The moon hung low, stark white against the black of the sky.

It gave off a surprising amount of light, considering it was an ever-present sliver, a permanent crescent, never growing either way. Slowly and silently, the light fell on the soft, cold sands below – a barren landscape save for a handful of thin, silver trees, mere finger-bones growing out of the infertile soil, and the large domed structure, partly in ruins, but the only evidence of inhabitation nonetheless. A soft whisper of a breeze stirred the grey clouds above, before going to collect the ashes, newly-released, of the slender form that was quickly disintegrating, to scatter them across the wasteland.

She had watched the whole scene unfold from behind some discarded rubble.

Her orders upon arrival to Hueco Mundo had been clear: scout ahead and determine the location of the Substitute Shinigami, disentangle him from whatever mess he had currently stuck his foot into, and rush him off to the world of the living to join in the fight against Aizen. The captains would deal with the inevitable welcoming party that was expected to show up, once the arrancar sensed their presence.

She had had every intention of taking over Kurosaki's battle for him after racing up to the roof where she felt his reiatsu spiking wildly, despite knowing full well that she was no match for his opponent and would sustain near-fatal injuries in the best of scenarios. Perhaps Kurosaki's friends would even assist her, knocking him out and carrying him off for her if he resisted, while she kept the hollow busy.

In between the blasts of wind and cero, the breaking stone columns and the biting words coming out of the espada's mouth, she had thought, momentarily, that she had finally found her opening. Kurosaki had just been flung aside with a single whip of the espada's tail, falling right at Inoue's feet. It was perfect. She could cut in and distract the espada, Inoue could heal Kurosaki, and they could take the quincy and be on their way to where Kurosaki was truly needed. But then this boy – who had her captain tearing out his hair on a daily basis (behind closed doors and in the privacy of his office, of course) – had gone and transformed into that. This battle, most definitely, had now turned into one far above her level and, unlike most of her fellow shinigami officers, she was mature enough to admit it. She thought that even Captain Kuchiki would understand if, at this point, she just stayed back and observed.

So, Hoshi Utagawa, Third Seat of the Sixth Division of the Gotei Thirteen, hid herself behind some rocks and watched.

She didn't miss when Kurosaki lost complete control of himself and turned on his quincy friend, driving his sword through the other boy's gut and blowing him back like a sheet of paper. Nor did she miss that he was about to do the same to the orange-haired girl they had all come to rescue as she made her way to the crumpled figure, whose white clothes were turning red with each passing moment.

Seeing Kurosaki so far gone that he was about to attack the very person he was fighting so desperately to save, Hoshi's hand flew to the sword at her hip and she dug her toes into the ground, ready to spring.

But the espada beat her to it. Breathing heavily and more than half dead, the hollow had willed himself off of the ground and had severed one of Kurosaki's horns. Whether he knew that this would reverse the transformation, or whether he was acting out of pure instinct, or even if it was merely revenge for the cutting off of his own horn just moments before, Hoshi didn't know; but she didn't miss the fact that it was the direct threat to Inoue's life that had moved the espada (Ulquiorra, she had heard them call him) to action.

And she most certainly didn't miss the quiet words exchanged between Inoue and her late espada captor, nor the hands that were raised and reaching for one another in a futile attempt to – what, exactly? Hoshi couldn't be sure what prompted their actions, but the desperation and sadness they conveyed were palpable in the heavy air around them.

Kurosaki had quickly turned his attention to his injured friend once the threat of the espada had disappeared, so he may not have noticed that Inoue kept her hand raised far longer than necessary; the ashes had all been blown away some time ago. And when he asked her to heal Ishida, it took several attempts to get her attention – whereupon she quickly seemed to snap back into the girl they were all acquainted with, chattering away in her bubbly voice and laughing everyone's concerns away.

Hoshi didn't know Inoue all that well, or any of that group for that matter – her familiarity with them was limited to the handful of times Renji, Yumichika and the others had dragged her to the living world to 'have fun' on her precious days off, and to any thoughts voiced out loud on the matter by Captain Kuchiki. But, surely, the fact that she hadn't thrown herself upon her quincy friend immediately to tend to his wounds was a little uncharacteristic. And Hoshi's hiding spot was just that bit too far away to be able to tell properly, but she thought she could hear a slight strain in the girl's voice as she talked; there may have been a faint glaze across her eyes, too.

Kurosaki was already contemplating his next battle, but even without all the spiritual pressures flaring up from below, Hoshi doubted he would have noticed the change in Inoue. And the quincy – she had heard that he was the most level-headed and perceptive of the group – had lost far too much blood to be able to even think straight.

