Chapter 10 - Part 10 End of the first Initiation.

The room hummed with tension, the rhythmic clash of fists and feet filling the air like the pounding of war drums. Ichigo's muscles burned, his breaths came sharp and heavy, and his skin glistened with sweat—but none of it mattered. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was alive.Each step, each strike, each perfectly timed dodge—it all flowed together like the tide, his body moving on pure instinct. No hesitation. No doubt. Only the rush of combat. His crimson eyes gleamed, reflecting the faint glow of the room's energy as he pressed forward, fists flying.Kyra's strikes came at him relentlessly, sharp and precise, her body radiating with the amplified strength of her Fullbring. But Ichigo welcomed the challenge. The strain in his muscles, the sting of her hits—they weren't obstacles. They were reminders. Reminders of what he'd lost, of the battles he used to fight, of the days when his entire world was defined by how hard he could push back against the impossible.As he blocked one of her punches and sidestepped a kick, a grin tugged at his lips again. The ache in his ribs from her earlier hits throbbed, but it was a good pain—a pain that screamed he was still here, still fighting, still alive.His mind flashed to the countless battles he'd endured—the chaos of Soul Society, the suffocating presence of captains, the overwhelming power of Aizen. But those fights had been weighed down by the stakes, by the crushing sense of responsibility. This? This was different. This was pure. There was no world to save, no friends to protect, no duty pulling him down. Just the fight. Just him fightingIt's just him....Kyra lunged at him again, her movements a blur. Ichigo caught her punch, their hands locking together as she leaned in close, her smirk sharp."You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she hissed, her voice low and edged with incredulity. "You're not normal, Kurosaki. You shouldn't be smiling right now."Ichigo didn't answer. Instead, his grin widened, and with a sudden burst of strength, he pushed her back. His heart thundered in his chest as he lunged forward, throwing a rapid combination of punches that forced her to retreat. She blocked most of them, but each hit carried more weight than the last, the impact driving her closer to the glowing edge of the containment circle.The sound of their fight echoed through the room—flesh meeting flesh, the faint scrape of shoes against the floor, the hum of the spiritual energy saturating the air. Ichigo's senses sharpened with every exchange. He could feel the rhythm of their fight, the ebb and flow of their movements, the precise moments when Kyra's attacks faltered just enough for him to strike.This was what he'd been missing. The clarity. The focus. The primal simplicity of a fight.Kyra's next strike came faster, as she threw all her weight into the punch. Ichigo ducked under it, feeling the force of the blow graze the top of his head, and countered with an upward kick. His foot connected with her side, sending her stumbling back with a sharp grunt.Ichigo straightened, rolling his shoulders as his grin turned almost feral. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, but he didn't feel tired. He felt stronger. Faster. Like his body was responding to the fight, growing sharper with every second."Come on," he said, his voice low and challenging. "Don't tell me that's all you've got."Kyra wiped a trickle of sweat from her brow, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. There was no mistaking the fire in her gaze, the way her lips curled into a wicked smile despite the strain beginning to show in her movements. "You're insane," she said, her tone half a laugh. "You're actually insane. "And she meant it, she hadn't found a human yet, who was able to keep up with her with just physical strength, this alone makes the kid worth enough to be added to her group, and if he gains fullbring on top of that ? Something she was willing to bet the kid has potential for, if he truly had a hollow inside of him ? Then there's no way she was letting this ki—No.This monster.Out of her sight.Ichigo didn't respond. He didn't need to. His body spoke for him, his stance shifting slightly as he prepared for her next move. His feet felt lighter, his fists tighter, his vision clearer. The weight of the room, the oppressive pressure of the spiritual energy—it didn't crush him. It fed him.Kyra lunged again, her movements sharper, faster, as though she were trying to keep up with his growing pace. But Ichigo was already moving, his body slipping past her strikes with an ease that bordered on effortless. It wasn't perfect—her elbow clipped his shoulder as he dodged—but the sting only fueled the fire burning inside him.His fists moved faster now, his strikes finding their mark more often than not. Each blow sent shockwaves through his body, but the pain felt distant, unimportant. His focus was absolute, his senses tuned to every movement Kyra made.This is it, he thought, his chest tightening with something close to exhilaration. This is what I've been missing. This is what it's like to fight again.For the first time in months, the heaviness in his chest—the weight of his lost powers, of his broken connections to the spiritual world—lifted. It didn't matter that he wasn't a Shinigami anymore, or that he couldn't sense reiatsu the way he used to. In this moment, he wasn't Ichigo Kurosaki, the powerless substitute. He was just... Ichig—......"Shit..."The word escaped Kyra's lips before she could stop it. She stood over Ichigo's unconscious body, her chest heaving, her fingers trembling slightly as the adrenaline began to wear off. Her last attack had been instinctive—too much force, too little restraint. She hadn't meant to knock him out... not like this.Her sharp eyes scanned his face, taking in the sweat-streaked features and the faint rise and fall of his chest. His knuckles were raw, his muscles taut even in unconsciousness, as if his body still resisted the very idea of stopping.Kyra ran a hand through her damp hair, her lips pressing into a thin line. "The hell is wrong with this kid..." she muttered under her breath, crouching down beside him. Despite the way he'd collapsed, there was something about him that felt unbroken—defiant even in defeat.She reached out hesitantly, pressing two fingers against his neck to check his pulse. It was strong, steady. Too steady for someone who should've been completely wrecked after taking that hit. Her brow furrowed."How...?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her own body ached from the fight, her muscles strained from pushing herself to keep up with him. And yet, here he was, unconscious but radiating a strange vitality, like his body was still adapting, still growing stronger even in rest.She sat back on her heels, exhaling sharply. "What are you made of, Kurosaki?"