Valley of Screams
The landscape was overwhelmingly rugged—an expanse of towering canyons and jagged mountains stretching into the distance. The sheer rock faces were embedded with Shoji-style structures, their white tassel ornaments swaying faintly in the stagnant air, blending seamlessly into the stone as if they had always belonged there.
At the very heart of the valley stood an imposing wooden pillar. At its peak, Senna was bound, held rigid within a wheel-like structure crafted from deep red fabric. The tightly wound material constricted her movements, ensuring that she remained utterly restrained.
Suspended around her in a slow, eerie orbit were several violet spheres—some large, others small. They drifted aimlessly yet purposefully, circling the space where Senna was held captive.
Gradually, consciousness seeped back into Senna's weary body. Her eyelids fluttered as she attempted to focus, her vision hazy and sluggish. The valley was vast, hollow, and unsettlingly quiet—until she noticed movement below. Ganryū, accompanied by two of his loyal followers, approached with unhurried strides. They halted at a distance, gazing up at her with unreadable expressions.
"Where… am I?" Senna muttered, narrowing her eyes as she surveyed her surroundings, a dull ache coursing through her limbs. She inhaled sharply before turning her attention to the figures below. "What do you want from me? Didn't you need me to do something?" Her voice carried defiance, already bracing herself to reject whatever demand Ganryū was preparing to make.
Yet the man did not react with frustration. Instead, he maintained a composed demeanor, his tone unsettlingly serene. "Not necessarily," he replied. "We simply need to use you—to turn our dreams into reality."
"What the hell do you mean?!" Senna shouted.
"Watch your tone!" one of Ganryū's followers snapped. "Ganryū-sama is a noble and virtuous man that will reign over the Soul Society!"
"Calm yourself, Riyan." Ganryū's voice was steady, his gaze unwavering. "Formalities are no longer necessary." He turned his full attention to Senna, his expression unreadable. "A thousand years ago, we were cast out—separated from the Soul Society by unjust laws. Forced into exile, we wandered the Dangai, constantly evading the Kōryū and the Kōtotsu—forces that consume everything they touch." His eyes momentarily flickered toward his companions before settling back on Senna. "Despite the odds, we survived. Trapped in that void, we learned to harness souls—those torn from the cycle of reincarnation—as a source of power." His voice dipped, filled with conviction. "And now, we have an infinite number of them at our disposal."
Raising his right hand slightly, Ganryū snapped his fingers. In response, nearly invisible auras began to materialize, drifting in from all corners of the valley. The spectral currents swirled toward Senna, flowing like gusts of wind, bending to Ganryū's command.
"These souls, ripped from the reincarnation cycle, the Blanks, gather in a singular point and create an entirely new dimension. This is the Valley of Screams," Ganryū explained, watching the multiplying auras spiral around Senna's bound form. "In other words, this space, the very place we stand, is composed of countless Blanks." A thin smile tugged at his lips. "And simultaneously, the fragmented memories of these lost souls merge into one being and return to the living world. This is the Shinenju…" His eyes gleamed with certainty. "In other words, you."
**
Soul Society, Seireitei – 1st Squad Barracks | Captains Assembly Hall
"But the Blanks do not simply wander aimlessly," Mayuri began, his voice dripping with clinical detachment as he moved a few steps forward, positioning himself to Yamamoto's right. "Despite being empty shells, for a significant period after their formation, Blanks are compelled to seek out the remnants of their lost memories."
Arrayed in a disciplined line to Yamamoto's right stood the captains Soi Fon, Retsu Unohana, Byakuya Kuchiki, Shunsui Kyōraku, and Tōshirō Hitsugaya. Each of them silent, absorbing every word. To Yamamoto's left, Sajin Komamura, Kenpachi Zaraki, and Jūshirō Ukitake stood equally firm.
Mayuri raised a hand, snapping his fingers, and in response, a holographic projection crackled into existence above the polished wooden floor—an intricate, flickering replica of the Valley of Screams, complete with its harsh, craggy mountains. The light from the hologram threw eerie reflections across the captains' faces.
