The room fell into an awkward silence.
The bluntness of Shinichi's "Fuck no" hung in the air like a blade, slicing through the tension.
Urahara sighed, unfazed by the rejection, and tilted his head slightly as he looked at Shinichi again. "I wasn't asking you, Kisaragi-san. I was telling you. You're going to be trained—you don't have a choice."
Shinichi narrowed his eyes at the older man, scrutinizing him with a skeptical gaze. He rubbed his chin, mulling over the idea like a businessman weighing a shady deal.
"Hmm... I could make this work," he muttered.
Then, after a pause, he straightened and looked directly at Urahara. "Fine. I'll let you train me. But I have a few conditions."
Urahara's smile returned, intrigued. "And what are they?"
Shinichi raised one finger.
"One: I want our training to be as private as possible. Somewhere completely isolated. I want to be able to let loose with my reiatsu—no limitations, no one sensing it. Not the Soul Society, not the people here. Not anyone."
Urahara tapped his cane lightly, considering. Then he nodded. "We can make that work."
"Good." Shinichi raised a second finger. "Two: you train Ichigo during the day, and only after midnight does our training begin. Every night. Starting tonight."
Urahara let out an exaggerated sigh. "So you're making me give up sleep, huh."
Shinichi smirked. "Come on, old man. It's just a few days."
Urahara pulled his hat down slightly, hiding the glint in his eye. "Fine. I accept all your conditions."
Shinichi stood up, gave a nod, and returned to his physical body. As he adjusted his jacket, he glanced back at Urahara, gave him a casual wave, and exited the shop without another word.
Urahara watched him go, then murmured, "You're going to be the most troublesome student I've ever had, Kisaragi-san..."
---
Shinichi was walking down the quiet street toward his house. A soft ding broke the silence as a translucent blue screen popped up in front of him.
[So what was the meaning of those conditions?]
Shinichi smirked, hands in his pockets. "This is a world where every step needs to be taken with caution... because there are many eyes on us right now."
The system blinked, confused.
[What do you mean?]
"The first condition was so that I don't pull Aizen's or anyone from the Soul Society's attention toward me. I need the element of surprise. Gotta hit them with that 'surprise motherfucker' type of shit."
[Ohhh...]
"The second condition was to make sure Ichigo's training isn't hampered. He has to stay as powerful as he was in the canon timeline. Remember, he's the centerpiece of all of Bleach. He's our greatest tool, so there should be no compromises in his training."
The system was stunned. It hadn't expected such strategic depth from Shinichi.
[Perhaps you're not as much of an idiot as I thought you were.]
Shinichi frowned. "Is that supposed to be a compliment or a damn insult?"
Just then, as he turned the corner near his street, he spotted two familiar figures: Orihime and Tatsuki, walking together. They waved him over.
Orihime looked slightly downcast as she asked, "Um... Kisaragi-kun, what happened to Rukia-chan? We haven't seen her anywhere."
Tatsuki added, her tone edged with concern, "Yeah... and strangely, everyone else seems to have completely forgotten about her. With all this Shinigami and Hollow nonsense going on, I wouldn't be surprised if it was something supernatural."
Shinichi narrowed his eyes at Tatsuki. Something didn't feel right.
"How do you know about all this, Tatsuki?"
She sighed and crossed her arms. "That guy at the candy shop told us. Me, Orihime, and Chad."
Still processing, Shinichi asked sharply, "Why would he tell you guys?"
Orihime responded gently, "Because, apparently, we awakened some kind of supernatural powers."
Shinichi blinked. "All three of you?"
"Duh," Tatsuki replied. "Obviously. Orihime and Chad awakened theirs because of Ichigo. I awakened mine because of you, idiot."
Shinichi froze, finger raised in disbelief. "I-I gotta go! Bye!"
And he bolted.
As he sprinted toward his house, thoughts swirled in his mind.
Damn it! That's a huge deviation from the original story! Tatsuki was always supposed to be a disposable character! Shit!
He reached his house, yanked the doorknob, and stepped inside, heart still racing from everything he had just learned.
