Moonlight filtered in from holes in the sand far above. Vibrant, green moss blanketed the ground. Before them laid an oasis, or, at least, the closest thing Hueco Mundo had seen in its current state. It did not belong.
A field of rice sprawled outwards from the cobbled path. The walkway ran along the vegetation and split towards the massive lake that fed water to the crops. How strange it was, to see water below the desert. Lifeblood that should not exist. Water had been stripped from this land long ago, during its creation, and could only exist through artificial means.
The reservoir was crossed by a petrified bridge that led to a stonework azumaya. Moss crawled along the pillars of both structures, fed by the moisture below and some unknown source of nutrients. Each of the platform's eight columns bore glimmering yellow orbs. Their light bestowed life upon the still waters below—indistinguishable from the energy that now disappeared from Koukou's tail. Although, if those spheres were the only source of illumination, it would still have been night-dark in this crevice amongst the rocks.
Instead it was as bright as day.
A great amount of light radiated down from above. Not from the few breaks in the sands overhead nor the moonlight that filtered through the openings, but from a bright mass at the top of the tower beyond the bridge. The sphere loomed over an inordinate building built carved brick by carved brick against the mountain wall. Sloping roofs reached halfway to the sands above. At their extreme peak, the fake sun. Eyes watched from the open walls.
Holes dotted the mountainside at that structure's side—tunnels burrowed deep into the rock, deeper than could be seen by a passing gaze. Rudimentary doors barricaded many of the entrances. A few were even decorated with stairs and simple adornments. More evidence of life. Hollows peeked out from a few of the entryways. Several figures darted inside and slammed the doors behind, as though an attempt to hide.
Ahead of the group and past the field, lake, and tower was a massive crystalline tree. It had no visible branches with its crown far ascended into the darkness above. Wooden scaffolding surrounded the midpoint of the trunk. The spiral stairs stopped at a platform overlooking the far-side of Bosque Santuario, short of the ever-high branches. It was not a large nor wide platform, but that did not stop the masked creature that looked out from above. They scrutinized the new arrivals, special attention placed upon the outsider.
Flax ran in rows against both the path and a series of clustered buildings in the distance. Several figures in the field paused to look at the entrance when the group arrived. Some fled. Yet, the rest were focused only on the task at hand—be it drying fibers, breaking them, or combing the strands. If it weren't for the worker's bulky forms and disproportionate limbs, they could have been mistaken for hard-working humans.
Another massive tree, flickering with the same glowing lights seen at the bridge, loomed over the center of the field. The enormous trunk blocked the view of the buildings from where the group stood. As a result, it was impossible to discern how many structures slept within the quarter. Smoke rose in the distance from some fire unseen.
A final split in the path led into the obscured district, deeper into the land than the bridge. At the farthest corner, another tree slept with its canopy breaching the sands above.
"I did not think anything like this could exist inside Hueco Mundo. Even the Forest of Menos was supposed to have only sparse lichen." Each oddity reflected itself in Aizen's eyes. The moss, the lights, the water–each sight as unusual as the last.
"You're right. What you see is only possible from the combined efforts of several Hollows. It was just a split in the mountainside before we arrived." Bylosse said. The severe look he wore while in the Soul Society faded. It was replaced by something softer, although still weary and stern. There was a paradoxical kindness about him that had not existed within the Shinigami's domain.
"Please, allow us to give you a brief tour of Bosque Santuario. It is a small civilization, but I believe you will find it differs from the Soul Society." Koukou did not turn to face Aizen as she spoke. Despite that, he understood that her attention was upon him. A faint golden glow brushed past. Her white tail swished behind and long black feathers followed the motion.
The path itself was lined with pedestal lanterns, each one identical to the last. Meticulous in craft, they followed alongside the walkway and trails to the right and left. Contents radiating the same familiar glow seen at the bridge and that danced around the closest petrified tree.
Koukou was the first to step past the crystalline arches that demarcated Bosque Santario's threshold. Bylosse and Aizen followed not far behind. Golden-eyed watchers glowered from the guard tower placed at the inner wall, unwilling to let an outsider leave their gaze. Even as the three came to a stop in front of the rice paddy, they burned into Aizen's back.
"Thanks to Nallundra's power, we have been able to grow our own food."
"I'm not sure I understand. I was under the impression that Hollows could only sustain themselves by eating souls."
"It is not perfect, but it allows for some relief of the gnawing hunger us Hollows endure."
If satiating a Hollow's hunger was so simple, then they could be placated without violence. Some amount of truth resided in those words, Aizen imagined, but he knew that could not be the only thing they ate. It was another curiosity to file into the back of his mind.
