Soul Society — Seireitei | 13th Squad Barracks
The paperwork had become her safe harbor.
Rukia finally understood that. Not because she took any pleasure in it, nor because administrative reports had suddenly become fascinating. The truth was much simpler: forms, mission records, patrol schedules, and supply requests were predictable. They followed an exact logic.
They didn't ask difficult questions. They didn't force her to examine feelings she couldn't file away in folders or catalog alphabetically. And most importantly of all: bureaucracy didn't remind her of Yato Yasakani.
Unfortunately, her own mind seemed stubbornly determined to do the opposite.
The sun was already beginning to sink behind the immense white walls of Seireitei, casting long shadows across the office, when a familiar silhouette fell over her desk. Rukia lifted her eyes. Captain Jūshirō Ukitake was standing there, holding a stack of documents under his arm. The gentle smile he wore was enough for her to know she had been caught red-handed.
"…Captain?" she murmured, straightening her posture.
Ukitake glanced at the growing mountain of papers surrounding his subordinate. Then, he shifted his gaze to the pile of completed reports and, finally, to the document she was frantically filling out at that very moment.
"…Kuchiki."
Rukia stiffened her shoulders. That complacent tone from her superior never meant anything good.
"You've been working nonstop since the early hours of the morning."
"I still have several pending reports, sir." she quickly justified, trying to appear focused.
"You've already finished tomorrow's reports."
Rukia blinked, processing the information. "…Ah."
"And you also finished Kiyone's paperwork."
There was an uncomfortable pause. "…I did?"
"And, from what I noticed, I think half of Sentarō's as well."
Rukia put away the calligraphy brush, unsure where to hide her face. Ukitake let out a soft laugh, wearing that kind of warm smile against which it was genuinely impossible to argue
"I think that's enough for today."
Rukia opened her mouth to protest, closed it, and tried once more: "Captain, I just wanted—"
"Go rest."
"…"
"That wasn't a suggestion, Kuchiki.
Yielding to defeat, she lowered her head. "…Yes, Captain."
Ukitake's smile widened, satisfied. "Excellent."
'Damn it...' Rukia thought with a touch of affectionate bitterness as she gathered her belongings.
Night had already swallowed Seireitei when she realized she was walking through the same stone alleys as always. The night air was fresh, almost cold. Silence was absolute, broken only by the soft rustling of the trees. Moonlight spread across the dark-tiled rooftops as if it were liquid silver.
Without consciously deciding her destination, her feet carried her to the Kuchiki Clan's estate.
The massive gates of dark wood stood open. The family guards bowed their heads respectfully as she passed. The inner gardens were immaculate, as always. Perfectly tended, perfectly arranged, immersed in an ancient calm.
Rukia walked among the sakura trees with slow steps. Yet, for some reason, that external serenity only made the noise inside her head feel more deafening.
She held a naïve hope that distance from the World of the Living would help ease the turmoil. That time would heal her chest. That the strange, persistent discomfort lodged within her would fade on its own.
Instead, the feeling seemed to grow stronger with each passing day. And that infuriated her deeply.
It irritated her because she couldn't put a name to it. Rukia understood what friendship was. She understood admiration, respect, trust, and loyalty. Those concepts were easy. Clear. Well-defined in her mind. But what she felt now didn't fit into any of them. Or perhaps… it was the mixture of all of them at once.
It had all begun with the incident in the Valley of Screams. Since Senna disappeared. Since Yato stared into nothingness, watching an existence fade before his eyes, and spoke those words:
"People only truly die when they are forgotten."
The memory surged from the depths of her mind with force. And tied to it came another voice. Another time. Another person she had loved deeply.
Kaien Shiba.
His candid smile. His straightforward words. The detailed explanation he had once given her about the meaning of the Heart. That invisible force that connected people and endured beyond death, beyond distance, beyond loss.
Rukia closed her eyes for a brief moment, feeling the wind stir her black strands of hair. Why had those words affected her so much? Why did hearing them from Yato's mouth sound so… different?
She hated not knowing the answers. And perhaps because she despised that ignorance so deeply, when she came to her senses, she realized she was standing before a very specific room in the mansion.
A faint golden light shone from behind the shoji paper doors. Rukia hesitated for an instant, her hand suspended in the air. There was a brief silence. A moment later, before she could touch the door, a calm yet commanding voice resonated from within.
"Enter."
Rukia slid the door open carefully. The room was the exact reflection of its owner: orderly, minimalist, impeccable. Byakuya Kuchiki sat before a low table, illuminated by the soft glow of an oil lamp. Several scrolls and official documents rested at his side.
Even here, in his spare hours, he worked. In a way, seeing that rigid routine brought Rukia a strange sense of relief.
Byakuya lifted his eyes briefly. His expression remained an unreadable enigma. As always.
"…Rukia."
She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. For long seconds, neither of them spoke a word. Which was not unusual. Most conversations with Byakuya began under the weight of silence. The real problem was that Rukia had no idea how to shape the question that was suffocating her.
Byakuya, noticing the hesitation in his sister's tense shoulders, set down the brush.
"…What is troubling you?"
Direct. Precise. No embellishments or wasted words. In that instant, Rukia regretted having entered.
"…It's nothing, nii-sama."
Byakuya fixed his gaze on her, holding it for what felt like an eternity.
"…"
"…"
"…If it were nothing… you wouldn't be lying." he pronounced calmly.
Rukia let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders relaxing in defeat. Of course he had noticed. Byakuya always perceived far more than people imagined. She walked to the table and sat in the formal kneeling posture (seiza) across from him, mentally searching for the right words. In the end, she chose safer ground. Something indirect.
"…Nii-sama."
"Speak."
"…May I ask you something?"
"You already are."
Rukia lightly clenched her fists, slightly irritated by the curt reply, but decided to ignore it. She waited a moment and, measuring each syllable, spoke:
"…What was Hisana nee-sama like?"
For the first time that night, the focus of Byakuya's eyes shifted subtly. Not surprise, not exactly, but enough for Rukia to know she had his full attention. The room seemed to grow even quieter. The question lingered between them like smoke. Rukia almost cursed herself for touching on such a delicate subject.
Then, against all her expectations, Byakuya answered.
"…She was kind."
His voice softened by the faintest fraction. A change so subtle most people would never notice. But Rukia did.
"She cared about others far more than herself, despite her fragile health," he continued, his gaze drifting into nothingness, fixed on memories that belonged only to him. "She smiled often."
He paused, and the corners of his lips almost hinted at a movement.
"And she was stubborn."
That last word caught Rukia off guard.
"…Stubborn?"
"Extremely." The reply came without hesitation, which somehow made it feel even more real.
Rukia found herself smiling faintly. For some reason, she could picture the scene perfectly in her mind. Silence returned to the room, but this time it no longer felt heavy or uncomfortable. It was a shared silence.
Gathering courage, she leaned forward slightly.
"…You loved her very much, didn't you?"
Byakuya did not answer immediately. The flame of the oil lamp flickered softly with a breeze from outside, swaying the thin curtains.
"…Yes."
A simple answer. Certain. Absolute. No hesitation, no doubt, no trace of confusion. It was nothing but the purest truth.
Rukia lowered her eyes, staring at her hands clasped over the folds of her kimono.
"…How did you know?"
The question slipped from her lips before she could process it through the filter of common sense.
Byakuya looked at her. This time, his gaze lingered, meticulous. As though he were examining not the question itself, but the deeper reason that had driven her to unearth it. Feeling the weight of his scrutiny, Rukia suddenly found the grain of the wooden floor the most fascinating thing in the world.
Several minutes dragged on in the invisible clock of the room. Until Byakuya broke the silence.
"…I did not know."
Rukia blinked, lifting her head.
"…What?"
"I did not know immediately."
For the first time in their dialogue, genuine and unguarded surprise overtook Rukia's face. Byakuya continued in his monotone, serene voice, turning his eyes toward the darkness of the night beyond the open window.
"People often believe that certainty comes first. But rarely is that how it happens."
