didn't do you justice. You're far more astute than they suggested." Moyu, unimpressed, offered a deadpan glare, clearly unmoved by the compliment. But Urahara, as ever, was undeterred and cheerful.
"Which brings us," he said, voice brimming with theatrical flair, "to the reason you're here. A very important task awaits you." Moyu's shoulders stiffened as suspicion took root. "…What exactly are you planning now?"
Without missing a beat, Urahara turned toward the rear of the lab, arms sweeping upward in an overly dramatic flourish. "Daaa~ da~ da~ daaaah!" he sang, dragging out the sound like an overexcited stage magician unveiling his final trick. "Allow me to present… my latest creation!" He pointed proudly to a large structure hidden under a black tarp. With a flick of his wrist, the cloth flew free, revealing an ominous obsidian arch pulsing with dark energy.
"The Black Cavity Piercing Gate!" Urahara declared, voice echoing with pride.
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