He started pacing in frantic circles, fingers running through his hair like he was one anxious tug away from pulling it all out.
"Shit... shit... SHIT..." he muttered repeatedly, eyes darting around the room as if the furniture might offer him a solution. "Tatsuki wasn't supposed to matter this much! She had one job: be emotionally supportive and disappear into the background! Now she's got powers?! Powers?!"
His internal spiral of stress was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.
Ding-dong.
He paused mid-spiral, blinking.
"Huh... rare for someone to visit my house," he mumbled, cautiously walking to the door, still half-lost in panic.
He opened it slowly.
Standing there was a man in a loud, ugly suit that screamed 'door-to-door hustler' from three blocks away. His smile was unnervingly wide, like it had been stapled on.
"Morning, my man!" the stranger said, finger guns blazing. "I could sense you were in grave stress. And there's only one cure for that, buddy. Drumroll, please!"
He actually paused and mimed a drumroll on his own legs.
"Porn!"
He whipped out a briefcase, opened it with a dramatic flourish, and revealed a suspiciously organized set of vintage Japanese VHS cassettes.
"Authentic! Nostalgic! 500 yen a pop! Each one's a stress-relieving journey to the golden age of... well, you know!"
Shinichi stared at him.
Blink.
Blink.
Then his eye twitched. He took a deep breath.
"THE FUCK KIND OF PERSON DO YOU THINK I AM, HUH?!" he exploded, hands flailing like an enraged puppet. "I'M OUT HERE TRYING TO STAY ALIVE, STRESSED OUT OF MY DAMN MIND, AND YOU WANNA SELL ME PORN?! ARE YOU STUPID?! ARE YOU A DAMN RETARD?!"
The salesman stood there, unbothered, still grinning like this was all part of the pitch.
"I'M NOT THAT KIND OF PERSON, YOU GOT THAT?!"
Silence.
.
.
.
.
"I'll only take two," Shinichi muttered, already fishing coins from his pocket.
The salesman gave him a knowing nod and a thumbs up. "My man."
Shinichi sighed as he grabbed the tapes and closed the door with the weight of a man who just realized his life had spiraled way beyond normalcy.
---
It was evening time in Karakura. The sky had darkened unnaturally early, massive clouds swirling together to form a deep charcoal blanket over the town. Thunder growled in the distance like an angry beast, and the first heavy drops of rain slammed against the pavement like bullets.
Within minutes, the skies opened completely. Torrents of rain poured down with deafening force, wind howling through the streets like a banshee. The roads shimmered under the downpour, water flooding gutters and streaming off rooftops.
Only an idiot would be out in that weather.
Unfortunate for Karakura, that idiot had a name.
Shinichi Kisaragi!
There he was, shirt soaked and clinging to his skin, pants weighed down by water, running like a wild animal through the storm. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and every breath came out in ragged puffs.
But his eyes blazed with determination.
His body glistened, a chaotic blend of sweat and rainwater, muscles tightening with each stride. Lightning cracked overhead as if applauding his idiocy.
If I can make my body stronger... maybe I can handle her power better...
That thought looped through his mind, pushing his legs harder against the resistance of the storm. The streets were empty, the entire town tucked safely indoors, but Shinichi kept running, slicing through puddles like a man on a mission.
Finally, dripping and exhausted, he reached his front door. With a grunt, he pushed it open, water pooling behind him as he stepped inside. He leaned against the doorframe, catching his breath.
"Show physical training quest," he muttered.
The familiar blue screen popped up in front of him, rain still dripping from his chin.
[Physical Training: 71%]
Shinichi sighed, wiping his face. "Almost there..."
But then he froze.
A spike of spiritual pressure rippled through the air—a Hollow.
At first, he didn't care. He was soaked, tired, and in no mood for ghost-hunting.
Then he remembered.
The last time I fought a Hollow... it was ages ago. Maybe it's time to see just how strong I've gotten...
A slow smirk spread across his face. He clenched his fist and said aloud, "Let's try my new Shinigami form."
He turned for the door.
And then stopped.
"...Damn it! I forgot I can't transform on my own! I need a badge or a gikongan!"
Suddenly, a beep echoed in his mind.
