[Memories of Nobody Arc] Part 144: The Dark Ones

Yato's grip tightened around his zanpakutō as he kept his gaze locked on Ukitake.

Hesitation gnawed at him.

Cheshire's voice still echoed in his mind—urging him forward, encouraging a reckless attack without a plan. Or rather, without Yato even knowing what the plan was.

He exhaled, long and slow.

'Screw it.' Rolling his shoulders, he made his decision.

Bringer Light flared beneath his feet, blending seamlessly with the burst of Shunpo as he lunged forward. His body became a blur—no, faster than a blur.

The very air around him seemed to distort.

Then—

A strange, static-like crackle erupted from the sudden movement.

And Yato shot forward at a speed neither he nor anyone else had anticipated.

The acceleration was instantaneous, far beyond anything he had ever managed before.

Ukitake's eyes widened slightly, momentarily caught off guard. He barely had time to react.

But Yato never reached him.

Because Yato hadn't been expecting it either.

His own momentum betrayed him, sending him streaking past Ukitake like a misfired arrow—straight toward the nearest wall.

A loud, thunderous crash shook the battlefield.

Dust exploded outward upon impact.

And when the debris settled…

The only thing visible was the lower half of Yato's body.

The rest of him? Embedded deep into the wall.

Silence.

A single, incredulous beat passed before Cheshire's voice finally chimed in.

'Oops.'

Across the battlefield, every fighter, even Ukitake himself, turned their heads in Yato's direction.

A collective sweatdrop formed across the entire group, their expressions hovering somewhere between confusion and secondhand embarrassment.

For a moment, the chaos of battle was completely forgotten.

'You've got to be kidding me…'

Yato groaned inwardly, his head still spinning from the impact, not just from the literal crash, but from the sheer embarrassment burning through his body.

He hadn't expected that. Not that kind of speed.

'Get out of there already…' Cheshire's voice sighed into his mind, laced with exasperation.

'After launching myself face-first into a wall? No thanks. I think I'll just stay here and play dead…'

For a brief, fleeting moment, staying buried in rubble felt like the better option.

But, as much as he wanted to disappear, Yato begrudgingly started pulling himself free, wincing slightly as he dislodged his body from the shattered wall. Dust clung to his clothes as he patted himself off absentmindedly, still very much avoiding eye contact with anyone.

The silence stretched.

Then—

"…Are you alright?"

The voice was gentle, filled with genuine concern.

Ukitake.

Of all people, the person he had been trying to fight was now the one asking if he was okay.

Yato almost wanted to die on the spot.

His sudden burst of speed had clearly caught Ukitake off guard, enough to momentarily put the experienced captain on edge. But the sheer absurdity of what had happened, how Yato had just rocketed past him, completely missing his mark, had left even Ukitake slightly flustered.

Yet, beneath his usual composed expression, something flickered in the captain's gaze.

A thoughtful glimmer.

'That sound… when he moved…' Ukitake mused silently.

'And for a brief moment… his reiatsu completely vanished from my senses.'

He didn't voice his thoughts aloud. But inwardly, his intrigue grew.

Suddenly laughter broke through the air, sudden and unrestrained.

Everyone turned toward the source—Kon, still in Ichigo's body, was doubling over, clutching his sides as he cackled without a care in the world.

The absurdity of the situation was just too much for him. After all, he had spent the last few minutes hiding in the background, avoiding the chaos so Ichigo wouldn't kill him later for getting his body injured. But Yato smashing face-first into a wall? That was gold. Comedic perfection.

But his laughter died the moment Yato snapped his head toward him, glaring.

Something about that look, something instinctive, sent a chill up Kon's borrowed spine, making him flinch back in surprise. He quickly ducked behind cover again, suddenly much less eager to be in the spotlight.

Yato blinked, confused.

'The hell's his problem?' he thought, annoyed but brushing it off.

Then—

A shift.

The air changed.

The tension that followed was thick, suffocating.

Yato felt it before he fully understood it—the weight of every single gaze turning toward him.

Rukia and Hitsugaya, who had been locked in a heated clash just moments ago, halted mid-motion, their grips tightening around their zanpakutōs.

Rukia's violet eyes trembled slightly.

"Yato…" she whispered, as if the name itself carried new weight.

Hitsugaya's sharp turquoise gaze locked onto him, cold and unyielding.

"…What the hell is this?"

His tone was low, wary.

From the corner of his vision, Yato saw Ukitake and Soi Fon subtly adjusting their grips on their weapons.

Even Matsumoto, who had been keeping Senna and Inoue occupied, ceased her attack, her casual demeanor fading into something tense and focused.

Senna, more intrigued than afraid, tilted her head slightly.

"Yasakani-kun…" Inoue murmured under her breath.

"Could he always do that…?" Senna asked, more intrigued than fearful.

Meanwhile, Chad, who had just finished helping Ichigo break free from Hitsugaya's Kidō, paused mid-step. Tatsuki's unconscious form rested over his shoulder, but his focus was now entirely on Yato.

Yato's mind raced.

'Why is everyone looking at me like that…?

Then—

He saw it.

The shadow on the right side of his vision.

His breath hitched.

His hand flew up, brushing against something solid, smooth… unnatural. At first, he thought more debris from the wall had gotten stuck to his face—but no.

It wasn't that.

It was something else entirely.

His blood ran cold.

'CHESHIRE, WHAT THE HELL?!'

'Hmm? What?' The feline's voice hummed nonchalantly in his mind.

'You PUT A HOLLOW MASK ON MY FACE WITHOUT TELLING ME?!'

'Oh, that? Pfft. Chill out. You needed a power boost, so I figured—'

'WITHOUT TELLING ME?!'