That answer was not what she expected. And realistically, it didn't seem to help much in untangling the knot in her head. Even so, Rukia leaned in closer, absorbing every word.
"At the beginning," Byakuya explained, "they were only small moments. Things I noticed about her. Details that, without realizing it, I began to care about. Things I found myself thinking of when she was no longer there."
Something in Rukia's chest tightened painfully. It was exactly what was happening to her.
Byakuya's gray eyes turned to his sister. Calm, observant, deeply aware.
"…Over time, I realized those thoughts had already become part of my own life."
The room sank into silence once again.
And suddenly, Rukia had the clear certainty that this conversation was no longer about Hisana. Byakuya seemed perfectly aware of that, but mercifully chose to spare her and said nothing.
For a long while, neither of them spoke a single word. Rukia finally averted her gaze, thoughtful, conflicted, and perhaps even more confused than when she had entered.
And yet… she felt strangely lighter.
Because, for the first time since Senna had disappeared and Yato's words had lodged themselves in her mind, she had heard someone admit something she desperately needed to hear: certainty does not always come first.
Sometimes, it only arrives much later.
The silence stretched across the room after Byakuya's final words.
It wasn't an uncomfortable or awkward silence, nor that suffocating kind of stillness that demands to be filled with idle chatter. On the contrary: it was the kind of calm that allows thoughts to finally settle in the mind. Or perhaps… forces them to.
Rukia remained seated, rigid in her formal posture, hands resting on the lap of her shihakushō. Her eyes had drifted downward, fixed on some invisible point on the tatami.
Byakuya observed her in analytical silence. Years ago, he would have let the conversation end right there. Rukia had asked a question, and he had answered; for the Captain of the 6th Squad, that would have been enough. But things were different now. Not because he had completely changed his essence, but because he had learned. Slowly and painfully, he had come to understand that proud silence was not always enough — especially when it came to family. And despite all the barriers of the past, Rukia was his family.
"…Rukia."
She lifted her eyes, breaking free from the trance.
"…Yes?"
Byakuya hesitated for a brief moment, choosing his words with the same meticulous precision as always.
"There is something people often misunderstand when they speak about feelings" he began, turning his gaze toward the moonlit garden outside. "They assume the greatest difficulty lies in understanding them."
A measured pause followed.
"In truth, understanding is the easiest part."
Rukia blinked, genuinely surprised by such a statement coming from a man so analytical.
"The hard part comes right after" Byakuya continued, as the lamplight cast soft shadows across the aristocratic lines of his face. "It is when understanding demands a choice."
Something in those words made Rukia's chest tighten. She remained silent, and Byakuya did not seem surprised by the lack of response.
"It is simple to admire someone." he reflected, his voice steady and serene, almost monotone. "It is simple to trust someone. It is even simple to care for someone."
His gray eyes returned to focus on his younger sister, and his gaze seemed to sharpen ever so slightly.
"But when those feelings become important enough to dictate your decisions… that is when the barriers appear."
Unconsciously, Rukia leaned forward just a little, absorbing each word with renewed intensity. Byakuya turned his eyes away once more, as though speaking not only to her, but also to the ghosts of his own past.
"Obligations arise. The expectations of others. Duty. Consequences."
His tone did not falter, yet it carried a crushing weight — the weight of someone who had once shattered his own soul in the name of rules.
"There are moments when two different paths seem equally right."
Rukia thought immediately of the Soul Society. Then, of the World of the Living. She thought of the people for whom she would give her life in both worlds.
"And there are moments when any choice will result in an irreparable loss."
Kaien Shiba's face gleamed in her mind. Then Renji's, Orihime's, Ichigo's… and, no matter how hard she tried to avoid it, Yato's.
"Sometimes" Byakuya continued "the greatest obstacle is not external."
Rukia furrowed her brow slightly, intrigued. "What do you mean by that, nii-sama?"
"The self..." he replied at once. "The person you believe you ought to be."
The room sank into another wave of stillness. Byakuya folded his hands within the sleeves of his kimono. Composed. Elegant. Motionless. And yet, his words carried a subtle honesty, rare to be heard from him.
"People build boundaries for themselves. They decide what is appropriate, what is expected, and what is permitted."
His gaze rested on her once more.
"And, occasionally… they discover that their own heart had already crossed those boundaries long before they themselves could notice."
Rukia froze. It was an almost imperceptible jolt, but enough for Byakuya to notice. Of course he noticed. That man had spent centuries deciphering rooms full of arrogant nobles, scheming politicians, division captains, and professional liars; reading the reactions of his younger sister was no challenge at all.
Even so, he was merciful and did not press her. He simply continued.
"There is no shame in uncertainty."
That statement shocked Rukia more than anything else he had said that night. It did not resemble the relentless Byakuya Kuchiki she had grown up with. It felt almost… as though he knew exactly what she was struggling with. As if he himself had once fought that very same inner battle.
Rukia lowered her head, staring at her own lap.
"…You make it sound simple."
After a brief silence, Byakuya made an almost imperceptible motion with his head, denying.
"No." he said, his voice quieter. "It is not simple."
The reply came with such cutting certainty that Rukia instinctively raised her eyes. For a fraction of a second — a mere blink — she thought she saw a glimpse of deep melancholy flicker across his pupils. A distant memory.
Hisana. The promises he had broken to his family. The promises he had kept to himself. The laws he had defied. The losses he had endured in silence.
The expression vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
"When the time comes, the decision may be painful." Byakuya said with his usual calm. "The path may be unpleasant. The consequences may be severe."
His gaze fixed entirely on her, steady and unshakable.
"But avoiding the answer does not prevent it from existing."
Rukia fell completely silent. She knew he was right. A part of her had been deliberately running from it. Avoiding the uncomfortable questions, masking the feelings, ignoring the possibility that whatever had changed inside her was not merely a reflection of Yato's Fullbring, nor the result of their souls being connected, nor because she had spent too much time in the World of the Living.
Those technical justifications were convenient. They were comfortable. They were safe. And perhaps… that was exactly why she clung to them so tightly.
Byakuya rose calmly from his place. The conversation, it seemed, had reached its natural conclusion. Yet before turning to leave, he spoke one last time.
"…If that brings you any comfort."
Rukia looked up. Byakuya's expression remained as unreadable as a statue of ice, yet his voice sounded softer than before.
"If your uncertainty comes from the fear that your feelings are not genuine… then ask yourself a simple question."
Rukia waited, holding her breath. Byakuya turned toward the open window, where the moonlight illuminated half of his aristocratic profile.
"Would those feelings disappear if the circumstances changed?" He paused before concluding. "If every justification you rely on today were to vanish… what would remain?"
The silence that followed was absolute. Rukia did not answer. Not because she refused to, but because she could not. And deep down, that inability to deny was already an answer in itself.
Byakuya ended the matter there, acting as he always did. No excessive advice, no invasive questions, no demands. He simply left her alone with the truth that, sooner or later, she would have to face on her own.
And long after his footsteps had faded through the corridors of the mansion, Rukia remained there, seated beneath the golden, trembling light of the lantern. Thinking.
Because, for the very first time… the terrifying possibility that her feelings might continue to exist even if the connection between their souls were severed was the thought that frightened her most.
**
World of the Living | Karakura Town — Mashiba
A roar tore through the distant skyline, fracturing the artificial stillness of the residential district.
Only this time, the sound was significantly closer.
The remaining color drained from Keigo's face. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead as he tried to swallow the lump growing in his throat.
"Okay..." he muttered, his voice cracking as he forced a hollow, trembling laugh. "Please, just do me a huge favor and tell me that it was a modified truck with a really bad muffler."
"It wasn't a truck," Yato replied flatly.
"Then tell me it was an incredibly pissed-off stray dog. Like, a really, really big one."
"Well… It wasn't a dog."
Keigo's shoulders slumped in sheer terror. "Then... I don't know, man, just lie to me!"
Yato ignored him entirely because something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
Because despite clearly hearing the roar, he couldn't feel a single thing.