A pair of masked figures patrolled the fields. They were hunched over, locked into a survey of the evenly-spaced stalks. Unusual clothing clung to their animalistic bodies, too form-fitting to be anything short of specially-made. One swept their arm through the plants and a small something flew through the air. Whatever it was, it dissolved too rapidly to be identifiable.
When they sensed how close the Shinigami had gotten, their focus broke. Yellow and red stares fell upon Aizen, tracking his every movement. Neither moved. It seemed as though they were stuck in motion, somewhere between a deer at the mercy of sudden bright lights and a cat unable to reach a bird. Even as the group walked away, the predatory gazes refused to fade.
"Our weaver and tailor, Soujimaru, uses the flax from this field to create all of the clothing we wear."
"Lady Koukou, it would be a good idea to bring Aizen to him." Bylosse said, before turning his attention, "I'm sure you realize that your shihakusho makes you stand out. Soujimaru can make you something that will at least set you apart from a normal Shinigami."
"I agree. It would be nice to be rid of this uniform," Aizen was not focused only on the purple field or their words. It was difficult to ignore the hungry eyes that watched from the cover of the rice stalks like a tiger stalking deer. It was even more challenging to ignore the Menos that ran from their stations in undeniable terror and ducked behind cover.
Across the field, a few masked figures splashed in the lake. Some bathed while another collected water. At least one washed clothes. Several others looked like they were doing nothing more than relaxing. To say that the peaceful scene was a bizarre sight would be an understatement. Hollows were consumed by their desires, a never-ending hunger that drove them to their monstrous condition. How was it possible for them to relax? In this apparent contradiction, the group moved farther into the civilization and closer to the water. Flowing water echoed from below the bridge.
"Lake Kristylian. I have been told that it is quite beautiful. I am sure you will meet its creator soon enough." At the azumaya overlooking the lake, a slender figure with long black hair stood in its shadow, facing the group. Despite the inhuman figures at its shores, there was a beauty in the pearly sands and clear waters.
"Beyond the lake is Tower Vare. It stands as both a guardpost and as a home for a few of the Hollows here. Most of the others live within the carved tunnels at its side."
Where they stood was especially bright, illuminated by the sphere at the top of Tower Vare like a beacon. A weight accompanied the rays that should not have been, striking as another reminder of the artificiality of these creations. From here it could be seen that the light was covered in some type of glass. The source swirled inside of its containment, like some rolling eye.
Straight ahead of the group stood a multistory building that, at a glance, resembled some castle keep. Despite its noble structure, there was a quietness about it. A single guard stationed at its opened door sat, reading. Nothing–no one–looked out from the windows. Stark white walls contrasted with the darkened stone of the surface at its sides. Moss embedded itself between the stones like ivy. Even its red roof, which showed some signs of previous vibrancy, was no longer so bold. It had grown muted below clumps of green.
Six persimmon trees bloomed in a line along its face, their wood precious in a sea of masonry.
As they passed the linen field, the collection of buildings came wholly into view. Most consisted of gray blocks and uncolored flat roofs. Each one almost resembled the dunes above, save for their squared construction. Perhaps that familiarity was why so many Hollows could be sensed between the walls. Several small plumes of smoke dispersed into the air above from somewhere in the collection of constructions.
"This is the Trade District. We'll find Soujimaru here," Bylosse said as they found themselves between the cluttered structures. Here the path split every which way, some covered by stone but mostly worn by feet. It curled between the buildings that were not connected at their base into alleyways. Here the light from Tower Vare struggled to break through the densely packed roofs. Darkness reached out from the crevices and pulled the air tight.
The 'district' was not particularly large–there couldn't have been more than a few dozen shops–but that was not the reason that walls closed in upon them. Even the closeness of the covered stalls that ran along the mismatching streets failed to explain that overwhelming claustrophobia. The air stung of bitter rot and a hint of smoke. A shadow darted out of sight. Followed by another. Between the buildings, rushed footsteps. It became clear why the atmosphere itself seemed to hunger.
From out of a building, two souls bolted towards the trio in excitement, saliva wetting the teeth at the edges of their masks. They slowed only when they saw Koukou. What an unusual sight it was, to see Hollows bow so low. So it seemed that corrupted souls understood hierarchy. Bylosse looked upon them with disgust and both made a poor attempt to hide their salivating maws while stepping aside. More masked creatures stalked from behind the walls' cover as the three turned away and continued. Aizen looked across the hungry faces and tightened the grip on his Zanpakuto's green hilt.
"Tsk. We'll make sure that the vermin won't bother you."
Bylosse's words were meant to be comforting, but when Aizen heard them all he could do was frown. That was not what he wanted to hear. As if sensing the dissatisfaction caused by her companion's words, Koukou spoke softly as she walked beside him,
"Their stares will fade in time, Aizen."
