The chilling sounds of rushing wind and monstrous growls filled the cold night, reverberating through the forest as Uryū Ishida sprinted through the undergrowth. His breaths came in short, sharp bursts, and his pristine white Quincy uniform was streaked with dirt and sweat. The Seele Schneider in his left hand glowed faintly, its spiritual energy humming like a caged storm. Behind him, the ground trembled under the pursuit of the massive Hollow.
The creature was grotesque, unlike anything Uryū had seen before. Its upper body was humanoid but exaggerated, with grotesquely muscular arms and a hollow mask twisted into a jagged grin. Below its torso, the lower half spun incessantly, a sharp-edged, spinning top that ripped through the terrain like a buzzsaw.
Uryū threw a glance over his shoulder, narrowly dodging as one of the Hollow's oversized fists smashed into the ground beside him, leaving a crater that spewed dirt into the air. His lips pressed into a tight line.
'This isn't right. This thing's reiatsu... it's unmistakably a Menos Grande, but it doesn't look like the ones I've faced before.'
He pushed off the ground, leaping into the air as a massive, sinewy tongue shot past him, narrowly missing his shoulder. The Hollow hissed, its spinning lower body propelling it forward with shocking speed. Uryū retaliated with a precise slash of his Seele Schneider, its blade of reishi slicing into the tongue. The Hollow screeched, but the wound was shallow, a mere scratch.
'Nothing's working, Uryū thought, gritting his teeth.' His mind raced. 'It's not just the size or the strength. This Hollow has some kind of masking ability...otherwise, with this level of reiatsu, Kurosaki... Yasakani... or every Shinigami within a mile would be here already.'
The Hollow didn't let up, its erratic movements making it hard to predict. Uryū ducked under a swipe from its claws and darted through a cluster of trees, his mind formulating a plan. 'It's fast for its size, but it's reckless. If I can lure it into a controlled space...'
He skidded to a halt, pulling four Gintō tubes from his belt and tossing them into the air in a practiced motion. With a sharp gesture, he activated them, reciting an incantation.
"Renze Forumeru Venti Gral! Haizen!"
The Gintō released a blinding flash of silver light, forming a rectangular field of spiritual energy that descended like a guillotine. The beam sliced clean through the Hollow's oversized left arm, severing it with a grotesque squelch. The creature let out a deafening roar of pain, its spinning lower body wobbling momentarily before it stabilized.
But as Uryū prepared to press his advantage, he froze. Before his eyes, the Hollow's arm began to regenerate, sinew knitting itself back together with alarming speed.
'Instant regeneration!?' Uryū muttered, his breathing quickening. He stepped back cautiously, eyes scanning for any openings or weaknesses in the monstrous creature.
The Hollow hissed, its jagged mask twisting in mockery, before extending its grotesquely long tongue. The appendage shot forward like a spear, aiming directly for the young Quincy. Uryū's mind raced, but before he could react, a thin beam of light sliced through the tongue with clinical precision.
The severed tongue fell to the ground, writhing momentarily before disintegrating into spiritual particles.
"Tsk, tsk... How clumsy... Uryū," came a calm, measured voice from behind him.
Uryū turned sharply, his Seele Schneider at the ready, only for his eyes to widen in recognition. A man emerged from the shadows, walking with deliberate, almost indifferent steps. He was impeccably dressed in a crisp suit, his right hand casually tucked into his pocket, while his left hand held a Quincy bow, a sleek construct of spiritual energy, sharp and refined.
"You…" Uryū's voice wavered between shock and frustration. "Ryūken…"
His father regarded him with the same stoic disapproval that Uryū had known all his life. "Referring to your father by name, as usual. You never change, do you, Uryū?" Ryūken replied.
The Hollow, seemingly forgotten by the two Quincies, let out a feral roar, its rage renewed by the loss of its tongue. It raised its massive arm to strike, but Ryūken didn't even flinch.
"Be silent..." Ryūken said coldly, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. Without removing his right hand from his pocket, he raised his bow slightly and fired a single arrow.