"The real danger lies here," Mayuri continued, pointing toward the center of the projection, where a glowing dot represented the Shinenju's location. "Once the Shinenju is placed at the heart of the Valley, the Blanks, drawn by their instinctive search for memories, will begin to converge. They will press against each other, causing their numbers to multiply exponentially."
The hologram shifted, the mountainous terrain beginning to erode and collapse, as if invisible winds were tearing it apart grain by grain. The visual morphed into a wild, spiraling vortex—sand, rock, and light swirling together into a violent maelstrom.
"The energy released will become volatile... dangerously unstable. It will generate a pull strong enough to bridge the World of the Living and the Soul Society... forcibly dragging them toward each other until both realms collide."
Mayuri stepped back, allowing the final image to play out: the spiraling vortex tightening, tightening—until it exploded into a massive pillar of blinding light, engulfing everything. The hologram faded out in a crackle of static, leaving a cold silence.
"What?!" Ukitake gasped, his usual calm momentarily shattered by the magnitude of the catastrophe that had just been demonstrated.
Kyōraku tilted his hat forward to shadow his eyes. "Well... that certainly sounds dangerous." he muttered, his tone light.
Mayuri gave a small, cruel smile, sensing the rising dread in the room. "And unfortunately, this chain reaction has already begun."
A growl of frustration came from Zaraki Kenpachi. "Enough with all the fancy words. Just tell what's gonna happen."
Mayuri shrugged with unsettling casualness. "Nothing certain... except that the collision of two worlds would almost certainly destroy one... if not both."
"How much time?" Ukitake pressed urgently, stepping forward.
Mayuri tapped his chin theatrically. "We don't have enough data to give a definite answer. However, based on current projections, I would estimate... one hour. Perhaps less."
A grim murmur rippled through the captains.
Soi Fon took a decisive step forward, her face set like steel. "I will mobilize my forces immediately and prepare an incursion into the Valley."
But Mayuri shook his head. "A futile effort. There is no Senkaimon in Soul Society linked to the Valley of Screams. No portal exists to grant us entry." His voice lowered. "Even if you deploy now... you would find nothing. Not even a speck of dust would remain."
A heavy, almost suffocating silence had settled over the Assembly Hall, each captain weighed down by the staggering implications of the imminent catastrophe. The flickering holographic projection had faded, but the dire images it had conjured still lingered in everyone's minds. Tension thickened the air like storm clouds about to burst, until finally, captain-commander Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto stirred, his voice cutting through the silence.
"This is a top-level emergency," he declared, his voice a low rumble of authority. Despite the urgency of his words, his stern expression remained unchanged. "Prepare the Kidō Cannon immediately. We must sever the Valley from Soul Society by striking at the adhesion point."
There was a sharp intake of breath from captain Jūshirō Ukitake, who immediately stepped forward, concern etched across his normally composed features. "But if we fire, we could cause irreversible damage to both worlds!" he protested.
Yamamoto's steady gaze fell on him, unblinking, unwavering. "We have no other choice," the commander replied in the same deep, even tone, as if the devastation of two realms were a mere unfortunate necessity.
The captains, though clearly troubled, knew better than to argue further. Yet before any further action could be taken, a sudden commotion erupted outside the great hall. Shouts echoed faintly through the thick wooden doors, guards barking orders and struggling against something—or someone. It quickly became clear their efforts were in vain.
With a heavy groan, the massive doors to the Assembly Hall began to creak open. Two struggling Shinigami guards flanked a small figure who forced her way inside. Rukia Kuchiki shoved the doors apart with surprising strength, her face set in a mask of desperation.
The captains turned in mild shock as she stumbled into the hall, the guards trying in vain to restrain her.
"What is the meaning of this?" Yamamoto demanded, his voice stern and unyielding. "This is a captains' meeting. Stand down at once!"
