Chapter 35: Hueco Mundo: Part 4
"The trail ends here. The hollow must have had already fled," a Shinigami spoke, feeling out for any residual spiritual energy. "I can't determine an exact path, but it's possible to guess a direction towards the east."
Yamomoto nodded wordlessly.
He was younger than he appeared in the future, black hair and a shorter beard and mustache giving him a rugged sort of temperament. Inspecting the corpses on the ground, he solemnly closed his eyes. Not much was left of the corpses, the majority of the bodies were disintegrated by what appeared to be an overbearing spiritual energy. All that was left to be identified were pieces of black cloth.
"Three Captains and an entire unit of Shinigami," he listed out in a cold tone. "Unforgivable."
There was a short silence. He was the current head of the recently founded Genji School also known as the Shinigami Academy. The Genji School was the first of its kind, a newborn institute created for the purpose of fostering the following generations of Shinigami. Although the bodies in front of him were no longer recognizable, there was no doubt in his mind that he knew of them.
The Shinigami who had spoken before him grew increasingly flustered, suddenly realizing something.
"The spiritual energy sir, its pure," the Shinigami said, standing up from a crouched position. "There are no other traces of mixed auras to be found, meaning that-"
"One hollow killed three captains and an entire unit of Shinigami," a woman interrupted.
She had a head of long flowing black hair and a disposition that exuded murder behind a sly smile.
The Shinigami that had spoken immediately grew wary, backing away to give room for an individual that none in the Soul Society would ever cross. The criminal whose ferocity and tenacity to kill were incomparable, making her the number one criminal in the entire dimension.
The First Kenpachi recruited by Yamamoto to serve in the founding of the Court-Guard Squads.
Retsu Unohana.
"Interesting," Unohana muttered lowly, resting a hand over her sword's hilt before shifting her gaze over to Yamamoto who shook his head.
"Now isn't the time without any leads," he stared off into the distance. "More than likely, this is the very hollow the Second Division had detailed extensively in their reports. The only hollow with the designation of Vasto Lorde."
The Genji Academy had already spent much time and resources on new Shinigami; to send more was simply repeating the same mistake already made. In Unohana's case, despite being confident in her strength, he wasn't one to take risks at the moment. There was no guarantee that Unohana would triumph, not with her fighting style as it was currently.
Tensions with the Quincy were already growing as well, and he feared the start of a war was bound to begin. There was no way that he could risk Unohana, the first Kenpachi in the current situation. Therefore, he made his choice.
Of the various Shinigami he could send, the Shinigami in question had to have strength and skill insurmountable to prevent anymore casualties. In that regard, there was only one.
"The both of you, head back and continue the preparations against the Quincy," he stared towards the east somberly, the scent of ash permeating the air. "I will go and settle this matter."
She didn't know how long she sat there just staring at him. He hadn't woken up in the past few days and she couldn't understand why. She had checked on him numerous times by picking up his hand and sending subtle pulses of spiritual energy for a response. Every time, she would indeed get a reaction from his spiritual energy, and yet he still didn't wake up.
The situation was close to driving her to anxiety, the dead silence around her only making the feeling more pronounced. She sighed, eyes downcast as she watched the falling of the first snow through an opening in the temple side house.
She appeared bedraggled, nothing like her general indifferent outlook of several months prior. Her hair was dishevelled and her gaze was lacklustre as it had been for the last few days. The silver fur-lined overcoat she generally wore was discarded to the side, sprawled unceremoniously on the floor where it had fallen from the hook in the wall that she had hung it upon.
She didn't care, sitting silently in the same spot on the left-hand corner and letting the day waste away.
Beside her was the bag of spiritual offerings that Starrk had packed from the beginning of the journey, its contents still relatively full, yet now untouched. She didn't feel like eating it anymore. To begin with, eating was never necessary to maintain herself. The only benefit it had brought to her was how delicious it was.
Presently though, she couldn't bring herself to consume it after recalling how earnest Starrk had appeared when making them, and then comparing that image with Starrk's current condition.
Her lips pursed together, the action involuntarily human, but then again, hollows were once human too.
As the day was slowly crawling to its evening, something different occurred that caused Coyote to look up. Initially, she had been hit with a surge of hope and expectation as her attention first landed on the body before her, but it quickly died when she noticed no change. Instead, what had occurred was a movement in the sliding door which acted as the side temple's entrance.
"That damned geezer," a child muttered lowly, tresses of green hair framing a somewhat pudgy face. "Let's see if he finds me here."
By this point, the child's back was still facing her, but she was quickly losing interest. It was just a human child dressed in traditional Miko garments, a white top and a red bottom pleated-long-skirt. A bow was tied around the waist using a cloth to fasten the entire outfit together.
Just as she was about to shift position and pull her knees to her chest in disinterest, she noticed that the child that had entered was staring directly at Starrk, mouth opened wide.
She watched wordlessly as the child ran directly up to Starrk and began inspecting him up and down.
"What's a guest sleeping here for?" the child muttered before grinning moments later and stepping back.
Fumbling around the room, the child sighed, seemingly unable to find what she had been looking for.
"Oh well," the child muttered before once again standing right before Starrk.
"Hey, wake up!" The child yelled, growing irritable when she didn't get a single reaction. "I said WAKE UP!"
Again, no response.
A vein twitched on the child's forehead, and before Coyote knew it, the child opened Starrk's mouth and jabbed her finger in.
"Well, I thought that would work?" The child said helplessly, recalling that it had never failed when used on her grandfather. Thereafter, her eyes gleamed with determination. "Maybe I should just try again?"
"I'd rather you not," Coyote finally spoke up, expression blank.
She understood that the child in front of her was different from the regular humans. This was evident enough based on the fact that she could see and interact with Starrk, meaning that she was a special human imbued with high levels of spiritual energy. The child was effectively what most other hollows would consider prime sustenance. Fortunately, she wasn't that kind of hollow.
On the sound of her voice, the child startled, having not noticed her due to the obscurity of her location and her general lack of communication skills, something she hardly ever used.
"Uhm, hi," the child said embarrassedly. "I didn't see you there, is he your friend?" The child asked pointing.
She didn't answer for a while, the awkwardness of her stare making the child fidget until a single word left Coyote's mouth.
"Family," was all that she said, turning her gaze away to stare outside, uninterested in interacting with the child any further.
What she never would have had expected was that the child would walk right up to her despite her dismissal and sit unceremoniously by her side. Of all the humans she had ever met that could see her, generally they always ran away upon sensing her vast aura. The child though appeared to be the exception. Either the child couldn't feel the aura she was releasing subtly to pressure the child to leave, or the child just didn't care.
She grunted, it didn't matter to her either way. She ignored the child who she could feel was staring at her.
Crossing her arms, she simply continued to gaze out at the falling snow, all the while glancing at Starrk from time to time and growing more reserved.