[Nope, you don't.]
Shinichi blinked. "Huh? What do you mean I don't?"
Another beep.
[Because I'm here.]
Before he could ask another question, his body was hit with a strange sensation. His vision blurred for a second as a new notification appeared:
[Transforming host into Shinigami.]
In an instant, his physical body slumped onto the couch, and Shinichi found himself standing in his spiritual form, clad in a black Shihakusho, a long, sharp katana sheathed on his back.
He grinned, rolling his shoulders.
"Man... as much as I hate to say it... you're pretty cool."
The system replied without missing a beat.
[Wish I could say the same about you.]
"Oh, fuck you."
---
Rain still pounded the rooftops of Karakura Town as Shinichi sprinted across them, a blur against the night sky. Each step was weightless yet powerful, a testament to his enhanced strength and speed. His black Shihakusho fluttered wildly behind him, his katana bouncing lightly against his back. The storm howled around him, but Shinichi cut through it like a phantom.
The reiatsu of the Hollow grew stronger with every leap, guiding him like a beacon. And finally, he saw it.
A grotesque monstrosity.
The Hollow stood nearly three meters tall, its form twisted and jagged. Its skin looked like cracked obsidian, covered in glowing red fissures that pulsed like veins. Long, sinewy limbs ended in talons as sharp as daggers. Its mask was elongated and curved, like a warped kabuki face, with jagged teeth carved permanently into a grotesque smile. Hollow yellow eyes gleamed behind the slits, and a grotesque tongue slithered out between its mask's teeth, tasting the air.
"You're ugly as hell," Shinichi muttered, cracking his neck. "Let's see what I can do now."
The Hollow screeched and lunged forward, its claws slashing through the air.
But Shinichi didn't flinch.
In a blink, he sidestepped the attack. The Hollow's claws hit only air. Shinichi pivoted and drove a knee into its side, sending it skidding across the wet rooftop, tiles shattering beneath it.
"C'mon now, don't disappoint me this fast."
The Hollow screeched in rage and charged again. This time it tried a zigzag pattern, swiping and feinting, trying to throw Shinichi off.
But Shinichi ducked a slash, flipped over its head, and landed behind it smoothly. He kicked its spine with brutal force, sending the creature hurtling into a chimney, bricks crumbling.
"You call that a strategy? You move like my grandma, and she's dead."
The Hollow roared in defiance and unleashed a wide, sweeping claw.
Shinichi caught the claw with one hand.
"Cute."
He twisted the limb violently, shattering it. The Hollow howled in pain. Without hesitation, Shinichi followed up with a spinning kick to the creature's mask, cracking the surface.
"You're lucky I'm not taking this seriously."
He moved in again, this time darting low. The Hollow tried to retreat, panic finally setting in, but Shinichi was done playing.
With one smooth draw of his katana, a whisper-like sound cut through the rain. In a single, practiced motion, he slashed horizontally through the Hollow's thick neck. The blade met no resistance. The head rolled, severed cleanly.
The body hit the rooftop with a wet thud.
Shinichi walked over calmly, rain dripping from the edge of his blade. He stood above the fallen Hollow's mask. With a quiet exhale, he raised his foot and brought it down.
Crack.
The mask shattered beneath his heel, fragments scattering like broken porcelain.
He sheathed his katana on his back and sighed.
"Well... that was very easy."
The system beeped.
[What did you expect? It was a normal Hollow that you can defeat in a single strike now, probably. Obviously, you've gotten strong.]
Shinichi looked at his hands, flexing his fingers slowly, trying to feel the hum of the power inside him. The storm, somehow, felt quieter now.
He turned back to the Hollow's remains, raising one hand.
"Predation."
Tendrils of dark reiatsu slithered from his palm, snaking through the rain-soaked air toward the dead Hollow. They coiled around his arm, crawling up his flesh in wisps, converging at his chest before sinking into him like breath returning to lungs.
[Strength +6] [Endurance +8] [Speed +5] [Reiatsu has increased]
Shinichi clenched his fist again, satisfied.
"Well... I think I'm getting familiar with this feeling now."