'Calm down, this might actually work in our favor, both now and in the future.' Cheshire's voice remained utterly indifferent, as if Yato's fury was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

The problem was, Yato was so engrossed in his mental battle with Cheshire that he failed to realize how it all appeared to the others around him. From their perspective, he stood there, frozen in place, an unsettling expression locked on his face. But that wasn't the worst of it. A Hollow mask, resembling the visage of a feline, now covered part of his face, warping one of his eyes. His sclera had turned pitch black, his iris gleaming a piercing, blood-red hue, slit like that of a cat. The sight was eerie, unnatural. It gave the distinct impression that Yato was succumbing to the Hollow within, paralyzed mid-transformation.

Ichigo, in particular, felt a sharp twist in his gut.

His fingers clenched involuntarily around his zanpakutō.

That mask.

That transformation.

That struggle.

It reminded him of himself and his own inner Hollow. The constant, gnawing fear, that, in one moment of weakness, he could lose control.

His heart pounded. Was Yato about to go through the same hell?

Ukitake, too, was taken aback, though his reaction was more subdued. The sight of Yato in that state brought an old, painful memory rushing back to Kaien Shiba. His mind barely lingered on the thought before his eyes flicked toward Rukia, whose grip tightened around her zanpakutō.

Rukia didn't hesitate. In one swift motion, she redirected Hitsugaya's blade with a precise swing, using the force to propel herself forward. Her feet barely touched the ground as she sprinted toward Yato.

"Tch. Wait, Kuchiki!" Hitsugaya called out, but Rukia ignored him.

Just as she was mere steps away from reaching Yato, the atmosphere around them shifted. A sudden wave of spiritual pressure materialized above them, its presence unmistakable.

The air tensed as a group of figures, clad in green shihakushō, appeared seemingly out of nowhere, hovering above the battlefield.

Then, without warning, one of them—distinguished by a peculiar red rocket-pack strapped to his back—launched into action. With a swift motion, he fired a barrage of projectiles, each linked to sturdy cables, hurtling toward the group below. The moment they struck the ground, a chain reaction of explosions erupted, enveloping the area in a thick, choking cloud of smoke.

**

Miles away, Iba strained under the weight of Komamura's unconscious body, his mind racing. The sudden surge of reiatsu from the battlefield made him pause. His breath hitched as he turned his head toward the source of the disturbance.

"What the hell is going on over there…?" he murmured, concern creeping into his voice. His every instinct screamed at him to return, to do something, but his body was battered, his wounds deep. He knew charging back in reckless would only make things worse. Right now, his captain was his priority.

**

Hitsugaya, Ukitake, and Soi Fon reacted instantly, launching themselves skyward to escape the thick cloud of smoke. But the moment they emerged, they were met with weapons.

The enemy was waiting for them.

A coordinated ambush—the shinigami in dark green shihakushō moved swiftly, attacking from all angles.

Hitsugaya barely deflected a strike aimed at his ribs, ice forming along the edge of his blade as he pushed back against his opponent.

Ukitake moved fluidly, dodging and countering, his twin zanpakutō intercepting the weapons that sought to end him.

Soi Fon, with her usual precision, used Shunpo to evade and block the weapons with her Suzumebachi.

Meanwhile, within the smoke, Rukia moved with purpose.

Her vision was nearly nonexistent, but her instincts led her straight to Yato.

She found him just as the remnants of the Hollow mask still clung to his face. Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm —a firm grip, filled with concern.

"Yato!" she called out, her voice sharp with urgency.

Her instincts told her he was fine, but after what she had just seen—the mask, that unnatural Hollow presence—she needed to see for herself.

Before she could demand an explanation, his voice reached her.

It was distorted—a deep, warped resonance beneath his usual tone.

And yet, somehow… still casual.

"Relax, Rukia. I'm fine…"

She watched as he reached up to his face, fingers curling around the bone-like mask that had formed over half of it.

And with one firm pull he ripped it away.

As the Hollow mask disintegrated into nothing, Yato rolled his shoulders, his posture as nonchalant as ever.

His voice was still strange, but the way he treated it so normally made her shoulders relax just slightly.

"…What the hell was that?" she almost demanded.

But Yato had already shifted focus.

"Don't worry... I'll figure It out later... "He exhaled, glancing around. "Right now, we need to keep Senna away from them. I'll go after Ganryū while the others are busy. You make sure he doesn't get to her."

Rukia hesitated for half a second before nodding.

"Got it."

Without another word, she focused on the spiritual energies around her, quickly finding the reiatsu signatures of Senna and Inoue. She darted toward them, taking advantage of the fact that Hitsugaya, Matsumoto, Soi Fon, and Ukitake were fully engaged with Ganryū's forces. 

As Rukia disappeared into the smoke, Yato shot upward, emerging above the battlefield. 

From his vantage point, he took in the full scope of the fight,the blurred figures clashing midair, the flashes of the blades attacks streaking through the haze, the sound of metal striking metal. 

And then he found him. 

Ganryū stood apart from the fray, calm, untouched, as if the battle unfolding around him was little more than an inconvenience. His attire mirrored that of his subordinates—black armor with crimson and gold detailing, a long flowing cloak draping behind him. His long, white hair cascaded over his shoulders, and a jagged scar traced from his forehead to the corner of his jaw.

Yato narrowed his eyes. 

In an instant, he activated Bringer Light, a burst of emerald energy igniting beneath his feet. The next moment, he was in front of Ganryū, appearing as nothing more than a streak of light. 

"I think that's enough of your bullshit, don't you?" Yato's tone was calm, but there was an edge to it.

Ganryū's expression remained unchanged.

Even as Yato stood before him, blade in hand, the man's eyes remained shut, his face still adorned with that serene, unreadable smile.

