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"Mr. Urahara, it's your turn." Shiraha's tone was light, but his eyes glimmered.
Through Observation Haki, he had already sensed the state of things. Kurosaki Ichigo lay unconscious in the distance. Rukia, drained of every ounce of her Shinigami power, teetered on the edge of collapse.
"Ah? Shiraha, you're not going to see Miss Kuchiki?" Urahara Kisuke tilted his head, puzzled.
"It isn't time yet. I'll wait for you at the shop." With a faint smile, Shiraha vanished in a flicker of Shunpo.
Urahara exhaled softly, snapping open his fan. "How ruthless," he murmured with a wry smile.
Moments later, the geta on his feet clicked against stone as he appeared before Rukia in an instant. "Are you all right, Miss Kuchiki?"
"Who… are you?" Rukia's eyelids fluttered as she struggled to remain conscious. Her voice was faint and weakening.
"I? Just a humble merchant. For the right price, I can provide anything you need." Urahara's easy smile never wavered as he fanned himself lightly.
But before he could finish the thought, Rukia slipped fully into unconsciousness.
"Ah, what a headache." Urahara rubbed the side of his temple.
"Isshin!" he called, glancing toward the Kurosaki household.
Kurosaki Isshin emerged from within. "Urahara."
"Ah, Mr. Kurosaki. I don't see Masaki-san anywhere tonight." Kisuke's smile widened.
"Masaki went to Naruki City a few days ago. If she finds out Ichigo has become a Shinigami, she'll scold me to death." Despite the words, tenderness flickered in Isshin's eyes at his wife's name.
Naruki City, once destroyed in Shiraha's wake two years earlier, had since been rebuilt.
"Mr. Kurosaki, your son's Reiatsu is remarkable." Urahara gestured toward the unconscious Ichigo, his voice light but edged with calculation. "When he drew out all of Miss Kuchiki's power, the spiritual pressure he released was already comparable to that of a seated officer."
"This brat." Isshin sighed, casting a long look at his son.
"Then, I'll take Miss Kuchiki back for treatment," Urahara announced, waving casually as if the matter were simple.
"Kuchiki?" Isshin's brow furrowed at the name. "Is she related to Captain Shiraha?"
"You guessed correctly," Urahara replied with his usual smile. "Miss Kuchiki is Shiraha's younger sister."
With that, he hoisted Rukia gently and disappeared into the night, heading for the Urahara Shop. The clean-up would follow later—most importantly, altering the memories of Kurosaki Yuzu and Karin with the memory-modification device, implanting mundane replacements for what they had seen. Such techniques worked perfectly on ordinary human souls. But against a former Shinigami like Isshin, powerless though he now was, they held no effect.
Back at the Urahara Shop, Rukia was entrusted to Yoruichi. Though not of the Fourth Division's level in healing, Yoruichi's long years as Commander of the Onmitsukidō, coupled with the use of Urahara's specially crafted restoratives, were more than enough to mend Rukia's body.
Later, in a secluded chamber, Urahara and Shiraha sat opposite each other on futons. Tessai poured tea with steady hands. Yoruichi, having returned to her black cat form after tending Rukia, curled comfortably in Shiraha's arms.
"Shiraha," Urahara began, sipping lightly at his cup, "are you sure about this? Once I place the Hōgyoku into Miss Kuchiki's body, it is highly possible she will forever lose her Shinigami powers, becoming no more than a normal human."
Earlier, he had laid his plan bare: to implant the Hōgyoku inside Rukia's body, masking it while binding her to a gigai that permanently suppressed her powers. The Hōgyoku, hidden until her natural death, would disappear with her. A neat solution. But Shiraha's presence had disrupted everything.
"Mr. Urahara, proceed with your plan." Shiraha stroked Yoruichi's fur and sipped his tea with a faint smile. "Perhaps, with the Hōgyoku's aid, Rukia will grow stronger than anyone expects."
Privately, he acknowledged that Rukia's innate spiritual talent was mediocre at best. Left to herself, she might one day rise to vice-captain level, but not beyond. Yet with the Hōgyoku—everything could change. In truth, it was the very catalyst that had allowed her, in another path, to awaken a Bankai by the time of the Thousand-Year Blood War.
Urahara studied him carefully. "Strange. I expected you to object. But you… agreed so easily. Do you know something I don't?"
"Don't overthink it. I merely see this as a way to unlock Rukia's potential." Shiraha's smile carried quiet weight.
For Shiraha already knew the truth: Aizen sought the Hōgyoku. And no matter where it was hidden, whether in Rukia or elsewhere, it would ultimately fall into his hands. For that reason, he had no fear Rukia would be permanently crippled.
"Using the Hōgyoku to draw out potential…" Urahara murmured, thoughtful. Shiraha himself had once touched the Hōgyoku—he knew its mysteries better than most. Perhaps it was not impossible.
"Very well. I'll respect your decision," Urahara conceded.
"Brother Shiraha, must we really wait for that man Aizen to expose himself? Why not strike first?" Yoruichi's feline voice purred with quiet impatience.
"No," Shiraha said firmly. "Without proof, nothing will stand against him. Even if we had evidence, our current strength cannot oppose Aizen. We'd be destroyed before the first blow landed."
He paused, eyes shadowed. "And remember—every captain and vice-captain of the Gotei 13 has already fallen under the thrall of Kyōka Suigetsu's Shikai. Complete Hypnosis binds them all."
The words hung heavy. Aizen's blade was not merely sharp; it commanded reality itself.
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