But Rukia, her heart pounding against her ribs like a war drum, shook free from the guards' grasps. Without hesitation, she dashed to the center of the chamber and dropped to her knees, bowing low.
"My deepest apologies!" she cried out, her voice raw with urgency. "I will accept any disciplinary action without question! But first—please, I must share critical information with you all!"
She paused only long enough to draw in a shaky breath before continuing, her words tumbling out in a torrent.
"Substitute Shinigami, Yato Yasakani, has located a passage to the Valley of Screams in the World of the Living! And Substitute Shinigami, Ichigo Kurosaki, has already gone to meet him!" she shouted, her voice ringing across the hall. "Both of them have entered the Valley in an attempt to rescue the Shinenju, Senna!"
After delivering her message, Rukia remained kneeling, her forehead almost touching the ground, her hands clenched into fists against the polished floor.
"Please...!" she pleaded, her voice cracking with emotion. "I beg you—send reinforcements to aid Yato Yasakani and Ichigo Kurosaki!"
"That's... but..." Ukitake faltered, uncertain.
Without delay, Yamamoto delivered his judgment, his voice as unshakable as a hammer striking stone. "I cannot fulfill that request."
Rukia froze, her breath catching in her throat as she lifted her head to stare at him, disbelief shining in her wide, stricken eyes. "Why not, sir?!"
"I do not speak out of disrespect for the power of our substitute Shinigami," Yamamoto continued, his tone impassive. "But we have only an hour, perhaps less. We possess no concrete evidence that we could successfully mobilize the Gotei 13, enter the Valley, defeat the enemy, and retrieve the Shinenju in that time. To act rashly would risk sacrificing even more lives... and failing altogether."
His words were heavy, final. No captain dared to contradict him.
"Do not think badly of me," Yamamoto said, and with that, he struck his staff against the floor with a resounding crack—signaling the end of the meeting.
The captains began to file out solemnly, while Rukia remained kneeling in the center of the vast chamber, her head bowed, her heart sinking into despair. She could scarcely believe what she had heard—that they were abandoning Yato and Ichigo, abandoning Senna, leaving everything to fate.
Minutes Later – Sōkyoku Hill
A temporary base had been hastily constructed, centered around the towering form of the Kidō Cannon, a device of immense destructive potential. The cannon stood like a spear pointed at the heavens—a massive pole of blackened steel and sekkiseki stone, crowned with a multifaceted crystalline focus that shimmered ominously. Around its peak, several smaller crystal structures rotated slowly, absorbing ambient spirit energy from the air.
A golden glow pulsed from the core of the device, casting rhythmic flashes across the faces of those stationed nearby. Hundreds of Shinigami from the Kidō Corps moved with rigid coordination in circular formations surrounding the base. Their hands formed complex symbols midair, feeding streams of spiritual energy into the spiraling array of seals etched across the ground. Chants echoed in incantations, channeling raw energy into the cannon's core.
Standing at a raised platform overseeing the operation was Commander Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto, his long white beard fluttering slightly in the breeze. At his side stood his ever-loyal lieutenant Chōjirō Sasakibe, his gaze fixed on the cannon's glow. Behind them, Captains Shunsui Kyōraku and Jūshirō Ukitake stood together, their expressions etched with worry and uncertainty. Kyōraku clutched the brim of his hat as though to steady himself, while Ukitake folded his arms, quietly absorbing the scene.
Far from the formal bustle of the command post, a lone figure watched in silence.
Rukia Kuchiki stood near the edge of a cliff, her eyes locked on the rising golden luminescence of the cannon. Her posture was still, calm even—but beneath that composed exterior was a storm of frustration. Despite her best efforts to respect protocol, she couldn't sit still and wait for the cannon to fire, to destroy the Valley of Screams... and possibly the lives within it.
As that thought settled in her mind, she heard footsteps approaching from behind. The familiar thrum of Renji Abarai's spiritual pressure accompanied them, and though she didn't turn to face him, she knew exactly who it was.