In the silence, and as light pooled in from the window, she suddenly bristled.
Why did it sound like the child was eating?
Unwilling to shift her head back to look right away, it was only when she heard the rustling sound of fabric opening that she couldn't take it anymore. No matter if she didn't feel like eating the food Starrk had made at the moment, it didn't mean that she wanted to share the product of Starrk's efforts with someone else.
Her head snapped back like a viper, producing a click as her pink-eyes narrowed into a glower of unhidden agitation.
"You-"
"Want one? I didn't know the offerings actually tasted this good," the child said, licking her fingers while stuffing a bun into Coyote's mouth who was too stunned from the child's lack of caution around her to react. "This bean bun tastes good too, but the thing over here is even better."
Chewing, Coyote swallowed what was in her mouth first before staring blankly at the child before her. The child ate like a hamster, biting with large mouthfuls that bulged her cheeks out and even then, she was somehow still able to swallow.
Coyote snorted. As much as she intended to give the child a piece of her mind, she held herself back when the child spoke.
"These aren't offerings, are they? They're too good to be," the child asked, staring intently at the food in her hands.
"They are offerings," Coyote said curtly. "They were just cooked into something more edible."
The child took another bite of food, idly watching Coyote who once again fell back into silence as the child sat down on her knees.
"If this food tastes good, then why aren't you eating it?" The child then asked.
Coyote didn't answer, but the quick shifting of her eyes was enough to give her away.
The child, having been raised in the temple since youth had seen many people and even spirits. It wasn't difficult for the child to determine thoughts Coyote must have had been feeling.
"Is he sick?" The child asked, motioning towards Starrk.
"I don't know."
"Was he the one to make this food?"
"Yes."
"Then all the more reason to eat it," the child stood up as Coyote glared. "He made it for you, didn't he?"
The child took a piece of food into her hand and offered it out in front of her while smiling.
Grudgingly, Coyote took the food in the child's hand and ate it silently, the child finding her own corner to sit at while grumbling about the strict rules her grandfather had set up for the temple. Soon after, the child left with a quick goodbye.
The child's name was Lilynette, and it wasn't a name Coyote would be forgetting in the future. After all, Lilynette continued to visit the side-temple every night, popping in and leisurely siting at her own corner while humming a tune.
Coyote didn't say it, but slowly she was beginning to appreciate Lilynette's presence. It helped her feel less alone, but also a tad incredulous that a human could somehow neglect the pressure of her spiritual energy.
There was a reason she had always been alone.
Her spiritual pressure was too great and could wipe out lesser hollows and humans in an instant. If not for her taking the time to reel in her strength through practice, then she knew that Lilynette would not be able to get anywhere near her. The same could be said for the other humans residing within the temple's grounds.
As the days continued to go past, there were still no signs of Starrk waking up. Subsequently, Coyote began to talk less and less while simply just waiting by his side.
"I can try to wake him up today. Grandpa once said that I'm really good at getting others up," Lilynette spoke, glancing over.
Coyote shook her head, prompting Lilynette to fall silent.
Lilynette had been able to tell that Coyote and Starrk weren't human. It was kind of hard not to when the both of them had holes directly through their chests, but she didn't shy away from them. Rather, she was curious instead. Her grandfather had once spoken to her of monsters with holes through their bodies that eat humans, yet staring at Coyote, she didn't see a monster at all.
Bored as Lilynette was at the moment though, she walked up to Coyote who was sitting by Starrk and suddenly stiffened.
A distinct scent permeated in the air. One of ash and fire that sent chills down her back. Her first reaction was to run outside believing that some part of the temple had caught fire, but that notion was cut off from the moment she saw the fury and reservation in Coyote's eyes.
Coyote was holding tightly onto Starrk, contemplating whether she should just run or not, but faltering when she noticed Lilynette. If she ran with Starrk, regardless if her chances were low, it was guaranteed that whoever had been following her would reach the location of the side temple.
Although Shinigami never attacked humans, a human who had a hollow's aura lingering around them may be exempt from whatever rules the Shinigami strictly upheld. As such, she couldn't leave. Not only because she didn't want to endanger Lilynette, but because her chances of escaping were too low in the first place.
The Shinigami who was coming after her, feeling the aura around, it was that Shinigami. The one whose blade was akin to a primordial fire and the one she least wanted to ever face.
As much as she tried to suppress her spiritual energy, it was guaranteed that she would be sensed once her pursuer drew close enough.
Gingerly, she placed Starrk down before staring at Lilynette.
"Watch over him," she said grimly, balling her hands into fists.
If she couldn't run, then all she could do was fight, and unlike the past, this time she had something to fight for. She would protect her Family.
Standing up, she made her way to the exit of the temple side-house and vanished in a burst of speed that Lilynette couldn't possibly follow.
"Wait!" Lilynette called out, unable to understand what was happening but knowing intuitively that Coyote was going to be in danger.
Unfortunately, Coyote was already too far away to hear Lilynette's voice.
Left alone, Lilynette could only restlessly settle herself within the temple-side house and watch after Starrk. Yet in doing so, she froze, mouth gaping open.
Because she noticed something as the aura of flame and cinder grew more pronounced within the temple-side house like the heat of a blacksmith's forge. It was the twitching of a finger.
Yamamoto didn't know how to describe it at first. He was expecting to come across a trail of destruction generally left behind in a hollow's wake, crushed homes and uprooted trees leading to a scene of mayhem. What he saw was nothing of the sort.
He wasn't discouraged however as not all hollows acted in the same manner, some were smarter.
As such, rather than traversing through the air at a fast pace, he was walking within a tranquil forest footpath instead.
There were many things he could have had missed should he had travelled through the air, and the thing about the more elusive hollows was that they could be discreet with the energy they inevitably leave behind. Unfortunately, the one he was trailing was exceedingly slippery, leaving almost nothing for him to follow.
Without his intuition, he was certain that he would have had been left at loss, but at the moment it was leading him down towards the human settlement of Karakura.
His eyes narrowed as he proceeded, his tenacity and relentlessness harbouring results when he eventually stumbled into a clearing that solidified his conjecture. It was filled with traces of the very spiritual energy identical to the one found in the mountainside.
That was all he needed to know before he began subtly releasing his spiritual pressure throughout the area. If a hollow was around, there was no chance that they wouldn't react to it. Either they fled, or they chose to remain hiding. In any case, no hollow had ever been able to escape him. It would only be a matter of time.
Surprisingly, neither of the options he had envisioned had occurred. Instead, the hollow came to him.
It was a humanoid hollow whose figure and appearance were entirely human-like aside from the lingering hollow bone armour on her body.
Pink eyes narrowed dangerously, the muzzle of a gun pointed forward.
Coyote knew that words were no longer necessary.
She had scene Yamamoto on numerous occasions in the past.
He was relentless.