"So… You're one of the substitute shinigami I've heard about." His voice was smooth, collected. "Yato Yasakani."

Yato scoffed. "Starting to feel like I'm a damn celebrity. Can't say I like the attention."

Ganryū finally tilted his head slightly, as if considering something.

"In truth, I should be thanking you," he said smoothly. "Had it not been for your existence, we might have pursued our plans differently.

Something about his tone made Yato uneasy. His grip on his zanpakutō tightened as a surge of brilliant green spiritual energy crackled around the blade, illuminating the space between them. He wasn't interested in prolonging this conversation.

But then—

Ganryū's eyes opened.

And for the first time, Yato froze.

"Tell me, Yato Yasakani… Are you really willing to risk thousands of lives… for a single anomaly?" Ganryū's voice was smooth, almost amused, as he observed Yato's reaction. He allowed a small, knowing smile to play on his lips before continuing, not even waiting for an answer. "Forget what I just said… Perhaps that question would have been more fitting for the other substitute shinigami down below. After all, you yourself are just as much of an anomaly as the Shinenju… It wouldn't surprise me if you sympathized with something that was never meant to exist."

Yato's eyes widened for the briefest of moments. His grip on his zanpakutō faltered, and for the first time in the fight, hesitation crept into his stance.

**

Meanwhile, Senna knelt beside Orihime, her breath steady as she observed their surroundings. Above them, Orihime had both hands raised, forming a protective shield just in time to block the oncoming attack. The barrier shimmered, glowing intensely before slowly fading as the threat passed.

"Are you alright, Senna-chan?" Orihime asked, her voice laced with concern.

"Yeah… Thanks for the save," Senna replied lightly, flashing a small grin. As soon as Orihime dispelled her shield, Senna took action. With a swift motion of her Mirokumaru, she swung the weapon in an arc, summoning a fierce gust of wind that tore through the battlefield. The powerful currents dispersed the lingering smoke, revealing the battlefield once more.

"Hey!" A familiar voice called out.

Ichigo was sprinting toward them, his expression tense. At his side, Chad kept pace, carrying an unconscious Tatsuki over his shoulder.

"Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime's face lit up in relief as she rushed toward them, her gaze immediately shifting to Tatsuki. "Tatsuki-chan! What happened?" she asked, worry thick in her voice.

"Captain Soi Fon took her down," Chad answered, his deep voice steady but firm. "She's just unconscious. No serious injuries." He knelt down, gently laying Tatsuki on the ground beside Orihime.

Ichigo's gaze flickered between Orihime and Senna. "Are you two okay?"

Senna, ever playful, smirked and crossed her arms. "Of course we're fine! Orihime and I make a great team, don't you think?" Her amber eyes sparkled with excitement as she lifted her right hand in the air toward Orihime.

Orihime, beaming at the gesture, clapped her hand against Senna's in an enthusiastic high-five. "That's right, Senna-chan!"

As the group caught their breath, two more figures approached, emerging from the clearing smoke. One was Rukia, her violet eyes scanning the scene with quick efficiency. The other, much to Ichigo's immediate dismay, was Kon—still inhabiting Ichigo's human body, strutting toward them with an exaggerated sense of importance.

"Finally, I found you guys!" Kon started, only to pause as he took in the scene before him.

"Who the hell are those guys?" Renji's voice cut through the tension, his gaze fixed on the figures clad in dark green garments. His zanpakutō rested against his shoulder, his breath still a little ragged from his earlier clash with Rukia.

"They're the same ones who went after Senna before," Ichigo answered, his brow furrowing.

There were five of them in total, each dressed in the same attire as Ganryū. Yet, rather than engaging in one-on-one combat, they employed a frustrating hit-and-run strategy. They moved in groups, targeting one or two fighters at a time—most often Captain Soi Fon or Matsumoto—before darting away, only to repeat the tactic elsewhere. It was calculated, deliberate, designed to wear down their opponents rather than overwhelm them in direct confrontation.

Renji narrowed his eyes at the battlefield, his attention drawn to a different concern. "What the hell is up with that loudmouth brat? Why is he just standing there?" His gaze locked onto Yato, who remained motionless, staring at Ganryū. His posture was tense, his knuckles white around the hilt of his zanpakutō, yet he made no move to attack. Something was off, but before Renji could dwell on it further, he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye—

Matsumoto was about to be struck from behind.

"Shit!" Renji cursed, vanishing in a flash of Shunpo. He reappeared just behind Matsumoto in time to intercept the incoming strike, his Zabimaru clashing against the enemy's blade with a sharp, resounding clang. Sparks flew as he braced himself, pushing back with all his strength.

Meanwhile, Rukia had also taken notice of Yato's unusual behavior. Something about the way he stood frozen in place sent a ripple of unease through her. She turned sharply to Ichigo, intending to voice her concern—

But before she could speak, Kon nearly barreled into her.

"Oi, oi, oi! Forget about him for a second and LOOK!" Kon shrieked, frantically pointing in a different direction.

Rukia's gaze followed his trembling finger—and her breath caught in her throat.

The spirits. All of them. The very same souls that had been lingering in the area just moments ago were now shifting, distorting—melting away to reveal their true nature.

Blanks. Dozens. No—hundreds of them.

"W-What do we do!?" Kon wailed, hopping on one foot in sheer panic.

Rukia's eyes hardened, and she snapped her head toward Ichigo. "Ichigo! Go help Yato! We'll stay here and protect Senna!" Her voice was firm, unwavering.

Ichigo clenched his jaw but gave a curt nod. "Got it!"

**

"You seem surprised, Yato Yasakani." Ganryū's voice carried a sinister amusement, his lips curling into a knowing smile. "Or perhaps I should say… the one who pretends to be Yato Yasakani?"

