Figures flickered across the scorched wasteland in high-speed bursts.
The black aura—symbolizing death and decay—flashed again and again through the battlefield, crashing wave after wave into swarming Reishi constructs, whose bodies hurled themselves forward just to quench that dreadful light.
Unlike his earlier bout with Yamamoto Genryuusai Shigekuni, Barragan could not deny—even if only in movement—that Higashi Shuuichi was the more troublesome opponent.
Yamamoto had no understanding of Barragan's true powers, nor of their absolute intensity. The old man played it straight—never circled, never faked. Against someone so linear, Barragan could savor the hunt like the ancient predator he was, slowly, cruelly, the way he tortured prey in Hueco Mundo for sport.
But Higashi Shuuichi was a different beast.
Despite having visited Hueco Mundo far less often than the two Shinigami who joined later, every time he came, Barragan found him—and every time, they clashed hard.
That history made Higashi intimately familiar with Barragan's techniques. And in return, Barragan knew exactly what this irritating Shinigami had up his sleeve.
Which is why this time, from the very beginning, Barragan didn't bother with the slow, withering approach he used on Yamamoto.
He knew his own flaws well: age didn't touch speed or generation—it slowed both, but didn't control them. And usually, that didn't matter.
Because to defeat Barragan through overwhelming Reiryoku production, one had to first exceed him in spiritual pressure by a wide margin.
Only one being had ever managed that.
Coyote Starrk.
Not Aizen, not Yamamoto, not even that damned monk who beat him the first time.
None of them had the sheer Reiryoku density Starrk possessed.
That fact remained Barragan's last pride as a Vasto Lorde before learning Resurrección—the only edge he held over Shinigami.
Higashi Shuuichi, who wasn't even halfway to Aizen's spiritual pressure, obviously couldn't exploit that gap.
So Barragan's concern wasn't about defeating Shuuichi.
It was how to trap him.
In the past, his attempts had been half-hearted. After all, with Aizen around, why bother? But this time—this time, he meant to kill.
Which is why he broke his usual form.
He chose close combat.
Zanjutsu.
Only up close, in the press of flesh and steel, could Barragan catch Shuuichi in his deadly aura of decay.
Otherwise, the slippery bastard would vanish the moment he sensed a losing hand.
Not a guess—history. Shuuichi had fled him mid-battle before, shamelessly and effectively.
What Barragan hadn't expected was this army of Reishi constructs sacrificing themselves in bursts, smothering his attacks.
Their sudden emergence, unpredictable and overwhelming, forced a rare stalemate in midair.
"Hmph. Nice trick, but Higashi Shuuichi… unless I'm mistaken, you've only got so many of those little toys, haven't you?
How long do you plan to drag this out? How much stock do you still have to burn?!"
Another axe blow crashed down. More Reishi warriors surged out of nowhere to intercept the wave of decaying light—his Respira, the sigh of death.
"Enough for you."
Confidence etched itself on Shuuichi's face like a scar that smiled.
"But you're not wrong. This grind is pointless. I overestimated you, Barragan.
I thought you might've grown a little over the last ten years since I left Hueco Mundo. But now..."
He sneered—sharp, derisive, knowing.
A nerve snapped in Barragan.
Mockery was his weapon, not one he'd suffer from a soul he once hunted like prey.
"Don't get cocky, Shuuichi. Killing you is just as effortless as ever!"
Barragan Sonído-stepped forward, reappearing in front of Shuuichi in an instant.
Rain struck the blade of his raised axe—and vanished midair as if it had crossed into a cursed domain.
He was desperate.
And Shuuichi knew it.
The attack missed. He had already backed off half a step the moment Barragan's form vanished, predicting the move. As Barragan reappeared, Reishi constructs flooded the spot Shuuichi had occupied, piling into the gap like willing sacrifices.
But this defense was just the beginning.
"Tactics of Origin. Bankai: Sacrificial Flesh, Blossoms on the Tree!"
For once, down in Hell, Ikeda Yukimura didn't scream and curse like usual.
He had no strength left for tantrums.
His body had been drained of power, stripped of the strength that once let him solo entire legions of ancient Hollows.
Now, every day, he was hunted. Torn apart. Rebuilt. Repeat.
