"Now that your subordinates have been released, Kurosaki, shouldn't you be taking us to see this 'Elder Watanabe' you've been talking about?"
Yūshirō Shihōin asked once all of Kurosaki's men had been freed.
"No. Not until I know they've gotten away safely."
Kurosaki shook his head firmly, worried Yūshirō might go back on his word.
"Hey, brat, don't push your luck!"
Ayame Hōshō snapped, slamming her small sandal into Kurosaki's face. The sheer force knocked the Quincy flat to the ground.
"Lord Kurosaki!"
Seeing their pure-blooded leader struck down by a Shinigami, the newly freed half-blood Quincies roared in outrage, ready to fight to the death.
"Stop!"
Face swollen with the imprint of a sandal, Kurosaki staggered back to his feet and restrained them.
"Use your Spirit Threads and retreat. All of you."
"But… Lord Kurosaki…"
The half-blood Quincies hesitated. Their lives, even combined, could never outweigh a single pure-blood's.
"Go! Unless you want me to die here right now?"
He raised a glowing reishi blade to his throat, his eyes fierce.
"Lord Kurosaki…"
"…We'll retreat!"
"But Lord Kurosaki is still—"
"Idiot! Don't waste his sacrifice!"
At last, their leader's unshakable resolve forced them to obey. One by one, their hands lit up with spiritual light, and within seconds they all vanished before Yūshirō's group.
"Whoa~ So that's the technique the intel mentioned—your Quincies' special movement skill, right? They say it lets you move freely through the Garganta. Is that really true?"
Yūshirō watched with interest as each figure dissolved into light. He made no move to stop them. He could have cut them all down in an instant, but a promise was a promise—and besides, he was fascinated by their ability to travel between realms.
"It's useless telling you. No one outside the Quincy can use it."
Kurosaki's face carried a trace of pride.
Smack!
"I said talk!"
Ayame punched him square in the head.
"Ow! What was that for?!"
Kurosaki crouched down, clutching his head, looking up at her with a pitiful expression.
"You seem to have forgotten your place. You're a prisoner. Keep that in mind."
She glared down at him coldly.
"Enough. Since Kurosaki won't answer, let's move on. Don't forget your promise—you're taking us to Elder Watanabe."
Yūshirō yanked Kurosaki to his feet.
"Of course. I gave my word. Follow me."
With that, Kurosaki activated Hirenkyaku, shooting forward at high speed through the Garganta. From the way he pushed his pace, it was clear he hoped to shake them off.
"Hmph."
Yūshirō only sneered and led the others after him.
"So fast!"
"They're keeping up?!"
The rush of spiritual pressure behind him made Kurosaki's face tighten. No matter how much he pushed himself, he couldn't lose them—let alone slip away to teleport.
"Guess I'll just have to push harder!"
He strained his body, driving Hirenkyaku to its limits, but still couldn't shake them.
An hour later—
"I… I can't… anymore."
Drenched in sweat, Kurosaki hunched over, gasping for breath.
"What's wrong, little brother? Worn out already?"
Behind him, Yūshirō and the others looked completely unfazed.
"Damn it… You're underestimating me again!"
Kurosaki scowled, frustrated but still determined to escape.
The cycle repeated: rest, escape attempt, pursuit, rest again. By nightfall, the Garganta sky darkened.
"You even recreated day and night here? Impressive."
Yūshirō glanced upward at the changing sky.
"Of course. Time here flows in sync with the living world. It's the only way to survive."
Kurosaki nodded with pride.
"I see. You've been living here for a long time, then."
At those words, Kurosaki's face fell. He hadn't meant to reveal so much.
As darkness deepened, they lit a campfire and sat in a circle.
"Tell me, Kurosaki. After being driven from Hueco Mundo by the Shinigami, your people have been hiding in these valleys ever since, haven't you?"
Yūshirō asked casually.
"No comment."
Having slipped up once already, Kurosaki wasn't about to repeat the mistake.
