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Shiraha knew Kurosaki Masaki's fate. Ever since her Quincy powers had been stripped by Yhwach's Auswählen, she had been destined to die at the hands of a Hollow called Grand Fisher. The year was certain, but the exact day had never been clear.
Originally, Shiraha had no intention of intervening. But now the system had issued a sign-in mission. If that was the case, then completing it was no longer impossible—it was inevitable.
Four years had passed, and his Gojo Satoru template had progressed to twenty-four percent. Though it had risen by only four percent over time, it had not yet unlocked any new abilities. He still possessed only the Six Eyes in their perfected state, the Limitless technique refined to its peak, and the Domain Expansion: Infinite Void in its most basic form.
From Shiraha's calculations, the template would need to reach at least thirty percent before the next technique was unlocked.
"After this mission… will it be Cursed Technique Reversal: Red? Or perhaps Hollow Purple?" he mused silently.
He rose to his feet and gently placed Yoruichi on the ground.
"Brother Shiraha, what is it?" Yoruichi asked, ears flicking curiously.
"Nothing serious, Miss Yoruichi. I just have something to take care of outside," Shiraha said with a calm smile.
Yoruichi's golden eyes narrowed. "Did something happen? Should I call Kisuke?"
"No need," Shiraha replied, shaking his head. "It's just a trivial matter."
Grand Fisher's power was meager, not even reaching the level of a Gillian. Shiraha required no assistance. With a flash of Shunpo, he vanished from the courtyard.
---
Outside a small karate dojo in Karakura Town, a boy with short orange hair waved his hand, holding a yellow umbrella in the drizzle.
"See you tomorrow!" he shouted.
"Come along, Ichigo, or your father will start worrying," a woman with long, wavy orange hair said warmly, smiling as she called him back.
"Yes, Mom," Ichigo answered obediently, clutching his umbrella.
Kurosaki Masaki walked with her son along the quiet street. They reached a crossing, the red light blinking as a large truck barreled past. The spray from its wheels splashed across Ichigo's face.
"Ahhh!" Ichigo squealed, shivering from the cold water.
"Look at that reckless truck. Ichigo, are you alright?" Masaki crouched, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket. Her smile was gentle, her eyes full of affection as she wiped his face clean.
"I'm sorry, Ichigo. Let's switch places. I'll walk closer to the road," she said softly.
"It's fine, Mom. I want to stand here. I'm wearing a raincoat anyway. And besides… this way I can protect you." Ichigo beamed, closing one eye with childlike determination.
Masaki chuckled, brushing back his damp hair. "Not until you can defeat Tatsuki in a fight. Until then, I won't let you take the roadside."
"But Mom, I've been winning lately," Ichigo protested, pouting.
Masaki only laughed, drying his hair before standing. "All done. Come on, let's go."
"Mom… can I hold your hand?" Ichigo asked softly, clutching his umbrella.
Masaki's smile grew even warmer. "Of course." She extended her hand, and together they stepped across the crosswalk, heading toward home.
They had just passed the river embankment when Ichigo suddenly stopped. His eyes widened at the sight of a little girl in white sitting on the riverbank. Her short black hair was plastered to her face, her figure unsteady as though about to topple into the water.
"Wait!" Ichigo shouted, breaking free of Masaki's grasp. He dropped his umbrella and rushed toward the river.
"Ichigo! No—come back!" Masaki cried, alarm flashing in her eyes. She threw down her umbrella and sprinted after him.
Though she had lost her Quincy powers, Masaki still retained her ability to see spirits. And she knew instantly what Ichigo did not—the little girl was no human. She was nothing more than bait, an illusion conjured by a Hollow.
Just as Ichigo's hand reached for the child, the figure vanished. His small body tumbled forward, crashing into the wet grass.
"Are you hurt, Ichigo?" Masaki knelt, worry etched across her face.
"Mom…" Ichigo groaned, barely opening his eyes.
"Woman. Delicious woman."
The voice was guttural, dripping with hunger. From the riverbank emerged a towering Hollow. A grotesque bone mask stretched across its face, its lantern-like appendage dangling and glowing faintly. Drool trickled down its jagged maw.
Grand Fisher.
A wave of oppressive Reiatsu washed over the bank, pressing heavily on Ichigo's small body. His eyelids grew heavy, his head spinning as the spiritual pressure overwhelmed him.
"Grand Fisher…" Masaki's expression hardened. "Damn it. If I hadn't lost my Quincy powers—"
She had heard the name before. Grand Fisher was notorious, a Hollow with the ability to conceal his presence. He rarely appeared in Karakura Town, but his reputation was whispered among spiritually aware humans and Quincy alike.
Had it been months earlier, before Auswählen, Masaki would have slain him with a single arrow. Now she could only grit her teeth.
"Delicious… woman. Let me devour you," Grand Fisher hissed, his mask gleaming as he stalked forward.
"Bad fish."
The voice cut through the rain like a blade.
"Don't you know Karakura Town is my territory?"
A figure stepped forward, the storm bending to his presence. Shiraha appeared between Masaki and the Hollow, his expression calm, his Reiatsu surging.
"A Shinigami?" Grand Fisher snarled, his lantern trembling with agitation. He opened his jagged jaws wide and lunged at Shiraha in fury.
Shiraha merely let his spiritual pressure flare. The weight of it slammed down on the Hollow, freezing Grand Fisher in place, his massive body trembling beneath the crushing force.
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