Only the lack of true death in Hell kept the count from becoming final.
But his spiritual pressure was nearly depleted. And he knew—if Shuuichi borrowed from him again, his Reiryoku might drop below Hell's minimum threshold.
And when that happened? Hell would eject him.
Strip him of the Hell brand carved into his soul.
And with no power, no anchor, and a body that once died in Soul Society...
He would disintegrate.
But Shuuichi didn't know.
Or didn't care.
"Infernal Wail, Flame of Sin, Endless Agony, Eternal Fate—Dual Bankai: Possession of the Demon!"
In front of Barragan, Shuuichi activated his Dual Bankai in one stroke.
Black specters wrapped around him, cloaking his body like shadows with fangs.
And more of them erupted from the scorched battlefield below—Reishi soldiers' armor, weapons... and his cheat code.
"Barragan, guess what? I once asked Starrk, 'How did you beat Barragan?'
Wanna know what he said?"
Shuuichi bared his teeth beneath the gnawing demons chewing on his frame.
"He said, 'No special trick. Just spammed Ceros till the old man stopped moving.'
And I thought, well damn.
I can do that too~"
With a wave, another of his Zanpakutō's abilities flared—
Tactics of Origin: Resurrection by Borrowed Corpse!
All across the battlefield—seen or unseen—fallen artificial shells convulsed, transforming into demonic husks.
Each raised its cheap, ceremonial Zanpakutō.
And they cast Kido.
No variation, no strategy. Shuuichi gave them one order:
relentless bombardment.
And under the cloak of their fire, Shuuichi—with Yukimura's Bankai still flooding him—reengaged Barragan.
Phase two.
This wasn't random.
He had learned the trick from Yumizuru, former Tenth Division captain—whom he'd killed with his own hands.
In their fight, he'd seen Yumizuru's ghostly attachments shield him, even after death.
So Shuuichi bet on the same.
And won.
The ghostly layers protected him—shielded him just enough to get close, to challenge Barragan with steel.
For the first time, he bared his fangs.
Close the distance. Sever the flow.
The ambient Reishi froze. Barragan's body locked for half a second.
Too short?
To light a cigarette—yes.
To swing a blade?
More than enough.
Shuuichi raised his weapon.
All power, all fury, all spirit—
Inner Form: Caressing Slash!
Space cracked.
The flat void of Soul Society shattered into visible rips—black holes folded flat across the charred earth.
Barragan's decay dulled the strike.
But it still tore one of his arms clean off.
He stared at Shuuichi. Finally—truly—aware.
When had this man become so dangerous?
And if he was this strong... why serve Aizen?
Barragan couldn't understand.
Didn't want to understand.
But he wasn't without recourse.
He reached to the sky.
The Seireitei barrier had been broken—the coordinates exposed.
Barragan opened a Garganta.
Shuuichi narrowed his eyes.
He knew this trick.
Before returning from Hueco Mundo, he'd confirmed the Arrancar roster.
Only one stayed behind: Szayelaporro.
Would Szayelaporro really answer Barragan's call?
No way. Not after their split. Not for a boss with no future.
Then who—what—was Barragan summoning?
He couldn't guess.
Didn't need to.
Barragan was wounded—he couldn't move fast.
Which meant…
Shuuichi struck again.
Second Inner Form: Caressing Slash, offering of love.
Barragan's heart might've cried: Thanks, but no thanks!
Decay flooded outward again.
But Shuuichi cut through it, closed the distance, defied the aura.
Barragan's aging power couldn't rot him fast enough.
There was no escape.
Kido constructs blocked every route. The last strike had warped space—no Sonído could get him out.
Still—Shuuichi didn't land the kill.
The slash stopped.
Not on Barragan.
But on the thing that fell from the Garganta.
Something massive.
Crushing.
Impossible.
Las Noches itself.
Barragan hadn't called a soldier.
He'd dragged down the entire palace.
The floating fortress of Hueco Mundo.
This world was insane.
Aizen had orchestrated the fall of the Shiba Clan.
Now Barragan called Las Noches into battle mid-fight—
If he'd learned one thing from Shuuichi:
When you're losing...
Call backup.