The shot was impossibly fast, a streak of light that struck the Hollow's mask dead center. The creature didn't even have time to scream before its head exploded in a burst of spiritual energy. The rest of its body disintegrated into particles, scattering into the night like ash.
Ryūken lowered his bow, his expression unmoving. "Instant regeneration isn't a problem if you eliminate the target before it has a chance to use it," he said, as if lecturing a student who had failed a basic test.
Uryū stood frozen, his Seele Schneider trembling slightly in his grip. "What's… Going on...?" he asked, his voice heavy with disbelief. "Why do you have the Powers of a Quincy? You… you always said you despised the Quincy. You abandoned them. I thought you gave up your powers a long time ago."
Ryūken's piercing gaze met his son's. He adjusted his glasses, the faint moonlight catching on the lenses. "You're as naïve as ever, Uryū," he said, his tone carrying a tinge of exasperation. "I chose my words very carefully..."
"What…?" Uryū's voice faltered, his mind reeling.
"I said I had no interest in the Quincies… and that you had no talent for it."
Uryū's eyes widened in shock. His grip on the Seele Schneider slackened slightly, but he tightened it again as the weight of his father's words settled over him.
"Unfortunately," Ryūken said, his voice tinged with bitter pragmatism, "my powers aren't as easily discarded as yours."
He reached into the pocket of his suit and withdrew a small, glinting object, a five-pointed Quincy cross. The silver pendant dangled from a fine chain, its intricate craftsmanship catching the light. It was unmistakably the same design that Uryū's grandfather, Sōken Ishida, had once worn.
"Ryūken Ishida…" he continued, his voice calm but laced with undeniable authority, "whether he's 'interested' or not, remains the sole heir to the powers of the late Sōken Ishida. The true last Quincy."
Uryū's eyes locked onto the pendant, his mind racing with memories of his grandfather. The cross seemed almost to radiate with an unspoken power, stirring emotions within him... pride, grief, and a faint flicker of guilt. He was so lost in thought that he failed to notice the ominous shift in the air.
The Hollow he had assumed Ryūken had destroyed was, in fact, only part of the threat. Half of its mutilated body had reformed, and another Hollow revealed itself from within the shadows. Its elongated frame and grotesque mask stretched unnaturally, and it moved silently, creeping toward Uryū with murderous intent.
Ryūken noticed instantly. With the same calm efficiency as before, he raised his Quincy bow, not even sparing the creature a glance. The arrow he fired was precise and devastating, cutting through the Hollow's head in a single, fluid motion. The monstrous form disintegrated into particles before it could get within striking range.
Uryū flinched as the spiritual energy dispersed into the night. His father's complete dominance over the situation left him both impressed and unsettled.
"Uryū," Ryūken said, his tone now sharp and cutting, "you weren't ready."
Uryū's head snapped up, meeting his father's cold gaze.
"You charged into the Soul Society, foolishly believing you were strong enough." Ryūken continued, his voice unyielding. "And now you've lost the feeble powers you once had."
The words stung, digging deep into Uryū's pride. He wanted to retort, to defend himself, but his father's calm yet piercing demeanor silenced him.
"But…" he said, his voice taking on a subtle shift, hinting at something almost like resolve. "I can restore your powers... if I so choose."
Uryū's breath caught in his throat. He stared at his father, torn between indignation and hope.
"What are you saying?" he asked, his voice quieter now, his usual confidence shaken.
Ryūken remained impassive, his posture effortlessly composed as he adjusted his glasses with two fingers. The faint reflection of moonlight on the lenses obscured his eyes for just a moment, adding an air of cold detachment to his words.
"Don't believe me?" Ryūken said flatly, almost as though his son's doubt was beneath him. "It's the truth. However…" His voice trailed off, the pause intentional, calculated to leave Uryū hanging on his every word. "…there is a condition."
Uryū hesitated, the weight of the conversation pressing down on him like an unseen force. "A condition?" he repeated, his brow furrowing slightly.
