White Sand Burial

Chiaroscuro
Another tragedy had befallen the. Once more, a grave threat had emerged from beneath the veil of long-term conspiracy to strike without a warning. And what a crippling blow that was. The invaded, the Captain-Commander slain. Third Division Captain Teruo Akui could not help but cringe at the flashbacks to the from a few years ago. The suddenness, despair, impotent fury, great loss, they all reminded him of that horrible conflict. Now, the next one had just begun and despite his eagerness to fight, he simply could not.

"What is this... madness?", he seethed.

He was in. There was no doubt about it. Stranded in the middle of an endless white desert, a pitch black sky high above. Akui had attacked the vile intruders but must have been transported to this realm shortly afterward. Some sort of spell... He was never fond of spiritual magic. Recent developments had not improved his opinion on the subject. Regardless, he knew where he was. And virtually nothing else. What about the others? Did the Seireitei fall? What should he do? Questions without answers resounded within his mind as he wandered restlessly across the white dunes. He had since sealed his Zanpakutō, although the katana remained in the firm grip of his left hand at the ready. The cold steel was thirsty; it longed for enemy blood.

But there was none to spill. Or was there? He stopped, attempted to silence the boiling fury within. Focus. Teruo could sense some spiritual pressure signatures not that far away from his current position. One of them felt rather familiar. Perhaps he had not been sent to Hueco Mundo alone. Because at present he had no better ideas, he propelled himself into the air in a giant leap that carried him right next to the source of the person he thought he recognised. After all, two heads were better than one.