"I've told you everything you want to know."
Bazz-B's voice was calm — hollow, even. After his final words, silence filled the crimson-lit chamber. His tone carried neither pride nor defiance, only the clarity of someone who had already accepted the end. He understood that once his value had been exhausted, Mazuru would have no further use for him. The inevitable conclusion to this interrogation was not mercy, but erasure.
Yet, instead of the expected death, Mazuru's next words froze him in place.
"Do you want to live?"
Bazz-B blinked, his expression faltering for the first time.
If he could live, of course he did not want to die.
But the fact that he was dead — truly, physically, and spiritually dead — had been what freed his tongue in the first place. Having nothing left to lose, he had confessed everything he knew about the Invisible Empire, hoping only to cause Yhwach trouble from beyond the grave.
Mazuru's gaze remained steady. "If it were someone else, I couldn't bring them back. Most have lost their souls, or their bodies are beyond repair. But you are different."
He paused, voice low but absolute. "Your soul is in my hands. Your body, though burned, is still whole. More importantly… you died only moments ago. There's still a glimmer of hope."
Bazz-B stared at him blankly, the realization striking slow. The possibility itself sounded absurd. The King of Hueco Mundo, manipulating life and death as if they were threads in his grasp — that was a kind of rumor that would be whispered in fear, not something real. Yet the blood-drenched light around them, the oppressive pulse of Mazuru's power, left no doubt that his words were not lies.
Mazuru's ability truly transcended the realm of mortals — perhaps even brushed against the dominion of gods.
But there were limits.
To resurrect the dead, one condition had to be met: the death could not be ancient. The soul and body must not have decayed beyond recognition. He could only recall those who still clung faintly to the boundary of existence.
It was for this very reason that he had been able to bring Ichimaru Gin back from Aizen's fatal strike. Any later, and even that miracle would have been impossible.
Among the fallen members of the Sternritters, only two souls remained in Mazuru's possession — Mask and Bazz-B.
Mask's body, torn apart by Bankai and then consumed by Bazz-B's own flames, was beyond salvation. There was nothing left to save.
But Bazz-B's case was different.
His death had not come from battle wounds.
He had been erased by Yhwach himself, when the emperor used Auswählen — to reclaim the fragment of his soul that powered Bazz-B's holy script. His body had not been destroyed; it had merely been abandoned by its soul.
And Mazuru, sensing that detachment, had intercepted the drifting spirit in time.
After dividing away the part that belonged to Yhwach, in theory, nothing stopped him from returning Bazz-B's original soul to its vessel.
Resurrection was possible.
Bazz-B looked up, disbelief shadowed by confusion. "Why?"
The question came instinctively. Being granted a chance to live again should have been a miracle, yet suspicion came before gratitude. He knew what kind of man Mazuru was. This was not compassion — men like him did not act from pity.
He remembered the reports — the Invisible Empire had spied on every shinigami captain for centuries. Kyo Mazuru, once the Third Division's calm, brilliant captain, had been among their most carefully studied targets.
They had watched his loyalty to the Soul Society, his faith in its justice, his obedience to the old laws.
And then one day, he betrayed it all.
His rebellion had shaken not only Seireitei but even the Invisible Empire itself. For such a man to now offer life to a dead quincy… that could only mean calculation.
"Common enemies." Mazuru said, breaking the silence. "That is what this alliance between quincy and myself once was meant to be."
He leaned forward slightly, crimson eyes narrowing. "Yhwach is my enemy. But he is not truly your master either, is he?"
His voice was low, precise — a blade cutting through the still air. "You hate him. You want to kill him."
Bazz-B froze. Mazuru's words struck directly at the core of what he had buried for years.
And then, memory resurfaced — smoke, fire, screams. The smell of ash devouring his hometown.
The night Yhwach's army razed it to the ground.
Everyone he loved had died.
Family, friends, neighbors — all consumed by the fire of the Emperor's cleansing.
Only one survived with him — the boy named Jugo, the one the world now called Jugram Haschwalth.
Bazz-B's fists clenched unconsciously. He had spent his youth alongside Jugo, both boys united by vengeance. They trained, bled, and survived together, swearing to one day avenge their families.
Years later, both entered the Sternritters. But fate had its irony.
Jugo rose higher, became the emperor's right hand — the very Bannerman of the man they had sworn to kill.
And Bazz-B… watched the friend of his childhood kneel before their monster.
'He forgot.' Bazz-B thought bitterly. 'He forgot everything. Our oath, our dead, the fire that took them all.'
Hatred was all that had kept him alive — and all that had kept him sane.
"That's right." he said at last, voice trembling but fierce. "I hate him. I've always hated him. I'll kill him if I ever get the chance."
Mazuru gave a faint smile — one without warmth. "Good. Then perhaps we can use each other."
Moments passed. Then, within the sea of red light, Bazz-B's body began to reform — threads of spirit weaving back into flesh. His breath shuddered as the first pulse of life surged through him. He lifted his hand, staring at it in disbelief.
Ba-dum.
It felt unreal. His heartbeat was slower, heavier than before — his body foreign, yet familiar. The sensation of weight, of breath, of warmth... after feeling only emptiness for so long, it almost frightened him.
He looked at Mazuru again, and fear flickered behind his eyes.
He didn't believe Mazuru's explanation, not fully. A man like that didn't resurrect enemies for reasons as noble as "shared hatred".
Bazz-B was no fool. To Mazuru, he was a tool — a piece on the board.
And perhaps that was fine. After all, Yhwach had discarded him too.
"...How are you feeling?" Mazuru asked evenly.
Bazz-B's mind steadied. He closed his eyes, focusing on the flow of power within his new vessel — and immediately noticed something missing.
"My Schrift… it's gone."
His voice was low, half a whisper. He felt the emptiness inside him — where once the burning star of his SchriftH, "The Heat", had resided, now there was nothing.
Before, that sacred letter had allowed him to command flames, to summon fire hotter than any mortal forge. It had been his identity — his rage made manifest.
Now, that connection was severed.
The flame was gone. The mark of Yhwach's blood, erased from his soul.
*****
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✓ Killed For 100 Years in Hueco Mundo, Aizen Invited Me To Soul Society!
✓ Naruto: Senmei Asahi
✓ Naruto: Uchiha's Intelligence Dealer
✓ Naruto: The Fifth Hokage Is Naruto's Uncle
✓ Naruto: Who Made Him a Ninja?
✓ Bleach: In My Second Reincarnation, I Became The Ninth Kenpachi
✓ To Love-Ru: Spoiler Route [R-18]
✓ Naruto: The Accidental Incubus [R-18]