"Y–Yūshirō!"
Seeing Shihōin Yūshirō suddenly appear and stand in front of everyone, Saeki Yumiko's eyes lit up with a flash of relief. She scrambled up from the ground and gave a small bow toward him.
"Thank you, Yūshirō! "
"If you want to thank someone, thank the man standing in front of you."
"If he hadn't risked his life to hold on, even if I had arrived in time, you'd have already been reduced to ashes by that Cero."
Yūshirō spoke quietly as he stepped aside, gesturing toward her protector.
"Uh…"
"Yes, I should be thanking Ise as well."
Saeki Yumiko nodded gently, following Yūshirō's words.
"It's nothing. This is what I should've done."
Ise, drenched in sweat and barely able to catch his breath, managed a strained reply.
Yūshirō's gaze swept across the charred ground left by the Hollow's blast. "Tell me, how did you two end up running into a Menos Grande? Theoretically, creatures of that class should be confined to Hueco Mundo. The souls in Rukongai aren't nearly enough to sustain them, so normally they wouldn't bother invading Soul Society. And yet here we are—with one appearing during your assessment."
"What?!"
"You're saying this was deliberate? "
Despite his serious injuries, Ise forced himself to sit upright at Yūshirō's words.
"Yes. I suspect this Gillian wasn't some random encounter. Someone arranged for us to 'coincidentally' cross paths with it."
Yūshirō crouched and pressed a hand over Ise, releasing a burst of kidō healing.
"…!"
Under his dazzling reiryoku, Ise's burns closed rapidly. In less than five minutes his wounds had completely healed. Scars remained, but Yūshirō wasn't Unohana or Yamada Seinosuke—his skill with healing had limits. Still, thanks to his immense spiritual pressure, the effect was remarkable.
"I'm… healed? "
"Lord Yūshirō, Ise Hideki will never forget this kindness as long as I live! "
Dropping to one knee, Ise spoke with absolute sincerity.
"Don't make it sound like that. Your injuries weren't too severe. Even without me, you would've healed in time."
Yūshirō waved it off. He already had more than enough people claiming to owe him favors.
"No, your help saved me from great trouble. Please, don't reject my gratitude."
"Suit yourself," Yūshirō sighed, no longer arguing.
"Understood."
Ise stood straight, dusting himself off. Inwardly, his thoughts were simple: even if he failed to win Yumiko's favor, aligning himself with Yūshirō Shihōin was far more advantageous. If people believed he was a retainer of the Shihōin heir, then before anyone dared move against the Ise family, they'd have to consider the very real risk of the Shihōin clan wiping them out.
Yūshirō, watching the display, covered his face. He disliked this distant deference masquerading as respect. But as the heir of the Shihōin family, he was doomed to repeat this situation endlessly.
"Fine. Since you're standing, I have a task for you. Go to the Thirteenth Division and report what happened here. They'll send proper shinigami to secure the area."
"Yes, sir! "
Ise turned to leave, but Yūshirō called out again.
"Wait."
"Yes, Master Yūshirō! "
Ise instantly adjusted his address, seizing the chance to play the part of a loyal retainer.
"…Take her with you."
Yūshirō pointed at the dazed Yumiko.
"As you command! "
Ise knelt briefly, then apologized to Yumiko before lifting her onto his shoulder. "Forgive me, Miss Yumiko." With that, he vanished in a flash step.
Yūshirō nodded, satisfied. "Not bad. He may not reach captain level, but given time, he's more than capable of becoming a lieutenant."
Settling onto a nearby rock, he extended his senses. He could feel the spiritual pressures of other students battling weaker Hollows in the hills and teachers anxiously rallying them.
"Strange… Only my squad encountered a Menos. The others faced nothing unusual…"
He sat in silence, waiting for the Thirteenth Division's reinforcements.
"Yūshirō!"
A breathless voice called out. Suzumebachi Ayame staggered over, flushed and drenched in sweat from chasing after him.
"Oh, little Bee. Looks like we'll have to skip ramen tonight—it's too late to make it."
He grinned, extending a hand.
"Yūshirō, what happened? I heard some squads were attacked by a Hollow. That ominous pressure—was it a Menos? "
"Yes. Just a Gillian. I've already dealt with it. No students were killed. I'm staying here in case more crawl out of the garganta."
"You… call a Gillian a 'small fry'? I doubt even captains would dare say that."
Ayame pouted, though she had confidence she could defeat one herself.
"Hahaha… In time, you'll think the same. Only the Vasto Lorde-class Hollows are truly troublesome."
"Then I'll take your word for it." She assumed he was merely humoring her.
Hours later, the reinforcements arrived: the newly formed Tenth Division, led by a captain Yūshirō barely recognized. The Tenth was notorious as Soul Society's most ill-fated squad—no captain had held the position for more than fifty years without meeting an untimely end.
"Greetings," Yūshirō nodded politely.
The captain returned a curt nod, full of self-importance.
But among the group, a familiar face grinned stupidly under dark eye bags.
"Yo, long time no see, Yūshirō! "
"…Urahara? Still the same fool as ever."
"Hahaha… I'm fine, just haven't slept in days. The whole world feels like it's spinning! "
Yūshirō groaned at the incessant laughter. He called it "Urahara's perpetual idiot grin syndrome."
As they spoke, another figure—pink-haired, clad in a shihakushō—crouched to collect glowing crystalline fragments from the ground. His tongue darted across his lips.
"Szayel… you really think walking around like that is fine? "
Yūshirō's eyelid twitched.
"Relax, Yūshirō," Urahara whispered with a sly grin. "He's wearing my specially designed pressure-converting uniform. It masks a Hollow's reiatsu as a shinigami's. Version 2.0."
"Indeed," Szayel added smoothly. "No one suspects me now."
To anyone else, he was just another shinigami in unusual decoration. Few in Seireitei had ever truly seen a Vasto Lorde—most thought they only existed in legends.
Yūshirō sighed inwardly. Had bringing him back really been the right call?
"Wait… that glowing substance. Don't tell me…" Urahara's eyes narrowed.
"Exactly. It's that material—or rather, an improved version of it." Szayel nodded.
Urahara's expression hardened. "So it's true… certain people are getting restless."
"Enough riddles," Yūshirō snapped.
Urahara laughed nervously. "You really don't know yet? Just yesterday, a major decision was made. The entire Seireitei is on high alert."
"…Say it plainly, or I'll beat it out of you."
"Alright, alright! Here's the truth. As you know, our duty as shinigami is to purify Hollows, not erase them. Hollows and shinigami are two sides of the same coin—without one, the balance collapses.
But in this world, there are others. A group who don't purify, but erase. Like rubbing an eraser across paper—they wipe Hollows out of existence entirely. Their methods disrupt the balance of all three realms.
The Central 46 convened a special trial. After days of deliberation, they reached their judgment: those who endanger the balance must themselves be erased."
"And those people are called…"
Yūshirō's eyes narrowed.
"…Quincy."
"Exactly. And if I'm right, this crystalline bait Szayel found is what the Quincy use to lure Hollows."