BLEACH: UNOHANA RETSU IS MY WIFE

"Since you've imprisoned me in this world, then open your eyes and watch as I destroy it completely! I'll teach you the terrible price of insulting a king!"

Unbeknownst to Baraggan, this world had already insulted another—one who called himself the King of the Quincy. He was merely the second self-proclaimed king to come here. But Baraggan had no interest in history. All he cared about now was unleashing his fury.

"DongDongDong..."

Just as Baraggan raised his skeletal hand to unleash the full might of his aging powers, a series of deep, echoing bells rang through the air.

"Who's ringing that bell?!"

Baraggan turned his hollow gaze toward the sound. In the distance, within a crumbling bell tower, stood an old monk. Though garbed in monk's robes, he hardly looked the part—short, pale hair, a white mustache, and a jagged scar over his right eye. He looked like a scarred warrior masquerading as a sage.

"Om."

Without acknowledging Baraggan, the monk continued tolling the bell with calm, measured rhythm.

"One, two, three, go!"

The monk chanted rhythmically as he rang the bell, utterly unfazed by the terrifying figure before him.

"Stop ringing that bell!"

Baraggan flashed forward, seizing the monk's arm. "This ringing makes me... uneasy."

"Donor," the monk replied softly, "it is not the bell that unsettles you. You are already disturbed. The bell merely reveals the storm within."

"Nonsense!"

Furious, Baraggan shoved the old man away and shattered the ancient bell with a mere wave of his hand, his aging aura crumbling it into dust.

"Hahaha!"

Baraggan laughed maniacally—until the bell rang again.

"Dong! Dong..."

"What?! Why is the bell still ringing?!"

Clutching his head, Baraggan turned back to the monk.

"You destroyed my bell," the monk said calmly, seated now with a wooden fish in his lap. "So the sound you hear must be coming from elsewhere."

"From where?"

"From you."

The monk pointed at Baraggan with a kind, almost amused smile.

"Me?"

Baraggan was taken aback.

"That's nonsense!" he shouted.

"You rang the bell when you destroyed mine," the monk explained gently. "It escaped the tower... and entered your heart. My bell is gone, but yours remains."

Baraggan stood still, his bony hand trembling. Then he reached forward.

"You are the one ringing the bell."

And with that, he released his power.

"It was me..." the monk admitted with a serene smile.

Baraggan's aging power surged, reducing the monk's body to bone, and finally to dust.

"Hahaha—!"

But his laughter died in his throat.

"Take a good look at who I am!!"

The skeletal remains looked up at him—and smiled. It was a face Baraggan knew intimately.

His own.

"Baraggan... You boast of invincibility. But if your power is truly without flaw—why does it work on you?"

The skeletal version of himself extended a hand, and under the same aging power, it disintegrated into ash.

"No...!"

Baraggan reached out instinctively, but stopped. The aura of aging, the very power he claimed as divine, made even him hesitate. He saw now what the monk meant.

If the power of aging could wither even himself, what was his "immortality" truly worth?

"This... this can't be my fate. No—none of this is real! You deceived me! You lied to me, damn you, Shinigami!"

And with that, Baraggan unleashed his power in one last, defiant roar:

"DESTROY IT ALL!!"

As soon as Baraggan finished speaking, the boundless power of "aging" surged forth, annihilating the entire clock tower in an instant.

"Hahaha! Hahahaha..."

After destroying the tower, Baraggan burst into wild laughter.

What's fake will always be fake. What's fake can never become real. His destiny was in his own hands.

"DongDongDong..."

Yet, just as the tower crumbled into dust, the sound of a bell echoed once more.

Baraggan looked up—and to his disbelief—saw the old monk, the one who should have perished, standing again within the bell tower. Calmly, he swung his hammer, striking the ancient bell.

"..."

Baraggan fell silent, staring at the monk, a storm of emotions swirling inside him.

The old monk, still tolling the bell, suddenly paused. He turned and smiled kindly at Baraggan.

"Boom!"

That gentle smile shattered something deep inside Baraggan's mind.

A cold shiver ran down his spine. An overwhelming sense of unease welled up.

"Destroy it!"

Baraggan roared, hurling his aging power once more to obliterate the bell tower completely.

"Dong..."

Before he could exhale in relief, the bell rang again—this time, from all directions.

Baraggan looked around in disbelief.

Dozens of bell towers had manifested around him. In each stood an identical old monk, all smiling at him with the same "kind" expression.

"..."

A chill surged through Baraggan's bones. There was no warmth in those smiles—only a strange, oppressive alienness.

"Destroy! Destroy! Destroy!!"

Baraggan bellowed, unleashing his aging energy in every direction, determined to erase the bell towers once and for all.

For a time, darkness enveloped the entire Glazed Pure Land.

"Baraggan, have you enlightened?"

Who knew how much time had passed?

Once more, the familiar bell tower. The same old monk.

Baraggan stood still, staring at him.

But this time, the monk did not strike the bell. Instead, he looked at Baraggan and spoke softly.

"Hmm?"

Baraggan slowly regained his awareness. "What did you just say?"

"Baraggan, I asked you... have you enlightened?"

As the old monk gently struck the wooden fish, a silent scripture seemed to enter Baraggan's mind.

Then, the monk repeated his question.

"Enlightened? I... I can't say I have."

Baraggan gave a bitter smile. He had existed in this world for ten thousand years.

In those millennia, he had witnessed destruction after destruction.

Now, he was confused. He couldn't distinguish between the Hueco Mundo he had known and this Glazed Pure Land. Which was real?

"I can't tell! I really can't tell anymore!"

His voice trembled with helplessness. He was no longer the Hollow King he once was.

"Baraggan... when you can't understand, you've already understood.

When you can't tell, you've already discerned."

The old monk laughed softly—his voice faint, almost dreamlike.

"Where are you going?! Don't leave me!"

Baraggan panicked as the monk began to fade. For ten thousand years, the monk's presence had kept him from madness.

If he vanished now, Baraggan feared he'd be lost completely.

"Baraggan... take a good look at yourself.

Have you forgotten what I said? Look closely—see who I really am..."

The old man smiled gently at the terrified Hollow.

"Huh...?"

Baraggan lowered his gaze—and saw that he was wearing the same monk's robe.

In his hand, he held a bell hammer.

Before him stood an ancient, weathered bell.

"This..."

He stared blankly. Then slowly, realization dawned.

There had never been an "old monk."

That "monk" was himself. The bell he had heard endlessly was none other than the heart bell that resonated within him.

It could not be destroyed.

Because it was him.

No matter how many times he crushed it, it would reappear—taking root and growing again from within.

Endless life.

Endless rebirth.

An eternal, undying cycle.

"So... that's how it is."

Baraggan's eyes lit up with clarity.

Just then, a brilliant glazed light burst from the sky.

A majestic figure—the Wheel-Turning Holy King—immeasurable, formless, eternal—descended from the heavens.

"I understand now... Please, grant me a name, O Holy One!"

Baraggan knelt before the radiant king.

Even a Hollow King, before the Saint of Saints, would humbly seek the truth.

"Then I shall give you your true name...

Vikara."

Thus, Gonjiba and Baraggan obtained their true names:

Jijiba and Vikara—one symbolizing the Sky, the other Heaven's Will.

The two oldest Hollows, the primordial voids that symbolized the two extreme paths of evolution, now echoed each other across eternity.

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