Yato's heart pounded in his chest. No one, no one except Rukia, knew the truth about his existence. And yet, somehow, Ganryū had just spoken as if he had unraveled everything.

'There's no way he knows… He's bluffing. He has to be. But—' Yato's stomach twisted as realization set in. 'I already reacted. Damn it… even if it was just a bluff, I gave myself away.'

He forced himself to take a deep breath, steadying his nerves. His mind raced between two choices—should he press Ganryū for answers, demand to know how he had come across such knowledge? Or should he let it go, play it off as if it didn't affect him? The weight of uncertainty settled in his grip as his fingers clenched tighter around the hilt of his zanpakutō.

Ganryū took a single, deliberate step forward, but before he could say another word—

A blur of orange and black cut through the air. Ichigo appeared in front of Yato in an instant, Zangetsu slashing toward Ganryū in a powerful arc. The enemy leader's smirk didn't falter as he leaped backward, easily avoiding the strike, his feet skimming the air as he put distance between them.

Ichigo remained firm, his gaze locked onto Ganryū. "You good?" he asked, his voice low, rough—but he didn't turn around. His attention remained on their enemy, though his mind was elsewhere.

The truth was, Ichigo wasn't sure what was happening with Yato. But he knew that look. The eerie stillness, the hesitation, the way his reiatsu had fluctuated just moments ago—it reminded Ichigo too much of his own struggles with his Hollow. And yet, he had no words of reassurance to offer. He couldn't even deal with his own demons, let alone help someone else fight theirs.

Yato stared at Ichigo's back for a few seconds, his expression shifting from exhaustion to frustration. He exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on his zanpakutō as irritation flashed in his eyes.

"No... Nothing's fine," Yato muttered, his voice laced with exasperation. "Not even close."

"Well, if it isn't the other Substitute Shinigami—Ichigo Kurosaki." Ganryū's voice carried an unsettling amusement, his smirk widening as his gaze flickered toward the newcomer. "Perhaps you would be better suited to answer my question."

Ichigo's stance was unwavering, his grip tightening around Zangetsu. "I don't give a damn what you're after. You're not taking Senna."

Ganryū chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Oh, I won't just take her. You'll be the ones handing her over to me." His voice was eerily calm, each syllable dripping with confidence. "Unless, of course, you're willing to be responsible for the deaths of countless innocent people."

Ichigo scoffed, his brow furrowing in irritation. "Yeah, like hell that's happening."

Without another word, Ichigo lunged forward, Zangetsu arcing toward Ganryū with deadly precision. But before the blade could connect, a sudden blur shot through the air—a Blank, hurtling toward Ichigo at high speed. Before he could react, the spirit detonated mid-air.

The explosion itself wasn't powerful enough to harm Ichigo, but the sudden force of it sent him skidding back a few steps, gritting his teeth in frustration.

Ganryū remained unmoved, his smirk deepening. "A single Blank's explosion isn't nearly enough to injure someone like you, Ichigo Kurosaki… or the one who pretends to be Yato Yasakani. However…"

Ichigo's glare sharpened. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Ganryū ignored the question entirely, continuing as if Ichigo's words didn't matter. "I have no doubt that with the right number of Blanks… their combined destruction would be more than enough to wipe out countless lives in an instant."

**

Rukia, Senna, Chad, Inoue, and Kon continued their relentless battle against the seemingly endless wave of Blanks that kept materializing around them. While individually weak, the sheer number of these wandering souls made the fight feel unending, as every one they struck down was quickly replaced by another.

"I'm going to wipe them all out in one go!" Senna declared, leaping into the air. She spun her Mirokumaru in a rapid arc, summoning a powerful tornado that began sweeping away the Blanks in great numbers. However, in that brief moment of exertion, a strange sensation suddenly washed over her. A pulse, an eerie presence far away. Her amber eyes narrowed as she turned her gaze toward the distance. "What is… this feeling?" she murmured.

That single moment of distraction nearly cost her. A swift shadow moved from behind—Jai, one of Ganryū's followers, the same one who had attacked her in the cemetery, now charging with ruthless intent. His chakram spun violently in his grip, slicing through the air as he closed in on Senna's exposed back.

Before he could strike, a sharp clang echoed through the battlefield.

Rukia had intercepted him, her Sode no Shirayuki gleaming as it blocked his chakram with elegant precision. The force of the impact sent a spray of sparks between them as Jai gritted his teeth in frustration.

"This time, you won't escape, Shinenju," Jai sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance. "No matter how many fools try to protect you."

Rukia's violet eyes burned with defiance as she held her ground. "You talk too much. Or do you really plan on fighting the two of us with just one arm?" Her voice was calm, but sharp as ice, her gaze locking onto his amputated limb.

Jai merely smirked. "Fools." His grin widened maliciously. "I have a surprise for you."

Without warning, a swarm of Blanks shifted course, suddenly converging toward him. The swirling mass of souls rushed to his severed arm, fusing with his very being. A dark energy pulsed as his lost limb regenerated in a grotesque display, forming a perfect replica, stronger, denser. Another chakram materialized in his grasp, now complete once more.

With newfound strength, Jai lunged forward. His movement was so sudden, so forceful, that the mere shockwave of his attack sent Rukia skidding backward. Before she could react, he struck her with a powerful kick, sending her flying. Senna barely had time to react before she rushed forward, catching Rukia before she could crash into the debris.

"Did he just get stronger?" Rukia murmured under her breath, her grip tightening around her zanpakutō.

Jai let out a triumphant laugh, twirling his chakrams with deadly grace. "Now this is more like it! Try to keep up, little girls!" He lunged again, the spinning blades in his hands leaving arcs of silver light in the air.