...The world felt distant, muffled, as Ichigo drifted in and out of consciousness. A dull ache pulsed through his body, but it wasn't the sharp, jarring pain he expected. It was deeper, almost... satisfying.The images came in flashes. Kyra's smirk, her fists cutting through the air, the sharp clang of their blows echoing in his ears. His own heartbeat pounding like a war drum, his muscles burning with exertion.And then the strike—her fist connecting with his chest, the force so immense it felt like the air had been sucked from his lungs. He'd tried to dodge, to counter, but she'd been faster, sharper. And then... nothing.But even in the haze, a strange warmth filled him. It wasn't reiatsu, not the spiritual energy he'd once wielded. It was something rawer, something primal that coursed through his veins like wildfire. His body didn't feel broken. It felt... alive.Alive and suicidal....Kyra's sharp ears caught the faintest groan, and her head snapped toward him. His fingers twitched, his brows furrowing as if fighting against whatever darkness still clung to him."You've gotta be kidding me," she muttered, watching as Ichigo's eyes fluttered open. They were hazy at first, unfocused, but then they locked onto hers with startling clarity."Still standing, huh?" he croaked, his voice rough but carrying that familiar, stubborn edge. A faint, lopsided grin tugged at the corner of his lips.Kyra blinked, momentarily speechless. "You're... ridiculous," she said finally, her tone caught between exasperation and disbelief. "You shouldn't even be awake right now."Ichigo forced himself into a sitting position, wincing slightly as he leaned back on his hands. "Guess you're not as tough as you thought," he shot back, though his grin faltered as another wave of dizziness hit him.Kyra couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her. "You really are insane." She stood, crossing her arms as she looked down at him. "I could've broken every bone in your body with that hit."Ichigo glanced at her, his grin returning. "You didn't, though.""Yeah, no thanks to you," she muttered, shaking her head. She took a step back, giving him space as he slowly got to his feet. He wavered slightly, but his stance held firm, his eyes locking onto hers with that same fiery determination."That all you got?" he asked, rolling his shoulder despite the obvious strain in his movements. "'Cause I can go another round."Kyra stared at him, her jaw tightening. This kid—this reckless, stubborn, ridiculous kid—was standing there, barely able to breathe, but still challenging her. And worse, he meant it. She could see it in his eyes...."Nah," she said, raising a hand to stop him as he tried to shift his stance. "You already took a bad hit. Don't want to scramble what ever you have up there, 'cause it's definitely not a brain." Her tone was sharp, but the faintest hint of concern betrayed her otherwise teasing demeanor.Ichigo shot her a glare, swiping at the sweat dripping from his forehead. "You talk a lot of crap for someone who almost got taken down by a guy with no powers."Kyra scoffed, crouching down in front of him as she grabbed a water bottle from a nearby bench. She twisted off the cap and handed it to him. "Almost? Kid, you're lucky I didn't go full throttle, or you'd be drooling on the floor right now."Ichigo reluctantly took the bottle, downing the water in one long gulp. The cool liquid soothed his parched throat, but the ache in his body lingered, a constant reminder of the beating he'd taken. Still, he didn't back down. "Yeah, well, you didn't. So, who's really the lucky one?"Kyra rolled her eyes but couldn't help the faint grin tugging at her lips. "You're ridiculous, you know that?""You've said that already," he replied, leaning back against the mirrored wall behind him. His breathing was still heavy, but his posture was straightening, his body already recovering faster than she'd expected.She watched him for a moment, her smirk fading into something more thoughtful. "Alright, Kurosaki," she said, standing up and crossing her arms. "You've got some moves for a guy who's supposedly powerless. Care to explain where you learned to fight like that?"Ichigo tilted his head back against the wall, his amber eyes narrowing slightly. "Why do you care?"Kyra shrugged, leaning casually against the edge of the nearby bench. "Call it professional curiosity. You don't fight like some street punk swinging wildly. Your movements are deliberate, calculated. That elbow strike, the low sweep—those aren't things you just pick up in a random brawl. So, where'd you learn them?"Her brow furrowed slightly, the gears clearly turning in her mind. "And it's definitely not Soul Society's Hakuda techniques," she added, her tone more pointed now. "I would've recognized it if it was. " Ichigo let out a small sigh, brushing his hair back with his hand as his shoulders slumped slightly. "Karate," he finally admitted, his voice low but steady. "Self-defense classes, mostly. And sparring. A friend of mine, Tatsuki... she's been beating me into shape since we were kids."Kyra tilted her head, crossing her arms as a flicker of genuine curiosity broke through her usual smirk. "Karate, huh?" she said, her voice lighter, yet still tinged with skepticism. "Self-defense and sparring with a childhood friend? That's the big secret behind those moves? Doesn't explain everything, Kurosaki. Most people don't develop skills like those just from sparring in a dojo."Ichigo shrugged, his crimson eyes steady but guarded as he debated whether he should continue or not before deciding that there was probably no risk."Tatsuki's not 'most people.' She's been in tournaments, trained like her life depended on it. And when we sparred... she never went easy on me. Never let me get comfortable. I had to learn fast or get my ass handed to me."Kyra chuckled, her fingers tapping idly against the edge of the bench she was leaning on. "Sounds like Tatsuki's got some bite. I like her already." Her expression shifted, sharp and analytical again as she studied him. "But there's more to this, isn't there? You didn't just stop at karate, did you?"Ichigo hesitated for a moment, his gaze drifting to the floor as if weighing his answer. Finally, he sighed, his voice quieter now. "I didn't have a choice. I got into fights. A lot of them. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to. After my mom died... people started coming after me. I didn't know why back then. Just knew that if I didn't defend myself or the people around me, no one else would."Kyra's smirk faltered, and for a fleeting moment, something softer flickered in her eyes. "So, fighting's always been survival for you, huh?" Her tone lacked its usual mocking edge, though she quickly masked it with a shrug. "Figures. You fight like someone who's had their back against the wall one too many times."Ichigo leaned his head back against the wall, his amber eyes drifting upward, tracing patterns in the uneven surface of the ceiling. A soft chuckle escaped him, low and self-effacing. "Yeah, well... that's pretty much how it's always been," he murmured. His voice dipped slightly, quieter now, like he wasn't even sure if he was talking to her or himself. "Becoming a Shinigami didn't change that. It just... focused what was already there. Gave me more tools, sure, but the rules stayed the same—fight or fall."Kyra tilted her head, watching him with an unreadable expression. For once, her smirk faded, replaced by something softer, something curious. She crossed her arms, leaning against the edge of a nearby bench. "Fight or fall," she repeated, almost to herself. She studied him for a beat longer, then gave a small, sharp nod. "That's a mindset I can respect. The world doesn't care if you're ready or not—it just throws punches and expects you to take them. You learn to hit back, or you don't."Her words hung in the air, heavier than she intended. For a moment, the usual playfulness in her voice was gone, replaced by something quieter. She didn't like how easily his words had gotten under her skin. Straightening, she forced the smirk back onto her face, shrugging like it didn't matter. "Well, at least now I know what kind of guy you are."Ichigo raised an eyebrow at that, a faint frown tugging at his lips. "And what's that supposed to mean?"She hesitated, but only for a second. "The kind who doesn't quit. The kind who fights even when everything says you shouldn't." Her smirk sharpened slightly. "The kind of guy who turns into a monster when you push him hard enough."Ichigo's frown deepened, his head snapping toward her. "Monster?" he repeated, his tone defensive. