Self-Reflection

Ichigo woke up alone in his bed, staring at a dull ceiling. For a moment, he had no idea where he was or who he was – am I Ayumu or Ichigo? – but a brief look around told him everything he needed. He was Kurosaki Ichigo, in Las Noches. Perhaps more importantly, he felt… refreshed was a close word, but it didn't encompass everything. Well-rested? Recovered? Rejuvenated?

Whatever the word, Ichigo felt much better than he did yesterday. Physically, emotionally and spiritually, which led him to the strange thought that since he was in spirit form at the moment, was there any difference between physical and spiritual? On the one hand, spiritual experience in his own Inner World had impacted his Shinigami body and abilities. He'd grown stronger, faster, more powerful training with Tensa Zangetsu's fusion form.

But even that was merely an extension of the knowledge he'd had for some time now: physical appearances rarely mattered when it came to the strength of the soul. On the other hand, if his body was injured severely enough, he would eventually bleed out or fall unconscious, even if his will to fight was stronger than his opponent's, even if he had a great deal more power left. So there had to be some separation of spirit and physical form.

But perhaps that barrier… is even thinner than that between Shinigami and Hollow. Ichigo froze. There was something profound about what he'd just realized, something that called out to his soul in a way he didn't understand. The only comparison he had was from before he'd learned Zangetsu's name – that sense that he should know, that he was tantalizingly close to the knowledge. He would have to think about it later.

With a sigh, Ichigo left the bed and began getting ready for the day. Seeing his Shihakushō in the closet next to the white uniforms that Aizen had probably once worn, he paused. After a moment of indecision, he shrugged and pulled out both, ready to start mixing and matching. It was about time for a change anyway – a change to punctuate that he was more than a Shinigami, more than a Hollow. He was a transcendent Vizard, and if he ever wanted to be treated as such by either race, he had to be visibly different. That was something that he'd discussed with Nelliel the night before, after their…

Ichigo blushed as the memories returned to the forefront of his mind. They'd spent the day alternating between… relaxing… and just talking about anything on Ichigo's mind at Nelliel's insistence. With some prodding, Ichigo had shared his nightmares and all the reasons for the pressure he felt weighing him down, and to his relief Nelliel had completely understood. She hadn't blamed him in the slightest for accidentally unleashing Hell, and promised to help however she could to save his mother.

She'd also reassured him that if Hell were to take control of him – which she called unlikely, given Ichigo's sheer strength of will – that she, Starrk and Ulquiorra would ensure that his friends and family escaped unharmed. "And with Garganta," she pointed out, "no one would ever know where they went. Even if they found us, it's just a short Garganta to someplace else. We could probably even get them to Soul Society if we needed." That had been a weight off of Ichigo's chest. Why hadn't he thought of confiding his fears in someone else with the ability to jump dimensions whenever they wanted?

Nelliel had also shattered his illusion about being the only one who could stop Hell. With a reminder that Ulquiorra had managed to cut through some of the chains, she claimed that it would be difficult but not impossible for others to develop a strong-enough Bakudō.

"After all, Urahara developed a binding for Aizen, right?" she reminded him. "And Aizen was beyond Urahara's level of evolution. I'm sure he's working on it. Besides, no one should expect a Shinigami with a little skill at Kidō to suddenly be able to make specially-designed Bakudō. Aizen said that there's a whole division in Soul Society devoted towards Kidō – why wouldn't they be the ones working on an appropriate seal? You told me yourself that they can infuse objects with Kidō, which can then be used by practically anyone. Why can't they just make a seal, infuse it into an orb for you, and then you power it with your evolved reiatsu?"

Ichigo had merely blinked. That argument had made far too much sense. He opened his mouth to ask why Hitsugaya and his dad had told him to work on his Bakudō then, why Tessai had accepted his reasoning and begun his training accordingly, but his voice died in his throat. He was the backup plan. Just as he'd been against Aizen, he was the last hope, not the best one.

Even though the responsibility was still there, Ichigo felt a lot better regardless. The Gotei 13 and the Vizard weren't relying on him exclusively. Just in case the Kidō Corps weren't working on a seal right then, though, he had promptly dressed, called for and sent Ulquiorra to the living world to pass on the idea before returning to his quarters.

All in all, Ichigo's experience with Nelliel had left him feeling so much better by nightfall that for once he'd had a pleasant night's sleep after she'd left for her own bed. No nightmares of Hell, no strange dreams about Ayumu and Akio.

The blush faded as Ichigo curiously prodded at his reiryoku, wondering if his power would be more responsive to his chain training today. He had a pretty good feeling about it, so Nelliel seemed to be right about his need to unwind a little. The blush returned when his traitorous brain wondered if they'd be having a repeat performance in the near future. It was a good thing that Cazador didn't seem to have woken up yet – Ichigo did not need a pervy Inner Hollow distracting him with his own memories and lewd comments.