Ryūken finally allowed the faintest shift in his expression, a barely perceptible narrowing of his eyes, a subtle hardening of his features. "You must swear never to involve yourself with the Shinigami again."
# Minamikawase - Yato Yasakani's Resedence #
The small, dimly lit room was heavy with the stillness of early morning. Pale moonlight filtered through the thin curtains, casting faint patterns on the walls.
Yato lay sprawled on his bed, his head sinking into the pillow as if the weight of the world rested on it. Despite his exhaustion from the mess surrounding Senna and the time-displaced Shinigami, sleep eluded him. His brow furrowed even in slumber, his body restless as he tossed and turned. Every so often, his eyes would flutter open, his mind too tangled to allow him peace.
Near dawn, as faint hints of light began to color the sky, Yato sighed deeply, pressing his face into his pillow in frustration. He opened one eye lazily, debating whether to try sleeping again or admit defeat.
Then, a faint sound brushed against his consciousness, a soft rustling, subtle yet deliberate. It drifted through his open window, carrying with it a presence he recognized immediately.
"Rukia?" he muttered, his voice groggy but tinged with curiosity. Turning his head toward the window, he saw her slip into the room, her movements quiet and precise. The faint glow of the early morning outlined her form as she stood by the window, her gaze sharp and unreadable.
"What are you doing here?" Yato asked, sitting up slightly, propping himself on one elbow. "I thought you'd be staying in Soul Society."
Rukia's violet eyes locked onto his. For a moment, she didn't respond, merely studying him with the same calm intensity she always carried. Her presence in his room was unexpected, and the slight air of tension she brought with her unsettled him.
"When?" she finally asked, her voice quiet yet firm.
Yato blinked. "When what?"
"When is the Soul Society going to come for Senna?" she clarified, her tone laced with a seriousness that made the question feel heavier. "She is the Shinenju, after all."
Yato raised an eyebrow, surprised by her directness. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to piece together her sudden appearance and blunt question. "So you know about her," he said, his tone more observational than accusatory. He studied her carefully, noting the tension in her shoulders and the faint flicker of emotion in her usually composed demeanor. He had expected the Soul Society to investigate the Shinenju eventually, but Rukia's presence here tonight made things murkier. She was supposed to be part of the group they'd send, so why was she here now?
Rukia didn't respond right away. She simply crossed her arms and glanced away, as if contemplating something. Finally, she looked back at him. "When?" she repeated.
"They'll come tomorrow," Yato replied, his voice steady despite the uncertainty nagging at him. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table and sighed. "Or later today, I guess."
Rukia lowered her gaze momentarily, her expression pensive. Then, with a soft sigh, she moved to sit beside him on the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under her slight frame.
"Will there be many of them?" she asked, her tone softer but no less serious.
Yato leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms as he thought about her question. "From what I remember… Ukitake, Hitsugaya, Soi Fon, Renji… and a handful of Onmitsukidō ninjas." He cast her a sidelong glance. "But now that you're here, I guess it might be more than I thought."
"You're really planning to fight them, aren't you?" she asked quietly, her voice almost accusatory.
He sighed deeply, running a hand through his already tousled hair. "Maybe they'll be open to talking," he replied, his voice light with forced optimism.
Rukia raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Both of them knew better. The Gotei 13 had a long-standing reputation for acting decisively, often ruthlessly, when faced with potential threats. And the Shinenju was no ordinary threat.
"The Shinenju isn't just a person to them," Yato continued, his voice losing its levity. "She's a problem. An anomaly. And if they think that she's really the cause of the Dangai anomalies, merging the World of the Living and the Soul Society… they won't hesitate to either lock her up indefinitely or—" He paused, the unspoken possibility hanging heavily in the air.
"Kill her," Rukia finished for him, her voice cold but not cruel. She turned to the window again, her eyes distant as she watched the sky shift colors.
Yato didn't respond immediately. Instead, he sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. "But the Soul Society isn't my only problem," he admitted. "The ones who've been chasing Senna will show up in the middle of this mess."
