Shin'ō Academy dorms.
The doors of Rooms 001 and 002 opened almost at the same time.
Shigū Miya and Ichigo stepped out and instinctively looked at each other.
"You look like a different person in a shihakushō," Ichigo said first, a little awed.
"I think you finally look normal in one," Shigū joked.
"Like I'm some guy who loves flashy clothes… But after staring at other people in shihakushō for so long, putting one on myself—surprisingly comfy. Feels like how it should be!"
Ichigo palmed the hilt of the big blade on his back and grinned.
Shigū also lowered his eyes to his own shihakushō.
Because they were about to make a huge scene, Aizen had these tailored for them. He'd planned to present them at graduation… but before they could graduate early, they were pressed into service early.
Made by Shutara Senjumaru, the shihakushō adapt to a Shinigami's power, with the basic function of channeling reiatsu to boost defense.
That alone made Shigū and Ichigo go out of their way to change into them before the war.
They left the dorm and headed for the Academy's back gate.
Two people were already waiting there.
Yayahara, and the deaf-mute boy, Rindō.
"Time to begin."
Yayahara wasn't surprised at their arrival—or the uniforms. Why? Because she and Rindō were already part of it.
"The ryoka have invaded, Seireitei's in chaos. While the squads are busy grabbing people everywhere, we're to get to Sōkyoku Hill one step ahead and set an ambush."
Shigū explained lightly, as if saying he was too busy to eat dinner tonight.
"Man, I really want to act with you," Yayahara said, a little regretful.
"You've already done enough."
"Yayahara secretly bought a gigai from Twelfth Squad. Rindō used his Zanpakutō to make it look like Vice-Captain Hinamori. Combined with Sensei's disguise, it's seamless."
"Even if Captain Unohana notices something off on close examination, she'll find the second layer of fake we planted—something that looks exactly like Hitsugaya-taichō's work—and blame the oddities on that."
"Then she'll move against Hitsugaya-taichō… that's one more captain who can't attend tomorrow's execution—and a troublesome one at that."
Shigū couldn't help but sigh.
That's the wisdom of many, at work.
Worth noting: the suicide note was written by Ichigo with all his might, under Hinamori Momo's own guidance, and approved by both him and Aizen. The fake corpse was moved to the East Grand Sacred Wall by Shigū himself without anyone knowing.
"But we still don't know what the truth really is," Ichigo frowned.
"Even though Sensei says the Third Squad Captain's got some plot, apparently tied to the Central 46, and what we're doing might actually be saving Soul Society—if we guessed wrong, we won't be able to stay in Seireitei."
"Relax, we won't be impulsive," Yayahara patted the silent boy's shoulder. He nodded slightly.
"Per plan… we'll stay on the periphery, let Rindō's animal friends watch the situation, assist when the time's right. We're the ambush team in the shadows—lend a hand only when needed."
"Honestly, I like this assignment. We get to show up last, when the outcome's basically decided and the truth's clear, and make a grand entrance!"
"I'll look forward to it… assuming you get the chance to enter," Shigū said.
"Same," Ichigo added.
They passed between the two, and like two droplets of ink blended into Seireitei's sunshine—far from dissolving, they stood out all the more, their presence surpassing even the sun that hadn't changed in a million years.
…
Boom!
Like a meteor falling.
Which wasn't far off.
"Ow, ow… Where did I land?" Urahara Kisuke crawled out of a crater, rubbing his messy hair.
A crowd instantly ringed him in.
"Found a ryoka—wait! He's—!"
The first Shinigami to find him were eager for military merit—but when they got a good look at him, their faces changed.
It was like Urahara had surrounded them, alone.
"It's Urahara Kisuke—inform the captains!"
"Oh my, you see me and don't run?" Urahara glanced at the ten-odd Shinigami, then put on a nasty grin to scare them.
"Shut it! We're Eighth Squad! We won't run from a ryoka on our own turf!"
Their officer gripped his Zanpakutō. Cold sweat beaded on his brow, but he ground his teeth and refused to back down.
"Eighth Squad… No wonder this looks familiar," Urahara looked around and understood.
"I get along with your captain. So I'll let you off here. Don't chase me."
"Thanks for going easy on my people for old times' sake. So I won't stab you in the back… though I suspect you sensed my reiatsu and said that on purpose."