If the Soul Society deemed Unohana Retsu as the most diabolical criminal ever recorded, then her savagery was still below that of Yamamoto. The man had not been able to found the Genji Academy and the Court Guard Squads without having to heartlessly tread on numerous corpses in the process. Other than Yamamoto, there would have had been no other individual capable enough to recruit Unohana Retsu, and this alone spoke enough.
It was a means to an end, good intentions to justify a method along with an overwhelming power.
In the silence, a sword was raised.
"Reduce all to ashes: Ryoujin Jaka."
There were no formalities, no warnings. Yamamoto already had a vague estimate of his opponent's strength based on the fact that Coyote had been able to single handedly defeat three Captain-Class Shinigami.
She was on a level only comparable to him and Yhwach of the Quincy.
Tongues of flame ran up and down the edge of his sword accompanied by a daunting spiritual pressure that flattened the entire forest and set fire to the world. If not for Yamamoto's consideration of the human world's rules, the pressure alone may have had even directly destroyed the settlement of Karakura.
In response, a spiritual pressure that was like a winter storm rose in opposition, the vague outline of a wolf manifesting in the air and howling at a distant moon.
Wolves were pack animals, but there were times when even alone they stand imposingly in isolation. The stray calling in the night, echoed only by the emptiness of a field of white.
She would fight, not only because of herself, but for what she now had.
Pink eyes narrowed in determination. Live or die, it would all be the same if she retreated now. So, for the first time, the cornered wolf will stand strong and cry out to the sky. Seeking out its own salvation.
She disappeared from out of sight, displaying a speed that shifted Yamamoto's expression to one of solemnity.
"The First Killing Stroke," he leveled his blade flat, horizontally opposed to him as his eyes darted left and right. "Nadegiri!"
"Cero!"
Blade met gun, and in a resounding explosion, both combatants were pushed back before charging at each other once more.
She pushed off with her feet, dashing left and right as a blinding light formed in her free hand, coalescing around it while spiraling into the shape of a fang.
Yamamoto grunted, pulling back his Zanpakuto to free his right arm to meet Coyote's strike with his own. "Ikotsu!"
Fist met fist, and Yamamoto's eyes couldn't help but widen. Even without his sword, no hollow he had ever faced had been able to survive the strength of his body let alone push him back.
His feet dragged into the ground, creating two large scars in the earth.
Blood dripped down from his arm, punctured by the sharpness of Coyote's blow, yet she faired no better. Her arm hung limply on the side, but in a show of power, her spiritual energy exploded out, her arm regenerating at a visible rate.
In a world surrounded by flame, two individuals stood at its center, watching each other intently.
Yamamoto's expression was grim. Hollows were spirits that were fundamentally ruining the balance of the world. They were souls that refused to move on and cause disaster to the living. And yet, he also understood that out of the three current forces of Shinigami, Quincy, and Hollow, the Hollows were the most disadvantaged, hunted down by both sides and forced into hiding. The appearance of a Hollow that could match him with such circumstances didn't bode well in his opinion.
Coyote's designation of Vasto Lorde was not undeserved, but Yamamoto intended to make her the first and last of her kind.
"Torch," he invoked, sending forth a great inferno.
"Not going to work."
A gun was pointed forward, tendrils of spiritual energy converging into a ball of mass power continuously fired.
Coyote flashed in and out of the flame, firing shot after shot that even Yamamoto's flames could not extinguish. Rather, they cancelled each other out in arks of steam that dissipated into the air.
She clicked her tongue, jumping back.
Her right hand came forward, nails digging into her flesh before she smeared the dripping blood over the muzzle of her gun in a swift motion.
"The Grand King Beckons forth his power."
The blood coagulated, floating still before merging with the growing vortex of power channeled through the gun in her hands. Space and time itself began to distort, fracturing like glass.
"Reduce the world back to zero," her hand levelled down, the muzzle of her gun heating up to an iridescent blue. "GRAN REY CERO!"
A blast of overwhelming spiritual energy shot forth, claws of pure energy swirling around a void that seemed to obliterate everything as Coyote yelled, fueling the power further. Immediately, the attack accelerated, leaving nothing in its wake.
Yamamoto's complexion paled as he realized that he couldn't avoid the coming attack.
He stabbed Ryujin Jakka into the ground and raised both his arms.
"Bakudo #81: Danku."
A translucent rectangular barrier appeared instantly in front of Yamamoto, the energy comprising it cracking on contact with Coyote's attack.
"Enkōsen, El Escudo."
Two more protective barriers appeared in front of Yamamoto, but even after the first barrier cracked, the rest followed quickly after until he himself was enveloped in the light.
A shockwave spread out, picking up rubble and debris and ejecting them for miles on end.
Landing, Coyote took a breath before pursing her lips and staring through the dust. A good portion of her spiritual reserves were used up, yet not enough to affect her at the moment.
Still, she gritted her teeth in apprehension when a figure gradually began to appear as the dust settled.
His clothing was torn, leaving his upper chest bare, but aside from minor bruising and bleeding, Yamamoto came out unscathed, held in his hand, a sword that appeared different from before. A wooden katana burnt black from flame and exuding an ancient aura of cinder.
"Bankai: Longsword of the Remnant Flame."
It was a far cry from the sword she had seen in hand before, but staring at it, she felt chills travelling down her back. The air itself had become arid, dry, as if all moisture had evaporated.
Initially, she had wanted to rush in and attack to obtain the momentum, but her intuition warned her that coming in contact with him was a death sentence. Therefore, she maintained her distance, warily eying Yamamoto for any sudden moves.
She was still caught unprepared.
He was too fast. He flashed directly in front of her, sword already falling down.
She had no time to think, barely shifting her body to the left in time to dodge the strike. Even then, she could feel the sheer heat scald her despite the toughness of her constitution.
When the sword struck the ground, there was no sound. It just slipped right in, leaving behind only thoroughly blackened dirt that disintegrated on contact as Yamamoto drew back his sword.
By this time, she had already flashed away, her complexion pale.
Unknowingly, her quick reaction caused Yamamoto's expression to shift.
The Longsword of the Remnant Flame was his strongest attack and skill, however prolonged use was its one weakness. The area around was now akin to a natural disaster. If he had been able to hold back his strength from affecting the living world before, now it was futile.
The extreme heat exuding from him and his sword was such that his Bankai was impossible to maintain for long as extended use could not only harm the surroundings, but he himself. Unfortunately, he had no choice but to release it prior, the surge of spiritual energy that accompanied his sword's release nullifying the volatility of Coyote's previous attack.
Embers drifted into the wind, the houses and structures built by humans erupting into a blaze that created an uncontrollable forest fire, screams and pandemonium spreading.
He knew that he had to end the confrontation fast, and yet his opponent's agility was on a similar level to his.
