"What… just happened…?"
Rukia's heart jumped.
Flung aside, relieved Orihime hadn't done anything rash—then Ichigo stepped forward and said what he said, and Rukia's feelings tangled beyond words.
Renji was about to lose—but it wasn't over.
Her brother hadn't moved yet.
Once he did—even if that blond brat—even if Kurosaki Ichigo had grown to the point that a lieutenant couldn't match him in a handful of months—he would still be no match.
So when Ichigo and Renji squared up again—
Rukia looked to Byakuya.
If he were going to act, it would be now.
She guessed right.
And then something she couldn't parse happened.
Not just Rukia—even Byakuya watched the youth at his side.
"What trick is that?"
He'd appeared without any sign.
No sound until he was there.
He might have been distracted by Ichigo and Renji—but this wasn't Shunpo or footwork.
It felt more like spatial transfer.
But an Academy kid—no matter how gifted—shouldn't have access to a high-order, forbidden technique.
Only Ichigo, Yayahara, and Rindō could hazard a guess: Shinomiya had used his "special ability," Invisible Scale, to stalk and catch Byakuya off-guard.
"It's not much of a trick," Shinomiya said without a hint of pride, eyes steady on Byakuya.
The clash of pressures had already faded, but the air still trembled around them—proof the contest hadn't ended.
His forearm was corded, trembling slightly.
—And so was Byakuya's.
Veins stood on the hand under his sleeve; the roof tiles at his feet cracked in a ragged ring.
No matter how he strained, the blade wouldn't clear the scabbard.
Even a centimeter was too much to ask.
The sheer, physical disparity unsettled him.
"True… this alone won't stop me from drawing."
"So your wrist strength is worth praise."
"But if I wish, there are any number of ways to break raw force."
"If that's your crutch, you're naïve. Let go now, and I may spare the boy."
Few had noticed:
Shinomiya rarely smiled.
So when he bared his teeth now, it felt… unsettling.
"Perfect timing. I'd love to see Kurosaki eat dirt. So I won't let go."
Silence squeezed the air.
Rukia swallowed. Sweat crawled down her cheek; when she opened her mouth to shout, the drop fell from her chin.
Pat…
Byakuya vanished.
Footfalls too quiet for most Soul Reapers—movements too fast to follow—ran along the axis of time.
Faster than wind; faster than sound.
Faster than thought.
Rukia and Orihime aside—even Yayahara, Rindō, and Renji were effectively paused.
When they caught up,
things had changed.
"?!"
"!"
"W—!"
Reactions varied—but "hairs standing on end" covered them all.
Especially Renji, only steps away.
Even this close, he was no better off than the rest.
He didn't understand.
He could only stare at Ichigo's Zanpakutō resting on Byakuya's shoulder.
Byakuya still held the drawing posture.
Still—
Shinomiya had his wrist in a vice.
No—this time, the blade had moved—halfway out.
"That stance… were you going to use Senka?"
He hadn't seen the motion—but Renji knew his Captain.
A Shunpo variant with a spinning, cutting beat—slipping behind a foe to pierce and destroy the saketsu and hakusui.
Byakuya's signature.
He'd never heard of it failing.
He'd never imagined himself defending against it. At best, he might barely track the second thrust.
And yet—Byakuya hadn't even managed to use it.
No—that wasn't right. Even if he had, it wouldn't have worked.
Because Renji hadn't seen Ichigo's turn-and-cut at all.
Which meant—
Ichigo could keep up.
Not only that—at the last split-second, he'd stopped—
And hadn't followed through to open Byakuya's throat.
Rukia's scalp prickled. She wondered if the living world and Soul Society were still on the same timeline. How else could two boys she'd soul-buried months ago become this?
You could wave away raw strength as potential.
But this Shunpo—this swordwork—wasn't something you learned in months.
At this rate, they'd make Captain before she made Lieutenant.
"Yo. You walk up for me to cut you?"
Ichigo sounded exactly like Rukia feared—utterly confident. He didn't put "Captain"—no, he didn't put "Captain of Squad Six" in his eyes at all.
"…It seems I underestimated you."
Byakuya let his eyelids fall, hiding the shock.
Two brats.
One who could react to Senka.
One who could match his Shunpo.
The latter was the greater offense to reason.
An Academy student with Shunpo of this caliber—standing with a man who'd honed his flash-steps against the Flash Goddess from childhood?
"A month ago, I might not have. But I've tasted faster, stranger swordplay and got beaten bloody. If I didn't grow from that, I'd be ashamed. Even without Shinomiya, you wouldn't have tagged me… So it's not that you underestimated us—it's that you overestimated yourself."
Ichigo didn't sugarcoat it.
"Be nice, Kurosaki. As they say—flowers may bloom again; youth doesn't."
Shinomiya spoke lazily while he, uninvited, guided Byakuya's blade home.
Click.
The sound of steel seating made everyone jolt.
It went in—smoothly.
Because this time, Byakuya didn't fight it.
"In my book, Captain Kuchiki hasn't lost his youth. He could've burst out with pressure and broken free—yet he chose to test my grip—and my… Shunpo. I appreciate that."
"Disciplining Academy students—especially ones who've just gone through a heavy fight and spent over half their power—doesn't require that much," Byakuya said, tone hard.
"Not just that," Shinomiya let go. "You never treated us as enemies. You and Lieutenant Abarai are Soul Society's advance rescue team for us."
"So your spiritual pressures aren't restricted."
"In that case, if you go all-out—and kill the people you came to save—you'll have a hard time writing that report."
Byakuya didn't answer—which was answer enough.