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"Kyra met his gaze steadily, her expression calm but not condescending. For once, there was no teasing edge to her voice. "I didn't mean it as an insult," she said, her tone softer, almost measured. "I meant it like... someone who doesn't stop. Someone who doesn't break, even when they should. You don't just survive, Kurosaki—you fight like the world owes you something, and you're gonna take it back. It's... rare."Ichigo blinked, his tension easing just slightly, though he kept his arms crossed. "Yeah, well, maybe I don't like being called a monster. Doesn't exactly sound like a compliment."Kyra tilted her head, considering him. "Maybe it's not," she admitted, her voice tinged with honesty. "But it's not an insult, either. Monsters... real monsters, the ones that make people stop and stare, they're not dangerous because they're cruel or reckless. They're dangerous because they are able to do things no one else is capable of and when the world tries to bury them, they claw their way back stronger and fiercer than ever before... That's what I see in you." .' And from what I know of monsters... They are rather rabid, or tamed... Now how do you tame a monster is a question ' Kyra though.Ichigo looked up at her, his crimson eyes searching hers as if trying to gauge whether there was any hidden agenda behind her words. For once, there didn't seem to be. Her gaze was steady, her expression uncharacteristically earnest.He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. "You've got a weird way of looking at things," he muttered, shaking his head. "You call me a monster, then try to make it sound like a compliment. Not exactly what I expected when you dragged me into this mess."Kyra smirked, but it didn't carry her usual bite. "Get used to it, kid. Life doesn't come with a manual, and compliments don't always sound pretty. Besides," she added, standing up and stretching her arms over her head, "you're tougher than I thought. I had to test you—and you passed. Barely."Ichigo raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a faint smirk despite himself. "Barely, huh? Seems like I did more than hold my own."Kyra laughed, the sound light but carrying a note of genuine amusement. "Alright, fine. You did better than I expected. Happy?" She jabbed a finger at him, her tone turning playful again. "But don't let it go to your head. You've got a long way to go before you can keep up with me for real."Ichigo snorted, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms. "I'll take that as a challenge."Kyra's smirk widened, the glint of mischief returning to her eyes. "Good. I like a challenge. And you? You're full of surprises." Her gaze lingered on him for a moment before she straightened, brushing imaginary dust off her jacket. "But enough talk. You've still got more trials ahead of you, Kurosaki. Can't have you getting comfortable."Ichigo frowned, though there was no real annoyance behind it. "More trials? What, are you planning on beating me into the ground again?" He forced himself upright, but as soon as he shifted his weight, his legs wobbled beneath him. He staggered, catching himself against the wall with a low grunt.Kyra's smirk faded slightly, replaced by a flicker of thoughtfulness as she caught the stumble. Her sharp gaze softened, and for a moment, she seemed elsewhere. Memories surfaced—of her own early struggles, the way moving in a purely physical body after staying and then fighting as a Shinigami for 40 years, it felt like running through sand. It wasn't just tiring; it was a humbling reminder of the limits of flesh, limits she'd been forced to relearn the hard way...The weight of those years pressed against her mind for a fleeting second. She could almost feel the oppressive presence of captains' Reiatsu bearing down on her, and taste the acrid sting of blood on her tongue. It had been a lifetime ago, but some things never really left you.Her lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "Damn it..." she muttered under her breath, too low for Ichigo to hear. Then, shaking off the thought, she forced herself back to the present, her smirk returning with practiced ease."Sorry, Kurosaki," she said, her tone lighter now, though the faintest edge of something unspoken lingered beneath her words. "Didn't mean today. You can barely stand as it is."Ichigo straightened, bristling slightly at her comment but saying nothing as he leaned back against the wall. His body was screaming at him to rest, but he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing him admit it, knowing— And isn't that strange ? In practically a week, getting to know your previous kidnaper— that she would laugh at him for it.Kyra studied him, her expression unreadable as her gaze flicked over his form. There was something in the way she looked at him—not just amusement, but analysis. Calculation. "Your body's catching up to what you just put it through," she said, her voice steady but lacking its usual bite. "It's tough, sure, but even it has limits. And before you get any dumb ideas about pushing past them..."She trailed off, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if weighing whether to say more. For a moment, the room felt heavier, quieter, the tension stretching thin."You remind me of someone I used to know," she said suddenly, almost offhandedly, though her tone carried an odd weight. Her gaze flickered away, just for a second, before snapping back to him. "Back when I... wasn't exactly tied to this world."Ichigo tilted his head, frowning slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"Kyra chuckled, brushing the question off with a wave of her hand. "Nothing you need to worry about, Kurosaki. Just an old life, one I've got no plans to revisit." But the way her voice dipped at the edges told a different story.Ichigo studied her, his amber eyes narrowing slightly. There was something in Kyra's voice, a subtle break in her usual sharpness, that caught his attention. But before he could press further, she straightened, her smirk sliding back into place like a shield."Anyway," she said, waving off the momentary lapse with a flick of her wrist. "You've still got work to do, and I'm not letting you off easy just because you've got that whole 'underdog charm' thing going for you."Ichigo huffed a small laugh, leaning back against the wall as the faintest hint of a grin tugged at his lips. "Underdog, huh? That's a new one. Thought I was a monster."Kyra raised an eyebrow, her smirk sharpening. "You can be both. Monsters don't always start out on top. Sometimes they claw their way there, one fight at a time." Her gaze flickered over him again, and her tone softened, just slightly. "And you? You've got the fight in you. That much is clear."He shook his head, exhaling as his muscles protested every small movement. "Yeah, well, doesn't feel like I'm clawing my way anywhere right now," he muttered, glancing down at his trembling hands. "Feels more like I'm barely hanging on."Kyra crouched down in front of him, her smirk giving way to something more genuine. "That's how it starts, Kurosaki," she said, her voice quieter but no less firm. "It's not about how you feel in the moment—it's about whether you get back up. That's what you have to do to live... And that's why I am sure you will become a