He looked out into the rain, smiled faintly, and said, "Let's go back now."
---
It was finally midnight—the time for Shinichi's secret training with Urahara.
The only problem? Shinichi was fast asleep.
He lay on the floor with a blanket kicked halfway off, drooling slightly, a leg flung over the edge of the makeshift mattress. It was the kind of sleep only people in true emotional and physical exhaustion experienced—deep, impenetrable, and absurdly peaceful. That is, until a wooden cane crashed into his forehead with a loud THWACK!
"OWW—shit!" Shinichi yelled, instantly sitting up—his soul forcibly ejected from his body. He now floated above his own sleeping self, clad in his black shihakusho, sprawled like a ragdoll across the floor.
Urahara stood over him, twirling his cane with that ever-present sly smile, though there was a flicker of mild annoyance in his eyes. "Well, well, well... looks like you're not exactly eager about our training, huh, Kisaragi-san?"
Still rubbing his aching forehead, Shinichi groaned, "Yup. I'm not. But this is something I have to do either way. There's no other option."
Urahara adjusted his hat and nodded, "Yes, you are correct, Kisaragi-san. Now, let's go."
With a resigned sigh, Shinichi followed Urahara out the window and into the cold night. The city lights dimmed behind them as they moved through backstreets, their footsteps soft and purposeful.
After a long silence, Urahara broke it. "There's just one problem, Kisaragi-san."
Shinichi looked at him knowingly, "Let me guess. You couldn't find a location to match my first condition. The one place you have is the training ground where you're training Ichigo and it probably won't work for me. You guessed it would be too risky with my reiatsu, and now you're lost."
Urahara blinked. His smile widened in impressed surprise. "Precisely. Yes."
Shinichi exhaled deeply and said, "I knew you'd find that problem... so I prepared for it in advance. Come with me."
They started walking toward the mountains outside Karakura, where barren, craggy land stretched endlessly beneath the moonlight. As they reached the heart of the clearing, Shinichi whispered under his breath, "You know what to do."
In response, a brilliant blue barrier burst outward, enclosing the entire plateau. It shimmered for a moment before stabilizing, encasing them in a near-invisible dome.
A system notification chimed,
[Just what would you do without me, huh?]
Urahara stared at the phenomenon with wide eyes. "How did you do that?"
Shinichi scratched his cheek nervously, lying smoothly, "Uh... one of the Demon Queen's abilities, I guess."
Urahara waved his fan. "Oh? And what does this barrier do exactly?"
"Anyone outside sees nothing. No noise, no light, no reiatsu. It's a perfect cloaking field. Inside, we can go all out."
Urahara was stunned. Sweat beaded on his temple. This isn't just the Demon Queen's power… or maybe it is… either way, this guy is something else.
Regaining his composure, he smiled. "Okay then, Kisaragi-san. Let's begin your training."
Stretching his arms, Shinichi replied, "So what do I do?"
In response, Urahara unsheathed his Zanpakuto from the hidden sheath in his cane.
"Try and kill me."
'Classic cliché overpowered sensei moment' Shinichi thought. 'Well, obviously I know I can't kill him… but I have to try.'
With a blur, he vanished and reappeared beneath Urahara, launching a vertical slash upward like an uppercut. But Urahara barely moved—he deflected the attack with a single, precise twist of his wrist.
Then he struck.
A heavy blow to Shinichi's ribs—fast as lightning, barely seen. Shinichi flew backward, coughing violently as blood splattered from his mouth. He barely landed on his feet before Urahara was there again, behind him now.
A strike to the base of the neck. Another to the diaphragm. One to the solar plexus. Each hit felt like a small explosion going off in Shinichi's body.
He gasped, the wind completely knocked out of him. The next moment, he was face down in the dirt, his sword skidding away.
"You're not fighting to win," Urahara said, adjusting his hat with calm precision. "You're fighting to survive. That won't be enough."
Shinichi gritted his teeth, spitting blood as he rolled over and yanked his blade from the ground.
"Then stop holding back!" he yelled.
Urahara obliged.
