Vastroode. It wasn't a term they had termed themselves. It was a word whispered at every juncture. It was a myth amongst the younger hollows. Few had seen them and even fewer came back from those sightings.
They were old creatures, sluggish with power that could not be held in their hollow bodies. Centuries ago, they had been among the fist hollows to venture into this territory. Now, they were the few hollows that could remember those days.
When the shinigami had come, searching them out, he had been discouraged by the younger ones. There was no way he could find the ancient ones, brimming with power and more reclusive than any of their brethren.
He had been the first of the Vastroodes to encounter the shinigami. What was offered, he could not remember. A deal had been struck, the shinigami's broad hands brushing against the darkness that was him. He had an agreement with the shinigami, a simple one, and he knew his side of the deal well. To follow.
There had been no ceremony as there had been with the more recent ones. The hougyoku was silent as it encapsulated his mass, broad angular sides like a freshly cut gem surrounding him.
He remembered the pain in the gem as his body was ripped apart and remade. He remembered the gaping maw of fear, the cold rush consuming him as it never had before.
But, most of all, he remembered the gem shattering and the cold light of the moon staring down at him from over the shinigami's shoulder.
He bowed his head and silently added an unspoken addition to their agreement.
'To obey'.
Ulquiorra had found what he needed. Ulquiorra had found himself a god.