He came to a stop beside her, saying nothing at first. Together, they stood in silence, both watching the cannon's steady pulsing light grow brighter. Rukia assumed he was here to dissuade her—to try and reason with her, perhaps echo Yamamoto's warnings.
So she broke the silence first, her voice quiet but firm. "I'm–"
But before she could say more, Renji cut in with a short laugh. "Me too."
Rukia blinked and turned toward him, surprised.
"I'm going too." Renji met her gaze with a lopsided grin, the kind that barely masked his concern beneath its bravado. "There's no way I'm letting those two knuckleheads hog all the action." He looked back toward the cannon.
Rukia's lips curled into a small, relieved smile, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. Then, smirking, she jabbed at him just enough to get a reaction. "Or maybe you just don't want to give Yato another reason to mock you later."
Renji scoffed, rolling his eyes with a mock growl. "That loudmouth already talks enough without any reason. Give him something real to gloat about and we'll never hear the end of it."
The two shared a quiet chuckle, the air between them momentarily lighter despite the weight of what lay ahead.
**
Valley of Screams
The air was thick, charged with chaotic spiritual energy that twisted and churned like a storm caught between dimensions.
Senna hung suspended in the heart of the valley, her body trapped within a cocoon of swirling Blanks. The mass of Blanks writhed around her like living clay, fusing and layering themselves into a grotesque chrysalis. Tendrils of soul matter snaked outward from the cocoon, rooting into the cracked earth below and rising into the sky above like spiritual vines. The heavens themselves bent under the pressure, clouds spiraled unnaturally, forming a vortex centered above Senna, as if the fabric of the sky was being drawn downward by an unseen hand.
On a rocky ledge overlooking the scene, Ganryū stood with two of his loyal followers, their robes rippling in the distorted winds. Their cold eyes reflected the cocoon's glow as he observed his plan reaching its crescendo. Yet the calm was short-lived.
A sudden crack split the sky.
A brilliant arc of cutting Reiatsu tore through the canopy of roots above Senna, severing several spiritual tendrils in an explosive blast of golden energy. The cocoon quivered, halting its growth as the Blanks scattered in momentary confusion.
Ganryū's expression faltered. He stepped back instinctively, narrowing his gaze toward the source of the attack. Then he smirked. "More rats."
A voice echoed across the cliffs.
"Senna!!!"
From afar, Ichigo Kurosaki stood defiantly, his black Shihakushō fluttering in the wind and Zangetsu held low at his side, still glowing from the slash. His expression was fierce, unwavering. "We're coming to get you!"
With that, Ichigo leapt into the air, hurtling toward the cocoon like a streak of black lightning.
Before he could reach her, Ganryū appeared in a blur, materializing directly in Ichigo's path with a blade of pure spiritual energy formed in his hand. But just as the clash seemed inevitable, a second figure shot forward from above like a missile.
Yato Yasakani collided with Ganryū midair, his Zanpakutō surging with a vivid, searing green aura. The impact of the clash detonated in a shockwave that echoed across the canyon walls. Despite Ganryū's swift defense, the sheer force of Yato's charge drove him downward, slamming both into the ground far below with an earth-shattering crash. A massive fissure split the rocky terrain, and a thick column of smoke billowed upward.
High above, Ichigo caught himself midair, staring down with widened eyes. 'That was… way more aggressive than usual…' But he shoved the thought aside, refocusing on Senna.
Before he could resume his advance, a tide of Blanks surged up from the valley floor, surrounding him in all directions. Their blank, distorted forms moved in eerie unison, obstructing his path.
On the fractured battlefield below, inside the cloud of dust and debris, the sounds of steel clashing rang out. Yato and Ganryū, locked in a deadly clash of blades. Sparks erupted as each swing clashed with the other, neither fighter giving an inch.
In a rare moment of pause, their blades locked, grinding against one another as their eyes met.