"…What?"
Ichigo stared. "W—wait. They're… here to rescue us?"
"Why else come to the living world, idiot."
Behind them, Renji wiped the blood from his nose and snorted. "I thought you were here to arrest— And who're you calling idiot, you orange-haired ape! Say that again and I'll put you down, different method this time!"
"Damn it—"
Bluster aside, Renji couldn't refute him through the tremble in his limbs.
"Advance team or not…"
Byakuya's voice cut in, cold eyes on Rukia.
"When we meet a criminal, we don't look away."
"Acting against another squad's troops without a formal writ isn't regulation. That's Onmitsukidō's privilege," Shinomiya said mildly, rubbing his sore wrist.
"…"
"This…"
Byakuya fell quiet. Renji's eyes lit—then dimmed with worry.
The writ was a matter of time.
Everyone knew it.
"Brother, I'll go back with you. In exchange, spare Inoue. She's a half-baked substitute. Left alone, a Hollow will spot her eventually—and she'll die."
Rukia stepped forward.
She was faking the coldness—painfully obvious.
"Kuchiki-san!"
Orihime's eyes shone with tears.
"Inoue, don't. I'm the criminal. You're not even an accomplice—you're a victim."
Hard words. But when she looked at Byakuya, her tone softened into a plea.
"So for turning myself in, please grant me this."
"Hey—!"
Ichigo started—then saw Shinomiya shake his head. The rest stuck in his throat.
"Captain," Renji said, tense.
If Rukia went quietly, confessed, the Central 46 might show mercy.
She was a Kuchiki, after all.
If he could see that, so could Byakuya.
But instead of promising anything, Byakuya glanced at the blade on his shoulder.
"Boy. How long do you intend to rest your sword there?"
"Ah? Uh—sorry. Forgot…"
Ichigo lifted it off and slung it back.
"Open the Senkaimon, Renji."
Byakuya turned—answer enough.
"Oh—oh!"
Relief flashed across Renji's face—until he looked at his ruined Zanpakutō. He glared murder at Ichigo, then sprinted to Byakuya, slotted the broken sword into the air, and activated the gate they'd pre-calibrated.
"Rukia. Come."
"…Yes."
Rukia let out a breath, looked at Orihime with a complicated smile.
"Time to say goodbye. Take care of yourself. Don't push it if you see a Hollow. If you do that… we might meet again."
"Mhm…!"
Tears ran down Orihime's face as she nodded hard.
Worried sick, unwilling to let another dear one go—
but there was nothing to say. This was the best outcome.
As with her brother.
All she could do was let Rukia go in peace.
The gate sealed.
Rukia vanished.
"…Weren't they here to help us? Why bolt on their own?" Ichigo grumbled—maybe to push the sadness down.
"They probably want us to regroup with the others and take the original gate back," Yayahara said, hopping off the pipe. "We should move too."
Shinomiya decided for the four.
"Mm."
Ichigo nodded.
"Are Shinomiya-kun and Kurosaki-kun going back to Soul Society too?"
"Yeah. Can you get home alone?"
"Of course. I'm a Substitute Soul Reaper. Hollow or human, nothing to fear!"
At Orihime's brave little smile, Shinomiya didn't comment.
"Idiot. He didn't mean that… Whatever. If you keep that attitude, you'll be fine. Oh—Inoue, question."
"Eh? What?"
"Do you know Sado Yasutora?"
"Chad? Uh… kind of."
"How's he lately?"
Seeing her so upset, Ichigo couldn't help worrying about his best friend too.
"Chad… He showed up at the start of term, then dropped out not long after."
"What? Dropped out?"
"Mm." Orihime nodded. "Tatsuki says he got mixed up with some weird group—and then vanished."
"…Got it. Thanks. If you can, dig up what you can on him. Tell me next time I'm in the living world."
"That I can do."
She hesitated—then added:
"I have a request too."
"You want us to help Kuchiki Rukia?" Shinomiya said.
Orihime lowered her head, guilty. Ichigo knew he'd hit it.
"Even if you didn't ask, I would. But there's not much we can do. We can't exactly smash a jail and carry her out."
"Ehh?! No need to go that far!"
"Relax. Shinomiya already said it."
Ichigo clapped his shoulder.
"She probably won't die. I trust his read. And she told you—live well, and there'll be another chance."
"Frankly, reunions in Soul Society are easier. Maybe that's what she meant."
"Hey!"
Ichigo saw Orihime almost waver. He ignored Shinomiya's nonsense and invoked Arisawa Tatsuki.
"Inoue—don't listen to him. If you died, Tatsuki would bawl herself unconscious."
"…Right."
The wavering vanished, replaced by a sad smile—and a little warmth.
She wasn't alone.
"All right. Let's go. Shihōin is probably getting impatient. I did promise he could detach us… Ugh. Tricking a fool doesn't feel great."
Ichigo, Yayahara, and Rindō stared at Shinomiya's put-on sighs with open contempt.
Not a trace of shame.
"See you!"
With Orihime waving hard, the four shot into the night.
On a utility pole not far away, a black cat watched her leave, then turned away.
Tonight's farce was truly over.
"But seriously—those brats aren't simple. Especially Shinomiya—good hands, dangerous power. That Shunpo's way better than Byakuya's in his teens… and weirdly familiar. Looks a little like my old style. Creepy."
Couldn't figure it out.
Unclear. Unreadable.
Just like Aizen.
The cat shook her head and padded back toward Urahara Shop.
The farce had ended.
There were still too many questions.
This wasn't her specialty.
-------
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