His frown softened. Closer.
At the sharpest curve in the road the group passed a large open building. Distinct from the rest, its kirizuma-style roof held ornamentation on each of its corners. Orbs with spirals on two of their faces, as though rolled from a flat sheet of earth. There was polish on the surface, like the gloss given to clay after firing in a kiln.
The structure itself was a darker gray than the rest, stained from the smoke that drifted from a furnace below. Soot covered the hardened slab next to the furnace and a large hammer leaned beside it. An anvil? It sat beside a tall barrel-like structure made from stone. Water evaporated from inside the basin.
A smaller building was connected to the open shelter with this open canopy acting as an extensive portico. Ducking under the doorway was a man made of muscle. Four white-faced figures lumbered behind him.
The burnished light from the furnace revealed them.
Standing at the front and center was the massive man, draped in vibrant cloth. Like Bylosse, he bore no mask. Instead, white fin-like protrusions extruded from the sides of his face and wrapped around the lower half of his head like a partial helm. Each protrusion had three central veins connected by a thin shell of white and each vein ended in inwards-curling spikes. His bald head accentuated each of the points framing his visage. A grimacing sneer stretched from cheek to cheek illustrated the burning contempt behind his orange eyes.
Four Hollows followed in a row behind him, each one of their faces encapsulated in white. One bore a wicked mask in the shape of a human skull with horns like a raging bull. Teeth gnashed between the would-be beak of the birdlike creature. Red rings surrounded the ferocious eyes of the square-faced Hollow. Hooves clacked against the tile from the hard steps of the monster wearing what looked to be the skull of a horse, horns erupting from its forehead. Each mask bore the gnashing, grimacing teeth so characteristic of their kind. They were humanoid enough, although built wrong.
Too many limbs. Disproportionate bodies with inhuman features. Haunting yellow irises and black sclera behind toothy masks. Holes in their chests where hearts should be. Except for the clothing made to fit them, they were standard representations of the Adjuchas-class Menos.
Standing before so many Hollows, any other Shinigami would have cowered in fear. Yet the threatening gazes seemed to phase through Aizen, leaving him unaffected. At least they were direct in their desire to take his life.
Koukou came to a stop as the other Hollows made their way closer. The unmasked one did not bow as he approached, although the disdain on Bylosse's face indicated that he should have.
"Hello, Rymenocc." Koukou said to the sneering man.
"Yo, Lady Koukou. What do you have here? Bring a new snack?" Rymenocc said. The four behind the imposing man snickered as he spoke. Bylosse rested his hand upon the orange-wrapped hilt of his Zanpakuto.
"Would you be interested in trying?"
Koukou's voice was gentle and it remained so as she replied. Despite this superficial softness, Rymenocc recoiled at her words, as though each one left an injury. Fear choked in his throat as he looked upon the creature standing before him. Despite standing three heads taller and at least twice as wide, he appeared small standing before her. He looked away, and his glare met Aizen's, "Not at all. Just a joke."
"It's been quiet today," Rymenocc's words came after an uncomfortable length of silence. As if that was all that was left to be said, the five of them slunk back into the building from whence they came. They were not the last to cross the trio's path through the trade district, but certainly the most brazen. The rest just continued to look out from windows and doorways, lengthening the pathway as the light from afar dimmed.
The pathway ended short of a half-lit field of sand. Foot impressions could still be seen, but they could have been there for a while based on the stillness of the air. Blocks of gray rock surrounded its perimeter, preventing the sand from spreading into the surrounding moss. Or was it the opposite?
It was overlooked by a narrow building, twice as tall as the rest. Vibrant-yellow walls were decidedly too-bright. The blue irimoya-style roof was garish. Yet, it stood as a crown of color against the otherwise dull architecture.
"I'll wait out here." Bylosse took a sheltered tone. He turned away, in an obvious attempt to evade whatever lied beyond.
"It will only be for a brief moment, Bylosse." Koukou slid open the stone-framed shoji door, revealing a warmly lit room within. Straight ahead of the doorway was a counter covered in a rainbow of cloth scraps, each more vibrant than the last. A pair of silver scissors laid upon the top of the unorganized pile. Next to the scissors was a disheveled pile of scrolls. Spilled ink ran down the front of the counter, avoiding the papers by so little that it would be a miracle if they remained untouched. Five more ink pots of varying fill sat ready to take its place. Three brushes were propped askew beside the ink pots. Dried ink clumped the bristles of two of the brushes.
Rolls of fabric leaned against the wall. While some were left plain, but many were patterned with natural themes and vibrant colors. An orange fabric with red trim matched the kosode Rymenocc had been wearing. Others matched the clothing that accompanied the many hungry eyes.