"Come on, it's hardly a secret worth hiding."
Yūshirō slung an arm over his shoulder.
"Hmph! Don't think I don't know your game. You'll just report it all back to Soul Society—and then the Shinigami will come to finish what they started, wiping us out!"
Though not the sharpest, Kurosaki wasn't a fool. Some truths could be spoken. Others could not. He would never betray his people.
"The extermination order came from the higher-ups who rule Soul Society. That's got nothing to do with me. Honestly, I admire your clan. To take a stand against Hollows—right or wrong, that took courage. More than many Shinigami can claim."
Yūshirō's voice carried genuine respect.
"Wiping out Hollows is wrong? They're monsters! Killers that can't be reasoned with, can't be understood! Only their total destruction can bring peace to this world!"
Kurosaki broke free of Yūshirō's arm, his voice shaking with passion.
"Hm?"
Lilynette, Harribel, and Szayelaporro all frowned at his words.
"What? Am I wrong? Hollows are evil! And you Shinigami do the same thing, don't you? You hunt them too!"
Agitated, Kurosaki lashed out defensively.
"You're wrong," Ayame snapped. "Shinigami purify Hollows. We return souls corrupted by despair to their original state. You Quincies erase them completely. That destroys the balance. If the soul cycle breaks, the entire world will collapse!"
"Collapse the world? Ha, fearmongering."
Kurosaki scoffed.
"It's not. Soul Society, Hueco Mundo, the living world—they exist in balance. If one side shrinks too much, the others swell, straining the system. Push it far enough, and the foundation will crumble. That's why Soul Society regulates Hollow numbers—and even Shinigami numbers. You Quincies never understood this. You only hunted, forgetting that Hollows are also part of this world, born of human souls' own choices."
Yūshirō cut in, shaking his head.
"…"
"So what are you saying? That we Quincies should never have existed? That our lives have no meaning? That we're just freaks—neither Shinigami nor Hollow—condemned to be outcasts?"
Kurosaki's fists trembled. He wanted to argue back, but some part of him knew Yūshirō wasn't lying.
"Of course not…"
Yūshirō nodded—but left the thought unfinished.
"Ha. I knew it. Shinigami are all the same."
Kurosaki's pupils shrank.
"…I don't know. I'm not a Quincy. I can't answer that for you. But aren't you still human? This world has all kinds of gifted beings—Shinigami, Quincies, even Hollows. Enemies or not, each has meaning. But your path has become too extreme.
"Kurosaki… when did you start cutting yourselves off from humanity? Why insist on being different, when you're still people at your core? Instead of brooding on whether Quincies deserve to exist, try thinking like an ordinary human. From there, maybe you'll find your answer."
Yūshirō couldn't give Kurosaki his truth. Only Kurosaki could.
"Think like… an ordinary human…"
The words lingered in Kurosaki's mind. Perhaps, he realized, their place wasn't here or in Hueco Mundo—but in the human world, among humans.
"…Anyway, that's for another time. The route you've been taking us on is correct, right?"
"Of course," Kurosaki replied quickly.
"Good. Then let's rest. Tomorrow, you'll continue guiding us."
Yūshirō smiled faintly and let it drop.
"Mm."
Kurosaki nodded. The night deepened. Szayelaporro pulled eight sleeping bags from his pack and handed them out.
"I get one too?"
Kurosaki blinked.
"Of course. I brought extras. No problem at all~" Szayelaporro grinned, eyes glittering oddly as Kurosaki accepted it.
"Thanks."
Kurosaki climbed into the bag without hesitation.
But at midnight, while the others slept, he opened his eyes.
"Heh. Fools. I'll just teleport out of here and—"
But his smug smile froze.
A pair of giant eyes stared straight into his. No—an eye mask painted with huge cartoonish eyes, worn by Yūshirō, who lay bundled in his bag, face-to-face with him.
"…Is he asleep or not?!"
Cold sweat beaded on Kurosaki's forehead. His hand clenched the teleport threads, wavering.