The one chance he had had was when she was initially caught unprepared after his sword's release. Now his attempt had failed, and it would prove difficult to get near her again. Therefore, he had to think of another way.
He stared hard at Coyote in contemplation, recalling a bit of information he understood. Back at the mountain pass, the hollows he had intercepted there with Unohana and the others had cried desperately for help before their deaths. The only question then had been just who they were calling for?
It was a longshot, but all he needed was a small opening.
He took in a breath after slicing in half a cero fired his way.
Thereafter, he impaled his sword into the ground.
"Great Burial Ranks of the Ten-Trillion Fire Dead," his voice was somber, the ground rupturing violently and forcing Coyote to flash into the air to avoid the recoil.
She felt something off with the situation at that moment, a cero already loaded at the tip of her gun in caution only for the energy to fade.
What appeared before her, rising out from the formed crevice in the ground were familiar masked figures.
Hollows.
The very same ones she could still recall had once flocked to her for protection. Their eyes were lifeless, their bodies nothing more than burnt walking corpses.
She swallowed, a shudder passing through her as guilt soon flooded her mind. Subsequently, that guilt was replaced by rage. Even in death they couldn't rest. Although she had abandoned them, they had still helped to alleviate her loneliness before Starrk came along. To see them in such a state caused her to immediately fire out.
A barrage of ceros annihilated the corpses of the hollows she once knew.
It was only when she composed herself that she realized that Yamamoto had disappeared. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as her feet attempted to push her forward.
Still, it was too late, a sword pierced through her stomach.
She forced down the scream that was threatening to burst out from her throat, and settled on glaring instead.
"To not be annihilated in an instant, your spiritual reserves are horrifying," Yamamoto pulled out his sword. "Unfortunately, how much of that spiritual reserve do you have left now?"
Coyote coughed out a mouthful of blood, her body crashing into the ground and forming a crater.
She knew that Yamamoto was right. The Longsword of the Remnant Flame was indeed formidable. It concentrated all of the flame and power of Ryujin Jakka into the sword's edge while emitting no flame at all. Rather, its cut could wipe out the existence of anything. For Coyote to still survive it, she had to pay a steep price.
She struggled to push herself off of the ground, but her strength was leaving her. Her fingers dug into the dirt, the wound through her stomach cauterized by the intense heat yet producing an ebbing pain.
"It's over," a voice spoke above her.
Yamamoto sealed his Bankai, sparing the area of any further destruction. Layers of sweat were present on his forehead and inwardly, he felt his body aching from the sheer exertion that his Bankai had put him through.
Coyote didn't respond to Yamamoto's words. Her mind was already elsewhere, thinking about the one happiness she had obtained in her life.
I'm sorry Starrk, her expression paled. I couldn't protect our Family.
Her thoughts wandered; her eyes staring up at the moon that had silently ascended into the sky under the blanket of night. It was beautiful, the one thing that was always constant in her memory when she looked up at the clouds in the evening.
Alone.
Always alone.
Not anymore.
His face appeared in her mind. An ignorant expression, carefree and asking her a question in an isolated mountainside cave.
Why did hollows roar?
The question was simple. Without a world to call their own, their greatest protection was each other.
They roared for the same reason other animals did, to find each other in a manor that could be surmised in one word.
Companionship.
And in that moment, as she watched Yamamoto raise his sword into the air, a Roar resounded out in the night.
"-!"
A shudder travelled down her back, primal yet gut wrenching.
She couldn't describe the emotion that welled up from within her then, a mix of confusion and hope, but it didn't matter.
Yamamoto was stunned, the sword in his hand frozen mid swing as his attention shifted towards the distance, at the unimaginable build up of energy occurring.
Taking the opportunity, Coyote weakly lifted her head, moisture in her eyes as she did the one thing that she had never done even once in her life.
She howled.
It was a world of heat and steel, something that he could now vividly recall.
The promise he had made, and the ideals he had walked by.
He was the Wrought Iron Hero, the man who had died alone on a hill of swords.
Within his inner world, he remained quiet, staring off into the sky while processing the information running through his head.
He remembered everything: Homurahara Academy, the Clock Tower, the Holy Grail War, and a promise that he had made upon the horizon.
His hands balled into fists, his expression blank. The figure of the man who had spoken to him before was already apparent to him through a resonance with his soul. A future version of himself that he had vowed never to become, EMIYA.
Now that he remembered everything though, he realized that nothing had really changed aside from understanding his own abilities completely. He was still himself. The same man who wouldn't hesitate to act on behalf of another.
It was for this reason that he was exceedingly tense at the moment.
Although his past self's body was still unconscious, it didn't mean that he didn't understand what was occurring outside. Rather, with his spiritual sense, he could paint an accurate picture. Coyote was fighting and from the feel of the energy in the air, it was against a familiar opponent that he had once faced as the Vasto of White.
Yamamoto Genryusai, the Head-Commander of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads.
Worried as he was, Coyote seemed to be holding her own until just recently. Her spiritual energy that felt like an endless sea had reduced to something akin to a cup of water.
He knew that he was in the past and the events occurring had already happened, but he couldn't sit still and do nothing.
Wake up!
He was anxiously calling on the conscious of his past-self. He couldn't do anything, but if his past-self was anything like him, he would act without self regard.
He had been thinking already. If Coyote was such a strong hollow in the past, why didn't he ever see her in Hueco Mundo in the future? The obvious answer in his mind was that she must have had died.
No, he refused such an outcome.
He had seen the way she had stayed by his past-self's side without a word or complaint. To have someone care for you so thoroughly on your behalf, how could anyone be willing to see a future where such a person was missing let alone himself who was subject to it?
GET UP!
His spiritual energy was in a fluster, an unlimited arsenal of steel at the ready just waiting to be unleashed.
Ancient gears began to turn. Monoliths that hovered in the sky producing a series of clanking noises that permeated everywhere. It was reminiscent of a hammer impacting an anvil, forging steel.
Producing over a thousand weapons.
Unknown to death, nor known to life.
Sparks showered across the bronze coloured sky, circuit like patterns flashing within the ground and linking to the vessels integrated with the soul itself at birth.
Magic Circuits.
Twenty-seven points in his soul thrummed with energy. That which was called od, prana, magic, proliferated from within him.
If there was any other reason he could give to his past-self to get up at this moment, then there was only one.
SAVE HER!
In regards to the consciousness of his past-self, it too had felt Coyote's actions at a subconscious level. As such, as soon as embers shifted into flames from within an inner world, a forge activating once more, a pair of eyes shot open.
The area around his past-self was different from the side-temple it had been in before. It was currently outside; the side temple burned into cinders and Lilynette unconscious beside him, having carried his past-self's body out.
He couldn't communicate with his past-self, but he didn't need to. What he had learned, his past-self seemed to already know.
His past-self wasn't named Starrk.
His name was Shirou Emiya.
The man whose personality would never change in life nor in death.
