Along the corridor on Wahrwelt's northern side, white marble tiles stretched hundreds of meters ahead.
Uniform rows of pointed pillars rose on either side, looking spacious and orderly beneath the pale white glow.
Sōsuke Aizen strolled calmly down the very center of the street at an unhurried pace.
Even with the Black Sealing Restraining Suit specially made by the Twelfth Division still wrapped around him, his arms bound firmly against his sides, he showed none of a prisoner's bedraggled air.
His expression was peaceful and indifferent, as though he were merely taking a leisurely walk beneath the covered walkway in his own courtyard.
Three paces behind Aizen, the Eighth Kenpachi, Sōya Azashiro, followed closely.
Sōya Azashiro wore a loose haori, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of his Zanpakuto.
Their footsteps alternated along the empty street, their rhythm so steady it was almost monotonous.
The entire street was unusually quiet; not even the slightest sound of wind could be heard.
Neither the Gotei Soul Reapers fighting in various locations nor the Star Cross rank and file patrolling the area were anywhere to be seen.
Beings with keen senses had detected these two unfathomable sources of Reiatsu from hundreds of meters away and instinctively chosen to avoid the area.
"Oh dear, how boring, Sōya."
A woman's languid, flippant voice abruptly rang out in the air.
Urozakuro's figure flickered in and out of sight in empty space, half leaning against Sōya Azashiro's side.
"That man ahead hasn't paid you the slightest attention this whole time."
"Following obediently behind him like a lackey isn't at all like the great Kenpachi who turned the Seireitei upside down back then."
Sōya Azashiro remained expressionless, his gaze never lingering on the empty space for even a moment.
"Shut up, Zakuro."
"My duty is only to