Like a phantom, Urahara blurred out of sight, only to appear directly in front of Shinichi and strike his shoulder with the flat of his blade. Shinichi screamed as the force dislocated his arm.
He swung his sword with his remaining hand, but Urahara dodged it by ducking a hair's breadth. He tapped Shinichi's leg, sending a jolt of pain through his knee.
Shinichi collapsed again.
Then Urahara stepped back and let him breathe.
Shinichi stood, shaking, blood dripping from his nose, mouth, and brow.
"Again," Urahara said simply.
And Shinichi launched forward, eyes burning with fury and purpose.
The night air filled with the sound of blades clashing and grunts of pain.
The wind shifted.
Urahara, steady as ever, chuckled lightly as he adjusted his hat. "You can unleash your demonic reiatsu, Kisaragi-san. Don't hold back. Go all out. Try to kill me if you can."
Shinichi stood there, bent over slightly, chest rising and falling as sweat dripped from his temple to the dust below. Blood stained his lip from Urahara's previous blows, his shihakusho torn across the shoulder and ribs. "Are... Are you sure?" he asked between labored breaths.
Urahara gave a single, calm nod. "Completely."
With that, Shinichi closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, the air trembling around him.
Suddenly, it hit.
A sonic boom of pressure erupted from his body as his reiatsu exploded outward. Crimson and black bands of energy spiraled around him like writhing serpents, tearing small cracks into the ground at his feet. A deep hum echoed across the barrier field, vibrating like a low growl from hell itself. His hair whipped wildly from the force, his eyes snapping open to reveal a faint, eerie glow of scarlet.
The ground quaked beneath his feet as he stepped forward.
Then, like a bullet, he moved.
His speed was doubled, sharper than before. One moment, Urahara stood calmly. The next, Shinichi's blade was already slicing through the air towards his shoulder. Urahara leaned back, the tip barely missing, but his hat was cut clean off and a sharp sting marked his cheek.
A thin cut.
Urahara blinked.
"Well, well," he muttered, running a finger across the blood. "You're learning."
Shinichi didn't respond. He lunged again, driving his knee toward Urahara's midsection, then pivoted for a horizontal slash. Urahara blocked it but was forced to slide back this time. The power difference was slowly narrowing.
Urahara went for a low sweep with his cane-zanpakuto, aiming to destabilize Shinichi's balance. But Shinichi flipped, landing behind him and launching a powerful kick that Urahara narrowly blocked, the shockwave creating a gust through the barrier.
Urahara countered with a flash step and slammed the hilt of his weapon into Shinichi's spine, sending him crashing back through the trees. Splinters scattered, and leaves spun in the air.
"Is that all?" Urahara called out mockingly, adjusting his bloodied robes. His voice was teasing, but his eyes remained alert. "I expected more. From the so-called Demon Queen of Hell? I guess that's why they were able to seal her, huh?"
And then, everything stopped.
The atmosphere changed.
The wind died.
The air turned heavy—suffocating.
Veins across Shinichi's arms and neck turned an unnatural black, throbbing like dark vines across his skin. His sclera turned pitch black, irises glowing red. His pupils slit like a predator's, his breath now irregular and shallow.
But his expression? Gone.
Emotionless.
It was no longer Shinichi standing there. Urahara's eyes widened—not in fear, but in the rare realization that the balance had tilted.
"Kisaragi—"
He didn't finish.
A slash tore through his chest before the syllable even left his tongue. A wave of blood followed, spraying out as he stumbled back, barely catching himself. The pain hadn't even registered before the wound had already begun to burn. Urahara clutched it, gasping.
Shinichi stood with his blade now lowered at his side, his voice a chilling fusion of his own tone and the unmistakable velvet lilt of a woman. It reverberated with an unnatural echo.
"This is just a warning," the voice declared, ice lacing every word. "Next time... I won't be so gentle."
Shinichi—or the Demon Queen who now stood in his place tilted her head slightly.
"I am absolute. Know your place... vermin."
And with that, the presence vanished.
Shinichi collapsed to one knee, panting, his features returning to normal. Urahara, still clutching his chest wound, looked on with a grave expression.
The Demon Queen... had stirred.