fullbringer. " Ichigo glanced at her, his gaze searching hers for any hint of mockery, but found none. For once, she wasn't teasing him, wasn't trying to provoke him. She meant it... And there was something in her eyes... something... ah..."Guess I don't have much of a choice, huh?" he said after a beat, his tone lighter but edged with something deeper."Nope," Kyra said with a grin as she stood, offering him a hand. "But hey, if it's any consolation, you're not as hopeless as I thought."He rolled his eyes but took her hand, letting her help him to his feet. His legs wobbled slightly, but he steadied himself, meeting her gaze with renewed determination. "You keep saying stuff like that, and people might think you're starting to like me," he quipped, though his grin didn't quite reach his eyes.Kyra laughed, stepping back and crossing her arms. "Don't push your luck, Kurosaki," she said, though her tone was more amused than biting. "You're growing on me, sure, but I'm not about to start singing your praises. Not until you can keep up without me holding back.""Is that a promise?" Ichigo asked, raising an eyebrow."More like a challenge," she shot back, her grin widening. "You've got potential, kid. Don't make me regret it."Her words hung in the air, the weight of them sinking into Ichigo's chest. For all her sharp edges and teasing remarks, there was something real in her tone—a belief he hadn't expected from someone like her. He nodded, his grip tightening slightly. "I won't," he said simply.After all...She was giving him something no one else had since he lost his powers: a chance to feel like himself again. To claw his way back to the version of him that wasn't defined by what he'd lost. A chance to fight—not for duty, cuz she definitely didn't seem to care about that, not for survival, though she does comment on it a lot, not because it was in his blood.... Ok maybe because of his blood.But also...Because it was who he was.And if this all went sideways... if her motives turned out to be something darker, or if he got dragged even deeper into a mess he couldn't see his way out of...Well, this moment—this fight—it would still be worth it.The sting of her hits, the ache in his muscles, the weight of her belief—those were the reminders he needed. Not of what he'd lost, but of what he could still fight for. Of what was still there in him, waiting to be called upon.Ye... Nah.And maybe... maybe that was enough.Kyra's gaze lingered on him for a beat longer, her sharp eyes unreadable, as though she were still sizing him up, still looking for something. Then, with a small nod to herself, she turned toward the door, her steps deliberate, her usual confidence unwavering."Good," she said without looking back, her voice calm but edged with something almost... expectant. "Because the next trial won't be just about fighting. You've got more to prove, Kurosaki. And I want to see what you're really made of."She reached the door but paused, her hand hovering over the frame. A faint smile tugged at her lips—not her usual smirk, but something quieter, more thoughtful. "One more thing," she said, turning her head slightly to glance back at him."Bit of advice for tomorrow—bring something you're attached to. Something that matters to you." Her tone was lighter, but the look in her eyes carried an unmistakable weight as she takes a look at her x-shaped cross before her eyes widened as if some realization struck her and then she clamed down as she hesitated for just a moment before adding, almost offhandedly but with a strange kind of precision, "If I had to guess... maybe your mother's cross."The words hung in the air, cutting through the faint hum of the room. Ichigo's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. She didn't stay to watch his reaction, though. With a small, almost imperceptible shrug, she turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind her....' Hopefully he truly isn't another me. ' Kyra though remembering their talk on the plane.' God... I hope he isn't me... '......The hum of the training room lingered, a faint vibration that seemed to pulse in time with Ichigo's slowing heartbeat. He leaned against the wall, his fingers brushing over the cross beneath his shirt. The cool metal was grounding, but it felt heavier now. Kyra's words hung in the air like a weight he hadn't quite decided to lift. She'd said too much—or maybe just enough—to stir something in him he wasn't ready to face. Not yet.He let his eyes close, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. His body was finally calming from the fight, but his mind was anything but still. Her words about monsters, about clawing back from the edge, weren't new. He'd thought the same about himself before—especially about her, his Hollow—until he'd defeated her. That voice, that relentless hunger, had been a monster he couldn't control, one he had to beat down time and time again to stay standing.But hearing those words now, from someone like Kyra, struck deeper than he'd expected. Maybe it was the way she said it, the way she looked at him—not with pity, but with a kind of sharp recognition. Or maybe it was because he couldn't help but wonder if she saw something he didn't want to admit was still there.Kyra's advice—no, her command—to bring something that mattered tomorrow churned in his chest. The thought of what that meant, of what she expected him to confront, coiled tight in his gut. He hadn't touched his mother's cross in any meaningful way since... that day. It was anger—anger of what it represented and meant, guilt— guilt of the parts of him it tied to.And...Fear— Fear of what it meant to carry it forward.He opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling, his fingers tightening around the cross as if to test himself against its weight. It didn't feel grounding anymore. It felt suffocating, as if the air itself was escaping him....—̵̢̛͇͍̮̩͖̰̹͖̳̖̱͓̤̦̲͖̞̲̘̗͖͐͊͌͊̄͌̉̐̈́̈́̀̈͗̈̋͒̓͋̃͒̾͗̓̿̒̈́͐͛͜͝ͅc̸̨̛̬̖̹͓̣̝̪̤̲̗͕̖̫̱̘͉̻̺̃̈̔̅̃͂͛̈́̾̓͗͒̉̌̈͛̋̌̒̄̾͗͝͝h̶̢̡̢̠͔̜̘͚̙̦̰̥͚̥̬̙̻̮̰̹̝͕̹̘͆̀̅̈́̀̈́͂̍̔͌̅̓̔̋̂̇́͌̑̇̌̔͐͂̔̽̿̎͜͠͝ͅe̴̢̛̪̘͎͉̱̺̰̼̝̲̳̤̦̯̖̳̠̬̬͎͎̓̔́͊̓̑̽̆ͅs̵͉͇̭͎̩͎̦͍͎͕̞̟̟̘̞̭̲̜̪͎̻̜̤͈̼̆͌͗̽͂̽̎̄̕̕ͅ will stay L̷̳̠̬̪̾̌̓̔̃͋́́̈́̉͐̈̉̍̒̌͋̆̓̒͗͗͂̚͘̚̕—̸̵̸̶̡̢̨̪͍̟̗̜͙̰͕͙̘̱̞̹̮̼͎̣̱̳̪͉͓̂̑͊̆̾̿́̈́́̓̑̇̀̀͒̃̈́̃̊̑̍̓̋̆̈́́̈́͋̇̇̑̾͒̅̂̇̔̈́͆̅̾̈́̈́̓̏͋̃͌̈́͐́̓̃̈́́̿͑̍͘̚͝͝͝͠͝͠...Outside the room, Kyra leaned against the wall, her sharp gaze fixed on the closed door. The familiar hum of the base surrounded her—Yukio's rapid button presses, Jackie's steady movements near the bar, the low murmur of Giriko tinkering with something—but her focus was elsewhere.Her pendant swung lightly against her chest as she toyed with it, her mind circling the fight she'd just had with Ichigo. The kid had grit, there was no denying that. But it wasn't just his resilience that stuck with her. It was the way he fought—like someone clawing their way back from the brink, desperate to prove something, even if he didn't fully know what.She sighed, running a hand through her damp hair. "Damn it," she muttered under her breath. It wasn't supposed to bother her. She wasn't supposed to care about what drove him. He was just another stray she'd picked up, another piece in her crew.But there was something about the way he carried himself, the weight in his eyes when he thought no one was looking, that tugged at her in a way she hated.' He's too much like me. 