Ganryū's lips curled into a cruel grin.
"So… the substitute Shinigami returns. Hoping for redemption after your last humiliating failure?"
Yato's response was wordless. His grip tightened, and his Zanpakutō flared with a deeper, more intense green. Then—suddenly—the energy ignited with crimson flames, fire and spirit pressure intertwining.
A pulse of blinding energy erupted from the clash, followed by a deafening boom that hurled Ganryū back several meters, forcing him to retreat to a higher ledge.
From this vantage, Ganryū scanned the chaos below. Ichigo, still pinned down by waves of Blanks. Yato, unwavering, his eyes locked on the enemy. With a flourish of his hand, Ganryū issued a cold, deliberate command.
"Jai. Riyan. Benin. Mue. Bau."
The named followers appeared in an instant, surrounding Ichigo and Yato in a tight circle alongside the advancing Blanks.
Ganryū's voice darkened, more solemn than before.
"She has awakened… The Shinenju is complete. But because of your interference—" he gestured toward the writhing cocoon "—she will now come to understand the full depth of human agony. Pain. Fear. Despair."
"Shut up!!" Ichigo growled, his teeth gritted, watching helplessly as the Blanks closed in.
From within the cocoon, Senna cried out, tears glistening in her eyes. "Yato!! Ichigo!!"
Her voice trembled with fear and hope. Roots began to climb her legs again, the Blanks molding into hardened tendrils that reached for her arms, her face. "No!!"
Ichigo's fury exploded. "You bastards!!!" He raised his sword high, the blade glowing with searing power.
Beside him, Yato mirrored the motion, his face grim and resolute. Their energies began to merge—gold and green with flickers of red—raging around them.
"GET OUT OF MY WAY!!"
Ichigo roared and both substitute Shinigami unleashed a cataclysmic burst of Reiatsu. The ground shook as an enormous wave of spiritual force surged outward in all directions, ripping through the Blanks, toppling Ganryū's minions, and tearing great scars into the landscape.
**
World of the Living – Karakura Town | Midnight on the Bridge Over the Valley's Edge
Beneath the silver glow of the moon, the quiet hush of night in Karakura Town was broken only by the soft ripple of water below the old bridge that overlooked a narrow ravine. In that stillness, the bridge had become an unlikely meeting point for the friends and allies of the two substitute Shinigami.
A pale green portal shimmered just beneath the water's surface, casting an eerie spiritual glow across the underside of the bridge and illuminating the worried faces of those assembled.
Sado stood silent with arms crossed, his gaze unmoving from the glowing surface. Beside him, Tatsuki gripped the railing with white knuckles, tension visible in her shoulders. Orihime, her expression soft with concern, stood just behind them. At the rear, Urahara leaned casually on his cane with Tessai, Jinta, and Ururu gathered around him, watching the portal in silence.
"Wouldn't it be better if we followed Kurosaki-kun and Yasakani-kun?" Orihime asked, her voice filled with worry and a faint desperation.
Urahara tilted his striped hat downward slightly, replying with a calm that masked the weight of the situation. "You can't. Just like with Soul Society, the Valley of Screams is a spiritual dimension. Ordinary humans—even spiritually aware ones—wouldn't survive the transition.
Tatsuki's fingers curled tighter around the metal railing, frustration burning behind her eyes. Despite her growing spiritual strength, she still lacked control over her power. She couldn't help but feel powerless while her friends risked their lives in a world she couldn't even reach.
Suddenly, the air behind them split with a low, sonorous hum. A Senkaimon flashed open, flooding the bridge with a surge of spiritual light. From within, two familiar figures of Rukia Kuchiki and Renji Abarai emerged.
"Kuchiki-san!" Orihime called out, relief and anxiety in her voice.
Tatsuki, less enthusiastic, muttered, "Great… pineapple-head's here too."
Renji rolled his eyes but said nothing, clearly choosing to ignore her jabs given the weight of the moment.