This time, Senna stepped forward, meeting his attack head-on. Mirokumaru clashed against Jai's weapon, the impact sending a gust of wind through the battlefield. Sparks flew as they exchanged blows in rapid succession, their movements a blur of steel and motion.

Rukia wasted no time, moving around Jai to catch him off guard. The moment she saw an opening, she struck, her blade slicing down in a diagonal arc, but Jai twisted his body at the last moment, raising one chakram to block her strike with a sharp metallic clang.

"Is that the best you can do?" he taunted.

But then he saw it—the faint glow in Rukia's eyes, a pale light that shimmered like the moon. Her reiatsu surged, and suddenly, a blast of freezing wind erupted from Sode no Shirayuki, blanketing the area in ice and snow.

Jai gritted his teeth, bracing against the sudden attack, but before he could react further, a powerful tornado roared into existence behind him. Senna, spinning Mirokumaru once more, unleashed another violent storm. The combined forces of ice and wind struck Jai with overwhelming intensity, launching him backward with tremendous force.

He disappeared into the swirling tempest, his form vanishing beneath the raging elements as the storm engulfed him.

After managing to drive Jai back, Senna turned her gaze toward the distant horizon, a deep unease settling in her chest.

"Something's happening over there..." she murmured, her fingers tightening around Mirokumaru.

Rukia, catching the urgency in Senna's voice, followed her line of sight. At first, she didn't sense anything unusual, but as she focused, her eyes widened. A massive concentration of spiritual energy pulsed in the distance. The sensation was eerily familiar—just like when she had first witnessed hundreds of Blanks converging in a single location.

A cold shiver ran down Rukia's spine. "This... This isn't good."

**

Meanwhile, Orihime, Chad, and Kon were locked in an unending battle against the relentless swarm of Blanks.

Chad's immense frame barely shifting as he swung his right fist, each punch sending out waves of compressed Reiatsu that obliterated multiple Blanks at once. His expression remained stoic, but his body was beginning to feel the strain.

Kon, still in Ichigo's body, was darting around with surprising agility, launching powerful kicks at any Blank that got too close. "Damn it! These things just keep coming! How many of them are there?!" he shouted in frustration, gritting his teeth as he flipped backward to avoid an incoming strike.

Orihime was pushing herself to her limit, balancing all three of her abilities at once.

Her shield, Santen Kesshun, shimmered in front of her and her allies, repelling waves of incoming Blanks and preventing them from closing in. At the same time, her Sōten Kisshun was wrapped protectively around Tatsuki, whose unconscious form lay motionless on the ground. Orihime refused to let any harm come to her friend.

But she wasn't just defending. With a flick of her wrist, she directed Koten Zanshun to launch piercing strikes, each attack slicing through the enemy and reducing them to nothing.

Even with all their efforts, the swarm remained endless.

"They just won't stop..." Chad muttered under his breath.

**

Yato and Ichigo stood their ground, their gazes locked onto Ganryū.

The tension between them was palpable. Ichigo's hands clenched into fists, his grip tightening around Zangetsu as he ground his teeth in frustration. He knew better than to rush in recklessly. Ganryū was too calm, too confident—there was no doubt he had already set the pieces in motion, using innocent lives as leverage.

Yato, however, was caught in a different storm of thoughts. His mind raced, replaying Ganryū's words over and over again. 'How does he know? There was no way Ganryū should have had any knowledge of it. He wasn't supposed to have any means of uncovering the truth. Unless...'

A cold wave of fear crept up Yato's spine.

If Ganryū truly knew about him, then he could expose everything in front of Ichigo or, even worse, make people like Urahara or Aizen discover Yato's true identity.

His fingers trembled slightly around the hilt of his zanpakutō. He couldn't afford to let that happen.

"What the hell did you do, you bastard?!" Ichigo suddenly shouted, snapping Yato out of his thoughts.

Ganryū merely smirked, unbothered by Ichigo's anger. He shifted his gaze toward the horizon, as if waiting for something.

"Why don't you take a good look for yourselves?" he said in a voice laced with amusement.

Both Ichigo and Yato instinctively turned their attention in the same direction.

Their stomachs dropped.

In the distance, an enormous mass of spiritual energy loomed over the battlefield, dense and suffocating. It carried the same eerie presence as the Blanks that were currently overwhelming their allies—but this was far more concentrated.

Ichigo stood frozen, his body tense with frustration as he glared at Ganryū. His grip on Zangetsu tightened, his knuckles turning white. He had no idea what to do. Every option racing through his mind led to a dead end.

Yato, standing beside him, felt his heartbeat hammering in his chest. Cold sweat ran down the back of his neck as his mind frantically searched for a way out—a way to protect Senna while preventing innocent lives from being sacrificed.

Ichigo stood frozen, his body tense with frustration as he glared at Ganryū. His grip on Zangetsu tightened, his knuckles turning white. He had no idea what to do. Every option racing through his mind led to a dead end.

Yato, standing beside him, felt his heartbeat hammering in his chest. Cold sweat ran down the back of his neck as his mind frantically searched for a way out—a way to protect Senna while preventing innocent lives from being sacrificed.

He hated this.

Yato had never been the type to care deeply for strangers, but the thought of their deaths weighing on his conscience made his stomach churn. The idea of being powerless—of standing by while people were slaughtered—was unbearable.

His thoughts ran in circles.

'If I make a move toward the Blanks or attack Ganryū, he'll just trigger the explosions.' His teeth clenched. 'If I refuse to hand over Senna, he'll do it anyway. And even if I did… there's no guarantee he wouldn't kill them all regardless.'

It was a trap with no exit.