'The thought struck harder than she wanted to admit. She shook her head, pushing off the wall and straightening her jacket. No. That wasn't something she could afford to think about right now. Not with tomorrow's trial looming.Kyra stepped away from the door, her footsteps echoing faintly as she moved toward the main lounge, to get some rest as she rubbed the spots Ichigo had hit, dam the kid, definitely hit hard, she will have to ask Giriko and Riru—"So?" Yukio broke her thoughs as he continued to press his buttons. "Did the kid survive, or are we gonna have to clean up a mess?"Kyra rolled her eyes, . "He's tougher than he looks," she replied, her tone casual, though there was an edge to her words that hadn't been there before. "Didn't even break."Jackie raised an eyebrow, pausing mid-wipe. "Didn't break?" she repeated, her tone skeptical. "You're saying the kid took everything you threw at him and stayed standing?""Well, not everything," Kyra admitted, taking a sip of her drink. "He went down eventually, but he got back up. Fast. Faster than I expected." "So?" Yukio's voice cut through the hum of the room, his tone as sharp and precise as the rapid-fire clicks of his controller. His attention didn't waver from the game he was playing, but there was an edge of curiosity beneath his dry sarcasm. "Did the kid survive, or are we gonna have to clean up a mess?"Kyra rolled her eyes, grabbing a water bottle off the counter as she flopped onto the nearest seat. "He's tougher than he looks," she replied, her tone casual, though the faint edge in her voice hadn't gone unnoticed. "Didn't even break."Jackie raised an eyebrow, pausing mid-wipe as she set the glass down and crossed her arms. "Didn't break?" she echoed, her tone skeptical. "You're telling me the kid took everything you threw at him and stayed standing?""Well... not everything," Kyra admitted, cracking open the water bottle and taking a long sip. She leaned back, stretching her arms behind her head as her gaze drifted toward the ceiling. "He went down eventually. But he got back up. Fast. Faster than I expected." Her lips twitched into a faint smirk. "Tough little bastard."Yukio let out a low whistle, his thumbs still flying over the buttons of his console. "Color me shocked. I figured he'd be out cold after ten minutes. You must've gone easy on him."Kyra shot him a sharp look, her smirk turning into a glare. "I don't do 'easy.'" Her tone was firm, but there was a flicker of something behind it—something Yukio caught immediately."Uh-huh." He paused his game, setting the controller down as he leaned back in his chair, his sharp gaze locking onto her. "So, what's the deal with him, then? Why bring him here at all? I mean, you don't exactly roll out the welcome mat for just anyone—especially not someone tied to them."The room fell quiet for a moment, the weight of Yukio's words settling like a stone. Jackie straightened slightly, her arms still crossed as her gaze flicked to Kyra. Even Giriko, who had been tinkering with something at the far end of the room, paused his work to glance their way.Kyra's jaw tightened, her grip on the water bottle flexing as her smirk faltered. "He's not 'just someone,'" she said, her voice lower now, more controlled. "He's a VIP. You already know that.""Yeah, yeah, I got the memo," Yukio said, waving a hand dismissively. "He's important, he needs protection, blah, blah, blah. But you don't like Soul Society. Hell, you've made it pretty clear how you feel about anything even remotely tied to them. So why bring him in? Shinigami aren't exactly your favorite flavor, are they?"Jackie's brow furrowed, and even Giriko looked intrigued now, his arms crossed as he leaned back against the counter, the kid was a shinigami ? No... She definitely didn't feel strong enough spirit energy— And fuck you if you think she would miss it being so close to him— to be anything but human." Especially with him being a substitute "...It took everyone a couple of seconds to realize what Yukio ment by that, it was Tsukishima who reacted first. His book snapped shut with a sharp thwack, his calm demeanor fracturing as his full attention zeroed in on Kyra."A Substitute Shinigami?" Tsukishima repeated, his voice low but brimming with incredulity. The usually unshakable man leaned forward slightly, his intense gaze fixed on Kyra. "You brought a Substitute Shinigami here?"Kyra sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as if bracing herself for the storm she knew was coming. "Yeah, I did," she said, her voice steady but laced with irritation. "And before you all start losing your minds, let me make one thing clear—he's not a Shinigami anymore. He's human. Completely human."Tsukishima's eyes narrowed, his sharp mind already dissecting her words. "But he was," he pressed. "You don't just stop being a Shinigami, even if you lose your powers. That kind of connection to Soul Society doesn't just disappear. You know that."Jackie's arms crossed tightly over her chest, her brow furrowing deeper. "Why, Kyra?" she asked, her voice low but demanding. "Why would you bring someone like that here? You hate Soul Society—hell, we all know what they've done. So why him?"Giriko, who had been silent up to this point, finally spoke, his deep voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "This isn't like you, Kyra. You don't take risks without a reason. So what is it about this kid?"Kyra's eyes flicked between them, her sharp gaze daring anyone to interrupt as she chose her words carefully. "Look, I'm not saying I don't hate Soul Society. You all know I do. But Kurosaki's different. He's not one of their dogs. He's not some brainwashed lackey following their rules."She paused, her grip on the water bottle tightening. " Trust me... He's got nothing... And that includes his allegiance to Soul Society... And even then, our little bookworm here, can take care of it " She finished drinking, obviously talking about Tsukishima.Kyra's smirk returned, sharper now, though her eyes flicked toward Tsukishima with a glint of something unreadable. "That's where you come in, isn't it?" she said, her tone lighter but layered with implication. "If there's anything left in him that could drag us into Soul Society's mess, you'd find it. And you'd deal with it."Jackie's eyes widened slightly, her gaze snapping to Tsukishima. "Wait," she said, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You're saying... You'd use that on him?"Giriko straightened from where he leaned against the counter, his mechanical hands flexing subtly. "That's a dangerous gamble, Kyra," he said, his tone more cautious now. "If you're wrong—""I'm not wrong," Kyra cut in sharply, her smirk faltering for a split second before she recovered. "I wouldn't have brought him here if I wasn't sure. And besides..." Her eyes flicked back to Tsukishima, her tone softening just slightly. "You wouldn't even need to touch him unless it was absolutely necessary."Tsukishima leaned back in his seat, his expression unreadable as he studied her, before his regular smile returned " You're putting a lot of faith in my abilities... " he said, his tone even. "But I suppose that's your call to make. Just don't expect me to clean up the mess if it turns out you've miscalculated."Kyra's lips twitched into a faint smile, though there was no humor behind it. "Noted," she said dryly. "But trust me, I haven't miscalculated. The kid's more than capable of pulling his weight."And it's not like Tsukishima would ever disagree with what ever she says.Jackie let out a frustrated sigh, shaking her head. "I hope you're right about this, Kyra. Because if you're not, we'll all be paying for it."Giriko finally spoke again, his deep voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "And if he's not what you think he is? If he turns out to be a liability instead of an asset?"Kyra's smirk returned, sharper this time, though her eyes held an uncharacteristic