Urahara stepped forward with a faint smile, though his eyes remained serious. "Well? Any good news from the Gotei 13?"
Rukia shook her head slowly as she and Renji approached the group. "Not exactly. The situation has escalated. The Soul Society has approved activation of the great Kidō Cannon. They intend to fire it directly into the Valley… and destroy it."
Tatsuki and Orihime both turned to Rukia in shock.
"But… if they do that," Orihime stammered, "Kurosaki-kun and Yasakani-kun—"
"They'll be caught in the blast," Rukia finished, her voice quiet.
Tatsuki's fury ignited. "Do they even know that Yato and Ichigo are in there?!" she demanded. Her spiritual energy flared instinctively, golden light flickering in her eyes. Her pupils narrowed into slits and raw power pulsed in the air around her. "How can those idiots think of doing something so reckless?!"
She stepped forward, ready to confront Rukia directly despite knowing she wasn't the enemy—but Orihime gently placed a hand on her shoulder. Tatsuki trembled, her rage only barely restrained.
"We're not going to let it come to that," Renji said firmly, stepping up beside Rukia. "We're going in. We'll finish this before they have a chance to fire that cannon."
"We'll find a way," Rukia added, her voice calm and determined. But even she knew how little time they had.
A new voice interrupted, smooth and cold.
"You won't stand a chance if you go alone."
Rukia turned, her brows lifting in surprise. She knew that voice.
Perched casually against the steel beams beneath the bridge, arms crossed and expression unreadable, stood Captain Tōshirō Hitsugaya. His white haori rustled in the wind, his gaze fixed on the glowing water below.
"Captain Hitsugaya!"
He didn't look at them. "We've already begun assembling a squad. If we're going to stop this… we'll have to work together. Quickly."
As if to underscore his point, several blurs of movement zipped past them, Shinigami in full stride, moving with practiced speed, diving directly into the green-lit portal one after another like streaks of light.
A moment later, Lieutenant Rangiku Matsumoto appeared at Hitsugaya's side. She leaned casually against his shoulder and flashed the group a confident thumbs-up. "Count me in too!" she said with a sly grin.
"Enough chatter," Hitsugaya muttered, shoving her lightly off. "We're out of time."
Without another word, he stepped forward and dove into the portal, disappearing beneath the water. Matsumoto followed right behind him.
Renji and Rukia exchanged a look and nodded. "Yes, sir." They turned to make their way toward the edge.
"Kuchiki-san!" Orihime called out once more. "Please… take care of Kurosaki-kun and Yasakani-kun!"
"I will." Rukia replied gently, her expression softening for a moment. And then, without hesitation, she and Renji leapt into the water, vanishing into the glowing abyss.
As silence returned to the bridge, Tatsuki turned away, her expression dark and distant.
A final figure landed behind them with a sharp thud, her voice cutting through the night like a blade.
"What a pitiful look you wear." Captain Soi Fon didn't even turn as she directed her biting words toward Tatsuki. "You disgust me."
Tatsuki clenched her fists, but didn't respond immediately. There was something odd in the way Soi Fon had said it—not cruel, but cold encouragement cloaked in scorn.
She exhaled sharply, arms folding over her chest.
Soi Fon gave a faint, knowing glance from the corner of her eye. Satisfied, she leapt into the portal without another word.
Only the sound of rippling water remained.
Tatsuki drew in a long, steady breath, her eyes lowering once again to the softly rippling surface of the water below the bridge, where the green portal to the Valley of Screams shimmered with a dim, haunting glow. The energy it gave off sent faint ripples of spiritual pressure through the night air, and though the scene was quiet, her heart pounded with a storm of emotion—fear, frustration, and helplessness.
"They'll pull through," Sado's voice came beside her—deep, calm, and reassuring.
Tatsuki turned to him slowly. His expression hadn't changed—stoic as ever, unreadable even in the strange jade light of the portal—but there was a steadiness in his gaze that struck her. She realized then that Chad wasn't speaking out of blind optimism, nor out of comfort from the reinforcements that had just entered the portal. He simply believed unshakably in Ichigo and Yato.