No spiritual energy. No residual Hollow reiatsu. Absolutely nothing.
His eyes narrowed into a sharp glare.
Yet another roar ripped through the district. This time, it was accompanied by the unmistakable sounds of structural destruction in the distance—the screech of twisting metal, shattering glass, and the faint, terrified screams of people.
Yato's heart hammered against his ribs.
It was a Hollow, without a doubt.
But his spiritual senses were returning a total blank.
'What the hell…'
Weak Hollows were usually a joke to locate. The second they crossed into his vicinity, Yato would pick up on them instantly. But right now, there was only a maddening, empty silence. It was as if the creature didn't even exist.
Except it clearly did.
He could hear it. And so could Keigo.
"...Yato." Keigo's voice had lost every ounce of its usual theatrical, high-energy bravado. It was reduced to a breathless, frantic whisper. The boy was spinning in circles, his eyes wide and wild as he scanned the shadows stretching across the asphalt. "What is that...? What's happening?"
Yato didn't answer immediately. He clamped his jaw shut and closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, consciously expanding the perimeter of his senses, desperate to catch even the faintest, microscopic trace of localized spiritual pressure.
Still nothing. Not a single ripple in the air.
A heavy, icy weight sank deep into his stomach. If he couldn't sense the Hollow's Reiatsu, he couldn't predict its trajectory. He couldn't anticipate its attacks, and more importantly, he couldn't map out a blind spot to safely evacuate civilians. Protecting someone under these conditions was going to be an absolute nightmare.
ROAAAAAR!
Another explosion of noise shattered the brief silence. Much closer. Far too close for comfort.
Yato's eyes snapped open, a sharp gleam cutting through the darkness. "There."
"Where?!" Keigo shrieked, clutching his head. "Where is 'there'?!"
"I… don't know…"
Keigo's eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. "...That is literally the least reassuring thing you could have said right now!"
"I'm well aware!"
Without warning, a localized, violent gust of wind whipped down the narrow street, kicking up dust and loose trash. The overhead streetlights flickered erratically, buzzing like dying insects, while the massive glass display windows of the nearby shops rattled violently within their metal frames.
Yato clamped a firm, unyielding grip onto Keigo's shoulder. "Stay close to me."
"Huh...? Wait, what—"
"Just do it!"
The sheer, unyielding gravity in Yato's voice instantly crushed any room for debate. Keigo swallowed hard, his throat dry, and nodded dumbly. "...R-Right."
The two began moving quickly through the labyrinth of streets. They weren't running blindly—not yet. Yato was actively trying to triangulate the source of the noise, relying entirely on his hearing to hunt the target. It was a primitive method, something he rarely ever had to resort to before.
Beside him, Keigo was practically jogging just to keep up with Yato's long, calculated strides.
"Hey, shouldn't we be sprinting in the opposite direction of the giant, terrifying noise?" Keigo hissed, his eyes darting toward every dark alleyway they passed.
"Probably," Yato muttered, his gaze fixed forward.
"Then why the hell aren't we?!"
"Because running blindly into the dark without knowing where the threat is coming from is an easy way to deliver ourselves right into its mouth."
Keigo grimaced, his teeth chattering. "...I really, really hate your logic right now."
CRASH!
Another massive structural collapse echoed through the district, followed by the heavy, grinding sound of fracturing reinforced concrete.
The sound was the final straw for Keigo's fraying nerves. Any semblance of tactical patience vanished instantly, and his legs moved before his brain could stop them.
"SCREW THE LOGIC! WE ARE RUNNING NOW!" Keigo yelled at the top of his lungs.
And just like that, he bolted ahead, hitting maximum velocity in a desperate bid for survival.
"Keigo! Stop, you idiot!"
"I'm choosing survival, man!"
Yato cursed under his breath and took off after him. Letting a normal human sprint off completely alone while a Hollow—one completely invisible to his spiritual radar—roamed the area was a textbook recipe for disaster.
Then—
ROOOOOAAAAAAR!!!
The next scream wasn't just loud; it was deafening. The sheer volume of the screech vibrated violently through the air, sending a physical shockwave that Yato could feel rattling against his sternum.
His eyes widened in sudden realization.
The sound wasn't coming from the intersection ahead. It wasn't coming from the blind alley behind them, either. It was echoing from an entirely different axis.
It was coming from above.
Yato tilted his head back, his gaze snapping skyward.
And there, outlined against the pale, white glow of the moon, he finally saw it. A massive, amorphous shadow was bounding effortlessly across the rooftops. It moved with an unnatural speed. Far too fast.
Whatever the hell this thing was, it defied every known classification of a standard Hollow.
"...You've got to be kidding me," Yato whispered, his throat tightening.
On his shoulder, Cheshire's playful, mischievous expression vanished entirely. For the first time since Yato had known him, the crimson cat looked completely, dead serious.
"...Yato."
The sharp edge of warning in Cheshire's voice made Yato stiffen instantly. Cheshire rarely, if ever, showed concern. And when he did... it meant there was an incredibly dangerous reason for it.
High above, a colossal silhouette shifted against the moonlit tiles of a residential rooftop. Another low, rumbling growl vibrated through the structure, shaking loose dust into the air.
And in that precise, agonizing second, Yato felt a chill run down his spine. He didn't need a spiritual sense to tell him what happened next. As the massive shadow crested the edge of the roof, leaning over the street below, Yato knew with absolute, terrifying certainty—
The creature was looking right at him.
Yato closed the distance in a flash, grabbing Keigo by the collar and halting his mad dash. At the same time, he actively flared his Fullbring.
Cheshire's feline form instantly dissolved into countless glowing red threads, spinning into a protective, swirling barrier around Yato and Keigo. Yato extended his right hand into the center of the vortex. The crimson threads spiraled tightly around his palm, rapidly materializing into the form of his Zanpakutō.
"Wait, wait, wait! What the hell are these strings?!" Keigo panicked, thrashing against the glowing threads that now restricted his movement.
"Calm down. I'm the one controlling them," Yato commanded, his voice sharp. He kept his left hand steady near Keigo, gripping his Zanpakutō's sheath while his right hand held the hilt in a tight, practiced grip. "I can't lock onto this Hollow's presence, so I'm going to have to find another way to bring it down."
"Are you insane?! You're seriously thinking about fighting that thing?!" Keigo shrieked.
"Yeah. Just relax." Yato tried to maintain a cool, composed tone to keep Keigo from completely losing it, but internally, his mind was racing at a mile a minute.
'The Hollow isn't emitting a single drop of reiatsu, and it's actively masking its presence... but judging by that massive silhouette from earlier… could it be an Adjuchas?' Yato theorized.
Though he had never personally faced an Adjuchas-class Menos before, Yato was confident that his raw power ceiling was more than enough to handle one. However, even a technically weaker opponent could become a total nightmare if they possessed flawless camouflage and sensory-negation abilities.
Suddenly, the ambient light distorted.
A colossal, grotesque hand materialized out of thin air, lunging straight for Keigo.
"Eek?!" Keigo let out a yelp, throwing himself backward in sheer terror.
The Hollow's massive hand was violently intercepted mid-air by the crimson threads. The Fullbring cords whipped around the invisible limb, binding it tightly and trapping it just long enough for Yato to pivot. With a fluid, explosive motion, Yato swung his Zanpakutō in a lethal arc.
The blade sliced cleanly through the empty air.
Yato's eyes widened. There was no resistance. In the blink of an eye, the creature had vanished entirely.
"What the hell was that?! Did you see that?! It just disappeared!!" Keigo screamed from his ungraceful position on the ground, his face pale as he scrambled back toward Yato's legs.
Yato didn't reply. He stood in absolute silence, a chilling realization washing over him.
'I didn't hear a thing when it vanished... which means it didn't use Sonído. Is it capable of teleportation...?'
The sheer weight of that possibility sent a wave of dark frustration boiling inside him. Facing an invisible, undetectable enemy was bad enough—but an enemy that could warp through space without a sound?
This was turning into a disaster.