Ganryū's voice cut through the tense silence like a knife.

"So? What's it going to be, brats?" His golden eyes gleamed with amusement as he stared down the two substitute Shinigami. "Will you hand over the Shinenju?"

Yato's fingers twitched slightly around the hilt of his zanpakutō. His breathing steadied, but his mind was already reaching out, calling for the one thing that could turn this around.

'Cheshire…'

The voice of his Fullbring's spirit echoed in his mind almost instantly, but this time, there was no playfulness, no teasing lilt in the feline's voice. Only quiet disapproval.

'This isn't a good idea.'

Yato ignored the warning.

'I don't need to rewind much… just to the moment Ganryū's men first started their attack. If I do that, the smoke from their initial assault will rise again, and I can use it as cover. I'll suppress my reiatsu as much as possible and slip away to the Blanks. If I can thin their numbers before anyone notices…'

Cheshire remained silent for a moment, and then, with an exasperated sigh, spoke again.

'It's not a good idea.'

Yato closed his eyes for a brief second, swallowing back his frustration. 'I know it's not…'

'No… you really don't,' Cheshire countered, his tone uncharacteristically serious. 'But as always, I'm not the one making the decisions here.'

A moment of hesitation.

Then, finally—

'Do it.'

**

Rukia narrowed her eyes, her mind racing as she assessed the situation. Things were spiraling further out of control with each passing second.

She turned sharply toward Senna, urgency lacing her voice.

"Senna, stay here and help Sado and Inoue. I'll go ahead and see what I can do."

Her words were quick, decisive. But Senna didn't respond. She didn't even flinch.

Rukia furrowed her brows. "Hey! This isn't the time to zone out! Senna!"

Still, nothing.

Senna remained perfectly still, her posture rigid, her expression eerily blank. It was as if she had been plucked out of the moment, frozen in place like a statue.

A cold shiver ran down Rukia's spine. Something was wrong.

Her gaze flickered toward Sado, Inoue, and Kon—and that was when she noticed it.

They weren't moving either.

Not just them. The Blanks that had been swarming them moments ago were also frozen mid-action, some suspended in midair as if trapped in invisible ice.

Rukia took a step back, her breath hitching.

"What… is happening?" she murmured, eyes darting around.

Everyone, every single person locked in combat, had stopped moving. Ukitake, Hitsugaya, Soi Fon, Renji, Matsumoto… all of them were suspended in the midst of battle, their attacks frozen mid-strike, their expressions fixed in time.

Her heart pounded in her chest. This wasn't normal. This wasn't some momentary lapse—this was something unnatural.

Her gaze finally snapped toward where Yato and Ichigo had been standing.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Ichigo was completely still. So was Ganryū. Both frozen, caught in the exact moment before their next move.

But then, amidst the eerie stillness, there was one exception.

Yato.

He was moving.

His body was the only one untouched by whatever force had seized the battlefield. His arm was outstretched, his fingers splayed as raw spiritual energy surged around him, crackling in the air like a storm barely restrained.

Rukia's eyes widened. "What… is he doing?"

Suddenly, the world around Rukia began to unravel.

Threads, thousands of them, shimmering in a deep, crimson glow, spiraled and twisted through the air, moving with an almost sentient fluidity. The vibrant red strands swirled together in a violent storm, spinning at a dizzying speed like a massive, living tornado of light.

Rukia's breath hitched. One by one, everything, every person, every structure, every fragment of the battlefield, began to dissolve, consumed by the whirling threads as if they had never existed.

Only Yato remained.

Rukia's eyes widened, her mind racing to comprehend what was happening. It was eerily familiar. She had seen this before. A fleeting memory, buried in the recesses of her mind—this exact phenomenon, this disintegration of reality into a storm of crimson filaments.

———————————————————

Rukia soared through the sky, using her Shunpo to propel herself forward. Every movement sent sharp pain through her body—her limbs ached, her breath came in ragged gasps, and blood trickled from the countless cuts marring her skin.

Her shihakushō was in tatters, shredded from battle, leaving her arms and most of her right leg exposed. She had just finished a grueling fight against Maki Ichinose, barely managing to subdue him, and now she was moving as fast as she could toward the fluctuating spiritual pressures of Yato and Ichigo.

Her fingers clenched tightly around Sode no Shirayuki's hilt. She forced herself to ignore the pain—she had no time for weakness.

Then it happened.

A sudden sensation washed over her, an unnatural stillness that sent chills down her spine.

Rukia halted mid-air, scanning her surroundings, when without warning—

The world unraveled.

The sky, the ground, the very air around her fractured into thousands of glowing red threads. They stretched and twisted in chaotic unison, swirling around her in a mesmerizing yet terrifying dance. It was as if reality itself was being devoured by the crimson vortex.

Then, just as quickly as it began, it was over.

Everything snapped back into place.

Rukia remained in the air, panting lightly as she whipped her head around, trying to make sense of what had just occurred. The world appeared unchanged, yet the lingering presence of the strange phenomenon clung to her mind.

"What… was that…?" she whispered, her grip tightening around her zanpakutō.

She didn't understand what had just happened, but she knew one thing for certain, she could feel Yato's reiatsu, and it was dangerously weak.

Her expression darkened.

"Sode no Shirayuki…" she called out, closing her eyes for a brief moment.

A voice, soft and cold as ice, echoed in her mind.

'Yes, Rukia-sama.' The zanpakutō spirit had already anticipated her question. 'Yato-san is in critical condition… and Ōkagetsu is likely materialized beside him.'

Rukia exhaled sharply. "Then we need to go. Now."

Her voice was firm, resolute. But just as she was about to move, another presence flared on the edge of her perception.

"Kuchiki-san!"

