Chapter 33: Akira Returns
Narrator POV
Akira walked calmly down the sidewalk, enjoying the contrast the human world offered. He let out a long sigh as the cool air brushed against his face. It was a different sensation—lighter, cleaner. Unlike Hueco Mundo, this place wasn't saturated with spiritual energy or filled with hostility.
He stopped for a moment when he noticed a brightly lit clothing store nearby. Warm lights spilled across the glass, and he caught sight of his reflection in the window. His clothes were worn, stained with dust and traces of battles fought in the hollow world.
"I think I could use a change of clothes…" he muttered, eyeing the sorry state of his outfit. Then, discreetly sniffing the collar of his shirt, he added with a resigned grin, "And maybe a shower too."
Without hurry, he entered the store. He wasn't looking for anything fancy—just something simple with a touch of style. He liked to look good; it was a personal habit he'd kept even after all his transformations. He chose a few outfits that fit his figure, preferring dark tones with hints of blue, true to his aesthetic.
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A few hours later...
Akira returned to the streets, now dressed in fresh clothes and looking noticeably more relaxed. After a quick shower at his home, he finally felt clean for the first time in days. He stepped out under the faint glow of the streetlights with no particular destination in mind.
He wasn't patrolling, nor hunting. He just wanted to clear his head—to walk, feel the night breeze, and enjoy, even for a moment, the simple sensation of being alive… like a normal person.
He closed his eyes for a second, letting the quiet of the night wash over him, savoring the peace he had missed so much. The contrast with Hueco Mundo was overwhelming. Here, shadows didn't lurk behind every step.
But that peace, as usual in his life, didn't last long. He stopped abruptly when he saw something up ahead on the street. His brows knit slightly—a reflex more than a reaction. Something was off.
(Oh, crap… so they finally came for Rukia.) he thought, watching the scene unfold just a few meters ahead.
Two shinigami stood before Rukia. The tension in the air was palpable, even from a distance. Akira narrowed his eyes, silently assessing the situation without moving yet.
The first shinigami had brown eyes and long crimson hair tied into a high ponytail. His chest, partly exposed, bore tribal tattoos that stretched up to his forehead. Akira recognized him immediately: Renji Abarai, lieutenant of the Sixth Division.
But the second man… he was the one who truly caught Akira's attention.
Tall and slender, with a noble bearing and calm expression. Pale skin, long black hair, and white hairpieces arranged with meticulous precision—a sign of status. Akira knew what those ornaments meant: they were symbols of nobility. Three on the top of his head, two on the right side. He wore the traditional shihakushō, paired with a short-sleeved white haori: a captain.
Byakuya Kuchiki.
The captain's presence confirmed his suspicions. The Soul Society had come to take Rukia back.
Akira remained in the shadows, observing silently. He could intervene… but why? He knew Rukia's return was inevitable. Stepping in now would only expose him unnecessarily. Besides, in Uryu's case, the Soul Society hadn't yet acted with full force…
(Maybe… a little peek won't hurt.) he thought, beginning to walk toward them at a casual pace, as if he were just taking a nighttime stroll.
He didn't plan to act—just observe. See how things unfolded. And maybe… get something useful out of it.
"Hey, Rukia! What are you doing out here alone? And what's with that cut?" he called casually, raising a hand in greeting, as if completely oblivious to the heavy tension surrounding them.
"Eh…?" Rukia turned sharply, startled by Akira's sudden appearance.
Her expression shifted from confusion to unease as she realized he was completely ignoring the two shinigami in front of her. Akira approached at an unhurried pace, stopping right beside her. Despite the seriousness of the moment, his face held that same calm serenity that defined him.
"You okay? You look a little nervous…" he said softly, leaning closer to her.
With a gentle gesture, he lifted a hand and wiped the blood from Rukia's cheek with the sleeve of his long coat. His eyes stayed fixed on her, though he was clearly aware of the two shinigami nearby.
"A-Akira…" Rukia stammered, visibly nervous. A faint blush colored her cheeks—both from his closeness and the unexpectedly tender gesture. "I-I'm fine, really… But you should leave, please," she added, lowering her voice and looking at him with pleading eyes. She didn't want him caught up in her situation.
Akira held her gaze for a moment.
"Hmm… I don't know," he replied with a small, teasing smile. "Wouldn't feel right leaving a friend alone… especially when she's hurt."
Ignoring her growing anxiety, he added with a carefree tone, "How about I stick around instead? You know, just in case."
"Hey, human," Renji interrupted, visibly annoyed as he stepped forward. "You should listen to her. This isn't your place. Leave while you can."
"There's no need to speak to him, Renji. He can neither see nor hear us," Byakuya said calmly, his voice composed but commanding.
He was there for one reason—to fulfill orders. He had no interest in wasting time on explanations. But just as he prepared to move forward, a voice interrupted him.
"Who says I can't see you? What, you guys think you're ghosts or something?" Akira replied with an easygoing tone, straightening up and dusting off his clothes.
His gaze rested calmly on both shinigami. Renji tensed, his frown deepening in disbelief.
"You can see us…?" he muttered, clearly surprised. Then, his shock shifted into a confident smirk. "Well, we didn't expect to run into a human who can perceive us. Doesn't matter though—you should still step aside. This doesn't concern you… unless you want it to." He placed a hand on his zanpakutō's hilt, hoping the gesture would be enough to discourage any foolish ideas.
Akira didn't answer right away. Instead, he began humming softly, watching Renji with a calm, almost amused look. With his sharp perception, he analyzed his energy, stance, and movements… unimpressed.
To be honest, he had always thought Renji was all bark and no bite—arrogance without substance. Zabimaru didn't strike him as particularly intimidating, nor its abilities worth taking seriously. To Akira, Renji wasn't even a warm-up.
In fact, Bleach itself had a habit of humiliating Renji constantly, rarely letting him win without resorting to his Bankai. Without it, Akira didn't even consider him worth the effort.
"Unfortunately for you, I'm not planning to leave," Akira said at last, his voice light and amused. "I'm not about to leave Rukia with some guy who looks like he just escaped from an Aztec tribe, and the other… well, he looks like a spoiled noble kid."
The mockery was deliberate, sharp, and precise. Akira knew exactly what he was doing—and who he was provoking. Stirring up trouble always made things more fun before a fight.
"What did you just say, brat?!" Renji roared, fury twisting his features. Byakuya, beside him, remained composed—untouched by the insults. The words barely grazed his pride. "You're lucky I don't beat that smug look off your face—"
"The real question is…" Akira interrupted quietly, voice steady as stone, "could you actually follow through?"
"Akira, stop this! Please, just leave…" Rukia pleaded, her tone trembling with genuine worry. She knew exactly what would happen if the situation escalated.
But Akira lifted a hand, halting her.
"Shhhh… relax. You'll give me anxiety," he joked playfully, patting her gently on the head as if she were a child.
Given the height difference, it almost fit. His nonchalant attitude clashed completely with the tension hanging in the air. With a smile that bordered on arrogance, he turned his attention back to Renji, who was now gritting his teeth.
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End of the Chapter.