"Kurosaki, now that all your subordinates have been released, shouldn't you take us to this Elder Watanabe you mentioned?"
After freeing Kurosaki's men, Yūshirō Shihōin turned to him and asked.
"No. Not until I'm sure they've left safely."
Kurosaki shook his head firmly, worried Yūshirō might go back on his word.
"Hey, brat! Don't push your luck!"
Ayame Hōshō snapped. Her small sandal slammed into Kurosaki's face, sending him sprawling to the ground with terrifying force.
"Lord Kurosaki!!"
The hybrid Quincy, freshly freed, shouted in alarm as they watched a pureblood Quincy get kicked down by a Shinigami. Rage filled their eyes, and they looked ready to risk their lives against Yūshirō and the others.
"Stop!"
Clutching his swollen, shoe-marked face, Kurosaki staggered to his feet and restrained the furious hybrids.
"All of you, use your Spirit Threads and retreat!"
He barked while still holding his face.
"But… Lord Kurosaki, you—"
The hybrids froze. They knew their lives were worth far less than even a single pureblood Quincy.
"Retreat! Unless you'd rather see me die here and now?"
He raised a blade of reishi to his own throat, eyes burning with determination.
"Lord Kurosaki…"
"We'll retreat!"
"But Lord Kurosaki is still—"
"Idiot! Don't waste his sacrifice!"
The hybrids hesitated, but ultimately obeyed his order. Light flared in each of their hands, and within seconds, they vanished before Yūshirō's group.
"Woah~ so this is that Quincy-exclusive technique I read about? Supposedly you can freely traverse the Valley of Screams with it. Is that really true?"
Yūshirō watched calmly as the hybrids vanished one by one. Though he could have struck them down instantly, he kept his word to Kurosaki. Besides, the technique intrigued him.
"It won't matter if I explain. Only Quincies can use it."
Kurosaki answered smugly.
Smack!
"I said talk when you're told to talk!"
Ayame punched him hard on the head.
"Ow! Why hit me?!"
Kurosaki clutched his skull, squatting down and looking up at her pitifully.
"Don't forget your place. You're a prisoner. Know your position."
She glared down coldly.
"Enough. Since Kurosaki won't answer, let's get moving."
Yūshirō grabbed Kurosaki by the collar and hauled him up.
"You promised to take us to Elder Watanabe. Don't forget it."
"Of course. I said I would, and I'll keep my word. Just stay close."
Kurosaki suddenly kicked off with Hirenkyaku, darting through the Valley of Screams at high speed, clearly hoping to shake them off.
"Hmph."
Yūshirō smirked and gave chase, his companions easily keeping up.
"So fast! They're keeping up with me?!"
Kurosaki's expression darkened. He could feel their spiritual pressure sticking to his back. At this rate, there was no way to lose them and teleport away.
"I'll have to push harder!"
He poured everything into his Hirenkyaku, but still couldn't shake them.
An hour later—
"Damn… I can't… I need a break…"
Soaked in sweat, Kurosaki bent over, gasping for breath.
"What's wrong, little brother? Tired already?"
Yūshirō and the others stood relaxed, hardly winded.
"Damn it… You're underestimating me again…"
Kurosaki glared, but deep down, he swore he'd find a way to escape these damned Shinigami.
So it went—rest, escape attempt, pursuit, rest again. By nightfall, he was exhausted, and the sky of the Valley dimmed with twilight.
"You reshaped this Valley so it even has day and night cycles?"
Yūshirō looked up curiously.
"Of course. And the time matches the Human World. Makes survival here easier."
Kurosaki nodded with pride—only to realize too late he had revealed far more than he intended.
As darkness fell, the group gathered around a campfire.
"Since the Shinigami drove you Quincies out of Hueco Mundo, have you been hiding here in these valleys ever since?"
Yūshirō asked casually.
"No comment."
Kurosaki had learned his lesson.
"Why so secretive? It's not like it's a huge revelation."
Yūshirō slung an arm over his shoulder.