A familiar voice rang out, and she turned quickly to see Uryū Ishida approaching.

The Quincy was clad in an unusual white uniform, reminiscent of the traditional Quincy garb but with a distinct design—something foreign, something new.

"Ishida?" Rukia blinked, surprised. "Your powers… they've returned?"

Uryū adjusted his glasses, his expression serious. "No… this is only temporary. Lieutenant Kurotsuchi gave me something that allows me to fight for a short time. It won't last long, so we need to finish this mess with the Bounts as soon as possible."

His sharp gaze then flickered over her torn clothing and the blood staining her skin. "Are you sure you're in any condition to continue, Kuchiki-san?"

Rukia offered a small, tired smirk. "This is nothing. I'm fine."

Without wasting another moment, the two turned in the direction of Ichigo and the others, their reiatsu signatures guiding them through the sky.

But before they could get far, Rukia hesitated. "Ishida… did you see that just now?"

Ishida shot her a confused glance. "See what?"

"The sky… the ground… everything—it was all consumed by red threads," she murmured, her brows furrowing as she tried to piece together the event in her mind. The image was still vivid, the sensation still lingering.

But Ishida only arched a skeptical eyebrow. "…Are you sure you're okay? Because I didn't see anything like that."

Rukia felt a chill crawl down her spine.

If he hadn't seen it…

Then what did it mean?

———————————————————

Back to the Present, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the surreal vision of the crimson threads vanished. The world around Rukia snapped back to reality, and she found herself no longer standing beside Senna. Instead, she was enveloped in a thick shroud of smoke, just as before.

Her violet eyes darted around, her breathing shallow as she tried to piece together what had just happened.

"What does this mean…?" she murmured under her breath, her grip tightening around Sode no Shirayuki.

The sounds of battle raged above—clashing blades, bursts of spiritual energy colliding in midair. The very air trembled with the weight of combat.

Then, without warning, a powerful gust of wind tore through the battlefield. The dense veil of smoke dissipated instantly, scattered by the force of the gale. The source was clear—Senna's Mirokumaru, its wind-based abilities effortlessly cutting through the lingering haze.

As the smoke lifted, Rukia's sharp gaze immediately found Senna, standing beside Orihime. And before she could even process that, movement in the distance caught her attention—Ichigo, sprinting toward them at full speed, his orange hair a vivid streak against the chaotic backdrop of the battlefield.

"Hey!" Ichigo's voice rang out, strained but commanding. His expression was tense, his brow furrowed with urgency.

Beside him, Chad moved at a steady pace, his towering form carrying an unconscious Tatsuki over his shoulder. The girl's limp body barely stirred as he rushed forward.

"Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime's voice broke through the tension, filled with relief and worry. Without hesitation, she hurried toward them, her wide eyes locking onto Tatsuki's unmoving form.

"Tatsuki-chan! What happened?!" Orihime's voice trembled as she dropped to her knees beside her friend.

"Captain Soi Fon took her down," Chad answered, his deep voice calm but resolute. He gently lowered Tatsuki onto the ground next to Orihime. "She's just unconscious. No serious injuries."

Rukia stood frozen, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes.

Something felt… off.

She had seen this before.

"Wait…" A wave of unease washed over her. "Didn't they already say this?"

Her mind reeled as a creeping sense of déjà vu settled in, a gnawing discomfort at the edge of her consciousness. Her breath hitched, and she turned abruptly toward where Yato had been standing moments ago.

But there was nothing.

No trace of him.

Her heart clenched. "Damn it!" She immediately focused, stretching out her senses, desperately searching for his reiatsu. 'Where did he go?!'

Meanwhile, Ichigo barely gave himself a second to catch his breath before his gaze snapped toward Orihime and Senna.

"Are you two okay?" he asked, scanning them for any signs of injury.

"Of course we're fine! Orihime and I make a great team, don't you think?" Her amber eyes sparkled with excitement as she lifted her right hand in the air toward Orihime.

Orihime, beaming at the gesture, clapped her hand against Senna's in an enthusiastic high-five. "That's right, Senna-chan!"

But the moment their hands collided, Senna's expression faltered. A sudden, inexplicable sensation washed over her—like a whisper of something misplaced in time. Her confident stance stiffened as her gaze instinctively drifted toward Rukia.

Rukia, who just moments ago had been standing among them, was now gone.

Senna's sharp eyes caught a glimpse of her, already using Shunpo, her small but swift form darting away at incredible speed. She was moving with urgency, racing toward a distant point far from the heat of battle.

A strange, uneasy feeling crept up Senna's spine.

As the group caught their breath, one more figure approached, emerging from the clearing smoke. Much to Ichigo's immediate dismay, was Kon—still inhabiting Ichigo's human body, strutting toward them with an exaggerated sense of importance.

"Finally, I found you guys!" Kon started, only to pause as he took in the scene before him.

"Who the hell are those guys?" Renji's voice cut through the tension, his gaze fixed on the figures clad in dark green garments. His zanpakutō rested against his shoulder, his breath still a little ragged from his earlier clash with Rukia.

Despite the rising tension, Senna didn't answer right away.

Instead, she placed a hand on her chin, her brow furrowing in thought.

Ichigo noticed immediately. "What's wrong, Senna?"

She hesitated for just a moment before finally voicing the question that had been gnawing at her mind.

"Is it just me… or have we been through this exact moment before?"

**

The moment Yato activated his ability, reality seemed to rewind itself. He found himself once again engulfed within the thick veil of smoke—a remnant of the devastating assault launched by Ganryū's subordinates. But this time, he knew what was coming.

Fighting against the throbbing pain hammering inside his skull, Yato immediately worked to suppress his reiatsu to the absolute minimum. It wasn't easy. The strain of his ability, combined with the splitting headache clawing at his mind, made it difficult to focus. Yet, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to move.