Therefore, bronze-coloured eyes searched frantically for the presence of the Vasto Lorde who had watched over him without rest, yet found nothing.
Shirou who could feel where Coyote was at the moment was frantically attempting to find someway to communicate the information, yet his efforts were futile.
Connected as he was to his past-self though, it didn't take long before a memory floated into the forefront of his past-self's mind, and his mouth abruptly opened.
The roar of a hollow resounded, long and distinct.
In response, came the sound of another, weak and barely audible.
Yet to his past-self, it was enough.
"Trace, On."
His past-self disappeared, the boundless power of his soul unleashed in full.
It was something called a Reality Marble, the manifestation of one's soul so imposing that it had the ability to rewrite the world itself. And this was what was currently at his past-self's disposal.
A shockwave was left in his wake, the rustling of the leaves signifying the distance he had travelled.
A boundless spiritual energy was rising, the strength of a world that stepped into the domain of the Spirit King himself exuding its might.
Yamamoto who could sense the sudden changes in the air was swift to react. Already, he had felt that something was wrong in the fraction of a second that he had allowed Coyote to howl.
Another hollow.
There was another hollow in the area.
He had to kill Coyote before the other one arrived.
Expression flashing with murderous light, Ryujin Jakka descended only for Yamamoto's eyes to widen.
Thrown from a distance, a blade as pale as the moon clashed against his sword, deflecting the trajectory as the sound of feet on the ground reverberated throughout.
Coyote stared fixedly in the sound's direction, her version blurry, but even then, it was enough.
Narrowed bronze coloured orbs glowed in the darkness of the night, an unfathomable aura extending towards the sky in a pale white radiance as a sharp voice directed itself towards Yamamoto.
"Get away from my Family."
Chapter 36: Hueco Mundo: End
Clouds began forming. Dark and ominous, writhing with tendrils of lightning that shot towards the ground in uneven intervals along with an inflow of rain and wind that the heat in the area did nothing to hamper.
It was a phenomenon created by the world. Something outside the natural laws and bordering on the metaphysical. A fire that burned and reduced all to ashes, and a power akin to creation permeating throughout. Overbearing, and imposing, the clashing of spiritual energy released a tension that suffocated all who drew near.
He took one step forward, the sound of dirt crunching beneath his feet echoed only by the distant thunder.
His presence was one that was similar to a storm. A congregation of such dense energy that it was even affecting the realm of the living, cracks forming in the dirt leading to large fissure-like chasms. The thick azure and overwhelming ferocity of it was not lost on Yamamoto, for the very same disposition had appeared once before along with death and ruin. A malefic and baleful aura, the strongest of its kind.
Vasto Lorde.
The Highest of Great Hollows.
The expression on Yamamoto's face stiffened, yet regardless of what thoughts were running rampant within Yamamoto's mind, his past-self didn't care for it one bit. His attention was focused solely on Coyote.
She was pinned to the ground within a crater, pink orbs listless and blurred yet staring at him all the same. Burns were scattered over her body, patches of black and reddish sores surrounding a punctured wound directly through her stomach unable to be healed due to a lack of reserves.
She was barely alive and yet when she saw him, he couldn't describe the emotion in her eyes. Her fingers dug into the dirt, a faint tremble in her body as she swallowed and attempted to push herself up, ultimately failing before crumbling back down. Her injuries were just too extensive, a far cry from how she had been before.
It wasn't fair.
He could understand why hollows were hunted, but Coyote had done nothing wrong.
She didn't prey on humans, rather, she maintained herself from the bountiful offerings given at temples and shrines, areas filled with spiritual energy. In exchange, she even watched out for the safety of the locals. He had seen her do this on numerous occasions, himself included when they had first met due to how similar to a human he had appeared.
They were actions that no other hollow would have had done, yet she had done so anyway only to end up in her current state. And at what cost? The mere act of defending herself?
A frenzied spiritual pressure began to brew.
"Wait here Starrk, I'll be back."
His past-self could still remember the words she had spoken to him then, the earnest determination, willingness, and solemnity in her actions conveyed with a silent disposition.
She had asked for nothing more, resigned to simply living within a mountainside cave isolated by others she nonetheless still wished to protect. All for a single reason he couldn't help but empathize with her for.
"I don't want to be alone anymore."
A lonely path, one that he too had walked upon while bearing the pain of losing those who had once stood alongside him.
His hands balled into fists, fingers curling into a white knuckled grip, and by the time he realized it, he was already standing before Coyote. A shockwave of spiritual energy left in his wake; the only signs apparent of his sudden movement as spatial cracks began forming in the air above.
He ignored the subsequent widening of Yamamoto's eyes in favour of gently kneeling down on one knee.
"S-Starrk," Coyote struggled to say while willing her body to move, she could feel his presence above her.
He shook his head, pulling her into his embrace and pressing her to his chest to get her to stop her movements. It was okay, everything was okay now. The matters one couldn't handle alone could often times be settled by others. He was there, her Family. He would protect her just as she had protected him. In his arms, she stiffened immediately, inexperienced with the warmth she felt around her yet understanding it for what it was. Something that had always been beyond her reach, a Bond with another. Her eyes began to glisten before a muted sob escaped her lips.
He didn't say anything in her moment of weakness, simply keeping her close and whispering into her ear.
"You've done enough, Coyote, it's my turn to protect you."
Coyote swallowed at his words while shakily staring up to meet his clear gaze, suddenly, a sword's light reflected in her eyes, causing them to widen.
She wanted to yell in warning, but she didn't have the energy to.
However, she need not worry.
A hand stretched out, unassuming and lacking any factors of intimidation.
It was a strength that didn't need to be sensed to be understood, for his current power was one that couldn't even be felt. The mysteries and laws of the world could no longer contain him; to pressure him into limiting his ability. For his ability imposed on the world itself.
The very strength of his soul.
Steel is my body.
As if by some unfeasible decree, reality bent, flesh made strong, weak made hard.
Steel met steel in a resounding clash of metal, fingers wrapping around a sharp edge and grating. Sparks flew endlessly in arcs, yet no matter how much weight Yamamoto put into his sword, it would not cut.
It would never cut. Not with the sheer difference in spiritual energy; the composition itself too distinct to even compare. What he was exerting was not simply the might of his spiritual energy alone, but rather that of his inner world breaking the bounds of reality.
A power whose jurisdiction belonged only to one.
The Soul King.
"Impossible," Yamamoto's tone was pensive, disbelieving.
The Soul King was a being that was the God of the realm of the living and the dead, possessing the means to change the nature of the world by initiative. Only in the space around the vicinity, the Soul King was no longer the absolute Sovereign.
It was a dimension of swords and steel threatening to explode out in a moment's notice reflected from a pair of bronze coloured eyes.
His gaze slowly shifted away from Coyote and turned towards Yamamoto, the impassiveness of it sending chills down Yamamoto's back as a set of magic circuits thrummed.