"Hmph! Don't think I don't see through you. The moment you Shinigami learn anything, you'll send it back to Soul Society—and then you'll come to wipe us out again, just like before!"
Kurosaki's voice carried bitter defiance.
"The extermination order came from the Soul Society's rulers, not us. Personally, I admire your clan. To stand together against the Hollows—it may have been reckless, but it took real courage. Braver than many Shinigami I know."
Yūshirō spoke with surprising sincerity.
"What's wrong with destroying Hollows? They're evil incarnate! Beasts driven only by hunger and slaughter—unable to understand or communicate. Wiping them out is the only way to protect this world!"
Kurosaki snapped back, agitated.
Lilynette, Harribel, and Szayel all frowned, exchanging looks at his words.
"What? Don't tell me I'm wrong! Even Shinigami hunt Hollows! It's the same thing!"
Kurosaki's voice grew defensive.
"You're wrong. Shinigami purify Hollows—restoring souls twisted by despair to their original form. But Quincies erase them completely. That imbalance, if left unchecked, will one day collapse the world itself."
Ayame shot back fiercely.
"Collapse the world? Ha… fearmongering nonsense."
Kurosaki scoffed.
"It's not nonsense. The Human World, Soul Society, and Hueco Mundo exist in balance. If one side is destroyed, the others grow unstable. Overload the balance, and reality itself can collapse. That's why we regulate Hollow numbers, even limit the number of Shinigami. But you Quincies ignored this and hunted endlessly—forgetting Hollows are still part of the cycle, still souls making their own choices."
Yūshirō shook his head, cutting him off.
"…So you're saying Quincies shouldn't exist? That we have no meaning? That we're just misfits—souls that don't belong anywhere?"
Kurosaki demanded, though his voice wavered. For some reason, he sensed Yūshirō wasn't lying.
"Of course not…"
Yūshirō nodded.
Kurosaki's eyes widened.
"…I don't know the answer. I'm not a Quincy. Only you can decide what your people's existence means. But remember—you're still human. Hollows, Shinigami, Quincies… all come from humanity. Maybe you're enemies by circumstance, but every side has meaning in this world. The problem is that your clan's ideology has become too extreme."
He continued, voice steady:
"When did you start separating yourselves from humanity? Seeing yourselves as something apart, something alien? Isn't that strange? Why not see yourselves as part of humanity, instead of isolating like Hollows or Shinigami? Don't ask what Quincies as a whole mean—ask yourself, as a person, what meaning you want. Look from there, and maybe you'll find the answer."
Yūshirō couldn't give him the truth directly. Only Kurosaki himself could.
"…To think like an ordinary human…"
Kurosaki whispered, sinking into thought. Maybe… Yūshirō was right. Maybe their place wasn't in Hueco Mundo or the Valley of Screams. Maybe it was among ordinary people—in the Human World.
"Anyway, that's enough philosophy for now. Kurosaki, you've been leading us the right way, yeah?"
Yūshirō asked with a grin.
"Of course…"
Kurosaki replied automatically.
"Good. Then let's rest. Tomorrow, keep guiding us properly."
Yūshirō smiled faintly and left it at that.
"Mm…"
Kurosaki nodded, weary. Night deepened, and Szayel pulled sleeping bags from his pack, handing them out.
"Even I get one?"
Kurosaki blinked at his.
"Of course. I brought plenty. No problem giving you one."
Szayel smiled oddly, as if enjoying the thought of Kurosaki using it.
"Thanks."
Kurosaki lay down without further complaint.
But in the dead of night, his eyes snapped open.
"Hmph… fools. I'll teleport out of here right now—let's see how you stop—"
He smirked to himself, ready to slip away. But when he opened his eyes, he was face-to-face with… eyes. Gigantic painted eyes, on a sleep mask.
Yūshirō, wrapped head to toe in his sleeping bag, had positioned himself right in front of him, only his masked face exposed.
"…Is he asleep or not?!"
Cold sweat dripped down Kurosaki's forehead as he clutched his teleport thread, unsure whether to risk it.