"Dude, we need to get the hell out of here right now!! What if that thing comes back?!" Keigo scrambled to his feet, frantically shaking Yato by the shoulders in a desperate bid to snap him into motion.
"Get off me. I'm trying to figure out how to take this thing down..." Yato grumbled, shaking him off.
Right on cue, another colossal, grotesque hand lunged from a completely different angle. Once again, it targeted Keigo. And once again, the protective web of crimson threads whipped out to intercept the blow, binding the massive limb. But every single time Yato went to retaliate, the creature vanished into thin air before his blade could connect.
Terrified, Keigo practically glued his back to Yato's, desperately trying to keep himself dead-center within the safety zone of the glowing red threads that were somehow standing between him and certain death.
Yato scanned their surroundings. Still, there was absolutely no spiritual trace of the Hollow, even though its guttural roars occasionally echoed from entirely different directions.
'It can turn invisible, mask its reiatsu perfectly, and apparently teleport…' Yato's mind raced. 'Someone must have heavily modified this thing for it to pull off a toolkit like that.'
He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the trembling boy behind him. 'Hollows usually hunt whoever has the highest spiritual pressure, but this one is explicitly targeting Keigo. Then again, I don't even know if it can sense my own reiatsu right now.'
Yato let out an irritated sigh. 'I'm barely channeling any power into these threads, yet the Hollow still can't break through them. That means its raw strength isn't actually that high. I could easily crush it just by flexing my reiatsu, but doing that at this close range would obliterate Keigo too…'
Frustrated, Yato clicked his tongue. "This is getting annoying."
"What is?! What's annoying?!" Keigo shrieked, his eyes darting around wildly.
"Keigo, stay close, shut up... and whatever you do, do not touch the threads."
As he spoke, Yato gently tapped the flat of his Zanpakutō's blade against the glowing crimson web. He closed his eyes. It was time to stop relying on spiritual perception and trust his physical senses instead.
ROOOAAAR!
The beast roared again, dangerously close. Yato felt a grim wave of relief—at least the monster couldn't conceal the acoustic noise it made. More importantly, it had to be airborne. Given its massive silhouette, if it were running on the ground, the vibrations through the asphalt would have given it away instantly.
A split second later, the sound of a low, predatory growl rushed toward them. Instead of spinning around for another futile blind swing, Yato kept his blade pressed firmly against the red thread.
A sharp crackle of electricity sparked in his palm, surging down the steel edge and bleeding directly into the Fullbring web.
『Hadō #11: TsuzuriRaiden.』• 綴雷電, Bound Lightning •
The electrical current violently coursed through the entire network of interwoven threads. The exact moment the Hollow's colossal hand collided with the barrier, the high-voltage shock blasted through its body.
The creature unleashed a deafening shriek of agony. The sudden disruption shattered its camouflage, revealing its massive, grotesque form completely paralyzed and locked in place.
Keigo's eyes widened to the size of saucers as he watched the monster convulse under the blinding electrical current.
Seizing the opening, the crimson threads autonomously wrapped around the Hollow like tightening pythons, continuously feeding the shock throughout its frame.
Yato lunged.
He closed the distance instantly, bringing his Zanpakutō down in a lethal, flashing arc meant to bisect the beast. But despite the paralysis, the Hollow possessed a brutal survival instinct. With a desperate, violent jerk, it threw its massive arm forward to shield its vitals.
Yato's blade severed the creature's arm entirely, sending black blood spraying into the air. However, the Hollow's violent thrashing had dragged the electrified threads dangerously close to Keigo.
'Tch!' Yato immediately cut off the Hadō to keep the lightning from frying his classmate. But in that microsecond of slack, the wounded Hollow seized the opportunity.
It vanished into thin air.
"Dammit!" Yato cursed aloud.
If this Hollow possessed enough cognitive awareness to sacrifice its own limb just to escape a lethal blow, it meant the creature was far more cautious and intelligent than a mindless beast. And now that it knew what Yato was capable of, it was undoubtedly going to alter its tactics for the next strike.
Keigo Asano's heart felt like it was trying to violently tear through his rib cage, hammering in a frantic, wild rhythm of pure, unadulterated panic. His legs were still trembling uncontrollably. Yet, as the dust from that last clash began to settle and his brain finally processed what had just unfolded, the paralyzing shock suddenly gave way to a wave of hysterical euphoria.
"Dude! You... you actually sliced that thing's arm clean off?!" Keigo shrieked, his voice violently oscillating between absolute terror and unbelievable awe. His eyes were wide as saucers, completely glued to the trail of dark spiritual blood burning away on the asphalt.
Yato retreated in a flash, closing the distance between himself and his classmate so the boy wouldn't be left vulnerable. With a sharp, practiced flick of his fingers, he manipulated the glowing crimson threads of his Fullbring. The cords tightly interwoven once more, spinning into a translucent protective dome that completely encapsulated the two of them.
"Yeah... I cut it," Yato muttered, letting out a heavy, irritated sigh. He scowled, visibly thoroughly unsatisfied with his own performance. "But unfortunately, I couldn't take care of the rest of it in one go."
That answer, grounded and realistic as it was, acted like a spark of hope inside Keigo's chaotic mind. The suffocating dread that had been crushing him just moments ago seemed to alleviate, replaced by a massive surge of pure adrenaline.
"But that means you can actually beat that thing, right?! You can totally kill it?!" Keigo asked, gesticulating wildly, even though his teeth were still chattering from the residual fear.
"Yeah. I can," Yato assured him, his eyes actively scanning the perimeter in a grim attempt to relocate the hidden Hollow. His expression was dead serious. "I just need to land one clean hit right on its mask, and it's over."
Hearing that definitive promise of victory ignited a sudden spark of courage—or perhaps absolute insanity—deep within Keigo's chest. In a sudden, desperate burst of misplaced camaraderie, he lunged forward and threw his arm around Yato's shoulders, dragging him into a clumsy, suffocating side-hug.
He puffed out his chest, trying to force a brave, fearless expression onto his face. He even narrowed his eyes, clearly trying to look like a hardened action hero, but the illusion was ruined by his trembling lips and the cold sweat dripping down his temple.
Yato slowly turned his head, staring deadpan at the arm draped over his shoulder. He raised a single, judgmental eyebrow, his face twisted into a grimace that clearly said: You've got to be kidding me.
"T-Then... from this moment on, I shall be your faithful sidekick in this battle!" Keigo announced, pumping up his volume as if trying to convince himself. "I'll stay right here, covering your back, providing maximum moral support, handling the high-level backline strategy... and you go out there and obliterate that monster! Think about it, Yato... it's just like... it's just like a fantasy RPG party! Come on, let's make it an official party?!"
Yato let out a long, thoroughly exhausted sigh. He had absolutely zero patience left to deal with his friend's mental breakdown. Keeping what little composure he had left, he firmly grabbed Keigo by the wrist and peeled the boy's arm off his shoulders.
"This is definitely not the time for this, Keigo..."
"Oh, come on!!"
Ignoring his classmate completely, Yato took a deep breath.
『Sing, Ōkagetsu.』• 凰火月, Fire Moon
Phoenix •
The zanpakutō takes the form of a longer black blade adorned with a pattern resembling red flames. The tsuba transforms into the figure of a black and red bird, with yellow and blue details on its feathers. The hilt becomes entirely black with red accents that resemble glowing embers. A feather in red, yellow, black, white, and blue is tied to a small red jewel, fastened by a thin cord at the end of the zanpakutō's hilt.
The sheath that Yato held in his left hand becomes long and slender, matching the length of the blade. It is made of an opaque black material that contrasts with the fiery red details spreading across its surface.
Keigo's eyes widened, completely mesmerized by the spectacle unfolding right in front of him.
"Man... you're a literal walking armory for dealing with these ghosts!" Keigo exclaimed. Finally catching his breath, he pumped his thumb up in an energetic thumbs-up, desperately trying to inject some levity into the apocalyptic atmosphere.
Yato parted his lips to shoot back a retort, but the words died instantly in his throat.
