A world without sacrifice—perhaps not for everyone, yet you must have noticed it as well. Hell, shrouded in ashen death and emerging above the Blood Sea, was what we had always called... the world.
I grew up in a world built from deserts and Corpse Pieces. There was no water there, nor was there any light.
A white civilization built of sand and earth, bearing nothing but bloodshed and slaughter. Flowers with color bloomed there only rarely.
But all of that changed with the arrival of a strange Shinigami.
He wore black robes, yet he was different from the eternal night that shrouded Hueco Mundo.
He was neither lifeless nor silent. He carried an air utterly out of place in Hueco Mundo, shutting out the faint sorrow that belonged solely to this land.
When I first saw him, I was merely curious. His group was strange: ordinary Hollows, combat spirit insects, a Vasto Lorde, and a very weak Arrancar.
Perhaps because I still bore a grudge against the two Adjuchas I had once driven away, I intervened when the time was right and resolved a crisis for them.
Just as I was about to leave, I saw that weak Arrancar girl.
The girl had lake-green hair. Beneath the moonlight, it was beautiful.
But what drew my eye even more was the scar on her face. It was hideous, stretching from her nose all the way to her mask!
The instant I saw that scar, I understood why the Arrancar girl was so weak.
A mask was the source of a Hollow's life. With such a massive wound on her mask, how could her Soul Body possibly remain whole...
Looking at that centipede-like wound winding across her face, I felt truly saddened. As a woman, I understood even more clearly just