Akira was genuinely curious about his Zanpakutō's abilities.
After all, each Zanpakutō manifested unique powers shaped by its wielder's soul. How could anyone not be eager to uncover the truth of their own blade?
"If I can master it—reach Bankai—my combat strength will increase exponentially. It might even rival the power granted by system skills…"
He'd heard legends of Ryūjin Jakka, the fearsome Zanpakutō of Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto, said to be the strongest fire-type blade in Soul Society's history. The thought alone stirred both awe and ambition.
If I unleashed my Thunder Fruit abilities at full capacity… would I even stand a chance against him in Bankai?
Still, he wasn't in a rush. His progress had been astonishing—far beyond that of most seated officers. Surpassing Yamamoto? It wasn't a distant dream. It was inevitable. And sooner than most would believe.
"Whew…"
Taking a deep breath, Akira focused inward, reaching toward his Zanpakutō's sealed form, seeking a deeper resonance.
Immediately, something shifted.
Based on his past battles, he knew elite-level Shinigami—especially those among the Vice Captains—often achieved early communication with their Zanpakutō through sheer spiritual pressure and resolve. With his talent, such a connection should come naturally.
"This pace… I'm advancing faster than I imagined!"
Eyes snapping open, Akira stared at his blade in quiet wonder. Without hesitation, he made his decision: he would spend the entire night meditating, deepening this bond.
"It won't be long before I learn my Zanpakutō's true name…"
---
The Next Morning
A single night without sleep barely registered to someone of his strength. After freshening up and a quick meal, Akira headed straight to the First Division headquarters.
There, he found Byakuya Kuchiki already seated on a tatami mat, posture immaculate despite the lingering effects of his recent wounds. Before them stood Captain-Commander Yamamoto, Ryūjin Jakka resting at his side like a slumbering dragon. His expression was as stern as ever.
"Akira," Yamamoto said without preamble. "Now that you're here, I'll be direct."
He paused, letting the weight of his authority settle.
"Last night, the Onmitsukidō reported an incident in Room 64 of the Central Underground Assembly Hall. A high-level fugitive, long presumed vanished, has resurfaced—posing a serious threat to Soul Society's security."
A beat passed before he continued, voice lower but no less commanding.
"Simultaneously, the Gotei 13 has confirmed that Shinigami Rukia Kuchiki violated the law by transferring her spiritual powers to a human—a grave offense under Article 59 of the Spirit King's Edicts."
Akira's gaze flicked to Byakuya. Of course. As head of the Kuchiki Clan and Rukia's adoptive brother, Byakuya's presence wasn't just protocol—it was personal. The noble families would've been notified hours ago.
"No problem," Akira said calmly, meeting Byakuya's unreadable eyes.
Byakuya remained silent for a long moment—his stillness louder than words. Then, with a slow, deliberate nod: "I understand."
"When do we depart, Captain?" Akira asked.
"This matter is urgent," Yamamoto declared. "You leave immediately."
---
Karakura Town – Human World
Inside the Kurosaki household, dinner unfolded with an air of uneasy normalcy. Rukia sat among the family, chopsticks in hand, laughing at Karin's sarcastic remark—though her eyes lingered on Ichigo.
He leaned forward, brow furrowed, still wrestling with everything she'd told him.
"Rukia…" he began, voice low. "About Soul Society… Are there really a lot of Shinigami like you?"
Not long ago, Kurosaki Ichigo had barely managed to wound a Gillian-class Menos Grande that had breached the barrier into Karakura Town. Though he'd driven it back, the encounter left him uneasy—there was still so much he didn't understand about this hidden world of spirits and Shinigami.
Rukia stood beside him, arms crossed. "You did well… for a human with a borrowed soul."
Ichigo shot her a look. "Borrowed or not, I beat it."
"You wounded it," she corrected. "There's a difference."
He grunted but didn't argue. After a pause, he asked, "So… what exactly is the Gotei 13?"
Rukia straightened. "They're the military and judicial force of the Soul Society. Thirteen elite divisions, each led by a captain—some of the most powerful Shinigami in existence. Their duty is to protect Seireitei, maintain the balance between worlds, and uphold the laws of the afterlife."
Ichigo's eyes narrowed. "The strongest Shinigami, huh? How would they stack up against me?"
Rukia let out a short, incredulous laugh. "You? Against a captain? You wouldn't last a minute."
"What? I just took down that walking skyscraper with a nose like a dagger!"
"A Menos Grande is strong," she admitted, "but it's mindless—raw power without skill. A captain doesn't just fight with strength. They've mastered their Zanpakutō, their reiatsu, their very soul. To them, a Gillian is little more than a nuisance."
Ichigo frowned, but before he could retort, Rukia added, almost offhandedly, "Honestly, I doubt you're even as strong as my friend."
"Your friend?" Ichigo raised an eyebrow. "Another Shinigami?"
Rukia nodded. "He serves in the Sixth Division—under my brother's command. His name is Akira. Calm, precise… utterly ruthless when he needs to be." A flicker of something unreadable passed through her eyes. "If things go well, maybe you'll meet him."
Ichigo smirked. "Then I'll challenge him the second I do. Let's see who's really stronger."
---
Unbeknownst to them, Akira and Captain Byakuya Kuchiki had already arrived in Karakura Town.
History began to unfold as Akira remembered it—at first. Rukia, sensing the approach of Soul Society's enforcers, chose to slip away in the night, hoping to shield Ichigo from the consequences of her actions.
But Ichigo wasn't so easily left behind. With Urahara Kisuke's help, he shed his gigai and gave chase in his Shinigami form.
And Akira—ever the quiet anomaly—had already begun to warp the timeline.
Before Rukia could reach the rendezvous point, she crossed paths with Uryū Ishida, who happened to be walking home from the market. At that same moment, Ichigo arrived, breathless and determined.
"Rukia! Where are you going!?" Ichigo called out.
Rukia spun around, startled. "Ichigo?!"
Uryū adjusted his glasses, holding up a plastic bag. "I was just buying groceries. Is there a problem?"
Ichigo blinked. "Ishida? What are you—never mind. Rukia, you can't just run off like this!"
From a nearby rooftop, Byakuya observed the scene in silence, his expression unreadable. Beside him, Akira leaned against a chimney, hands in his pockets.
"I apologize, Captain," Byakuya finally said, voice low and controlled. "As head of the Kuchiki family, this is my failure. I should not have involved you."
Akira gave a small, dismissive wave. "Don't worry about it. You know Rukia and I go way back. Her problem is my problem."
Byakuya didn't respond immediately. He studied Akira's profile—the easy smile, the relaxed posture. But beneath it, something darker simmered.
Is this truly the face of someone who knows his friend is about to be broken?