A sharp, screeching, and echoing wail resonated from the distance, sounding like reinforced steel being violently twisted by a titanic force. In the next millisecond, Yato's pupils constricted, his eyes widening ever so slightly. The sheer density of the spiritual energy in the atmosphere shifted drastically, turning suffocatingly thick.
"Now I'm certain... It's an Adjuchas..." Yato grumbled.
"An ad-what?" Keigo blinked, entirely clueless about the classification system of Hollow classes.
Yato ignored the question, focusing every single ounce of his attention on the horizon.
A crimson point of light began to inflate rapidly within the darkness, unleashing a devastating beam of ruby-red light that tore through the atmosphere, hurtling at a terrifying speed toward their exact coordinates.
'If I simply dodge this Cero, its trajectory will obliterate the blocks right behind us... Those buildings will be turned to dust...' Yato calculated mentally in a fraction of a second.
He planted his feet firmly into the asphalt, dropping into a rigid, unyielding defensive stance. The blade of his Zanpakutō began to react violently, erupting into bursts of brilliant, yellow flames.
『San no Uta, NaibunoUchū』 • 三 の 歌・内部の宇宙, Third Song, Inner Universe •
The exact moment the colossal beam of destructive energy descended upon them, threatening to swallow them whole and tearing a genuine shriek of pure terror from Keigo's throat, Yato took a decisive step forward. With a precise, unwavering motion, he brought his golden, flame-wreathed blade upward, colliding directly with the Cero.
The impact generated a silent shockwave of pure spiritual pressure, pulverizing the pavement around Yato's feet. Yet, defying all laws of physics, the overwhelming advance of the Cero ground to an abrupt halt by the incandescent sword.
Yato's yellow flames weren't just holding the line; they were actively neutralizing the attack. The moment the yellow fire touched the crimson energy, it began canceling it out, melting the Cero away into harmless, fading sparks before it could cause any damage to the city.
Keigo stared at the fading sparks, his jaw practically hitting the shattered pavement. For a few seconds, he literally forgot how to breathe. The suffocating pressure, the blinding red light, the apartment buildings behind them—all of it had been erased by one crazy, golden swing of Yato's sword.
Then, the shock completely flipped into pure, chaotic hype.
"Holy crap! You just blocked that?! You literally deleted a laser beam with a sword?!" Keigo screamed, his voice cracking as he grabbed Yato by the shoulders again, shaking him back and forth. "Dude, that was the most anime thing I have ever seen in my life!"
Yato let out a long, exhausted sigh, dropping his shoulders as his flames died down. He casually swatted Keigo's hands away. "I told you to stay back. And stop shaking me, I'm trying to listen for where it went."
"Listen? Bro, you don't need to listen, you're the main character!" Keigo pumped his fists, his eyes practically turning into stars. The absolute terror from a moment ago was completely gone, replaced by a massive surge of gamer adrenaline. "That's it. Decision made. From now on, I am officially your Vanguard, your strategist, your hype man! I'm going to provide the ultimate moral support from the backline while you do that crazy fire stuff!"
"You already said that.." Yato rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling a massive headache coming on. Protecting Keigo from a invisible Adjuchas was already hard enough—dealing with his mid-battle chunibyo breakdown was a whole different level of torture.
"I don't need a backline, Keigo. I need you to stay quiet," Yato grumbled, his eyes already scanning the dark rooftops again.
"No way, a true hero never abandons his team!" Keigo turned around, dropping to his knees and frantically unzipping his messy backpack again. He started tossing loose sheets of paper, pens, and crumpled snack wrappers onto the grass, hunting for something deep inside the bag. "Hold on, give me a sec... I know I have it here somewhere..."
"What are you even looking for right now?" Yato asked, his deadpan expression reaching maximum capacity.
"Come on, Yato, think about it! A legendary swordsman and a lucky genius... So, seriously, you sure you don't want to form an official party with me?"
**
Karakura Town — Karakura Shopping District
The commercial district was absolutely buzzing with life. Despite the late hour, the area was heavily crowded, a literal sea of people flowing back and forth. They carried shopping bags, conversed loudly, and filled the atmosphere with the typical, bustling white noise of daily modern life.
Amidst that dense crowd stood a young man with messy blonde hair that swayed subtly with every passing gust of wind. To any ordinary bystander, he looked like a perfectly normal teenager. In reality, however, this was Kon, currently inhabiting his new Gigai.
Kon let out a long, thoroughly bored yawn, interlocking his fingers behind his head. With deep indifference, he watched the duo walking just a few paces ahead of him.
Fujimaru and Shiyo were practically glued to the sparkling display windows of the storefronts, their eyes wide and their faces illuminated by a pure, almost childlike wonder. To them, every single neon sign or plastic mannequin looked like a profound miracle from another world.
"What a pain... Why the hell do I have to babysit these two?" Kon grumbled to himself, his voice completely drowned out by the ambient noise of the mall. "I finally scored a decent Gigai, and I could be out there actually living it up! Feeling the wind in my face, discovering what it's truly like to be a youth... and most importantly... hunting down some hot chicks! But no. Urahara and Ichigo just had to ruin everything. As if having to tolerate that sour-faced Strawberry's permanent scowl and daily lectures wasn't already enough punishment..."
The Mod-Soul's internal river of complaints was violently cut short when Shiyo suddenly spun around. Her green eyes sparkled with intense curiosity as she came jogging back toward him. Fujimaru followed closely behind her, the exact same expression of utter fascination plastered across his face.
"Kon-san! Kon-san, what is that place over there?!" Shiyo asked excitedly, pointing a finger through the glass of a noisy storefront that was flashing with colorful monitors and blasting electronic sound effects.
Kon barely even bothered to glance over before answering in a lazy, drawn-out drawl. "It's a game center. An arcade. Humans come here to blow the money they don't have in exchange for virtual entertainment."
To be fair, Kon didn't actually hold anything against Shiyo. She was just a stray soul who, for some inexplicable reason, couldn't be sent to the Soul Society via Konsō. As a result, she was stuck living in a Gigai until the Urahara figured out what to do with her.
"A... game center?" Fujimaru murmured, stepping closer. He crossed his arms, analyzing the flashing establishment with a thoroughly confused, almost comical expression. He looked genuinely overwhelmed. "I wonder if the World of the Living had things like this back in my era..." He scratches his dirty blonde hair.
Kon chose to leave that unanswered, merely letting out a heavy, suffering sigh as the two immediately pressed their noses back against the glass to observe the arcade machines.
The Mod-Soul monitored them closely, but his true, underlying headache wasn't Shiyo's naive curiosity—it was Fujimaru's presence.
Fujimaru Kudō was a Shinigami who, by some bizarre twist of fate had been violently hurled from many years in the past straight into the modern era. Now, he and his companion needed to adjust to the technology, the customs, and the sheer absurdity of their current situation before they could finally return to the Soul Society to figure out what had changed in the Seireitei.
The end result of this monumental mess? Kon had been forcefully drafted into serving as their tour guide and field security, tasked with making sure they utilized their Gigais correctly and didn't accidentally cause a scene in front of ordinary humans.
To make matters considerably worse, Kon had picked up on a deeply concerning detail: Fujimaru didn't seem anywhere near as strong as the powerhouse Shinigami Kon was used to dealing with, like Ichigo or Yato.
That fact alone placed Kon in a constant state of high alert—a position he absolutely despised. He knew that if a Hollow decided to ambush the shopping district at this exact moment, drawn in by the massive clusters of spiritual energy floating around them, he couldn't rely on this Shinigami to protect them. The burden of keeping the three of them in one piece would ironically fall squarely on the Mod-Soul himself.
"If a Hollow shows up right now, I am completely cooked..." Kon muttered, tightly clenching his fists inside his pockets as his gaze sharply flicked toward the shadowed corners of the high mall ceiling.