Converters of magic, they rapidly began absorbing an enormous amount of latent energy present in the atmosphere, funneling it to the very hand clasping over Yamamoto's sword.
In wake of his current strength, swords and weapons were no longer necessary.
The attack of a hollow would be enough.
He flicked his fingers.
"Begone."
With a word, the world shattered before Coyote's eyes, an explosive force completely enveloping Yamamoto and relieving her of her tension. Subsequently, she could last no longer and passed out in his arms.
He readjusted his grip on her before placing the hand he had used to repel Yamamoto's attack under her knees and hoisting her up. She had suffered enough, it was time for her to recuperate. He used his shoulder to rest her head on and gradually narrowed his eyes as the smoke cleared.
A bottomless chasm stretched on for miles on end, water from a nearby lake spilling into it and creating a vast blue river contrasting the inferno that appeared alongside it.
The temperature swelled instantly, a wall of flames striking forward like a viper's bite, melting the gravel and rocks and turning them into an odorous magma as it quickly approached him.
It didn't matter. Yamamoto had simply found the wrong opponent.
Fire is my blood.
He didn't dodge the blaze, he welcomed it, a fragment of his reality marble piercing a hole into the world.
Mere moments away from touching him, the flames themselves vanished without warning.
Hovering in the air just above the river, Yamamoto stood in tatters, his breathing ragged as an expression of dread and disbelief appeared on his visage. Cracks and splinters soon began forming over the four barriers erected in the air before shattering entirely, Yamamoto's formidable spiritual reserves significantly depleted.
In response, he stared silently at the man, expression cold as a sword began forming within his mind. However, he paused abruptly in the midst of his tracing, eyes darting up into the sky and off into the distance.
He was being watched.
More importantly, he could feel that he had earned the attention of the entity at the center of the world's laws and that killing Yamamoto would only earn him its animosity.
Glancing at Coyote held protectively in his grasp, he realized that it wasn't worth it to stay much longer just to vent the anger from within him. He couldn't risk Coyote for it. Besides, he already understood that even if he defeated Yamamoto, nothing would change for the hollows unless he did something drastic.
As such, he glanced deeply one last time at Yamamoto before promptly leaving. He would need all the power at his disposal for what he was planning.
Yamamoto bristled at his actions, the weight of his duty urging him to give chase, but he stopped mere moments from moving, forcibly restraining his body.
He felt something.
Icy, and cold originating at his back.
A premonition.
Should he so much as even move, he felt that his life would end.
Hard as it was to believe, years of battle experience had long since developed a deep trust towards his senses and they were warning him heavily.
A minute passed, then two, and then ten.
It was only when Yamamoto felt it safe enough that he glanced behind him. And when he did, his complexion paled as for the briefest of moments, he saw the fading outlines of thousands of objects disappearing.
His mouth dried.
Sheathing his sword, he looked towards the direction the hollows had left from and all intentions of chasing disappeared. He couldn't allow himself to die at such a precarious time. The Academy still needed him as its headmaster and the Quincy couldn't be left alone.
It was a dilemma between honour and duty.
Finally, he let out a sigh and left, whether it was one of relief or weariness, no one but Yamamoto would know. Just that as soon as he returned, he forbade all Shinigami from leaving the Academy grounds for a period of time.
However, in the place Yamamoto had just left, a man clad in black subsequently appeared, a frown on his face.
By the time he returned to the once burning temple that had housed him, the fires had long since been put out by the coming rain. Charred remains of splintered wood and blackened tiles lay sporadically amidst the ruin of the interior, smothering all who couldn't escape to death.
He watched this all with a sobriety that constantly ate at him. He could feel the emotions of his past-self, could comprehend them even without explanation.
He had always been one to put the lives of others before himself, a fool whose only acceptable outcome was saving everyone. In the end, what had it given him?
He paused in a moment of silence but regardless of the answer, he didn't regret it.
He released a breath, pulling Coyote closer into his arms and moving amongst the wreckage. Embers shifted into the air with every step, the dying sparks of life extinguished in mere fleeting moments without warning much like those that had burned to their deaths within the temple.
Carbonized remains were all that were left, fingers curled into claws in an attempt to dig their way out of the rubble yet failing from the unnatural heat that had suffused the area alone. It was why the power of Shinigami in the living world were restricted in the peaceful times of the future. Innocents were killed as a collateral. It would be one of many regrets Yamamoto would have in the future whilst thinking of the past.
The smell wafting into his nose was nauseating, but not as disturbing as the familiarity he felt in his actions by just walking through the remains of the temple.
He dealt with everything wordlessly, traveling forward until he reached his destination.
"You came back," a voice called out softly, weakly as if in a daze.
He stared ahead, observing how Lilynette had dragged herself to lean her back on a blackened boulder, her legs sprawled in front of her. There was something missing from her generally optimistic expression, eyes limpid and unfocused as she stared at the ruins, lips trembling.
"T-They're all dead," she whispered while smiling as if it were all a sick joke. "The stupid old man, the other brats, uncles and aunties. There's no one left who will search for me anymore when I go hiding."
She swallowed, the falling rain making it difficult for him to determine whether she was crying or not. Only the forced smile on her face was just abnormally wrong.
"I'm sorry," he said.
The words left his past-self's mouth before he even knew it. If not for the fact that he and Coyote had taken shelter in the Temple, then perhaps it wouldn't have had been destroyed, the lives of the people within left unchanged.
Hearing him, Lilynette shook her head while whimpering.
"It's not your fault," she pursed her lips, a corner of her mouth lifting from a memory. "Like the old man had said, this temple accepts everyone, even if they're different. You, me, Coyote, we were all accepted. That's why it's not your fault."
The two lapsed into silence, he unable to utter anything, and she listening to the pitter-patter of the rain. Eventually, his back turned.
"Are you leaving?" A voice called out to him.
He turned his attention back to Lilynette and had to stifle the guilt he felt when he noticed the despondence of her expression. The rain had made her face pale, and the wind had long since stiffened her body, fingers shifting blue and cheeks stiff. It wasn't that he didn't want to take her with him, but the difference was that he and Coyote were Souls and she was still of the Living. Taking her along would be a death sentence which was why he had already alerted the village folks situated away from the temple to come through impersonated divine intervention.
He nodded his head in response to Lilynette's question. Lying would only make things worse.
"The people from the village below will come. They will help you," he said.
Surprisingly, on mention of the town's people, Lilynette's complexion seemed to pale further.
"No, no," she sniffled, her eyelids drooped. "They won't help. They'd probably kill me instead."
Saying that, she extended a trembling hand forward, and from within it, a spark of energy came to life, glowing with a dull light-green.
"They think I bring misfortune with this power. Its how they explained why my parents died."