seriousness. "Then we deal with it," she said simply, her tone leaving no room for argument. "But I'll tell you this—Kurosaki's not just some kid trying to find his way. He's been to hell and back, and he's still standing. That's more than most can say."Yukio, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally spoke up, his tone as dry as ever. "Well, this is shaping up to be a real party. Can't wait to see how your shit of idea's work out Kyra. "Kyra shot him a sharp look, but her smirk didn't waver. "Oh, you'll see," she said, her voice laced with confidence. "Tomorrow's trial will make sure of that."The room fell silent again, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a storm cloud. One by one, the others turned back to their tasks, though the unease lingered like a shadow. Tsukishima returned to his book, though his eyes flicked toward Kyra every so often, his thoughts clearly still turning. Jackie resumed cleaning, her movements more forceful than necessary. Even Giriko seemed more tense, his mechanical hands clenching and unclenching as he resumed his work.Kyra, however, remained still, her gaze fixed on the door to the training room. Her smirk softened, her thoughts drifting back to the fight with Ichigo......"You know," she muttered, her voice breaking the silence, "thinking about it now... I probably shouldn't have left a kid, who we barely know, on his own in the base."The room collectively paused at her words. Jackie arched an eyebrow, setting her cleaning rag down with exaggerated care. Yukio glanced up from his console, a smirk already forming as he paused his game. Even Tsukishima, usually the picture of calm disinterest, turned a page in his book with deliberate slowness, his gaze flicking toward her like a silent judgment.Giriko was the first to speak, his voice carrying a thick layer of dry amusement. "Ah, yes. The same kid with ties to Soul Society, unknown motives, and a questionable temperament? Leaving him unsupervised sounds like an absolutely brilliant idea."Kyra shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Giriko," she deadpanned, grabbing her jacket and slinging it over her shoulder. "Don't all rush to help me at once."Jackie snorted, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter. "You're the one who brought him here, Kyra. If the training room's a smoking crater when you get back, don't come crying to us."Yukio chuckled without even glancing up from his console, his thumbs still flying across the buttons. "If the kid actually manages to trash the place, I swear, I'll start eating my own money." He paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. "And I'm talking the bills, not the coins. I have standards."Kyra rolled her eyes as she turned to leave. "Great to know you're willing to make sacrifices, Yukio. Truly inspiring." She waved a dismissive hand over her shoulder as she made her way toward the hallway. "Don't wait up, and for the love of God, try not to turn this into another 'Kyra screws up' story before I'm back."Jackie called after her, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Oh, don't worry, we're already drafting the highlights!"As Kyra's footsteps echoed down the hallway, She heard Yukio having one last thing to say to her group. "Ten bucks says she comes back with some half-assed excuse abo— " Before she moved out of hearing range.......It didn't take long to find him.Ichigo was seated on the floor of the training room, his back against the wall and his head tilted up toward the ceiling. His crimson eyes seemed to be lost in thought, his fingers brushing absentmindedly over the cross hanging from his neck."You look like you've seen better days," Kyra said, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of the room.Ichigo's head snapped up, his tired gaze locking onto hers. "I'm fine," he muttered, though the wobble in his posture said otherwise."Sure you are," Kyra replied, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Anyway, you're done here for the day. Figured I'd show you to where you'll be staying."Ichigo raised an eyebrow, his tone flat. "You're giving me a room now? What's the catch?"Kyra smirked. "No catch. Just figured you'd prefer a bed over the floor. Or were you planning to sleep here and make the place smell like sweat and bad decisions?"Ichigo snorted despite himself, pushing himself to his feet with a grunt. "Fine. Lead the way."The room Kyra led him to wasn't exactly luxurious, but it wasn't terrible either. It was tucked into a quieter section of the warehouse, away from the main activity. The walls were bare, and the furniture was minimal—a single bed, a small desk, and a wardrobe. But it was clean, and the faint scent of fresh paint lingered in the air.Kyra leaned against the doorframe as Ichigo stepped inside, taking in his new surroundings. "Not much, but it's yours," she said, crossing her arms. "Better than crashing on a training mat, right?"Ichigo set his bag down near the bed, glancing around the room with a shrug. "It's fine," he said simply.Kyra's smirk softened into something closer to genuine. "Good. Try not to break anything, and don't make me regret giving you this. We're not running a hotel, you know."Ichigo turned toward her, his expression unreadable. "Why are you doing this? Giving me a room, I mean."Kyra hesitated for a moment, her gaze flicking to the ground before meeting his. "Because you're not just here to take up space, Kurosaki. You've got potential, and if you're going to stick around, you need a place to rest between all the crap I'm going to throw at you." Her smirk returned, sharper now. "Consider it an investment."Ichigo huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. "Right. An investment."......" Well I think I will head out now, rest wel— " Kyra started talking as she was a" Wait ! " Ichigo screamed out before Kyra leftKyra paused mid-step, glancing over her shoulder at Ichigo, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. "What is it, Kurosaki?" she asked, her tone tinged with impatience but laced with curiosity.Ichigo hesitated, his hand brushing over the cross beneath his shirt. His jaw tightened as if he was debating whether to speak, but then he met her gaze, his amber eyes searching hers. "Why?" he asked, his voice quieter now. "Why did you tell me to bring my mom's cross tomorrow? What's the point?"Kyra turned fully, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. Her smirk was gone, replaced by a more thoughtful expression as she scrunched up her eyebrow, before she nodded her head, as if agreeing with herself." Eh, what the hell, not like this will prove useful to you, but consider this as a reward for holding on so long against me " She finally spoke with a smile, before it became serious " Remember what I told you ? About how our powers work—how they're tied to objects we're attached to?""Ichigo nodded slowly, his fingers brushing against the cross again, his expression thoughtful. "Yeah, something about emotions being connected to them, right?"Kyra tilted her head, studying him for a moment before continuing. "Not just emotions, Kurosaki. Attachment. The kind of attachment that roots itself so deep you can't shake it, no matter how much time passes. Could be positive—like love, pride, or joy, belief—but it doesn't have to be. It can be anger, regret, guilt... even hate." Her eyes flicked briefly toward his hand resting on his mother's cross. "That cross? If it truly is connected to your mother—hell, even if it's just your belief that it's tied to her—that connection alone might be enough to act as a catalyst for your Fullbring."She