Kon continued to drag his feet through the commercial district, trailing behind Shiyo and Fujimaru with his arms crossed and eyelids heavy with pure boredom. He walked with his eyes closed, mentally cursing Kisuke Urahara's entire lineage, until his face collided directly into Fujimaru's back. The Shinigami from the past had ground to an abrupt halt right in the middle of the mall corridor.
"Oi! What the hell is your problem, man? Warn a guy before you freeze up like a statue, will ya?!" Kon grumbled, rubbing his nose and scowling in pure irritation.
"Kon-san..." Fujimaru's voice came in a tense whisper, instantly cutting through the Mod-Soul's drama. He was staring unblinkingly up at the glass ceiling of the establishment, his fists tightly clenched at his sides. "I feel it... It's a Hollow's presence. And it's extremely close."
'Of course it is! That's just the perfect cherry on top of this garbage day,' Kon cursed silently, feeling an uncomfortable chill crawl up his spine.
Immediately, the trio shifted into a defensive stance, their eyes frantically sweeping across the corridors, the escalators, and the balconies of the upper floors. But around them, the crowds of humans continued walking past completely unbothered, laughing and carrying shopping bags. There wasn't a single trace of a monstrous creature with a white mask.
Suddenly, the very atmosphere of the mall seemed to warp. Inside the display window of a large department store nearby, dozens of television screens began to flicker violently. They crackled with a strange, deep crimson static before snapping back to their normal brightness. The phenomenon lasted a mere two seconds, but it was more than enough to leave the trio's nerves entirely on edge.
For Kon, this was the absolute worst-case scenario. He was trapped inside a crowded mall filled with spiritually blind humans, babysitting a clumsy Plus and a timeline-displaced Shinigami, and he didn't have the slightest clue if he could actually trust Fujimaru's combat capabilities.
"You know what? Screw this! We are getting the hell out of here right n—"
Before Kon could finish his retreat order, a heavy fist descended from above and collided directly with the top of his skull with a dull thwack.
"Ow! What the—"
"Can you stop whining for literally five seconds?" a gruff, irritatingly familiar voice echoed from just above them.
The trio quickly snapped their heads up. Standing casually on the ledge of a support pillar, already in full Shinigami form and donning his iconic black robes, was Ichigo Kurosaki. He carried his massive Zanpakutō slung restlessly over his shoulder, his bright orange hair standing out starkly under the artificial lights. Right behind him stood Yasutora Sado, maintaining his usual silent, towering presence. Chad merely raised a hand, giving the group a reassuring thumbs-up to calm them down.
"Ichigo?!" Kon barked, clutching his head where a massive lump was already starting to form. "What the hell are you doing here?!"
"I got a Hollow alert on my substitute badge, you moron. You think I came here for a shopping spree?" Ichigo vaulted down from the pillar, landing smoothly on the floor beside them. His eyes remained incredibly sharp, actively scanning the perimeter.
Right at that exact moment, a sharp, insistent ringtone began to echo among them. The sound was vibrating directly out of Sado's jacket pocket. Ichigo let out a tired sigh, turning to his towering friend with a thoroughly exhausted expression.
"Man... are they still calling you?"
Chad slid his hand into his pocket, pulling out the device. The screen was glowing intensely in the dim light of the corridor. He stared at the display for a few seconds before answering in his deep, rumbling voice.
"Hm. It's an unknown number. Again."
"Can somebody please explain to me what the hell is going on here?!" Kon yelled, finally snapping and losing whatever little patience he had left as he looked back and forth between Ichigo and Chad.
"A few minutes ago, I felt a weird ripple in the local reiatsu near Chad's house," Ichigo explained, crossing his arms. "By the time I got there, he'd already taken care of the Hollow by himself. The real problem is that from the exact second that monster turned to dust, his phone hasn't stopped ringing."
"Every single call is coming from completely different, randomized numbers," Chad added, turning the screen toward them to show a log overflowing with bizarre digits. "And it doesn't matter what I do. If I try to decline the call, power down the device, or even answer it... the phone completely ignores the input. It just keeps ringing."
Fujimaru, who had been observing the dynamic intently, knitted his brows as he began to piece the clues together.
"Just like the screens on those TVs that randomly flickered a second ago...?" the ancient Shinigami murmured, pointing toward the storefront.
The words had barely left Fujimaru's mouth when an invisible pulse of raw energy swept through the shopping district. This time, it wasn't just a few display TVs. Every single smartphone cradled in the hands of the shoppers around them, the electronic cash registers inside the stores, the massive advertising LED panels, and the mall's digital directories began to glitch in perfect unison.
The entire district erupted into a chorus of shrill bleeps, distorted ringtones, and blinding bursts of crimson static. Electricity and spiritual pressure seemed to violently fuse into a single, anomalous entity, bathing the terrified crowd in a sinister, blood-red glow.
Fujimaru didn't comprehend the modern technology of this era, let alone the true nature of the electronic anomaly unfolding around them, but his warrior's intuition was screaming that imminent danger was upon them. He knew he had to act and support the group however he could. Driven by pure instinct, he shoved his hand into the pocket of his Gigai's jacket and pulled out a small, dark-green pill—a Gikongan that Kisuke Urahara had preventatively handed him before they set out.
Without hesitation, Fujimaru swallowed the pill.
In the next fraction of a second, an artificial soul took command of his physical vessel, violently ejecting his true Shinigami form into the spiritual plane. Now donning his traditional black Shihakushō, he landed lightly on the floor and faced his own physical double.
"Please, stay alert and watch over the people around us," Fujimaru instructed the substitute soul, his voice firm and tightly focused. "If the situation spins out of control, help them or guide them out of the mall as fast as possible."
The Gigai, now controlled by the temporary soul, gave a determined nod and immediately melted into the crowd, keeping a sharp eye on the perimeter.
The tension in the air shattered. Ichigo, Chad, Kon, Fujimaru, and Shiyo rapidly closed ranks, standing back-to-back in a tight defensive circle.
And then, the sound began.
It was a skittering, dry, and frantic noise. It sounded like thousands of tiny crab legs scratching aggressively against the mall's porcelain tile floor, echoing from absolutely every direction—pouring from the gaps beneath the escalators, spilling out of the seams in the drywall ceilings, and rushing from behind the electronics stores.
"What is that...? Are those... spiders?" Shiyo asked, her voice cracking as she pointed toward a corner of the corridor.
When the group locked their eyes on the source, the scene before them looked like something ripped straight out of a nightmare. A literal, living carpet composed of thousands of tiny, dark creatures was rushing toward them at terrifying speed, blanketing the floor and swarming up the walls.
The most bizarre part was the behavior of the ordinary humans around them. Because they were spiritually aware, they didn't see a single thing of the encroaching swarm. People just kept walking. Some were laughing, while others merely grumbled and shook their smartphones, thoroughly irritated by the sudden collapse of their electronics—having absolutely no idea they were stepping on and being bypassed by monsters.
"What the hell?!" Ichigo barked.
Without waiting for the creatures to corner them, the Substitute Shinigami built up momentum and launched himself directly into the front line of the swarm. As he closed the distance, he caught the grotesque details: these weren't ordinary spiders. They bore a bizarre resemblance to old-school computer mouses, except their plastic shells were replaced by a texture that closely mirrored the porcelain of a Hollow mask, all supported by deformed, jointed legs.
Brandishing the immense blade of his zanpakutō, Ichigo delivered a sweeping horizontal slash. The concussive impact of his spiritual pressure obliterated dozens of creatures instantly, reducing them to black dust.
The real issue, however, was their sheer numbers. The first wave was vaporized, but the rest of the swarm completely ignored the casualties, surging forward like an unyielding tide. Within seconds, dozens of those electronic "spiders" began leaping through the air, climbing up Ichigo's body and latching onto his legs and arms, forcing the teenager to fall back, frantically tearing them off himself.
『Brazo Derecha del Gigante.』 • Right Arm of the Giant •
Yasutora Sado's deep voice resonated, calm and imposing. In a flash of spiritual light, his right arm transformed, manifesting the black armor and characteristic red patterns of his signature shield. Taking long, heavy strides toward Ichigo, he pulverized the monsters trying to scale his own boots and used his armored hands to sweep and tear the creatures off the struggling Shinigami.
