Inner World (Update 2)
> "Where… is this?"
Bai Ye looked around in confusion. There was nothing—only endless, formless darkness.
Yet somehow, despite the absence of light, he could see everything clearly… though there was nothing to see. It felt like he was drifting in the vacuum of space.
He began to walk. There was no ground beneath his feet, no physical matter at all, but his body moved as if it were walking naturally. As long as he willed it, he could move in any direction—up, down, forward, or backward. The laws of physics no longer applied.
However, that freedom quickly eroded his sense of orientation. He could no longer tell which way was up or where he had started from.
Despite this surreal state, Bai Ye remained strangely calm. He felt no panic. In fact, he almost found it peaceful—comforting, even. A part of him felt like he could remain here forever without complaint.
After wandering through the void for an unknowable amount of time, a sensation crept over him. His body was becoming hotter. Without thinking, he reached to loosen his clothes.
But the moment his fingers brushed the fabric, he froze.
These weren't the clothes he remembered wearing.
Bai Ye had chosen to wear a yellow jumpsuit styled after Bruce Lee—his own homage, avoiding the green tights worn by Might Guy and Might Duy out of personal taste. But the garment he felt now was completely different: looser, rougher… familiar in a different way.
His eyes widened as the realization dawned.
This was the Shihakushō—the standard black robes of a Soul Reaper from Bleach. It had been nearly six years, but Bai Ye recognized it instantly. This was what his avatar wore in the mobile game he used to play.
The serenity he'd carried with him shattered instantly.
> "When did I start wearing this? I was in that underground training base… so how did I end up here?"
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. The silence of the void pressed down on him. The heat intensified—it now felt like he was trapped in a sauna.
As he reached toward his waist to adjust the white obi, his fingers grazed something cold and metallic. A sword.
A Zanpakutō.
His instincts kicked in. He gripped the weapon tightly—and in that instant, the world responded.
A thin white line erupted from beneath his feet, stretching from the void below to the void above, as if slicing through the entire dimension. It expanded outward rapidly, and the pitch-black world was consumed by blinding white light.
As the transformation spread, a new terrain formed beneath him—pure white soil, unlike anything he had ever seen.
Bai Ye's confusion deepened. Still holding the Zanpakutō in reverse grip, he took a cautious stance, eyes scanning the silent, bright world.
Nothing happened. No enemy appeared. After a long moment of stillness, he relaxed slightly and began walking forward, determined to make sense of this place.
After trekking several kilometers—though it was hard to tell distance in this strange dimension—he finally saw something ahead.
A protrusion in the white land.
As he neared, he realized it was a pedestal. Snow-white, like Hetian mutton-fat jade, intricately carved into the shape of a lotus. It stood about one meter high and two meters wide.
Embedded at its center was a short dagger, almost like a ceremonial weapon. It radiated a sense of reverence, as though it had been enshrined.
Bai Ye didn't hesitate. He leapt onto the pedestal and pulled the blade free.
It was a perfect replica of the "Divine Spear"—a weapon he remembered vividly from the mobile game.
But behind him, unnoticed, his Zanpakutō began to change.
A wisp of black mist seeped from the blade. Its edge darkened, dimmed… then began to lose form. As the seconds passed, it became transparent, then ethereal, as if it were fading from existence.
By the time Bai Ye realized something felt wrong—when he could no longer sense the familiar weight of the Zanpakutō at his waist—it was almost too late.
He glanced down and saw the blade vanish, the final trail of black mist floating behind him like smoke.
Startled, he pushed off the ground, twisting mid-air to turn around.
What he saw behind him made his heart skip a beat.
The black mist had gathered into a dense shadow. It twisted and writhed, slowly taking shape—a humanoid outline, its features shifting in and out of focus. It was still coalescing.
Bai Ye gripped the "Divine Spear" tightly and pointed it at the forming figure, ready to attack if necessary.
He hesitated.
> This shadow… it came from my Zanpakutō. It's been with me for years. If I destroy it now… will it ever come back?
Uncertainty gnawed at him.
The form eventually stabilized. It no longer changed shape but hadn't fully taken on human detail either. It stood like a gothic silhouette—almost like a Gothic Lolita in dress and posture. But it remained shrouded in shadow, with no distinguishable hair, eye color, or facial features.
> "Who… are you?"
Bai Ye's voice was soft now, uncertain. Despite everything, he felt a strange familiarity—almost a kinship—with the figure.
The shadowy girl moved her lips as if speaking, but no sound emerged.
> "You can't talk?"
As if embarrassed, she stopped moving her lips and fell into silence.
Then she suddenly crouched, extended a finger, and wrote in the white soil:
> "My name is Lingyue."
Bai Ye knelt beside the words, reading them with interest.
> "Lingyue? Hello, I'm Bai Ye."
He extended his right hand to shake hers.
Though her face remained obscured, Bai Ye could feel her joy—subtle but sincere. Lingyue stepped forward, about to reach out, but noticed her hands were smudged from writing in the dirt. She quickly wiped them on her clothing, shyly trying to clean up.
But just as their hands were about to meet, Bai Ye's body began to flicker.
His form grew translucent.
Their hands passed through one another.
Bai Ye's heart sank. He could feel the loneliness emanating from Lingyue like a wave. It pierced him—soft, sorrowful, and unspoken.
He reached out again, gently, aiming to pat her head.
His hand phased right through her.
> Of course, he realized. We couldn't shake hands either.
Lingyue looked at him, then raised her arm and waved—a slow, mournful goodbye. If Bai Ye had been able to see her face, he would have found tears welling in her hidden eyes.
And then, silently, he vanished.
Leaving Lingyue alone, kneeling on the white soil, sobbing in solitude.
---
> "Where is this… now?"
Bai Ye blinked. Another new place. Another shift.
His thoughts scattered.
If he still had access to that mobile game—or if he'd ever encountered a real Soul Reaper—he might have realized it then:
He had just been inside his inner world.