A burst of green light flared beneath his feet as he activated Bringer Light, his Fullbring ability, and combined it seamlessly with Shunpo—vanishing in a blur of motion as he shot toward the area where thousands of Blanks had gathered.

Sweat dripped down his forehead from the sheer exertion. His body protested, his head pulsed with agony, but he pushed forward, his mind locked onto a single objective.

'If I wipe out the Blanks now, the sheer number of people fighting thoses guys should be enough to prevent Ganryū from taking Senna.' His thoughts raced as his speed only increased. 'Just focus on the Blanks. Forget everything else. Just—focus—on—them.'

He repeated the mantra over and over, hammering it into his mind like a survival instinct.

And then, he reached them.

The Blanks were everywhere. An endless sea of lost souls drifting unnaturally in the air, their hollowed forms flickering in and out of sight like phantoms trapped between worlds. They hovered ominously above the crowd—men, women, children, even stray animals—all unaware of the supernatural battle unfolding around them.

There was no hesitation.

Yato exploded into motion, weaving through the masses at an almost impossible speed. His sword flashed like silver lightning as he struck down the Blanks in rapid succession. Each swing of his zanpakutō severed their existence, erasing them from reality before they could even react.

The red threads of his Fullbring slithered through the air, darting like serpents, ensnaring and crushing the spirits with eerie precision.

His body burned from exertion. His breath grew ragged. But he didn't stop.

For a full minute—a painstaking, relentless minute—he maintained the breakneck pace, tearing through the Blanks with ruthless efficiency.

And then… silence.

The last of them faded into nothingness.

Yato staggered to a halt, panting heavily. His vision blurred from exhaustion, his knees threatening to buckle. But it was done.

He straightened, panting heavily, his body drenched in sweat. He placed a trembling hand on his knee, trying to steady himself.

"Now… I just need a moment… to catch my breath… then I can head back—"

His words died in his throat.

A searing, unbearable pain ripped through his chest.

His entire body froze as pain unlike anything he had ever felt surged through him. His breath hitched. His vision blurred. A horrific realization dawned upon him as he slowly, shakily looked down.

A sharp, foreign object had impaled him from behind—piercing clean through his back and emerging from his chest.

A spear. The jagged weapon jutted out in front of him, crimson staining its length as warm blood seeped into his already tattered clothing.

'There… there was someone here!?' His mind reeled, panic flooding his senses. He coughed, choking on the thick, metallic taste of his own blood.

His trembling hands instinctively reached for the spear, but his strength was already fading.

With monumental effort, he turned his head—only to feel his entire body go cold.

Standing just behind him, his expression unreadable, was Ganryū.

Impossible.

Ganryū wasn't supposed to be here. He was supposed to be fighting Ichigo. This wasn't possible.

Yet, here he was.

And he was smiling.

"How fortunate that you decided to come all the way out here, substitute shinigami, Yato Yasakani—" Ganryū's voice was calm, almost mocking. "Or should I say… the one pretending to be Yato Yasakani?"

Yato's mind spiraled into chaos.

'This isn't possible. He shouldn't be here. He was supposed to be—'

Yato's mind screamed in protest.

'No—NO!! How the hell is he here?!'

The panic clawed at his chest, suffocating him as he struggled to comprehend what was happening. But before he could react, Ganryū tightened his grip on the weapon and—with an almost casual motion—ripped the spear from Yato's body.

Yato's world shattered.

His vision flashed white as fresh pain surged through his nerves. He barely registered the sensation of the spear vanishing, disintegrating into the air just like the Blanks he had destroyed moments ago.

Ganryū exhaled in amusement, tilting his head slightly. "So your ability to sense reiatsu is sharp enough to detect the Blanks from such a distance. Impressive." His smile widened ever so slightly. "But you were so focused on saving these people, so caught up in your noble little mission, that you never even noticed I was right behind you.'

Yato collapsed to his knees.

His hand clawed weakly at his chest, blood gushing between his fingers. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. The pain was unbearable, but what terrified him even more…

Was the realization that he couldn't rewind this.

He was too exhausted. Too drained. The strain of using his Fullbring's ability had pushed him to the limit.

His vision darkened.

He coughed violently, more blood spilling from his lips as he fell forward, the cold ground rising to meet him. His strength was leaving him. The world blurred at the edges, fading into nothingness.

"You…" He tried to speak, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ganryū stood over Yato's collapsing form, his cold, unblinking gaze fixed on the young man as he teetered on the edge of consciousness. The flickering remnants of awareness still clung desperately to Yato's dulled eyes, his lips parting slightly—as if trying to speak.

A feeble attempt.

Ganryū's sharp senses caught the faint, broken whisper that barely escaped Yato's throat. A question. A final, desperate plea for understanding.

He had so many questions. How did Ganryū know about him? About his powers?

But the words never came.

For a moment, Ganryū merely watched as blood pooled beneath Yato, the deep crimson stark against the cold, indifferent ground. Then, without urgency, he turned away, his long cloak trailing behind him like a shadow. His feets barely made a sound against the ground as he began to walk, distancing himself from the broken body at his feet.

And then—he spoke. His voice was smooth, unwavering, and laced with quiet menace.

"Me…?" He took another step forward, his words slow and deliberate, as if savoring the weight they carried. "We are the clan of the darkness."

Another step.

The air itself seemed to grow heavier.

"The forgotten. The exiled."

He came to a halt.

And then, finally, his voice dropped to a near whisper—one that somehow felt far more suffocating than a roar.

"We are… the Dark Ones."

Yato's consciousness slowly slipped away.

And then—

Darkness.