There is a certain quality to arrogance that most people misunderstand. The simple act of being boastful does not make someone arrogant. The belief that they are better, that they are the superior individual does not a prideful person make. No, it is the act of testing that belief. To live ones life unbroken. Every hill conquered, town raised, army left scattered to the winds and challenge left broken on the path to another. Arrogance is the question asked once before being forgotten.

'What if I fail?'

It is a thought left to wander until reality finally turns it's attention to you, a thousand years of good fortune and success come crashing down all at once. A warning left unheeded because at the time it was irrelevant.

His soul world is quiet, the ground made of finely crushed bones with thin pillars raised towards the clear night sky. So thin, yet they bore the weight of the sky with ease. Defiant and imposing as the throne that sits among them. Barragan expects to meet his Zanpakuto face to face, as equals or more likely with him as his swords better. After all without him, the spirit never would have been brought into existence in the first place. Instead he is made to approach the throne on a path of grey. It is meant to be humbling, he simply finds it an annoyance.

Atop the throne sits a corpse, dressed in fine purple robes and lavished in golden trinkets. The corpse of a king. There are no eyes but the young shinigami, the first of many to come, can still feel the gaze weighing him. Taking his measure. It is a stare he returns. This is his world and he will not be judged by a mere tool.

"Normally one bows before their king." The corpse's voice is low and heavy, seeming to speak without moving his jaw. Slumped in it's throne, with a haughty air to it Barragan is almost impressed. Mere bones asking him to bow. His Zanpakuto is a jester. In poor taste, sure but a jester none the less.

"Normally one doesn't talk to a sword, they swing it and it obeys." He returns to the nameless skeleton, watching the light play off it's golden crown.

If a skull could smile, that's how Barragan would describe the look he was given. Motionless bone shifted to sit upright, as if to remind Barragan why he was here. To earn power, as if the power wasn't already his. He simply needed to go through the extra step to obtain his right.

"Your name, spirit?"

"Arrogante." The corpse replies as black mist swirls into shape around it's right hand. All traces of humor left it's grave tone as it stood up. "My name is Arrogante. And you, shall treat me with the respect I deserve."

Centuries later, when his skin has started to sag and hair gone white with age, Barragan would visit his soul world. The pillars were untouched, the grounds as alabaster as before but with each passing year the corpse would be a little more worn, his trinkets left tarnished and his once pristine cloak running to rags. This was the corpse of a conqueror, with the scars to prove it, there is strength hidden in those imperfections that fill him with a heady pride.

With his final breath as he cursed Yhwach, Barragan has to wonder if the pillars had finally crumbled under their burden.

He was trudging through sand. There was no great adventure, or story to be told for his journey. Simply a patient man putting one foot in front of the other. Starkk has to wonder why he was given such a laborious task, and he puts it down to luck. He would be unlucky enough to get such a grueling taskmaster of a Zanpakuto.

All in the name of obtaining comrades did he push forward. No wind whipping at his cloak, his soul wasn't that dramatic or inclined to effort. Simply white sand and black sky as far as the eye could see. There was no need for weather, not when he already walked by himself.

He doesn't react when the first wolf joins it's stride with his. A wisp of light that pants as it follows him step for step. Deep within him he knows, the moment he acknowledges his new companion will be the moment it departs. The lessons of the past are deeply ingrained, and a mask of lazy-apathy is easy to maintain. He keeps walking.

More join, his companion becomes a trio, then a quartet until he has a pack. Still it grows, an army of glowing fangs among the shifting sands, yet still Starkk looks forward, walking. He is a lone wolf among the gathering. He stops only when he finds a rock in his path, brown and wind-worn there is nothing special about it, aside from the girl sitting in front of it.

A child, wrapped in a grey cloak matching his own. A sole light pink eye watches him as he stands before her, the other hidden behind a curtain of green-tinted blonde hair.

"Took you long enough." The annoyance written across her face is matched by her tone.

"Sorry." The word held a dose of sincerity to it. He had been told by Barragan that the process of getting to know ones Zanpakuto changed from person to person, he simply hoped that his wouldn't be more troublesome than it already was.

"You better be." The girl said as she jumped to her feet, and turning her back to Starkk. "Come on then."

He fell into place beside the girl, and again they walked.

"You haven't asked me for my name." A simple statement of fact as they finished climbing another dune, the thirteen since they began this little journey. His pack had long dispersed since the girl showed up. Now, it was just the two of them.

"Would you have given it to me?" He asked, keeping his strides short so as to not leave the girl behind.

She smiled across to him. "Not a chance lazy bones."

Starkk hadn't expected much when he picked up the lost Asauchi. A sword to carry around, and nothing more. He'd learn that the sword's name was Los Lobos, even if she preferred to go by Lilynette. Eventually he found his way into the Gotei-13, where he kept most at an arms distance but it was better than nothing.

A pack that he watched get torn to pieces, it's alpha left scattered in the wind. He wasn't the one to take up the lead, but for once as he stood with them. He was a lone wolf among a pack, but for once his howl joined the war cry. They would have vengeance, Yhwach would die for his crimes even if Starkk had to tear his throat out personally.

AN: Haven't written a bleach thing in a while, then I saw a thing talking about the Espada's Soul Worlds, if they were shinigami and had Zanpakuto. It was an interesting thing and I felt like writing after I remembered my "Tea with a Death God" story. Could call it a prequel/sequel. Not going to write a full story cause I got enough of those to deal with, but I might write a few more one-shots dealing with the Espada as Shinigami cause I like the idea of it. And I will eventually get around to writing a version for Ulquiorra and Harribel's version. Anyways, hope you enjoyed the story and don't be afraid to leave a comment or concern.