The sudden voice made Urahara sigh silently. He turned slowly.
The Shinigami parted of their own accord.
Kyōraku Shunsui and his vice-captain, Ise Nanao, arrived together.
"Captain Kyōraku—what a coincidence, getting caught by you so fast."
Urahara tightened his grip on his Zanpakutō and smiled.
"Hey now~ Don't flatter me. If word gets out I 'caught' you without laying a finger on you, they'll think we're in cahoots. That charge is too big for me," Kyōraku grimaced. "Besides, I don't think I alone could catch you."
Even so—
Urahara's smile faded. He looked the other way down the road.
A white-haired man approached with a severe face.
He looked… very angry.
"So, I called Ukitake over," Kyōraku added lazily, right on cue.
Urahara looked left, then right.
Eighth Squad had retreated far away. He didn't feel safe—only more pressure.
"Gentlemen, can we talk this out?" he tried.
"Of course we can, Urahara—but give me an explanation. An explanation… that can make me forgive what you did to my subordinates," Ukitake said, eyes locked on him.
"…Guess not," Urahara sighed, then straightened.
"Believe me or not—I'm here to save Miss Kuchiki."
"Save her? You put the Hōgyoku in her—made her like this—and you dare say that… Urahara-taichō, after a hundred years your shamelessness is so foreign I hardly recognize you. Makes me wonder if the late Fifth Vice-Captain's strange death—and Ichimaru's odd behavior—aren't connected to you. Maybe your hands never left Soul Society at all," Kyōraku said blandly.
Ukitake said nothing, but the anger deepening in his eyes showed he agreed.
"Eh?! No, wait… I'll own the first part, but I know nothing about the latter… No, not nothing… uh…" Urahara realized he'd misspoken and gave up explaining.
"In any case, I'm here to make amends for my mistakes."
At that, Ukitake's hand tightened on his blade. He drew it.
"Urahara—that's what I can't forgive most."
"There are things you could have left undone. You did them anyway. Only after the fallout turned malignant did you think about making amends—amends you'd already drafted a hundred, a thousand ways before doing the deed. I know that's a scientist's hunger for truth at war with conscience."
"But I won't pity you. The man who sins knowingly deserves no pity."
"My pity's reserved for those who suffer because of you."
"So… khh—khh!"
Just as he moved to strike, Ukitake's illness flared. He clutched his chest and coughed.
"Ah… Forget it, Ukitake. I'll handle this," Kyōraku sighed, drew his paired long-and-short blades, and shook his head.
"Before we fight—how's my former vice-captain?" he asked.
"Yadōmaru-san?" Urahara frowned. "Hard to say."
"Your face tells me enough. If you survive, give Lisa my regards~"
Before the words finished, a black greatblade appeared from nowhere and chopped down. Urahara's pupils shrank—he flipped his blade up to meet it.
…
Clang!
Sparks. Orihime was slammed back over ten meters by that heavy stroke.
Before she could reset, a wild beast of a man was already bringing the next cut down—his reiatsu and killing intent like a landslide, smothering.
But Orihime held, and activated the Shun Shun Rikka.
The enemy was strong—terrifying, even. But when she thought of the fear Rukia would face, the man before her didn't seem so much. The pressure he brought—she could—
Reject it along with everything else!
"—Three Days Shield!"
The serrated long blade scraped the shield in a shower of sparks and a screech.
"A shield, huh? Let's see how many chops it takes to break it!"
Jingle, jingle.
The swaying bells, the towering frame, the chest crisscrossed with cuts, the eyepatch on the face.
…None of it was as frightening as that feral grin.
Eleventh Squad Captain, Zaraki Kenpachi.
He watched his prey with joy.
Woman, man. Age or size. None of it mattered. One look to confirm strength—and the fight could begin. Until one fell.
"Inoue—!" Yoruichi felt her stomach drop at Orihime's swelling aura.
"Double Day Shield" had great regenerative force—but was weak at reiatsu recovery. She couldn't let Orihime brawl Kenpachi to the bitter end.
She moved to pull Orihime out—
But a tide of cherry blossoms crashed from behind, forcing Yoruichi to shift position.
Those petals were in truth billions of blades—a wave rolling straight at Orihime and Kenpachi.