Rukia's eyes flickered toward him, studying his profile. The determination in his expression was unmistakable, but there was something else there, a quiet resignation.
"This is going to be a recurring theme with you and Ichigo, isn't it?" she asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
Yato turned to her, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," she said, her voice steady but laced with an almost weary amusement, "defying the Soul Society's laws to protect someone from what you consider unjust. Is this going to be your life now?"
Yato rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze drifting to the floor. "Probably," he admitted with a faint chuckle. His tone was light, but there was no mistaking the weight of his words. "I wouldn't be surprised if, someday, the Soul Society decides I'm a villain for the people I plan to protect."
"Do you ever think about what it'll cost you?" she asked after a moment. "Your place here, your peace..."
Yato chuckled, the sound dry and tinged with irony. "What peace?" he said, gesturing vaguely to the cluttered room around them. "My life's already a mess. Might as well make it worth something."
Rukia's lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile, though it was fleeting. "You're impossible," she muttered, shaking her head.
The two of them sat in silence for a while, the distant chirping of early morning birds the only sound breaking the stillness.
Yato turned to her, his smirk softening into something almost like gratitude. "Thanks." he said simply. "I'm glad you're here."
Rukia blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. She glanced away, a faint pink dusting her cheeks. "Don't get used to it," she said curtly, though her voice lacked its usual bite.
Yato zhifted uncomfortably, breaking the silence by turning his attention to the window. He squinted at the faint outline of the trees in the distance, searching for something, anything, to distract him from the awkward warmth creeping into his chest.
Then, the shrill ringtone of his phone shattered the stillness, making him jump slightly. Both Yato and Rukia turned toward the sound, though Rukia quickly masked her curiosity behind a neutral expression.
Yato grabbed his phone from the cluttered nightstand, barely glancing at the screen before answering. "Hello?"
A smooth, deliberate voice greeted him on the other end. [Good morning, Yasakani-san. I trust I haven't woken you?]
Yato immediately recognized the voice. "Ah, Kutsuzawa-san," he replied, sitting up straighter. "No worries. I was already up… And, uh, sorry for not showing up to work yesterday."
The voice on the other end chuckled lightly, the sound measured and composed. [No need to apologize, young man. I understand you must have your challenges. I was calling to inform you that I'll be traveling to Naruki City today to handle some business matters, securing more affordable supplies for our coffee shop, you see.]
"Got it," Yato said, nodding even though Giriko couldn't see him. "Thanks for letting me know. I'll make up for missing work tomorrow."
[There's no need to worry about that.] Giriko assured him. [Riruka-san is feeling unwell today, so I've decided the shop will remain closed for the day. Use the time to rest.]
"Thanks, Kutsuzawa-san." Yato said, his voice softening with genuine gratitude. "Need help with anything in Naruki City?"
[Your offer is appreciated, but unnecessary,] Giriko replied smoothly. [Take care, Yasakani-san. We'll speak tomorrow.]
"Got it. Thanks again."
As Yato ended the call and set the phone back on the table, he let out a small sigh of relief.
Rukia raised an eyebrow at him, clearly waiting for an explanation. "Your boss?" she asked, her tone carefully neutral.
"Yeah," Yato replied, leaning back against the wall. "He's not a bad guy... I think. Kind of strict, but fair. The shop's closed today, though, so at least I don't have to worry about that."
Rukia didn't comment immediately, instead turning her gaze back to the window. The faint glow of dawn was beginning to break through the horizon, bathing the room in soft hues of blue and orange. The quiet between them stretched, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that held weight, as though both were lost in their own thoughts, unsure of what to say next.
Finally, Rukia broke the stillness. "How long until they act?"
Yato blinked, her sudden question catching him off guard. "Gotei 13? Maybe a few hours. They're probably deliberating right now, deciding how to handle things. With Ukitake and Hitsugaya involved, I'd guess they'll try a diplomatic approach first… but that won't last long if they see Senna as a real threat."
