"Big brother, you're here again? Shiro's watermelons aren't going to run away, you know!"
A month had passed.
Sombravida had settled into life in West Rukongai's First District—Junrinan.
In that time, he had only moved between two places:
Momo's house.
And Tōshirō's melon field.
It wasn't laziness.
It was calculation.
The melon field accumulated Reishi more densely than residential areas. Crops cultivated in spiritually rich soil naturally attracted ambient spirit particles. Sitting beneath the trees, Sombravida could absorb far more efficiently than at home.
So he came every day.
Under the excuse of "watching the field."
"I like it here," Sombravida replied mildly, sitting beneath the shade.
He now wore a woven cloth band over his eyes.
The eye covering had become necessary two weeks ago.
Momo, unaware he could see, had changed clothes in the room one afternoon. Sombravida had immediately closed his eyes—but his breathing had betrayed him.
The eye band solved two problems:
It prevented suspicion.
And it strengthened his commitment to blindness training.
Over the past month, his Reiryoku had grown steadily. More importantly, his spiritual perception had begun to develop.
Not yet refined like a captain's.
But enough to map the entire melon field clearly in his mind.
Unlike Hollows, who sense through predatory instinct, Shinigami perception relies on controlled Reiryoku diffusion.
Sombravida practiced daily.
One day, he would face Kyōka Suigetsu again.
And this time—
He would not rely on sight.
"Big brother," Momo said, hands on her hips, "you already built that irrigation system. Why are you still here every day?"
Sombravida smiled faintly.
Three days of work had produced a simple bamboo gravity system. Water flowed from an elevated reservoir through hollowed segments, dispersing across the rows.
Crude.
But effective.
Even Tōshirō's grandmother could operate it.
"The earth smells nice," Sombravida answered.
It wasn't entirely a lie.
Reishi-rich soil did carry a different scent.
Momo huffed—but she was smiling.
"Oh! Right!" she said suddenly. "I found out about the Shin'ō Academy entrance schedule like you asked!"
Sombravida tilted his head.
"Tell me."
"Exams are held in September. Three months from now. The next class is the 2066th."
Sombravida's breathing stilled.
Class 2066.
Hinamori Momo.
Kira Izuru.
Abarai Renji.
Kuchiki Rukia.
Approximately fifty-five years before Kurosaki Ichigo's era.
The timeline was confirmed.
He had time.
"Nii-san…" Momo's tone shifted.
"I want to apply."
Sombravida didn't hesitate.
"You should."
Her Reiryoku was steady.
Well within Academy standards.
"I don't want to stay in Rukongai forever," she admitted softly. "I want to protect people. And… Shiro has Grandma."
Her spiritual pressure flickered with determination.
Sombravida sensed it clearly.
"You'll pass," he said calmly.
She brightened instantly.
"But what about you?" she asked.
"If my Reiryoku reaches the required level, I'll apply too."
In truth—
He already qualified.
The entrance exam measured spiritual pressure output, control, and basic endurance.
Sombravida's compressed Reiryoku, though appearing modest, was extremely dense.
Hollow combat had refined his spiritual compression beyond normal standards.
He simply needed to avoid attracting attention.
"I heard Academy students receive proper meals," Momo added excitedly. "And uniforms!"
Sombravida chuckled.
"Yes. Better training too."
Structured cultivation.
Kidō fundamentals.
Zanjutsu.
Hohō.
Hakuda.
All things he would need to counter Aizen.
"Momo," Sombravida asked carefully, "what's outside the district?"
She hesitated.
"There are streams. Wild fruits. Sometimes game."
"And?"
"Sometimes… Hollows."
That explained it.
The Gotei 13 did not constantly patrol outer Rukongai.
Low-level Hollows slipping through maintained the cycle—and provided field training for Academy students.
Danger regulated growth.
"Then it's better not to go," Sombravida said calmly.
She looked disappointed.
"I wanted to gather more food… so we can build our Reiryoku faster."
Sombravida almost smiled.
His Reiryoku density already surpassed hers by several times.
But he couldn't reveal that.
"Three months is enough," he reassured her.
She nodded reluctantly.
"I'm going fishing with Shiro tomorrow at the stream. You're coming, right?"
"I'll stay."
He could not risk unnecessary exposure.
A blind man navigating wilderness too competently would raise suspicion.
"Alright…" she said softly.
Night fell.
Momo slept early, excited for tomorrow.
Sombravida remained awake.
He shaped rice into simple balls for their outing.
The motion felt strangely human.
In Hueco Mundo—
There had been no cooking.
Only survival.
He paused.
Thought of Nel.
Would she have liked this quiet life?
Melon fields.
Moonlit yards.
Simple meals.
Yes.
She would have.
Sombravida's hand stilled.
His life now diverged sharply from the path of a Hollow King.
In the future—
He would stand as a Shinigami.
Against Hollows.
Against Aizen.
Against fate itself.
Would he become enemy to those he once led?
He exhaled slowly.
"Sigh…"
He placed the final rice ball in the box.
Blew out the candle.
Stepped into the yard.
Above him—
The moon hung pale in the sky.
Not the crescent of Hueco Mundo.
But still familiar.
He stood there quietly.
Between past and future.
Between Hollow and Shinigami.
Between two worlds.
And for the first time since rebirth—
He allowed himself to simply breathe.
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