Yet, despite how easily they could destroy individual units, both found themselves caught in a suffocating stalemate. These parasites were fragile and died from any physical impact, but there were thousands of them. Worse still... because they were in the middle of a shopping mall packed with innocent civilians, Ichigo couldn't fire off a Getsuga Tenshō, and Chad couldn't unleash his devastating energy punches without risking bringing the entire ceiling down or harming the humans nearby.
"Dammit! What even are these disgusting little things?!" Kon roared, pure survival instinct kicking into overdrive.
He unleashed a fierce spinning kick. Utilizing the enhanced strength natural to his Mod-Soul essence and amplified by his current Gigai, the strike generated a sharp shockwave that blasted hundreds of electronic spiders against the wall of an empty storefront.
Realizing that their rear guard was about to be entirely buried by the swarm raining down from the ceiling, Fujimaru stepped forward. He gripped the hilt of his sword and, channeling his remaining spiritual energy, called out the release command for his weapon.
『Flash! Ryūjōmaru!』• 竜条丸, Dragon Brander •
In a sudden burst of brilliant blue energy, Fujimaru's zanpakutō altered its shape drastically. Instead of maintaining a traditional sword form, it dissolved and remolded itself entirely around his right arm. The weapon transformed into a sleek, blue gauntlet that extended all the way up to his elbow, beautifully adorned with elegant gold trim and engravings. At the forward edge, two curved, parallel blades extended past his knuckles—gleaming and polished to the razor-sharp edge of an authentic katana.
Capitalizing on the unique property of his zanpakutō, which granted its wielder breathtaking acceleration, Fujimaru exploded into motion. He transformed into a dazzling blur of speed, tearing down the mall corridor and leaving behind only the sharp, afterimages of brilliant blue spiritual energy. His twin gauntlet blades shredded dozens of parasites with every rapid plunge, but the offensive felt entirely like trying to mop up the ocean.
Despite the group's frantic combined efforts—Ichigo swinging his massive cleaver, Chad fracturing the tiles with his armored fist, Fujimaru darting through the air at high velocity, and Kon unleashing high-impact kicks—the digital swarm was simply too vast. For every hundred mouse-spiders turned to dust, another hundred spilled out of the ventilation ducts.
Terrified, Shiyo tried her best to anchor herself against Kon's back. She took slow steps backward, her eyes glued to the floor, entirely unaware that the true danger was now looming from above. Right behind her, inside the display window of an electronics storefront, the picture on one of the dozens of flickering televisions began to warp violently.
A grotesque, three-dimensional silhouette molded itself against the glass. The face of a Hollow, hovered on the screen, locking its starved gaze directly onto the back of the girl's neck.
The monster began a bizarre transition, melting right through the glass barrier as if the television screen were made of liquid water. Its sickly, gray body emerged into full view, revealing an aberrant fusion of an arachnid structure and a deeply hunched humanoid frame. Its arms were unnaturally long, terminating in thin, twitching fingers that sparked like exposed high-voltage cables.
Despite its towering size, the creature moved with predatory weightlessness, extending its electrified claws toward Shiyo. It was only when a dense shadow blocked the ambient light above him that Kon abruptly spun around. The Mod-Soul let out a pathetic shriek of pure terror as he came face-to-face with the monstrous features of the Hollow, mere inches away.
"Shiyo-san!" Fujimaru bellowed from across the corridor, cutting his sprint short as he realized his rear guard was about to be butchered.
Ichigo and Chad snapped their heads around, but both were still desperately struggling to tear off the swarm of parasites scaling their clothes. Time seemed to grind to a torturous halt as the monster brought its talons down.
Suddenly, a firm, melodious voice sliced through the noisy atmosphere of the mall, chanting the release command
『Call forth the Twilight, Mirokumaru!』• 弥勒丸, Maitreya Circle •
Instantly, a violent gale erupted down the corridor, carrying with it a swirling vortex of vibrant, autumn-orange leaves, as though a sudden October storm had violently invaded the enclosed building. The whirlwind was a spiritual anomaly—it passed cleanly through the ordinary human shoppers without ruffling a single strand of hair or dealing any physical impact. Yet, it carried a load of reiatsu so surgically precise that the moment it brushed against the tiny digital spiders, they disintegrated instantly.
In a single, majestic second, the entire swarm infesting the mall vanished into black smoke.
The larger Hollow, seeing its army wiped out, roared in pure frustration. It unhinged its jaws beneath the mask to spit out a fresh wave of parasites, but the tiny creatures were destroyed before they could even hit the tile floor. Realizing it had lost its numbers and that the tables had turned, the monster retreated with arachnid agility, vaulting toward a wall-mounted LED TV. It dove straight into the display screen, vanishing into the data stream a fraction of a second before Ichigo could leap forward to deliver a slash.
"Man, you guys really are magnet for trouble, aren't you?" a casual voice teased.
The group turned toward the source of the wind. Standing there with a confident, mischievous smirk playing on her lips was Senna. The amber-eyed girl rested her zanpakutō carelessly against her shoulder. In its released state, the weapon took the form of an Buddhist monk's staff—a khakkhara—adorned with golden rings that jingled softly with every movement.
"Senna?!" Ichigo gasped, his eyes widening in sheer disbelief as he finally lowered his guard with a smile. "So you really did come back... Honestly, I was still a little skeptical when Yato brought it up."
"What can I say? Bad weeds grow tall. You guys are gonna have to tolerate me for a long time now," she replied, offering a playful wink.
"Thank you so much for saving us!" Shiyo chimed in, bowing slightly with her hands pressed over her chest, her frame still trembling. Senna merely grinned, flashing a confident peace sign in return.
"Okay, look, everything is beautiful, everything is emotional, but what about the Hollow?! It... it literally climbed inside the television!" Kon screamed at the top of his lungs, pointing frantically at the now-blank monitor.
As if responding directly to Kon's panic, another electrical spasm violently shook the mall. This time, the electronics in the display windows didn't just flicker; they were entirely taken over by a pulsing, blood-red static. Simultaneously, hundreds of smartphones inside the pockets of the civilians around them began to ring once more in a deafening, distorted chorus.
"Dammit... how is a Hollow even pulling off a ridiculous stunt like this?!" Ichigo growled, clenching his teeth as he glared at the bleeding red lights.
"It's likely utilizing the high-voltage wiring and the local data networks to move around," Chad analyzed calmly, his eyes tracking the pattern of the flashes traveling along the walls. "It's traveling as an electrical impulse."
"And how exactly do we fight an enemy that can hide inside the walls?" Fujimaru questioned, deactivating his gauntlet and returning his weapon to its standard katana form.
"Well... the ideal plan would be to lure it out of the grid and force it to fight on the physical plane," Senna pondered, her expression shifting to something more serious. "The problem is, this place is packed with people that can defeat the Hollow now. And since this thing seems to be a total coward, it's not going to leave its electronic hiding spot anytime soon on its own free will."
Amidst the tense atmosphere bathed in the rhythmic red pulses of the corrupted devices, a sudden anomaly caught the group off guard. Chad felt his pocket vibrate—but the cadence was completely different.
Pulling his phone out once more, his brow furrowed at the bizarre sight. While every other electronic device in their vicinity glowed with a hostile, crimson aura, the screen of his phone was emitting a brilliant, freezing-cold neon-blue light.
"What is this...?" Sado murmured.
Sado's quiet question immediately drew the attention of the rest of the group, who crowded tightly around his massive frame to peer down at the small display. The blue screen was no longer showing the randomized numbers from before. Instead, cascading lines of code and data streams began aligning themselves in perfect geometric harmony across the glass, rapidly drawing out grid lines, geographic coordinates, and a highly detailed blueprint of the Karakura Shopping District itself.
Right at the dead center of the digital map, a stylized icon resembling a single eye began to blink.