With a flick, she extinguished the energy, pulling her knees to her chest and snivelling. "It was only the stupid old man that said it's a sign of a strong individual given power by the world, and look where that got him? It was the same for the others in the temple, but they're gone too. There's no one left."
No one else would ever accept her.
His expression grew grim, after a moment, words of conciliation at the tip of his tongue but faltering when he noticed the look she was giving Coyote.
"Is she alright?" She asked tentatively.
Looking down at Coyote, her body was still riddled with injuries and burns, her natural healing unable to close the wounds without sufficient reserves.
"She's injured," he frowned as he spoke, watching as Lilynette struggled to her feet. "You're injured too. You shouldn't be moving."
Lilynette staggered, but she stared back at him defiantly, a hand held over a wound that had stabbed her in the stomach that he hadn't noticed before due to the way she was sitting. It was only the burns that he noticed first.
"It's alright then," Lilynette wobbled as she walked, on the verge of collapse. "There's still something that I can do."
A soft glow began emanating from her palms, a dull light green that was like a beacon in the night.
He didn't stop her. He already understood that nothing he could say would be able to get through to her at the moment, rather it may cause her more pain. Therefore, he didn't move.
Seeing his actions, Lilynette swallowed audibly, lowering her head.
"Thank you," she whispered as her hands fell onto Coyote's side, the energy in her palms transferring to Coyote in mots of green light.
He didn't pay much attention to it at first, but when he realized what was going on, he stiffened.
"Y-You?" He stuttered out.
Lilynette shook her head, and he grit his teeth as a result.
At first, he had believed what Lilynette was transferring to Coyote was just the spiritual energy she displayed moments earlier, but focusing on the dwindling energy of her body, it was clear that it wasn't that simple.
What was being transferred wasn't just spiritual energy, but the potency of life force itself. Already, he could see visible signs of improvement over Coyote's form, but in contrast, this wasn't something that was easy for him to accept.
"You'll die," he said in agitation.
Looking up at him, he saw the depths of the blankness on Lilynette's features, cold and unfeeling.
"I already have alongside the stupid old man and the others," she said wryly. "At least this way, I can give just one more act of kindness."
"No," he was quick to say, yet the hands that were moments away from acting froze.
"Please." A sob of despair came out. "I don't want to be alone."
Lilynette bowed her head low, her lips quivering. No matter how much he willed himself to intervene, he couldn't bring himself to move, watching as the life gradually left Lilynette's body. The action of giving up her life force even made it such that her body was deteriorating at a visible rate until Liynette faded entirely from the world; her life transferred over to heal Coyote as he stood in a daze.
"Thank you."
One last show of gratitude filtered into the wind, and then it was gone.
Everything was gone.
For the first time since his past-self regained his memories, he felt hollowness in his heart.
This new world he was in, he couldn't accept it!
Hollows were hunted just for the sin of existing, and the skirmishes of others placed no regard for those who were powerless to resist.
It wasn't fair.
The Shinigami were said to be on the side of the righteous and the just, but he saw no Justice. Only death and persecution that dragged the innocents in.
If Hollows had no place in either the realms of the living or the dead, then he would create that place where they could all come back to and call 'home.' So that no Shinigami or Quincy could ever have a reason to fight near human settlements again.
His grip tightened around Coyote in his arms.
A family even if not by blood.
His power swelled around him, stretching for hundred and thousands of miles, a pillar parting the sky.
His was a world of steel and flame, an armoury of thousands upon thousands of blades. Yet, his inner reality wasn't suitable for hollows to live in, his beliefs and ambitions reflecting his vast armoury a hinderance rather than a necessity.
It didn't matter, his past self understood what had to be done.
A sacrifice made without a single hesitation.
He hovered into the air, thunder resounding in the distance.
"I am the bone of my sword."
Words of power representing a deeper meaning sent out invisible waves of energy throughout every corner of the world.
An incantation of self belief.
Fractures appeared in the air, dark and like broken glass in appearance leading to a dimension of rotating monolithic gears and a bronze coloured horizon.
"Steel is my body and fire is my blood."
His fingers curled into fists, wisps of rampant spiritual aura acting like tendrils that shot out in all directions. He wanted to make a world for all hollows to live in, to put an end to a life of constant hiding and oppression.
He roared, long and hard, carrying an unrestrained might that caused all hollows present anywhere to give pause.
A rallying call of a Greater Hollow.
A Vasto Lorde.
Hollows began leaving their seclusion one by one and moving in a certain direction, attracted by the protection of the strong.
"I have created over a thousand blades."
He could sense them coming in large numbers without even concealing themselves.
Elsewhere, the Shinigami and Quincy who noticed the large number of hollows didn't dare to intervene without sufficient reinforcements, otherwise death was the only outcome.
"Unknown to life,"
The energy around him thrummed, a vibration felt throughout.
"Nor known to death."
He closed his eyes, peering within himself. Hollows would never thrive in his inner world as it was. What he needed was a land of emptiness and high levels of spiritual energy that would last without conflict with the laws of the world.
As such, he had to integrate.
He would no longer impose his will upon the world, but instead allow the world to alter his instead. It was the birth of a new dimension.
Noble Phantasms didn't exist in the world he found himself in, but what did were weapons of rough equivalence called Zanpakuto. The numerous weapons stored within his armoury altered, giving life to spirits that weren't present before, parts of a soul belonging to legendary heroes manifesting in their weapons.
Ireland's Shield of Ulster.
The Rose of Olympia.
The Hero of the Nibelungenlein.
They all shifted to accommodate the laws of the world.
Yet, even still, there was something he had to give up.
"The path forward slowly reaches its end, the sharpest of swords dulling in the dusk."
His hopes and beliefs, that which gave life to his world founded upon an earnest wish. To create a universe that was truly empty, lacking wants, nor ambition.
The bronze horizon began to dim, a pale moon representing the end of an era rising up into a dark sky as the monolithic gears fell one by one. The embers that drifted in the wind became ash floating to the ground and burying all beneath; the veins of fire deep within the ground crystalizing into dull grey-like quartz.
Something within him snapped, the ideals holding his past-self's regained memories forcibly stored away lest everything fail.
"I have no regrets. An empty crucible."
He staggered, white flecks of extinguished cinders grafting over his body and enlarging the hollow hole in his chest.
"And so, as I pray, Unlimited Blade Works."
Tribal marks reflecting the nature of the world's laws travelled up and down his body as reality distorted, a ginormous crack forming in the air.
The first Garganta.
The hollows that had quickly gathered didn't need any prompting to understand what was in front of them, the white sand that they could see through the tear between dimensions evident enough.
He stood still, watching them filter in, hordes of hollows that would eventually build their own kingdoms and shelters. They entered with self-abandon, only a few taking the time to stare and commit his image to memory.
Currently, the cinders grafting over his skin had yet to cover him completely, preserving his original human-like image and what memories his past-self stubbornly clung onto.