shrugged, the casualness of the gesture contrasting with the weight of her words. "And if it's carrying Reiatsu from back then? That'll help, too. Mine sure as hell did..." Her voice trailed off, her expression tightening for a fleeting moment before she shook it off with a short sigh.Ichigo's brows furrowed, his hand tightening slightly around the pendant. "And you think that'll... what? Awaken something?"Kyra crossed her arms as she leaned against the edge of the desk. "Maybe. Maybe not. But here's the thing about Fullbring—it's all about what's inside you. Your emotions, your memories, the way you see the world. They bleed into the objects you're connected to, shaping how your powers manifest. If that cross carries even a fraction of what you're feeling—whatever you've buried—then yeah, it might just wake something up."Ichigo frowned, his gaze dropping to the cross. The metal felt heavier now, as if her words had added weight to it. And Kyra... Kyra with her experience getting new fullbringers to follow her, could practically see the connection between Ichigo and the cross growing. But Ichigo's frown deepened, his fingers brushing against the cross again, almost as if he subconsciously picked up on what Kyra saw. He looked at it like it might hold the answers he'd been chasing for months. "You keep saying that, but what does that actually mean?" His voice was low, edged with frustration. "What am I supposed to do then?! Just... hope it works?! Do you know how frustrating that sounds ?!!"He was surprised when Kyra nodded, her lips curving into a faint, almost knowing smile. "Exactly," she said, her voice quieter now, stripped of its usual sharpness. It wasn't patronizing, but there was a strange confidence in her tone, like she'd seen this play out a hundred times before. "Hold onto that frustration. That doubt. That hope. Whatever you're feeling, don't push it away. Let it sit there—let it grow."Ichigo blinked at her, caught off guard by the simplicity of her response. "That's it?" he asked, his tone skeptical. "Just... feel things? That's your big advice?"Kyra smirked, shaking her head slightly. "It's not about 'just feeling things.' It's about recognizing what you're carrying. The emotions, the memories, the weight of everything you've been through. They don't just disappear, Kurosaki. They shape you, whether you like it or not. And that cross?" She gestured toward the pendant with a nod. "It's soaked in all of that. Love, regret, guilt, anger—it doesn't matter what it is. If it's tied to you, it's tied to that. "...f̵̢̰͕̻͍̦̣̫̙͑͆͆̈̉̉́̈̋̈͑͆̐̾r̵̨̛̠̬͎̗̽͑́̿̋̓̓͆͌̓̿̈́̀͂̔̽̚͘̕͘͠ó̶̡̬͍̫͑́̀̒̍̋̏̽̄̔̋̅̂͒̒̐͑͘͠m̸̢̻̼͕̰̼͚̺͖̺̲̦̳̤̝̓̆̉̔̑̉̀͒̌̋͐͌͗̊̈̀̐͐̆͐̾̋̀͜͠͝ͅ ̸̣̞͈̳͉̬̱̹͍̯͖͉͌̊̓̿̏͛̈́̊̈̓̒̀͛̕̚͝o̷̡̨̳̞̜̦̠̠̐͐́̽̈̏͗̒͂͆̃̌͊̍͊̌̾͘͝͝n̶̡̨̻̹̲̯̪͈̰͖̥̝̫̖̻̩͇͎̬͔͒̏ͅé̴̡̧̢̖̟̬̪͙͎̺̲͍̱͇̬̗̤̳͓̯̤̜̥̩͛́͊͘̕ ̷͓͓̰̟̠̝̞̳̖̠̟̬̭̓ͅl̸̲̠̜͕͉̠̭̥̹̗̜̹̠͚͓̆̂̋̎͌̎̐̀̓̎̀̎͗̒̕̕̕͝͝ę̶̹͕̠̫̩͔͙̤͇͖̰͍͉̥̀̆̈́̀̎̈́̿̈́̔͂̎̄͗̏͌̋͌͛̿̿̇̾̕͜͝ȩ̶͍̝̖͖͎͙̲͈̟̞́̔ç̶̢̛̫̩̙̖̭̫͈͍͔̜̜̟̰͉̱̦̺̩̺̙̫̗̥̣̼͆̇̈̓̑̉̀̂̓͑͗̎́̒̍̓̀̽͋͘͘h̴̙̼̝̊͆̊̀́̽̉̎͒̃͒̾̄͝͝͝ ̸̨̛̤̰͔̩̩̹͕̖̘͙̅̎̉͌́̒͂̃̃̓̐̔̐̌̈̓̉̈͛͗̕ẗ̴̨̧͓̗̼͖̝̘̩̬̫̺̣̺̺͓͇̱̼̫̺̜͖̝̜́̊̈́̿̈́̆͂̉̂̆̈̿͌͌̓̈͒̊̓̃̓̓̚̕͜͜͝͝ǫ̸̢̛̙̮͕͕͕͔̮̯̝͈̲̻̗̖̜͐̇͑̍̓̎̕ ̵̨̛͇̣̗̱̖̱̜̻̬̲̹̳̼͖̦͎̄̈́̾̎͐̀̀̐̒̋͘̕͝͠ͅͅą̶̢̘̬͍̰̦̠̫̼͚̹̩̺̤̫͗n̵̡̨̟̬̩̪̙̗͇͉̻̒͒͋̓̄̀͆̌̆͝ͅō̵̧̱͖̼̫͎̹̬ͅt̴̫͉̱̠͓̤̰̫͙̮̮̼̫̞̯͙͌̀͂̓̿̓͐̿͒̍̾̑͐͜͠h̵̢̡̨̡̧̙͉͚̺̜̖̱͍̝͇̺͉̰̞̩̦̬̮̮͎͚͒̒͌̐̒͋̀́̽͆͂̈́͛́̿̈́͆̃̆͘͘͠͠ͅę̵͓͊͂͐̈́̐̌͒͛̌̓̇̄̀̋̀̐͋͗̿̏̏͗̀̃̑͗̋͘r̶̞͔̄̔̒͑́̈́́͋̔̆̓͒ ̷̡͍̩̺̜̯͔͚͉͙̲̪̠̳̟̪̯͎̼̪̜̩̹̞̹̐w̴̧̧̙̼̮̮͇̱̟̯̪̼͉͉̼̖̰̤̹̘͗̎̓̊͊͐̈̓́̒͗̊͂̊̐̚͝͠͝i̸̧̝̰̪̼͔͔͕̖͚̼̹̻̬̬̼̜̩͍͔͈͋̉̒͊̄͐͂̍ͅͅt̵̛̥̗̝͓̟̥̝͓̝̣̖̜̻̖̞̺͈̦̤̜́̇͐̆̽̃̃̍̌̅̇̎̓͂͋̎͂͑̕͘͜͝͝ͅh̷̡̡͍̠͔̣̰͙̗̬̼͉̪̰͙̝̺͈̯̖̭̣̳̝͍̘͉̃̓͑̑̀̄͆ͅ ̵̰̩̦̣̭̥̖̣̺̟̥͚̞̲̩̹̄͌́͋̌͂̈́͒͊͑̾̍̍́̒̀͘̚a̸̢̝̲̱̱͖͈̤̗̻̹̺̔̋̐̀͗̇̌͐̈́̕͜n̶̼̖̹̬͇̞̤͖͇͕̺̔̏̈́̄̽̕͜ǫ̶̞͉̪͕͇̫̺̼͇͉̩͍̯̙͛̽̎̓̓͐͑̾̄̄͑́̀̃́͘̕̕͜͝t̸̹̙͕̤̣̭̘̹͖͇͓̝͈͇͓̟̙̉̿̿̽̋̕h̸̥̠̳̬͒̅̌̾͑͌̿̀͊̿̽͘͝ȩ̸̛̛̛͎̺̬̘͉̠̪̮͖̺̩̩̥̱̙̥̯͇̠̣͕̭̠̗̬̘̏̔͌͑͆̒̔͑̾̓̈̎̂͋̇͑̉̇́̐̽̀͌̚͘͘͝r̵̢͎̝̘̯̹̮͖͈̠͇̖͎͌̈͆̆͋̽́́̒̂̕ 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̸̡͇̮̯͖̻͈̟̮͎̣͖͖̬̘̰͛̓̆̋̔̄̾ṫ̵̨̧͍͇͍̞̲̮͐́́̓̒̊̔̔h̶̹͇̹̤̲͂̓̒̾̈̽͋̍͗͋͗̐̒͆̾̀͆̌͒̕͜͝ị̶̛̛̪̥̰̞̥̬̞̥̝͛͋̆̏̀̍̏͑́́̋̊͆͊̔́͐̕̚̚̕͠ͅs̵̻̟̰͚̙̫̫̰̱͔͔̲̞̤̩͔͐̎͜͝͠ͅ 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̷̡̨̢̡̡͕̖̟̰͚̭͎̟͙̦̭̳̻͎̞͕͉͓͕͈͎͒̏͜n̵̸̸̶̶̶̵̴̸̵̷̴̨̢̨̧̧̧̡̢̧̧̛̛̛̛̰͍̰̦̗̜̱̥̲̣͍̼̮̩͎̺̻͇̲̮̤͖̼͓͓͙̼͉͚͎̪͔̪̲̺͓͍̙̤͓͚̹͙̯̞̮̱̱̜̟̦̱͖̪͔̠̭̪̺̫̭̻̞̼͈̹͇̹̳̪̩̞͕̟̮̳̠̹̱͍͖̯̳̭̪̯̳͕̹̰̫͙̳͚̩̳̥͕͎̘̗̲̠͚̟͚͚͍̺͈͓̪̰̱̼̬̹͕̠̙̟̬͉̳̻̙̙̘̜̻̺̣͎̝͓͈̬̹̥̞̙͕̺̫͈̯͉̩̰̻̝͕͇̜͔̪͕͓͓͛͗̇̾̄̂̀͌̅͋͑̑̓̋̒̈́̒̀͗͂̊̾̆͌͋͛̄̑̓͂͑͂̈̀̉̔̉͌͊͂̿̉͛̈͛͗͂͌̄̈̓͂̈̓͆̾̑̔̈̀̀̓̍̃̎̆̿͐̈́̉̈́͗̋̽̋̌̋̎̄̉̏͋̋̐̽́̈́́͆̔̋̒̀̀̂̈́̔̾̄̓͋̈́͌̐̉̋́̏̉̌̅̒͗̄̌̔̂̎̈́̊͒̽͑̈̚͘͘͘͘͘͘͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅơ̵̸̴̵̶̸̸̸̴̶̵̷̴̴̷̶̸̷̷̸̴̵̶̶̢̡̢̡̧̧̧̢̧̧̡̨̨̧̡̡̢̢̡̢̡̧̢̧̧̧̢̡̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̪̳̺̟͕̠̣̘̼̤̰̭̠̦͈̹̩̼̙̻̩͖̤̩̼̣͙̣͔̣͚͖͔̖̬̼̫̮̤̭̪̪̱̥̲̩͎̘̤̹̭̻̰̖̺͖̠͕̟͎̜̙͇̥̰̩̳̞̼͉̼̭̜͈̗̞͓̹̞̗̥͉͓͖͍̘͖͍͚͓̼̩͖̤̤͚͔͔͇̜̰̯͎̱̘̼͓̣̭̭̭͎̥̙̟̥͚̦̘̟̳̩̲̺̜̥͖͔̲̺͚̠̲̼͕̝͖̫͎̤͙̮̺̖̟͚͎̖̠͍̙̝̺̗̠͔̘̞̭̞̞̘̖͖̖̲̳̖̫̬̺͚̼̝̜̗̠͎̳͈͙̞͙̫̯̝̪̲̮̣̯͇̙͚̘͚͇̙͓̺̰͙̦̲̺̻͓͓̲̩̪̮̪͚̜͍̭͓̘̪̳̝̯̱͚̘̼̘͓̱̳̠͉̻̼͔̦̲̣͇̼̝̙̠̻͈̺̦͕͔̳̲͉̱̣̙͔͓̭̖̞̲̤͎͈͈̮͚͙̠͈̱̜̞̞̖̼̱̪̹̼͓̭͕͍̬̰͚͙̬͎̘͎̭͔̳̯͙̜͎̤̣̣̫̹̜̳̪͍̹̣̭͔̞̬̖͍̝̦͕̹͙̲̳̟̮̞̝͇̬͚̝͚̝̠̺̭̙͙̯͔̭̗̣͔̠͎̠̼͎̮̥̝̫̭̻̻̲̬̼̻̥̺̞̪̯̻̟͒̃͐̀́̽̽͆͌̄̏́̊́͛͛̒͊͌̿̍̾̿̈͂̀̀̍̾̎́̽̊̀̀̂͗̈́͑͌̾̉̔͋͐̉̐̀́̈́̇͐͑̊̐͂̈͂̈́̈́̊̇̉̓̅̊̔̄̂̉̃͑͆̃̉̿̓̓̔͆̅͐͑̈́̀̑͗̄́͗̒͂̊̈̊͋̔̾͊͑̉̊̊͒͆̐̔͑͊̽̆̔̒̍̈́͌͋̃̎͒͋̀̽̇̉̈̊̋̈̂̄̀̿̍̽͗̀͊̐́̎̆̽́͗́͂̊̽̐͐̋̈́́̇̀̔̽̈́̈́͌̀̿̈́̿̀͑̐̌̉̈́̄̈́̅͗̿̆́̓̑̏̃̀̑̈͌͗̐͗̌̿͌̎̊̐͐͆̉͋̔̏̋̎̎̽̃̀̽̇̈́̌̓͗̅͗͑̆̈́̐͊͆͆̐͊̅̓̋͌̈̋̊̊́̒̃͐̄̒̀͋̔͐͌͆̑͒̉̀̈́̉̐͗͊̃̈͋̐̑͗̄̀̇͛͐̇̔̌̉̆̾̀̈́̎̍͆̾͋̾̒͌̾̊̾̂̽̈́̀͑̐̑̑̒̀́̅͂̓̿̃̏͊̒̋̊̈͊̅͑̇̊͒̌͂̔̉͋̈́̉͗̈́́̋̅͐̅̒̅̊͑̊͑̈́͋̒͊͗̈́́͌̎̀̇̈́̀̾̇̄̚̚̚̕̚̕͘͘͘͘̚͘̚̕͘̕̕̚̕͘͘̕͘͘͘͘̕͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͠͠͠͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅw̵̷̴̸̶̸̴̵̸̵̸̸̶̷̶̶̵̴̷̶̶̸̶̴̵̵̵̸̶̶̴̸̵̷̴̵̶̶̶̶̴̨̨̧̨̡̧̧̡̡̨̧̡̢̡̡̧̡̢̨̨̡̧̧̧̡̨̡̧̨̨̧̡̡̢̨̨̨̧̧̧̢̨̢̧̧̧̡̧̢̨̧̢̡̢̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̥̥̞͇̙̮̙̲̣̥̠͇͇̯͖͖̞̦̦̤͕͇̠̞͉͈͔̥̯̺̝̭̝̝͚͖̤͔̟̥͚̥̯̫̰̮̣͙̝͕̫̼̰̤̙̩͙̬̖̪̺̭̞͚̱̭͓̤̭̹̦̠͓͇̯͍͔͇̙̦̳̬͉̳̘̤̜͈͉̟̙̲͕̼̥̼͔̥͚̦̳͖̬̱̗̦̞̳͔̝̠͎̤̠̱̬̲͉͔͚̤͓͎̠̮͈̥̰̦̯̱̜̠̱͙͕͙̙͚͚̥̙̼̦͍͈̝̗̱̳̱̩͉̤̱̱͙̠͕͎̫͇̳͕̠͚̹̪͓̙̲̫̲͉͍̫͙̹̭͚̮̫͕̬͕͔̟̲̟͈͕̠̝̯̟̣̮̼̩̠̫̪͕͉̖̼̜̭̮̠̫̜̗̰̮͔̺͉̳͈̦̹̭̖̯̭͙̖̳͇̭͖̘̣̩̲̙͖̥͇̥͔̹̭̫̪̲̠̝̲̘̟̦̤̲̫̳̞̯̦̬̫͉͚̘̝͙͙̹̲̥̗̜̦͉͚̺̦̝̯̤̗̱̩͉̱͇͈͖̱͚̭̟͖̙͖̺̫̫̩̥͍̯̙̤̯̳̮͕̗̻̖͕̞̝͍͖̥̖̲̝̝͍̱̭̺̬̣̜̥͖̤̥̗̦̙̺̣͇̤͖̦̩̹̟̹͙̙͚̺͙͉͉͕̘̖̪͔̩͎͙͉̺̟̯̹͓͙̰̣͕̭̮̣̭̣̻̦̳̳̰̰̝̹̯̪͎͕̗͙̺̱̣͕̼͕͓̺̗͔̤̠̗̜͇̜͖͔͙̲̤̝̜̠̠̖̙̖̲͍̮̯͍̻̪̼̺̦̣̮͍̖̤̥͉̻̱̘̯̮͙̝̖̮̼̻͈̜̰͙͖̱̺̥̮͈͙͇̣͍̘̜͕͈̳̖̖̗̖̜̳̫͎̼̙͎͖͇̣̤̪͓̭̙̘͇̮̜͈͓̣͕͈̺̤̪̯̼̼͔̗͕̬̮̗͎̞̱̖͍̩̫̤̙͕̯̭̰͔͔͙̬̺̞̦̻͇͓̠̺̳̣̦̫̩̝̙̦̠̲̳͇͖̳͙̙̲̫͍̤͔͕͉̞̼͇͉̝͙̰̥̭̩̙͉̹̱̲͓̱̠̞̣̻̯̘̼̜̣̯̬̗͇͈͚͚̼̻̱̦͉͉̦̳̰̙̜̮̮̮̯̺̬̲͔̝̱͍̫̼̣̎̊̓̅͂̐͛̾̓͛̓̊̀́̊̀̉̋̿̓͛͋̄́̓̐͂͒̈́̋̓̒̓͆̃͑̌̃̿̾̓̄͐͐̈̀̈̔̐̆͗͗̀̔́̎̓̊̄̈̎͂͋͆̍̍́̃̎̉̊̾̎̀̈́̑̈́̊̉̄̿̆̽̈́̋̀̍͊͂͊͐̎͛̂̂̈́̈́͆̽̊̽̓̌̇̀̆͛͑̾͊̌̅͒͂͒̌́̆͌͛̇́̒́̄̀̆̄̔̊́̉͋͑̓̅̈́̅̐́̐͆̐͌̃͐̃͑̐͐́͗͊̉̒͋̀̌̐̓̆́̈̍̃̎̀͆͌̎̋̏̄͂̄̅̊̄͋̋͑͂͑̐͂̋͒̈͛̀̌̎̏̎͌̐̿̔̓̀̏̿̒́͑͋̔͌̂̅͐̈͋̐̑̄̐̋̀̔̓̑̄̓̔̐͐͆̇͆͗̋̌͆̂͌̐̀͐͐͆̀͒̈́͛̀̏́̽̄̽̽̄̑́͆̾͌͋̀͛̂̏̑̽̌͆̒̅̎͛̉̾͆͊̃̆͐͂͒̍̐̄̽̈́̊́̈̆̏̈́̏̋͊͗́̀͒̀̾̂̆̓̊͆͂͆̈́͌̾͑̏̎̍̈́́͋̈́̆̐͛͋̋͗̇́̓̀͊͗̊͆̐̋̊̉́̑̌͊̃͋̀͛̏̊͑͗͊̑̎̀͐̎̓͑̉̈̽̑̑͆̈́̀͑̔͋́͛̌̽͋̍̉̃̐͐̅̔̉̉̏͆͐̈́͐̐͑͂̓͗͋̒̽̔̎̂̃͐͊̑́̓̽̎͗̆̽̃͋̄̒̓̾̏̌̍́͂́̇̎̿̑̈́̽̃̀̃̃̐̃̉͊͑̇̎̉̒̋́̏̂̿́͑̌̂̾̈́͆̽͛́̈͊͆͆̇́͆͛́͛͒͒̅́͐̽͂͒͋̂̃̌̽̐̑̌̂̃̎̿̍͑̊́͐̊͊̃͊͊͑͆͆͛̿̈͋̎̈̾͐͐̈́̎̒͛́͋̈́̑̍̎̎͌͊͑̄͑͑̈́̍̓͗͗͑̊̐̈̾̐̒̈̀́͊̓̇̆̃̔̉̓̂̓͂̊̑̂̀͂̋͒̽̔̈́͆̃̍̆͆̑̍͐̀̆̅̌̃̔̓̉̂̎̒͋́̄́̓̽̓̓̈́̽͒͐̈́̌͆̏̑͌͆͊̑͛͑͑̓͗̆̓̃́̍̆̊̋̋̊͐̔̊̀͛͛̓̾̚͘̚͘̕͘̕̕͘͘̕͘͘̕̚̕̕̚͘̕̚̕̚͘͘̕̚̕͘̚̕͘̚̚̚̚̚̕̚͘̕͘͘̚̚̚̚̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͠͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͠͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͠͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅ.. Ä̷̶̶̴̸̴̵̶̴̶̵̵̸̴̸̴̸̵̢̨̧̨̢̡̡̡̡̨̨̧̧̡̢̡̛̛̛̛̳̩̪̦͉̜̭̫̼̝̠̹̥̣̟̝̠̤̥͕̜̝̞̼͓̻͎̬̬̝̲͙̹̺̙̘̟͙͇͙͓̦͚̱̲̟̠̝̯̤̬͈͔̥̳̭͇͖̩͔̝͍͉͕͓̪̺͓͔̳̬͚̭̤̙̩̱̱̙͚̞͙̠͉̞̳̰̬͖͍̬͈͈̝̣̜̟̻̭̦͉͓̬͇͔̫͓͖̳͚̣̠̥̠̳̺̩̞̝̼̳̘̠̥̰̣̯͖͈̟̹͙̺̳̲̺̼̼̹̫̝̭̰̹͈̳̦̦̩̙̪̫̼͖̼̖̫̹͇̫̟͎͓̯̪̱̱͉̤̩̯̭̼̩͍͇̱̤̱̙̻͇̣̠̰̬́͛̑͗͒̅͂́̈́̈̈́́̓́̑̋̓͛̏͒̔͐̃̔̀̊̈́̅́̈́̑͂͂̋̈́́̏͗́̑͌̎͆̾͊̈́̇̀͋́́̔̍̽̆́̿̈̀̀̋͑̉͒̿͂̎̔̈́̑̃̌̊̀̑̍͑̃͊̃͛̆̑̉̇̎̉̀̏̔̒̆̆̑̋̃̌̏̀̈̐̊̽̓̃̎̉́́̇̿̈́͐̐̊̊͗̽̆̔͌͂͒̉͋́̾͊̈́̃̓̈́͛̀͒͛̈́̀̈́̊̋̈́̃̈́̀̈́͗̄͆͂͂͛̃͌̽̀̔̅̌̏͑͆́̂̄͛͂́̔̾̐̀͐̃͛̿́͗̋̍̓̊̍͑̓̃̐̔̅̌̒̎̂̾̉́͂̓́́̈̋̍̎͛̃̈̕̕̚̕̕͘̚̚̚͘͘̕͘͘̚̚͘͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͠͠͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅh̴̢̡̛̛̬̖͖̜̙̹̭̭̗̮̠͇͓̖͙̼̬̻̠̗̬̥̱͉͇͚̿̔̇̊̋̆̈́̓̆̅͒̈͊̀̏͐̐̇̒͌̾̃͑̀̒̿͝͝ͅ ̷̴̴̸̷̶̶̶̷̴̵̧̧̡̡̨̧̡̧̧̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̛̦̰̰̞͍̱̥͇̞͇͙̞̯̖̜̭̤͉͚̩͕̪̭̹͖͙̤̫̩̫̟͕̼̘̲̦͔͍̰̳̝̠̦͇̳͔̼̘̭͔̩͍̫̯̞̝͇̳͔͔̥̮͕̘͔̰̟͈̦̹̘͖̗̝͉̮̻̲̻͉̺̟̤͉̞͓̳̯̥̮͓͔̖̱̜̦͖͔͙̫̬̮̓́̓́͒̅͒͐̾̃̎̆̆͆̊͗̎̇̾̑͑̈́̋̉̆̀̀́́͑͒̀̒͊́́̾̀̄̄̈́̄͛̏̊̓̈́̂̂̔̔̀̈́͊͊̑̾̈́̿͂͋͒̔̾͑̓̈́́̈́̒̃̆̈́̇̿́́̄̆́̐̓̈́̓̂̔̿̓̽̾̓̊̍̔̉̆̈́̐̅̉̏́̉̊̀̍̊̓̓̀̀͋͛́͗̅̀͑̔͊̈́̍̀͂̉̀̓́̂͆̿̍̈̏͌̑̈͌͗̊̈́̌̊̂̄̔̈́̑́̂͌̅́̀̑̆̓̚̕̕̕̚̚̕̕͘̚͘͘̚̕̕̚̚̚͘̕͘͠͝͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͝ț̴̦̳̬͋́̓̌͠h̵̢͖̮̻̎͒̈̒́́̈͐́̈́̒̈́̓̅͑͆̌̽̋̀̀͆́̉̀͑͠͝͠a̴̧̢̧̱̙͕̠̩͇͔̲̺͖̩̬͈͙̳̭̖̝͖̥͔͙͗͊̋̾͌͊̍̎̾̿̍́͛̏͗̉́̀̿̇̉͝͝͝͠t̷̯̯̯̜̖̔̅̀͠ 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̷̡̧̛̛̞̟̻̙͚̞̩̻̦̤̺͖̖̪̭̠̙͓̟̽̉͆͐̌̓̅͋̎͒̐̀̂̓͛̊̚͜ͅt̵̫̗̝͙̥̭͎̰́̽̋̿̕h̷͓̻̟͓̞̼̠͐͂͛̾̽̈́̾̕͝͝i̵̵̷̶̸̴̴̶̸̸̸̵̴̵̸̷̴̵̴̸̵̴̶̷̶̸̸̶̵̢̡̨̢̡̧̢̢̨̢̧̡̢̧̧̨̨̡̡̡̢̧̨̢̡̧̧̡̧̨̧̧̨̨̡̧̧̧̢̡̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛͖̣̖̰͉̣̘̩͎͔̯̪̪̲̮͕̣̝̻̦͚̣̤̝̱̼͎̹̥̜͚̗̰̳̥̥̝͎̺̞̳̱͍̯̼̮͕̺̦͈̠̺͉͉͈̜͖̼͉̬̞̮̺͖̝̙̖͖̼̹̠̫̰̮̠͙͈͈͕̫͈͓̰͇̪͖̳̳̱̰̙̭͇̜̦̻̺̮͍͙͍̘̼̮̗̻͓̭̬͔͖̜̣̦̘̲͖͇̪̪̭̤͉̦̼̠͉̻̠͚̥̜̣̱̣͖͓͚̳͚̜̗͚̺͉̪͈͎̣̠͇̙̗̗̱͖̙̗̙̹̦̥͇̭̭͚͕̺̲̘̜͕͚͓̞͚̙̤̞̹̭͕͎͉͚̟̺͇̳̹͓̭̥̙̟̻͖̜̫̥͉̯̘͔͇̗͓̺͔̯̭͖̻̹̗͉̥͙̲̮̣̺̬̲͚̙͖̝͉̰͚̞͕̖̻̲͚̼͉̗̻̗̩̫͎̙͕͕̰̟̟̖͔͇͚͔͔̹̳͚̗͈̟̥̳͙͉̹̗̭͔̖̣͍̱̙̗̠͇̪̯͙̖̦̜̫̪̺̠͍̪̮͔͔̫̤̥̯̻͕̞̼̩̰̱̗͖͓̪͔̖̬͖͍̜̲̙̳̩͓̻̖̬̰̠̭̭̣̤͎̤̼̼̠͙͇̻̝͍͙̫͍̫̻͓̣̲̦̟̠̠͉̣̙̹͇̠̪͓̗̤̘̜̥̘̮̝̹̼̝͙̱̤̲̥̜̗̳̰͔̪̙͉͍̙̲̤͕̱̰̗͓̝͉̩̫̦̫̭̗̫̳̟̬̙͔̜͓̥̙̖̣͖̹̙̗̖̟̗͉̦̻̰̞̬̮̤̮͈͎͚͉͔̐̂̆͆̎͂͋̃̏̓͑͛́̔̎̅͛̂͒̈́̿̅̿̿̿̒͐̃͆̇̾͆̆͑͆̆̃̾̍͒̋̿̾̇̈́́͑͊̆͂̐͆̈́̈̒̐̿̂̀̽͐̅͛͂̉̊͑͆̏̽͗͊̐̌̑̅͗̇̑̈̾͋̎̑̑̌̉͊͑͋̎̓̅̊͌̃̽̓̇́̄̒͋͂̋͛͌̾̈͊̄͂̎̄̃̂̓͊̂̆͂̾̋̇̀̈̋͋̑͂́̒͐̑͒͒̀̍̽͂̊̄̑̈͋̎͛́́̒̿̆̂͐̈́́͐̔͊̋́̎͋̒̑̐̌͗̌͗̉̓̓̇̔̀͌̌̀͐̓̔̋̾̋̆͊̈́͗́͌̅͑̆͂̉͒́́̊̋̈́̇̈̑͒̒͋͒͛̉̒̀̏̽̈́́̒̌͌̔̋͗͗́̃͗̏͋͊̋̊̐̄͑̀͊͑͑̂͛̈́̔̿̋͌͗͐̍̉̿̈́̆͆͛͆̒̏̌̌̒̍̌̄͐̉̏͗̉͆́̄̓͐͆̅̊͂̓́̓̌̒́̾̓̿̽̀̊̓̈́͐̎̍̍̂̾́͆̌̋͗̐͗͑̿̽̓͗͐̈͌͋̑̄̉̈́͑̌̓̀̄̾̿͂͂́͛̑̽͗͊͂̄̚͘̚̚͘̕̕̕̚͘̕̕͘̕̕̚̕̕̚̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͠͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͠͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅn̶̡̡̡̻̣͇͍͈͎͈̯͚̱̫̤͇͚̘͓͎̬͍̲̞̼̰̭̾̿ģ̸̟̺̹̪̥͕͎̥͍͍̻͕͂̈̋̇̃̈̊̒̆̊͂͑́̅̃̿̎̊̔̑̃͘̚͜͠ ̸̢̡̨̟̼͉̫̑̒͂̀̓̋̾̕i̸̧̗͖̘̙͓̳̥̅͆̋̌̍̚͠ͅs̵̶̵̢̨̟̼̪̲̘̟̲̹̠̬̣̯̗͖̥̦̬̖̖̞̰̽̇́̍̈́̐̓͗̏̈́̽̿͒̎͆̋́̈́̃͛͘͜͠ͅ ̴̶̴̷̷̸̸̸̸̷̵̴̶̵̴̶̸̶̸̶̵̸̴̵̶̵̶̷̵̸̷̴̢̨̢̡̡̡̡̧̨̨̢̨̨̨̢̡̨̨̧̧̧̨̢̧̡̢̡̧̡̢̨̢̨̨̡̧̢̧̧̡̡̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̞̞̘̣̹̩͓̯̥̲̪̰͕̰̻̘̱̘̭͖͓̻̳̘̦̦͓͚͈̭͖̺̯̲̩̹̖̗̞͇͓̪̖̦͙̬̥̲̙͈̩̟̖̦͕͎̦̟̜̺͖̣̬̥̱̖̮̳̝͔̞̩̯̮̗̻̥̻͕̣͍̣̖̯̗̭̥̫̘̠̳̠͚͈̮̦̹̲͓̤̠͙̯̮̭̥͙̦̭̝̱̭̮̱̲̰̱̝̤̤̺̹͕͎̫̻̳̟̱̜̞̲̱͉͎̻̭̻̘̜̮͇͎̪̹̪̰̙̲̪͍͎͕̹̝͎̬̜̙̭̯͈̘̳̝̙̱̼̟̦͖̤͍̟̩̫͚̯̳̠̭̺̬̻̖̟̙̼̭͔͉̜̯̥̜̣̖̘̺̼͚̥̺̲̫͍̭̗̻͔̟̟͚̝͓̞͎̗̖̞͚͚͖͔͉̘̺̯̦̭̖͙͕͈͈̥̯͓̖̠̪͈̦̦̥̺͓̦̩̜͚͔̺̯̫̦̯͎̫̞͍̦͚͓̤̮̼̣͖͕͍̻̦̱͉̲͈̺̠̥̙̲͚̟̠͍̤̜̩͙̙̣̺̗͔̤̫̗̜̹͕̥̯̝̜͓̬̥̤̪̳̭͚̬̙͓͚̮̰̜̘̬͇̟̥͉̻͈̖̖̤̹̗̲̘͍̖̬̙͈̫̹̫̦͎̙̼̜͖͙̮̝͇̞̪̞̺̦͈̺̠̗͈̖̖͖̪̱̤̤̤̳͚̘̗̜̲͎̰̩͕̹̦̯̠͚͎͉̞̰̰͚͍͎̘̭̮͎̦̦͚͉͎̜̙̘̟͖̮̯̙̹͉̼̹̝͓̜̝͇̼̳̰̜͙̹̪͎̹͈͉̘͉̲͎̳̜̰͍͎̬̟̮͇̯̰̹͍̗̩̩͍̰̹̫̠̤̺͕̘͓̬̬̮̦̖̠͍̖̺̫̪̫͕̝͐̆̈́̃̈̇̂́̔͂͆̋͋͑̎̇͒̔̿̏̊̈͌̒̑̈́̍̾͒̓͆̀̂͒̈̔́̈́͆̇́̿̈́̍̍͒̋̿͆̒̆͋̃̍̅̍̿͑͑̂͗̀̈̇̅͋͋̈́̓̓͊̍̔͐͐͒͛́͗́́̑̊̈̿͛͛́͗̓̋̌̎͒͑͐́̇̽̐̅̑̌̂̃͐̊͒̀̓͌̇͗̆̃̿͑͗̐̃̐̓̒̀͐͑̌̎̊̉͂͗̈̌̇̑̈́͑̋̈̎́̈́͆̓̍͒̒̈́̉̏̇̃̅̆̇͋̇̒̏͌̈́͗̿̆͋̽̓̽͒͛̌͗͑̀̈̃̽̊̈́̉̈́͐̆̀̇̃̃̌̌̎̔͐͊̏̄̆̓͆̾̔̑̌͛̅͋̈́̃̆̋̇̊̿̋̊̿̽̓̃̇́͛̋̇̆̅̾̈́̈́̂̋̀̃̀̈́̅͐̈́͆̂̃͆͆̒̔͊́̎͗̍̿̇́̓͒̽̏́̆̍̃̅̄͛͑̋̔͒͑͋̐̀́̈́̋̾̈́̿̋̍̇̈̈́͐̇́̏̊́̈́̊́̍̀̇̓̊̀̇̊͛͊̿͊̆̀̀̉̊͋̌́̅̍͗̃̓͗̍͋̂̓̒̏͌̊́̂̏̈͋̉͗͌̃̈̎̅͆̿͑̈̇̌̏́͑̉̉̾͗̽̋̑̈́̕͘̚̚͘̕̕̕̚̚̕͘̚̕̕̕͘͘̚̕̕̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͠͠͠͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅs̴̡̢̨̨͔͎̞͇̞͙͉̖̼͔̜̯̈͐̽̋̒̇͊̂͐̾̄̿͜͝ͅţ̶̡̧̙̞̱͚̱̳͓̗̝̰͕͉̫̮̘̟̺̞̪͉͕̹̯̬͂͒̋̈̆̅́̈́ͅͅį̶̵̴̨͓͙̼̦̤̻̪̻̜̻̖͇͍͉̳̭̬̩͚̱͛͛̒̿̄̃͐͗͂͆̾̔͆̌͗̄̾̐̓̀͘̚͘l̴̢̩̤͍̞̮̻͚̤̼͎̘̙̖̣̞͚̹̯̑͋́̆͑̈́͋̎̑̂̎̔̓̎̔̆̓̈́̓̄̽͛̅͛͠͠l̴̨̜͙̩͇̪̪̺͓͈͓̲̺̞͚͇͍̲̟̳̤̤̘̋̇͛̓̓̅̃́͐͗̉̄͋̽́͗̄̋͠͝͝͠ ̵̷̷̸̷̵̵̶̶̵̴̴̸̷̸̸̷̷̴̴̶̴̶̶̶̴̸̡̡̡̨̧̧̧̨̡̡̢̨̨̧̢̧̧̨̡̧̨̢̢̨̢̡̧̧̢̡̨̡̧̨̨̨̨̡̧̧̧̨̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̣̭̱͕͉̗͍͉͓̖̼̥̩̳̗̥͈̗̻̰̖͕̼̬̹̻̻̬̗͙̞̭̜̳̘̜͚͔̬̦̞̗̼͇̮̖̜̝͈͉͚̪͎̹͔̤͎̟̭̬̫̫̭̖̺̭͉͓͈̰̩̦̱̤͔̜̟̜͍̳̱͓̭͉̗̲͍͕̻̖͚͓̖̝̰̹͚̪̠̠͚̤͍͚̰̠̘̩͇̲̰̝̗̹̻̞̩̯̜̱̭̩̬̘͚͇̜͚͚͙̭̰̺͔̩͍͕̪̣͎̠̙̝̲̺̙̱͈̝͚̭̞͈̹͓̟̥̰̻͈̰͙͎̤͈̲̬͍̗̼̯̲̤̟̻̼̺̜̖̹̭͎̜̩͍̘͔͙̟̫͓̰͚͕̮̩̯̥̟̰͉̙̫̭͇̮̥̫̦̦̹̘̲͚͎̗̹̙̪̙̝͈͎̦̺̣̜͓̮̬̖̱̜͚̗̜̙̬͖̬̱͓̗̮̮̺̮̝̳̲͔̜̹̤̼̞͈̤̲̩̜̙̪̲̜̯͍̩̬̫̘̹͚̲͍̜̳͚̞͓̩̟̞̪̖̙̯̫̹̲̪͉͉̤͍̞̼̭͎̼͖̮̰͍̣̺̝̠̘̲͕̩̖̻͕̖͈̙͚̪͕̤̳͓͖͕̰̣͔̜̖̘͓̘̞̹͇̹̺̼̲̳̭̻̫̺͕̯̥̠̥̦͎̙̩͓̼͕̝̹̝̬͈̙̫̗̱̲̱̭̮̯̥̰̯̭̼̟͉̫͖͓͔̭͉̦̖̻̳̣̹̦͓̹̩̞̱͕͔̠͎̝̭̇͋̒̽͑̀͊̉̆̆̃̏̃̄̏̍͑̉̎̓̍̌̃́̎̈͛̀̆́̆̄̅̾͑̍͐͊́̿̄͗͊̒́̈̄̐̓̀̑͊̽̂͒̎̓̒̌̓̈͒͋͛̒̑̓͗̿̄̈̔̿̃̇̃̐͐̀̋͑̊̈́̃͂̎̃̐̀̽̋̈́̿̒͆͒̈́̀̒̃̎͛̉̽̀̓̌͒̿̂͂̄̒̅́͛͐̃̀̄̔͐͆̀̌͗͆̉͊͊̽́̒̅͌͌̈̃̿̄́̆̿̃̂̆̊͋̅̃̄͒͂͑̌͗̑͌̓̈́̄́́̑̂͒̉̈̈́̓̐̓̿̈́̅͐̄̐͐͛̒̋̆̀̓́̄̈́͒̈̌̆̽͂͊̉̐̋̏͂̆̏̊̀̇̀̽̊͊͌̐̾͒̓͌̾͂̌́̽̑͆͒̍̔̓̆́͐̓̐̏̀̈́̊͋̀́̌̽̋͂̓̓̒̈̃̓̋̓͆͂̃̃̑͐̈́̎͗̊͂̍͐̅͊̂̀̉̈̉̉́̇͛̾̈́̉͂͋̃̐̈́̀͌͐̈́̅̋͗̅̓́͒̓͑̀͒̈́̌̄͌̽̃͐̌̇͊͆̀͌͂̋̌͊̊͂̐̈́̊͆̃̑͋̊̓̅̄̀̅̎̆̂̉̽̾̊̃̿̎̂͋͘̕̚͘̕̕͘͘̕̚̕͘͘̕͘͘̚̚̕̕̕̚̕̚̚̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅơ̴̧̧̪̥̺̞̼̣̪͖̪̬͓͕̤̏̂̎̎̍̄̓̐͆̑̐̌̿̓̆̉̽̐͐̌͘̚͝͝͝͝͝n̸̛̛͎͖̗͉̼̒̔̀̓̄̔̾͑̅͌̔̂̈́̏̔͐͐̃̇͊̈́͝....She pushed off the desk, stepping toward the door. "Hold onto that cross, Kurosaki. It might be the only thing that gets you through tomorrow."Ichigo's gaze followed her, his grip tightening on the pendant as his thoughts churned. "You keep acting like you know how this is going to play out," he said, his tone almost challenging.Kyra paused at the door, glancing back at him with a faint smirk. "I don't. Not really. But I've seen enough to know the ones who make it? They're the ones who stop fighting what they're carrying and start using it. You might not get it now, but you will." Her expression flickered then, shifting into something exaggeratedly sinister, like a villain from a cheap action movie. She even raised her eyebrows for dramatic effect."And if you don't..." she added, her voice dropping to a mockingly ominous tone, "well, let's just say you wouldn't be the first crash-and-burn I've seen. No pressure."With a smug wave, she turned and slipped out, the door clicking shut behind her.Ichigo stared at the door for a moment, his jaw tightening. The quiet settled in the room, broken only by the sound of his frustrated growl as he snatched a pillow from the bed and hurled it at the door with surprising force.It hit with a dull thump, sliding to the floor with an unimpressive plop. Ichigo crossed his arms and glared at the spot where she'd stood moments before, muttering under his breath, "She'd get along way too well with Urahara..."The thought sent a shudder through him. A Kyra-Urahara alliance? That wasn't just nightmare fuel—it was the kind of apocalyptic disaster that could end worlds. Somewhere, far away, the blonde shopkeeper himself paused mid-sip of his drink, a visible shiver running down his spine. His companion, a man with golden bangs and a black goatee, raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Urahara muttered, "Why do I feel like someone just cursed me?"Back in the room, Ichigo let the ridiculous thought pass, his amber eyes drifting down to the cross in his hand. The metal gleamed faintly in the dim light, catching his gaze in a way that felt heavier than before. He turned it over slowly in his fingers, Kyra's words echoing in his mind."Hope and despair... the good and the bad..." He muttered, the weight of the words settling into his chest. A small, self-deprecating chuckle escaped him. "Sounds like my life in a nutshell."......Outside the door, Kyra leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her sharp eyes fixed on nothing in particular. She'd caught the faint sound of his chuckle, his words just barely audible through the door. Her lips quirked into a grin—not the sharp, mocking one she usually wore, but something smaller. More satisfied.At least he's listening. It wasn't much, but it was something. A step, however small, toward what she needed him to be. Toward bringing him to her side.But the grin didn't last. It faded as quickly as it came, her expression hardening as she pushed off the wall, her steps heavy as she walked away."Tomorrow," she muttered under her breath, her voice low and edged with something almost... uncertain. "I really hope I don't know how... Sigh..."Her words hung in the empty hallway as she disappeared into the shadows, leaving nothing but silence behind....To be continued...Join my shitty discord - https://discord.gg/7SwQYNR9z3