The sharp rattle of gunfire tore through the cave, but to the Guards' shock, their bullets cut only air. Abner moved like a blur—years of X-gene training merging seamlessly with the discipline he'd learned from the X-Men. In a heartbeat, he was upon the captain, his fist slamming into the man's waist unit.
The device—a crude cousin to the Seireitei's spiritual suppression tech—shattered instantly.
It was the opening Professor Charles needed. His psychic presence surged in, like a tide breaching a dam, overwhelming the minds of the Guards before they could react.
But victory came at a price. In that moment of impact, Abner had been fully exposed. The hail of close-range rounds ripped into his newly issued X-Men suit. The armor dulled the killing force, but not enough—over a dozen rounds punched through. Only the resilience of his enhanced physiology kept him standing long enough to cradle the unconscious Robert and retreat.
****
Elsewhere, deep in the base, Scott Summers—Cyclops—was already recovering from his earlier blast. With Hank at his side, he sifted through whatever remained of the research. Much of it had been purged, but what remained was enough to make even seasoned X-Men grit their teeth: human dissection, cloning trials, and endurance tests designed to break subjects past the point of survival.
Professor Charles, linked to them through Cerebro's amplifier, felt the weight of their silent fury. He let out a long, quiet breath before directing his thoughts outward, contacting the scattered mutants they'd freed, assigning them to safety.
****
By the time the last orders were given, the eastern sky was bleeding into pale white.
Outside, Jue sat by the aircraft's open hatch, gazing into the horizon as the light crept over the mountains. The morning air carried a rare stillness—a silence not unlike the empty courtyards of the Seireitei at dawn.
"Another long night," he murmured, almost to himself. Nights like this forced him to remember—whether he wanted to or not.
The stifling childhood under overbearing parents.
The brief, cruel taste of freedom at the moment of death.
The endless millennium in the Soul Society, wearing masks upon masks, locking away every honest impulse.
Even in his greatest battles—against Hollows, against Espada, even against Aizen himself—freedom had eluded him. Now, here in a foreign world of mutants and machines, the same question gnawed at him:
"When I was weak, I was controlled by others. Now that I'm strong, I'm controlled by fate. Is the Soul King my path to freedom, or just another cage?"
He smiled faintly—half scorn, half pity—for the boy he once was. Even Aizen, for all his defiance, had never truly been free.
****
A shift in the breeze broke his reverie. Behind him, the faint scrape of movement—Laura, newly conscious, rising from where she'd been laid to rest.
In an instant, she was on her feet, claws—no, adamantium bone blades—sliding free with a metallic whisper. The glare she fixed on Jue would have cowed lesser men.
He didn't move. He simply cracked one eye open, regarded her, and went back to watching the horizon.
"I think it's best if you stay," he said calmly as she edged toward the hatch. "You have nowhere else to go."
She took it as a threat. With a sudden snarl, she lunged.
A flick of Jue's fingers—Bakudō #1: Sai. Spiritual energy coiled around her like invisible shackles. But Laura was nothing if not feral determination; she tore free through sheer will and rage.
For the first time in hours, Jue's eyes lit with something like amusement.
He didn't counterattack. Instead, he parried her flurries—her strikes honed by Weapon X's cold, methodical brutality. But to someone who had crossed blades with Kenpachi Zaraki and lived, her offense was... quaint.
They moved in a deadly rhythm, predator testing predator, until the sound of approaching footsteps drew Laura's attention. Scott and the others had returned.
Her gaze snapped to them, wariness flaring. The fight with Jue ended as suddenly as it began, the young she-wolf retreating to a corner, claws still gleaming in the morning light.
****
Laura Kinney—known to the mutant world as X-23—had endured years of psychological conditioning and weaponization under William Stryker. The programming had hollowed her communication skills, and, much like certain Bleach Arrancars molded solely for battle, she lacked the emotional grounding that normal life required. Attempts at dialogue proved frustrating, her feral instincts dominating her responses.
Finally, with patience exhausted, Jue restrained her and physically brought her to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.
At that moment, Professor Charles Xavier was away at the White House, mediating political tensions in the aftermath of their clash with Stryker. Upon his return, he reluctantly agreed to let Christina—a young empathic mutant—attempt to connect with Laura. Perhaps because they were the same age, and because Christina's psionic empathy worked much like a Shinigami's Kidō-based emotional projection, Laura softened enough to agree to stay—at least temporarily.
With this, the immediate "Stryker incident" had concluded, but post-battle complications mounted: negotiations with government officials, uneasy intelligence exchanges with Magneto's Brotherhood, and logistical planning for the rescued mutants. The mansion became a revolving door of covert operations, the regular semester put on indefinite hold.
During this time, Jue—still an outsider in Xavier's core political dealings—found himself oddly unoccupied. Charles welcomed allies, but matters touching the central mutant cause were guarded. The school's few remaining adult mutants and advanced students shouldered the teaching load. Jue, with the professor's reluctant consent, trained a small selection of young mutants.
Among his occasional assistants was Zhuge Siting, a spiritually adept mutant whose disciplined control over her reiatsu-like bioenergy reminded Jue of the more contemplative members of the Gotei 13.
"I heard you were injured," Zhuge said after the day's session, watching the students disperse. "Why didn't you come to me for treatment?"
"Just surface wounds," Jue replied, his eyes scanning the training yard. "They'll heal."
Zhuge followed his gaze. "Chris hasn't been around lately."
"She's just a civilian girl who once got pulled into battle," Jue said, his tone neutral—more Captain Ukitake than Byakuya Kuchiki. "Pain fades. So does novelty. And her powers are psychic—Charles can guide her better."
His attention shifted to Laura and the other rescued children. "Most of them won't stay in the fight. Some will try to live 'normal' lives, others will quietly blend into society. It's not cowardice—it's survival."
"That's not a bad thing," Zhuge murmured.
"No," Jue admitted. "But relying on safety without power is gambling with your life. The world—human or Soul Society—never stops scheming against those it fears."
Zhuge tried steering the conversation lighter: "Were you forced into your power, too?"
Jue gave a wry smirk. "I've always been restless. Even when weak, I refused to stay under someone's heel. Power wasn't given to me—I took it." His voice carried an echo of Aizen's self-made philosophy.
He glanced back at her. "You should understand—you're exposed now. You'll be hunted. If you don't gain enough strength before your enemies move, you'll end worse than those we just saved. I'm done here. Watch over them." With that, he left, his black coat fluttering like a Shinigami's haori.
From the sidelines, Zhuge's son Yi Feng, whose mutant-sonic powers Jue had helped refine, had overheard. He masked his concern with a brief, "I'll keep training," but quietly clenched his fists, already forming a decision.
The campus lay quiet under the winter sun, its warmth muted by the northern wind. Couples walked scattered paths while most students stayed indoors. Jue strolled aimlessly until he spotted Abner, returning from tense political talks.
"You're back," Jue said. "I take it the politicians weren't gentle."
Abner gave a stiff nod. "They wanted to court-martial me. Charles stopped them, but…"
Jue understood. "Charles bought you time, nothing more. Once the dust settles, they'll move again. And Stryker still wants your head. You remind them of Captain America—an echo of their long-lost super-soldier dream. They've been chasing that ghost for decades."
"Will Charles abandon me?" Abner asked quietly.
"No," Jue answered. "Not his way. But this body won't protect you forever."
Abner narrowed his eyes. "You're recruiting me."
"Exactly," Jue said without shame. "Your ability—properly honed—will be devastating. I need it." His smirk was pure Aizen. "What? Think I'm using you? Does that make you uncomfortable?"