Suddenly, the phone's speaker crackled with a burst of crisp, clean static, and a young, soft male voice—boasting a perfectly articulated accent—began to broadcast directly from inside Chad's device
"Hello? Me calling the World... Are our cords connected correctly? Looks like my world is rotating properly. All systems Green. Communication: Established. Hello there, Chad. Hello there, Ichigo."
Sado widened his eyes for a moment, and Ichigo reacted the same way as his friend.
"That voice..." murmured the orange-haired young man, immediately recognizing the voice coming from Sado's cell phone.
**
Karakura Town | Minamikawase — Arisawa's Home
Hot vapor was still escaping through the cracks of the bathroom door when Tatsuki entered her bedroom. The long, drawn-out shower was supposed to relax her muscles after an exhausting day, but her mind stubbornly refused to slow down. Dressed in nothing but short sweat-shorts and a loose, oversized gray T-shirt, the young martial artist vigorously rubbed a plush towel through her short black hair, trying to ignore the tight knots of tension coiling in her shoulders.
With an irritated huff, she walked over to her desk, carelessly tossed the damp towel over the back of her rolling chair, and stared blankly into space.
The entire conversation with Urahara hours ago was still echoing loudly in her head. Sitting around, twiddling her thumbs while waiting for some invisible threat to manifest, went completely against Tatsuki's impulsive, fiercely protective nature.
She absolutely loathed playing the spectator.
"Nothing I can do about it now, I guess..." she grumbled to herself, her voice sounding muffled in the quiet room.
She walked over to the edge of her bed and sat down. Tilting her head from side to side, she cracked her neck with a sharp, echoing pop. For a reason she couldn't logically explain, her body was locked in a state of maximum alert. The very air in the room suddenly felt denser. Heavier.
The exact millisecond she pulled her feet up and threw her weight backward to finally lie down and try to sleep, a visceral jolt of discomfort shot straight up the base of her spine. It wasn't a physical ailment—it was a primitive, spiritual alarm bell ringing at full blast.
Her eyes snapped wide open.
Driven by pure instinct, Tatsuki vaulted off the bed in a single, explosive motion. Her bare feet hit the floor with a dull thud as she bolted toward her bedroom window.
She threw the glass pane open, slamming her hands onto the sill as her eyes frantically swept the street below.
Nothing.
Outside, the Karakura neighborhood seemed completely drowned in its usual late-night stagnation. There was only the serene calm of a star-speckled night sky and the familiar, sleepy rooftops of the neighboring houses basking under the amber glow of the streetlamps.
But Tatsuki knew better. Real danger rarely showed itself to ordinary human eyes.
Closing her eyelids for a brief moment, she focused the latent energy bubbling just beneath her skin. She took a deep, lung-expanding breath, letting the command phrase escape her lips in a focused, cutting whisper:
『Hibana Seiryū』• 火花青龍, Spark of the Azure Dragon •
When her eyelids snapped open again, her hazel eyes had been completely overtaken by a magnetic, glowing gold. Her pupils had constricted into vertical, razor-thin slits.
With her senses expanded to the absolute limit of her spiritual capacity, Tatsuki locked her gaze onto a highly specific coordinate on the horizon. Now, the darkness of the night was no longer an obstacle. She could actively track the currents of energy drifting through the atmosphere, and right in the middle of them, she detected an overwhelming, suffocating reiatsu.
It was unmistakably a Hollow.
However, there was something deeply, profoundly wrong with this particular energy signature. It was distorted. Disgustingly muddled. It was almost as if it carried the overlapping echo of something that didn't belong to the creature at all—a bizarre, hidden secondary spiritual signature.
A sharp, cocky smirk tugged at the corner of Tatsuki's lips, the sudden rush of adrenaline instantly vaporizing any lingering traces of exhaustion. She cracked the knuckles of her right hand, the sharp sound sealing her decision.
"Whoever or whatever you are... you're directing your reiatsu straight at me," Tatsuki murmured, her golden eyes gleaming brilliantly in the shadows of her room. "Looks like someone in this town is practically begging for a beatdown. And I'm really not the type to turn down an invitation."
Without wasting a single second to change out of her pajamas or even grab her sneakers, Tatsuki planted her hands on the windowsill and launched herself out into the empty night.
Mid-fall, she localized the surging energy beneath the soles of her feet, manifesting the characteristic, emerald-green light. The air instantly solidified beneath her like an invisible, solid platform. With a silent, concussive burst of pure spiritual pressure, Tatsuki propelled herself forward at breakneck speed.
Cutting through the night wind like a human missile, she locked onto the trail of that anomalous energy, rocketing across the city skyline toward the dark, desolate banks of the Onose River.
It didn't take long for Tatsuki to reach the banks of the Onose River. She stepped onto the cool grass, her bare feet sinking into the turf as she watched the steady, dark flow of the water.
"I know you're there," Tatsuki called out into the quiet night.
As she spoke, shimmering azure scales began to manifest along parts of the tomboy's arms and legs, catching the moonlight.
Suddenly, a figure began to rise from the river in a bizarre, unsettling manner. To an outsider, it looked as though she was simply emerging from the depths until her entire body stood tall and upright on the surface of the water. Yet, oddly enough, the river hadn't rippled or splashed, and the woman wasn't wet in the slightest.
The entity who appeared was a beautiful woman with a slim and curvaceous figure, dressed in a pristine white uniform that closely resembled a formal dress. She possessed piercing pink eyes, long, curled purple hair, and wore matching purple lipstick. Gripped firmly in her hands was a princely, palace-like staff or trident with a zigzag-shaped middle prong, its tip adorned with a crescent moon symbol.
"My, my... and to think I would end up luring a female after all," the stranger purred, her voice dripping with mild disdain. "Now you've gone and made me waste my gifts..."
Tatsuki raised an eyebrow. She could clearly feel a thick, unmistakable Hollow reiatsu radiating from the woman, but otherwise, she looked entirely human—save for the fragment of a hollow mask perched on top of her head, which bizarrely resembled the skull of a rabbit.
"Your gifts?" Tatsuki echoed.
"Once every night, I am capable of enchanting a single target by allowing them to perceive my reiatsu... however, I—"
"Yeah, yeah, I really don't care," Tatsuki cut her off bluntly. "You pulled me here by accident, but since I'm already out..."
In the blink of an eye, Tatsuki completely vanished from the white-clad woman's line of sight.
"What—?!"
Before the woman could even register the movement, Tatsuki materialized mere inches away from her, burying a brutal punch straight into her stomach. The sheer force of the impact made the woman instantly double over, the wind knocked clean out of her.
"You troglodyte!" the woman shrieked in outrage. Desperately fighting through the pain, she lashed out, thrusting her ornate staff forward to shove Tatsuki back.
The sudden, sweeping counterattack was too close to completely dodge. The sharp, zigzagging prong of the staff caught the fabric of Tatsuki's loose shirt, ripping it wide open. Acting purely on instinct, the tomboy immediately threw up her left arm to cover her chest.
"Hmph... typical of a human female," the woman scoffed, smoothing down her dress as she recovered her posture. "This is exactly why I have absolutely no interest in fighting your kind. The very second you expose a little bit of skin, you become flustered, cornered, and entirely defenseless."
"Don't give me that garbage," Tatsuki snapped back, her voice fiercely intense despite the faint, embarrassed blush creeping across her cheeks. Her gaze locked onto her opponent with absolute defiance. "You'd better at least have the decency to put up a decent fight, whoever you are. Because I can still beat the living crap out of you with just one hand."
The woman's face contorted, a low growl of pure frustration escaping her lips at Tatsuki's unyielding arrogance.
"I am Lavinja Leporella. An Arrancar..." she hissed, her pink eyes narrowing. "And you are terribly mistaken if you think I came here alone."
Tatsuki's eyes narrowed. "Arrancar?"
A few yards away, shrouded in the thick shadows of the riverbank, another figure quietly observed the unfolding battle. As the silhouette shifted ever so slightly, a stray beam of moonlight caught a pair of glasses, causing the lenses to flash ominously in the dead of night.