The counter itself extended halfway across the room, leaving nothing but a small walkway to the back of the shop. Rows of fabrics, in varying patterns and colors, hung from the ceiling. Each row was secured to one of the red walls by hooks, causing the fabrics to drape. Past the counter, both side walls were lined from ceiling to floor with cubby-holes, with each shelf stacked with fabrics. A basket of thread and needles slumped along the right wall.
There was a single shelf perched on the center of the far back wall. The shelf held a single pillow, upon which an open box made of carved rock was carefully placed. Five red orbs were held inside, individually wrapped by a single golden thread.
In the far back of the room, beside this shelf, was a spiral staircase that led to a second floor. Three earthen basins of varying sizes sat just shy of their rise. Between the strips of cloth and clutter that littered the ground, there was seldom a place to walk without trampling over something. And what could have been the only empty space in the entire room, was instead occupied by three drying racks. The farthest of which held a still-dripping blue kimono. Each thread was stitched exactly, each line meticulously planned. The kimono glistened in the light from the orb inside the ornate stone cage hanging from above. A ripped strand of fabric hung from one of the cage's rungs, loosened threads dangling unnaturally through the air as though seeking something.
The narrow walkway left between the door, wall, and counter, was just large for the three to stand in.
"Soujimaru?" Bylosse called. The sigh that followed came from a well of regret.
"My dear Bylosse? I'll be down in just a moment!" A gentle voice from the second floor sang in reply. Footsteps clopped from the floor above, followed by a loud crash. The clicking steps grew quicker, until a small humanoid came racing down the spiral staircase. His blue sashiko coat and shoulder-length golden braid danced behind him.
"Lady Koukou, you're here as well? Oh, and you brought someone else, too!" Behind the counter stood a semi-humanoid Hollow. Soujimaru was only a half-head taller than Koukou, and gave the air of someone much younger than he must have been. Fluff poked out from his kimono and the golden wool that must have covered his body gave him a rounded silhouette.
Messy blond hair flowed over his ram-skull mask. The bone-white veil did not cover the lower-half of his face, exposing a toothy grin. Each of the eye-sockets was marked by a single red oval, acting as eyebrows and giving the soft look beneath a better expression. Even though his appearance should have been unsettling, he looked more like a peaceful herbivore than a predator. Smiling golden eyes met the group.
Droplets of a variety of colors bespeckled his mask and exposed face.
"Hi, Shinigami! I'm Soujimaru , welcome to my clothing shop. It's nice to meet you." Soujimaru made an attempt to bow but was stopped halfway by a cloth from the counter that stuck to one of his adorned sleeves. It dragged the entire basket of fabric over the narrow ledge and he moved to catch it before it fell. He caught it with reflexes too fast to come from someone untrained, and slid it back onto the counter.
"My name is Sousuke Aizen. It is a pleasure to meet you, as well." He half-returned the gesture, not oblivious to the display that had just unfolded.
"I can only guess that you're here for a new outfit."
"That's correct."
"That's good, I've always disliked the Shinigami uniform. It's too monotone! I'll make whatever you want! A kimono, a kosode and hakama, or something more exotic, name it and I'll make it."
Color then ran from his voice. "There is a condition, though," Soujimaru said. He leaned over the counter and his expression grew severe. By the time he spoke again he had already softened, "I absolutely refuse to make black clothing! Everybody always wants to wear black and it's just so boring."
"Is he not wearing black?" Aizen asked and gestured to the horned man hovering by the door.
"He is, but your name isn't Bylosse." Soujimaru replied flatly.
Aizen smiled with amusement, "Just an observation. I would prefer something different. White."
"Ack. I can do that." Soujimaru said with disapproval, "Less work for me. Do you just want me to remake your clothing in white, too?"
"That is fine."
"That was supposed to be a joke." Soujimaru rubbed the covering of his forehead, causing a smear of red to further mar its pearly surface. "I guess I'll have it ready for you by tomorrow."
"Thank you."
"Happy to help!" Some of the color returned to his sing-song voice as he turned his attention to Koukou. He leaned across the little open space left upon the counter to listen intently. "Is there anything else you need, Lady Koukou?"
"Yes. You are needed at Kaisett's tomorrow morning."
Soujimaru hesitated a reply, "Does that mean everything went well?"
"It does."
Relief mixed with the joy in his voice, "That's fantastic!"
With that, it was time to leave. They said their farewells and turned to the door. Soujimaru yelled as they did.
"Wait, Bylosse, my dear! I have some new outfits that would look wonderful on you!"
Without looking back, Bylosse made a hasty exit with the other two behind him.