"You, you will be remembered," the hollow who spoke was a skeleton for a hollow, brown rags adorning his form. "This King will remember it."
He simply nodded in response, his energy gradually leaving him from his exertion as he watched the skeletal hollow disappear through the Garganta.
In fact, many of the hollows understood what he had done and their gratitude simply couldn't be described. They didn't speak, but their sentiments were already conveyed. Not only was the human world stagnating for stronger hollows, but it was dangerous too.
Eventually, no others hollow appeared to enter the Garganta, leaving him alone with Coyote in his arms.
Slowly, steadily, he placed her through the tear between dimensions. A place where she didn't have to hide under oppression any longer and a place where hollows were abundant. She shouldn't be lonely anymore.
It wasn't that his past-self didn't want to stay with her, it was that he couldn't. His past-self still needed to stabilize the world created. As Shirou watched the actions of his past-self, he couldn't help but sigh in relief, Coyote didn't die.
She would be fine.
With that in mind, he observed as his past-self opened a smaller Garganta and entered, arriving upon a hill now buried by several layers of sand. It was a place that Shirou knew all too well, the vantage point he had always frequented.
"Now then," his past-self sighed while crouching. "There's only one thing left to do."
Closing his eyes, his past-self finally gave up on the things about himself that he was stubbornly holding onto. The ambition of his ideals and the motivation to continue forward, his soul becoming truly empty.
The very representation of the world around, barren, and destitute, the pale embers covering him completely as he resided within the center of the realm to act as its temporary lynch pin.
A blank sleight.
The Vasto of White
It was the last memory Shirou saw of his past-self as he felt the will of the Hogyoku dragging him back to the present.
Meanwhile, Coyote stirred, her eyes opening whilst pushing herself off of the sand.
"Starrk?" She called out softly, gaze shifting left then right.
No answer, the barrenness of the endless dunes giving her a sinking feeling of panic as her pupils dilated.
She was alone once again.
It was a world of emptiness, of white ash and buried swords; the same pale moon reflected up in the sky.
A forge without its flame.
A Hollow World.
Hueco Mundo.
He opened his eyes, staring uncertainly at the Hogyoku in his palm and sorting out the information in his head as a shudder travelled down his body. He had seen the past, what had happened to him and the decision his past-self had made.
To allow the hollows a stable world to live in, his past-self was in turn unable to maintain the memory of the ideals that had shaped him into the man he was. Otherwise, the emptiness that the hollows thrived of off within the world would crumble, replaced by an energy unsuitable. One that was pure, rather than baleful, more appropriate for Shinigami if anything else.
He shuddered to think of what the Shinigami would have had done if Hueco Mundo actually became beneficial to them. They would have had waged war for certain.
Then again, the fact that he had recovered his memories now would have little effect on the world. After spending millenniums integrated with the laws of the present universe, the world he had created had become intricately bound with the others, creating three worlds in total. Hueco Mundo, the Souls Society, and the Human World.
The only difference between the him of before and the him of now was the connection he felt with the world. The buried armory calling to him to reignite that which had gone cold.
Little by little, cracks began forming on the pale white hollow-bone armour over his body, shattering completely with the return of what he had lost.
His red hair stood freely, his toned body bare of any clothes besides a rag tied around his waist, the hollow hole around his chest having shrunk in diameter. His muscles flexed on reflex, hands clasping and releasing as interface-like patterns briefly flashed over his skin.
Shirou Emiya.
That was who he was, the man with a dream unable to ever be realized, yet striving for it anyway.
How or why he ended up in a world different from his own, he was still uncertain of even with the return of his memories. However, he knew that he hadn't been abducted by the Wizard Marshal as he could clearly remember dying in life, a force of humanity contacting him, and his prompt refusal.
Therein lies the mystery; the time frame from when he had closed his eyes in life, and when he had opened them in death. The answer he wanted was there. The reason for his presence in the world and what he was supposed to do. And the only one who could possibly aid him in this answer was the being who watched over the realms, acting as its lynch pin.
The Soul King.
In the end, he would still have to gain himself a meeting, but as a Hollow he knew it would be impossible for any kind of formal request to be approved. Therefore, cooperating with Aizen for the time being was probably in his best interest as he had no knowledge at all about where the Soul King resided or how to reach him.
With the shattering of the white exoskeleton around him, he had no choice but to realize that Aizen was still standing before him, gazing at him with a critical eye.
"Why can't I sense your spiritual energy?"
It was the first question out of Aizen's mouth, but he wasn't in the mood to answer.
Instead, he returned the Hogyoku to Aizen and hid his agitation, the dread welling up from within him like a festering wound. She was supposed to be here. He had saved her, made sure that she was safe before stabilizing the world.
Therefore why? Why couldn't he sense her unique spiritual pressure within the entirety of Hueco Mundo?
It was one of a steady ferocity, overbearing and as vast as an ocean. Utterly unmistakable.
Coyote, she had to be here somewhere.
Due to the connection he had with the world, it was possible for him to get a general feeling of the others within it to a certain degree. The varying levels of power from the individuals within Hueco Mundo were represented by how radiant a light they emitted in his mind's eye, and Coyote, she should have had been a torch with the amount of strength she possessed. And yet, the torch didn't exist, only a multitude of smaller lights.
The uniqueness of her aura was one that he was exceedingly familiar with.
Abandoning all intentions of discussing anything with Aizen at the moment, all he cared about was the anxiety he was feeling at being unable to sense Coyote's unique spiritual energy. It should have had been impossible for him not to be able to sense it given how large it had been in the past, and yet no matter where in Hueco Mundo he attempted sensing, he couldn't find her.
Uncertainty building, he was left with his last resort.
A memory from a certain mountainside he wouldn't be able to forget any longer.
For it was something that meant the world to Coyote.
Why did hollow's roar?
An action whose meaning had long since been lost to the newest generation of Hollows.
He roared, a howl stretching out across the barren dunes, amplified through his connection with the world. A distant cry with only a single intention behind it.
Where are you?
The distinctness and familiarity of it was not lost within the entirety of Hueco Mundo for the ancient hollows, a deep and guttural roar filled with unbridled power.
Barragan, within the center of Las Nochas blankly looked up into the moonlit sky, a flash flickering within his hollowed sockets.
The howls continued, growing more and more desolate with each passing moment, waiting for the response of another that never came.
Elsewhere, two others felt a jolt from within them that they could hardly fathom, an inexplicable sadness and mourning that instantly rooted them in place.
Wordlessly, Starrk shot up from where he was napping while Lilynette who was once watching Ichigo train with Nel swallowed audibly.
Both stared blankly into the distance, unable to explain the sharp pain that they were feeling within their souls as the word 'Family' persistently appeared in their minds. They just couldn't understand it.
The depth of what 'Family,' meant to them.
Nor the reason why they felt like crying.