Rukia nodded, her expression unreadable. She seemed to mull over his words for a moment before speaking again. "That's enough time."
"For what?" Yato asked, his brow furrowing slightly.
"For us to prepare," she said, her tone firm. She turned to face him fully, her violet eyes sharp and resolute. "We need to train. Now."
Yato blinked, caught off guard by her determination. "Train?" He hesitated, running a hand through his hair as he considered her words. "Rukia, we've barely rested. Jumping into training now is just going to wear us out."
"Not if we do it the right way," Rukia countered. "I'm not asking for a full sparring session. I want to train with you… in our inner worlds."
Yato's eyes widened slightly at her suggestion. "You mean… connecting with our zanpakutō spirits?"
Rukia nodded solemnly, her eyes reflecting a mix of determination and vulnerability as she turned to Yato. "You've always seemed to have a deeper understanding of your zanpakutō than I do mine. I want to learn from you. If I can better connect with Sode no Shirayuki, I'll be more useful when the time comes."
Yato studied her in silence, his sharp yet kind eyes softening as he saw through her composed exterior. The courage it took to admit such a thing wasn't lost on him. For someone as steadfast as Rukia, voicing self-doubt carried an undeniable weight.
Their surroundings began to shift. The quiet room they stood in seemed to ripple like water, shadows and light weaving together in a mesmerizing dance. In a moment, the world around them transformed into a vast, wintry expanse. A boundless landscape of pristine snow stretched out before them, glittering under the soft light of an unseen moon. Towering mountains loomed in the distance, their jagged peaks dusted with snow and encased in an ethereal mist.
The centerpiece of this frozen realm was a valley, frozen in time and covered with a layer of thick, sparkling ice. A traditional Japanese shrine rested in the heart of this tranquil landscape, nestled amidst snow-covered trees. Its wooden structure was delicate yet sturdy, its thatched roof blanketed by a fine sheet of snow. The shrine's torii gate stood proudly at the entrance, wrapped in blue and white ribbons that fluttered in the faint breeze. Paper lanterns, glowing faintly, lined the pathway, their soft illumination adding a magical, almost surreal quality to the scene.
They were in Rukia's inner world. Usually, their shared explorations took them into Yato's domain, a realm shaped by his own zanpakutō, Ōkagetsu. But today, they were here, amidst Sode no Shirayuki's eternal winter,a testament to Rukia's desire to forge a stronger bond with her.
Rukia drew in a deep breath, the cold air prickling her skin. "I don't want you to just give me answers," she said, her voice steady yet laced with emotion. "If I don't find the connection myself, it won't be real. It won't be mine."
Yato folded his arms, clearly debating how best to approach the situation. He had never been one for subtle hints or roundabout teachings. His instinct was to give her all the information she needed, to solve the problem outright. But he also recognized that doing so might rob her of the experience she sought. They were at an impasse.
Before either of them could speak again, thin red threads began to materialize around them, snaking through the air like delicate veins of light. The threads wove themselves together, coalescing into a feline shape. Moments later, a small, elegant red cat stood before them, its fur a vivid crimson that contrasted sharply with the icy surroundings. Its eyes gleamed mischievously, and its long tail swayed lazily.
"Perhaps I can assist you with this little dilemma," the cat purred, its voice as smooth as silk yet carrying an unmistakable note of amusement.
Rukia blinked, startled by the sudden appearance of the creature. "Who are you?" she asked, her hand instinctively moving toward her zanpakutō.
The cat tilted its head, feigning innocence. "Ah, of course. Rukia's never seen me like this before, has she?" It stretched languidly, clearly relishing the moment. "I'm Cheshire."
Yato exhaled audibly, his expression torn between exasperation and resignation. He ran a hand through his hair, debating whether or not to explain. Cheshire, true to form, seemed perfectly content to let the tension linger.
Finally, Yato broke the silence. "Rukia…" he began, his tone careful but honest. "That 'cat,' Cheshire, is the source of my primary powers." He paused, searching for the right words. "He's my Fullbring."