She let out a shaky exhale, her eyes drifting toward Orihime.
The orange-haired girl was smiling gently—soft and warm like always—but Tatsuki could see the slight tremble in her hands, the flicker of doubt in her eyes. Orihime was trying to be brave, to reflect the same quiet confidence Chad carried, but the worry hadn't left her—not entirely.
Tatsuki looked back down. Part of her wanted to jump in after them, to throw herself into the chaos and make a difference. But she couldn't. Not here. Not now. That helplessness twisted inside her like a vice.
Suddenly, a ripple of pressure brushed across her senses—distant but familiar.
Hollows.
Her jaw tightened. Great. Just what they needed. Her fists clenched reflexively, her spirit energy spiking. She didn't want to leave this spot. She wanted to stay right here and wait for Yato and Ichigo to come back safely. But at the same time… she really wanted to hit something.
Almost as if reading her thoughts, Urahara let out a quiet, knowing chuckle. He snapped open his paper fan with a dramatic flourish, its gentle fluttering breaking the tension.
"You've all had quite a full day already," he said, his usual nonchalance undercut with something deeper. "Let's stay put for now. This is where we wait. Kurosaki-san and Yasakani-san… they'll return."
His eyes flicked toward the green light beneath the bridge, his smile faint but unwavering. There was a strange kind of certainty in him too, as if he'd already calculated every outcome.
"And the Hollows?" Tatsuki asked, still tense, her voice edged with barely contained frustration.
Urahara gave a wink, hiding half his face behind the fan.
"No need to worry about them," he said playfully. "I've already arranged for someone to take care of them."
**
Far from the bridge, cloaked in the shadows of a broken rooftop overlooking the street, a small black cat sat motionless. Its sharp golden eyes glowed faintly under the moonlight, observing the disturbance quietly but intently.
It was Yoruichi Shihōin—in her feline form—tail flicking with interest as she watched a group of seven Hollows that had slithered into the outskirts of Karakura Town, likely drawn by the dense spiritual pressure leaking from the open portal to the Valley of Screams.
Then, in a sudden burst of speed one of the Hollows let out a guttural screech before its mask was cleanly split in two by a gleaming blade.
Yoruichi's lips curled slightly into a feline grin.
'I didn't expect to see him again after all these years…'
The man who had struck was already repositioning himself with cautious grace. Fujimaru Kudō, clad in a standard shihakushō, his stance wide and fluid. His dirty blonde hair was messy and his eyes scanned the area, not eager to be caught off guard by another Hollow.
"Seriously?! I had my bags packed, ticket printed, and snacks bought, and then Urahara drags me into this?" came a loud, frustrated voice.
Ririn, the mod-soul, zipped through the air beside a Hollow, her hands glowing faintly as she deployed small-scale illusions. A series of afterimages swirled around the beast, confusing it long enough for Fujimaru to deliver a second strike.
"You should be grateful," said Kurōdo, adjusting his hat with the flair of an exhausted performer. "This might be our last job. A final bow before we leave the stage."
He grinned dramatically, striking a heroic pose as if the night sky were a spotlight made just for him.
Nearby, Noba crouched silently atop a lamppost, his hood casting a deep shadow over his masked face. With calculated precision, he created miniature warp portals that redirected lunging Hollows away from a group of souls. He gave a short nod in agreement with Kurōdo's sentiment but, as always, said nothing.
The three mod-souls had been created to detect and handle the Bount threat—a threat long since extinguished. Now, their purpose resolved, all they wanted was a chance at a normal life, far away from spiritual warfare and the ever-escalating dangers in Karakura Town. They weren't warriors like Ichigo or Urahara's more elite allies, and they knew it. Fighting wasn't their future—it had only ever been a temporary assignment.