"Tch! Kuchiki Byakuya, what're you doing!" Kenpachi carved out space with a stroke, then glared at the noble on a nearby rooftop.
"I should be asking you," Byakuya said coolly, looking at him like a stray mutt who didn't understand human speech—faint impatience and disgust in his eyes.
"This is Sixth Squad's sector. Why are you here? Why obstruct my arrest of criminals?"
"Ha! I don't care whose turf. I was out for a stroll, a foe fell in front of me, and I chopped. Me, obstructing you? You're obstructing me—this one's my foe. Don't get in the way!"
His mouth curled wickedly. "Tell you what: I win first, then you can arrest them—if they're still alive. If they're dead, you can handle the corpse. Cleaning your own turf's your job anyway. Don't expect thanks."
Byakuya slowly raised his right hand; the cherry blossom wave gathered at his side, itching to strike.
"Rest easy. That won't happen. I'll tidy everything—including you."
"So now I've got three to fight? I'm getting excited!"
Kenpachi's golden reiatsu blasted into a pillar to the sky.
While they squared off, Yoruichi flashed to Orihime's side to bolt with her.
But even at standoff, neither Byakuya nor Kenpachi forgot Yoruichi. The vast Bankai of Senbonzakura Kageyoshi filled the area; scattered petals floated, weaving a net.
Forcing through it meant taking a hit—just a blink, but enough for lightning strikes from either man.
"Troublesome… How unlucky to run into both of them," Yoruichi muttered.
Troublesome—but not impossible to retreat. It would just cost risk—and some wounds.
"Inoue, in a second you—"
She'd just begun; Orihime was listening intently. At that precise, focused moment, a red streak shot in from far away, pierced the net of Senbonzakura Kageyoshi, and tore a huge hole with the shockwave.
The streak slammed down and exploded.
All four started.
"Wha—!"
"Eh—?"
Dust billowed. Yoruichi and Orihime raised arms to shield their faces—suddenly an arm wrapped both their waists, and their feet left the ground. The world blurred, whipping backward, wind swallowing them like a flood.
Kenpachi swatted the dust aside and caught a glimpse of the enemy.
His body moved before his brain.
He lifted a foot—
Another streak came head-on and broke his shunpo.
This time he saw it: a red blade segment with a chain.
Kenpachi's eyes opened a hair. Someone was firing these like arrows. He was surprised—and genuinely delighted. It meant the foe wasn't just a sneak-attacking coward. Maybe… someone who was good at cutting, too.
The arrow he knocked away burst in the sky into a rain of red light.
Byakuya's pursuit died as well. It had to. In the seconds he threw up a sea of blossoms to shield against the rain, the enemy vanished into the buildings, their reiatsu gone in a flash.
The speed was beyond expectation—especially the stealthy entry onto the field. And that arrow had the skill to punch a hole through Senbonzakura Kageyoshi to cover a retreat.
"That shunpo… that arrow's reiatsu…" Byakuya narrowed his eyes, mind racing.
"Hey, Kuchiki Byakuya—was that one a ryoka too?"
"…Use your own brain. And… leave. Sixth Squad does not welcome you."
"Tch."
Watching Byakuya dismiss his Bankai and leave without a backward glance, Kenpachi slung his blade and sneered.
A pink head popped up behind him.
"Ken-ken! I know who they are. Want me to take you to them?"
"Oh? Then take me to the archer. I've got a feeling that one's a good opponent—one I can really enjoy!" he grinned.
"You mean Ichi? He's over there—hurry, hurry! He's running!"
"That won't do!"
With Yachiru's innocent giggles behind him, Kenpachi became a golden streak, shooting toward a watchtower.
Atop it, Ichigo lowered the black bow and showed a grin much like Kenpachi's—only younger, more eager.
"Kuchiki Byakuya didn't give chase? I figured we'd have to take two at once. Looks like no need to bolt right away. Let's finish one here and make tomorrow easier. What do you say—'other me'?"
"Quit yapping—my turn!"
"Tch. We agreed you'd go first, but something feels off," he muttered.
Ichigo's eyes shifted—the pupils turned gold, the whites went black. A wicked smile spread across his face.
At a glance, he looked even more ferocious than Kenpachi.
-------
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