She waited for them to leave – first Kurosaki plummeting off the roof like Zaraki was on his heels, and then Ishida and Inoue less hurriedly, descending on one of the quincy's… well, whatever that ability was.

Stepping out from behind the rubble, Hoshi finally allowed her body to relax. Slender shoulders drooped and soft eyes closed, as her head tilted forward slightly and she let out a long sigh.

A moment later, inhaling with new-found determination, she looked down at the zanpakutō firmly bound to her waist. She frowned slightly, thin eyebrows knitting together, and then turned her gaze downwards still, over the edge of the roof to where Kurosaki had disappeared.

She'd have to go after him, of course, no question about that. Orders were orders. But, surely, a few minutes lingering up here would make no difference.

Hoshi fingered the hilt of the sword lightly, raising her eyes to the dark sky above her as though searching for something. She was not superstitious by nature – in fact, she was fairly certain that displaying an affinity towards logic and critical thinking, rather than entertaining any sort of fatalistic notions, was an unofficial requirement for being a member of the Sixth – but what were the chances of someone wielding the specific abilities of her zanpakutō to happen upon this scene?

Had the espada merely been cut down or purified by a zanpakutō or, hell, even eaten by another hollow – that would have been different. But he had disintegrated into ashes and floated off into the air. And she, whose zanpakutō could separate particles from each other at her choosing and bring them together, rearrange them, even move whole objects by means of them in a form of telekinesis, had been standing right here.

Ridiculous, Captain Kuchiki would have said.

And it was. Hoshi had to agree with the mental specter of her superior.

It had been some time since the espada (Ulquiorra, she reminded herself) had disintegrated, and there was no guarantee she would be able to retrieve each and every atom that had comprised him. And even if she did, then what? Present the ashes to Inoue? She supposed the girl could always "heal" or "reject" them or whatever it was her power did. And if it failed, then what? Let the girl hold on to them as a morbid keepsake? Glue him back together with some of that soul-sticking glue from Urahara's shop?

Hoshi sighed again. The original idea that had struck her upon witnessing Ulquiorra's demise and Inoue's reaction to it had been to collect the espada's remains and regenerate him by some means, but now that she actually stopped to think about it, it was fast becoming a ludicrous prospect.

And besides, what reason could she possibly give her captain, the Captain-Commander, and the rest of the Gotei Thirteen for reviving an arrancar?

If she were honest with herself, her real motivation was the simplest of them all: she wanted to see if she could do it.

It was a chance to truly test the limits of her powers; powers which she often felt were useless, especially in battle, and completely lacking in comparison to everyone else's. Her friends, fellow third seats, even bloody Hanatarō – they had all sharpened their skills in leaps and bounds since that first day when Kurosaki and his group showed up at the gates of Seireitei and proceeded to send the whole Gotei into disarray forevermore.

In the meantime, Hoshi, while certainly not incompetent by any means, was very much stuck. She could see absolutely no improvement in her technique or power, even after hours upon hours of training and practice. Renji, who had pestered a confession on the matter out of her one day when she hadn't been quick enough to hide her grumpy expression, had spouted some nonsense about learning being a process of hills and plateaus. He had said that she was currently on a plateau but to give it some time, and he had no doubt she'd work past it. Hoshi shook her head exasperatedly at the memory of the loud redhead slapping a hand on her back and giving her a thumbs up. Her lack of progress had been fast becoming a severe annoyance. Wasn't it only reasonable, then, that she wanted to flex her muscles a bit?

Hoshi mentally snorted. She doubted that would fly with anyone except possibly her former captain, Kurotsuchi.

On the other hand, if the unthinkable and yet very real, very frightening possibility of Aizen winning were to happen, and they were pushed back, forced to retreat and regroup in Soul Society, it could prove quite useful to have such a high-ranking espada on their side. Any information he had that could be used against Aizen would be invaluable. He might even be willing to share such intelligence of his own accord, if his last words and demeanor were any indication. And certainly, the Shinigami Research and Development Institute, particularly its current president, would think several New Years' had come early all at once.

Why don't you see whether you can collect his remains, first, before scampering about and jumping to conclusions you have absolutely no basis for? The rest can come later, a voice in her head suggested. It sounded suspiciously like said president's.

True enough, Hoshi supposed. It wasn't as though the espada would be revived instantly upon the collection of his ashes, if she were able to gather them. And there was also the matter of Kurosaki. She'd wasted more time up here than she had planned, and she still had to go retrieve him.

Hoshi drew out her sword in front of her. The sharp blade glinted in the strange, eternal moonlight.

"Winnow, Jishinha."