Fujimaru glanced toward them briefly, his blade resting loosely in his hand, and let out a breathless laugh. He scratched the back of his head, ruffling his already untamed hair.
'So… Captain Urahara's still at it, huh? Still creating these little misfits…' he mused. 'Guess some things didn't change.' He paused. 'Right… he's not even a captain anymore… I really need to update my mental checklist.'
Then, from a nearby rooftop, there was a rustle—then a sharp yelp followed by a heavy thud.
"Gah—!"
Shiyo, a young soul with brown hair and yellow kimono, had been trying to get a better view of the fight. She had hidden herself behind a ventilation unit, wide-eyed with awe as she watched the mod-souls and the shinigami work together. But in her excitement, she had leaned a little too far…
…and promptly slipped, tumbling over a vent and landing flat on her back with a groan.
"Oops…" she muttered sheepishly, cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.
Her fall hadn't gone unnoticed.
One of the remaining Hollows twisted its head in her direction, its mask cracking into a sickening grin. A low, guttural growl escaped its throat as it began to advance, its claws dragging sparks across the rooftop.
"Oh no…" Shiyo's eyes widened, panic setting in.
Fujimaru turned sharply the moment he sensed the shift in the Hollow's intent. His eyes widened as he spotted the creature barreling toward the helpless girl.
"Damn it—!" he muttered, immediately using Shunpo, vanishing in a flash of movement across the rooftop. But even as the wind roared past him, he could feel it—he wasn't going to make it in time. Not at this speed. 'Faster… I need to move faster!'
Gritting his teeth, Fujimaru drew a long breath and redirected his focus. He tightened his grip on the zanpakutō.
<< Flash, Ryūjōmaru! >> • 竜条丸, Dragon Brander •
In a blinding flare of blue light, his zanpakutō transformed.
Now on his right arm rested a radiant blue gauntlet that extended from fingertips to elbow, lined with intricate golden engravings like flowing waves of flame. Two gleaming blades curved out from the wrist—parallel like twin fangs—and the main edge extended from the knuckles, resembling the sharpened curve of a katana blade.
The moment the release completed, Fujimaru's speed surged. With a burst of movement and a booming crack of displaced air, he accelerated like a streak of lightning. Within seconds, he caught up to the Hollow just as it raised a claw above Shiyo.
His gauntlet blade flashed once.
In a single, graceful arc, he cleaved through the Hollow's mask, bisecting it cleanly. The creature howled in agony, then burst into shimmering particles, dissolving into the night.
Shiyo flinched as the remains of the creature vanished in a swirling wind, and then blinked up at her savior. With a grin, she raised both thumbs in the air.
"Nice save!" she said brightly.
Fujimaru couldn't help but laugh, lowering his gauntlet with a small sigh of relief. "Thanks," he replied. "Lucky for both of us that it was just a regular Hollow."
But even as he smiled, his thoughts drifted elsewhere. 'If it had been a Menos Grande… I'm not sure I'd have made it.'
His thoughts darkened slightly as he recalled the incredible power Yato had demonstrated—slaying a Menos with a single strike. It was humbling. And sobering.
Fujimaru stood in silence for a few moments. He still hadn't come to terms with the truth—he had been ripped from his own time and hurled decades into the future. The world he knew was gone. Worse still, he'd learned that Konoka-sama had died on the very day he vanished.
It was a bitter wound, one that hadn't stopped aching.
In an attempt to keep himself grounded, he had volunteered to help Urahara handle the new wave of Hollow activity. It was partly for duty… and partly for distraction. Fighting kept his mind focused, his hands busy—anything to avoid dwelling too long on what had been lost.
But even amidst the action, another thought clung stubbornly to his mind.
'If Konoka-sama didn't make it… maybe Matsuri did. Or Seigen-sama.'
That hope—fragile and flickering—was all he had left.
Fujimaru looked up to the stars scattered across the night sky, the breeze ruffling his hair.
"I hope you're both still out there," he whispered. "And I hope… you're safe."