Shaking his head, Ichigo returned to the present, eyeing the two sets of clothes. There was the Shinigami Shihakushō, and the Arrancar uniform. Nelliel had made a couple of arguments about changing his appearance. The first was a simple declaration that he was different from Shinigami and from Hollow, so both races would be forced to acknowledge him for who and what he was – a transcendent Vizard, worthy of respect and no one's subordinate. That bit, Ichigo understood. But then she'd also claimed that a change of outfit could help with his confidence, which would make the Hollows respect him more and help with his training. Ichigo wasn't sure about that, but he had heard the phrase "the clothes make the man" in the living world, so he was willing to give it a shot. Who knows? Maybe she was right. It couldn't hurt anyway.

After several minutes of experimentation, Ichigo walked the halls, finally content with the final product. He wore the black hakama of Shinigami, but he'd shed their black kosode, revealing the comfortable white sleeveless vest that he'd acquired from accepting that part of his nature was Hollow. He'd tied a red sash around his waist to complete the look for now. It was simple, but simple was good while training.

Ichigo had taken the white jacket and hakama from the Arrancar outfit and taken them over to Pesche with some instructions, but Pesche had said that the changes would take a while to do. Ichigo still wasn't sure how they did alterations or even made the material, since they lived in a desert wasteland, but figured that it was one of those things he probably didn't want to know. The only reason he'd known it was possible was the sheer variety of outfits the Arrancar and traitorous Shinigami had worn while invading Karakura.

Entering the training area, Ichigo found that he was alone – that was nice. Deciding to take it slow, he materialized a small length of chain about as long as his arm. Holding one end in his right hand, he channeled his power down it to contort the chain into various shapes. First a circle, then a triangle, then a square. Narrowing his eyes in focus, he lengthened the chain a bit and focused on a pentagram, drawing it out in his mind.

The chain obediently formed the shape, and Ichigo smiled. Nelliel had been right – this was easier after he'd had a bit of time to relax, and when no one was watching there was hardly any pressure on his mind. That proven, Ichigo sat to think about what he wanted his specialized seal to do. The obvious answer was that he wanted to seal away Hell entirely, but when he thought about that, Ichigo realized that wasn't a good solution to the problem. Hell needed to exist to handle the evil souls, and since the person was tied to the dimension, sealing away Hell entirely was impractical and probably nearly impossible.

The next thought was sealing Hell's power, but that had its own complications. All Hell would have to do was bite his tongue and die in his own realm, and he'd be reborn without any restrictions. In that case, almost all of Hell's movement, including speech, would have to be sealed as well.

Ichigo briefly thought about the Bakudō that he'd seen and experienced that could fit the bill. By far, the best one had to have been Bakudō 99: Bankin that Hachi had used against Aizen. Perhaps, if he could make his chains act the same way as the sealing fabric…? He shook his head. That had to come later: first was actually getting the chains to fire at the opponent without using a preexisting spell, or even better, materialize around them.

Ichigo turned towards a nearby dummy and flared his power lightly, focusing his intent with determination. In his eyes, Hell's image was overlaid atop the dummy, with his knowing, mocking little smile. It was the same smile that he'd given right before kicking Ichigo out of his dimension. Ichigo hated that smile. Shoving his hand forward, palm open, Ichigo let out a wordless shout, demanding his power bend to his will.

A thick chain erupted from his palm, materializing and lengthening as it shot towards and wrapped around the dummy from head to toe. Ichigo blinked, then let out a bestial smile of mingled satisfaction and triumph. It had worked. Just to be sure, he walked over and tugged the chain experimentally – it was quite tightly wound, and he could feel his own power lingering in it.

"Nicely done, Ichigo!" Nelliel greeted, walking into the room. "I guess last night helped?"

Ichigo smiled at her. "Yeah, you were right. Again. I just needed to stop thinking that everything depended on me and the rest fell into place." He gestured at the chain. "I think that since I was stressed, my powers were too."

"Of course," Nelliel agreed with a smile of her own. "Your powers are based on your spirit. Your chains are a part of you, so of course they're dependent on your spiritual health."

Ichigo stiffened. There it was again, the same feeling from earlier, but much stronger! That sensation immersed him, and Ichigo knew that he was on the verge of something big, something important, something that would change his self-perception forever. His mouth opened without his guidance and began to utter the words that would change everything.

"I am…" and then the words disappeared before they could reach his tongue. "Oh come on!" he cried out as the feeling retreated.

"Ichigo?" Nelliel asked, confused as to why he was suddenly shouting at nothing. Ichigo quickly explained what was bothering him. "And this has happened twice now?"

"Yeah. I don't know what's going on!"

"Does Zangetsu know?" Nelliel queried. "If it's something that powerful, then maybe he knows something."

The sensation you feel is accompanied by what can only be called an earthquake in your Inner World, Ichigo, Zangetsu answered without prompting. But I don't know what it is either. I suspect that it, like the chains, are unrelated to the powers of a Zanpakutō, or even that of an Inner Hollow.

Yeah, he's right, Cazador confirmed, sending Ichigo an impression of a thoughtful nod.

The Vizard relayed their answers back to Nelliel, who sighed. "Well, I'm sure it'll come in time," she offered. "If powers are awakening within you, they'll push to be used. Maybe next time."

Ichigo nodded disappointedly, but decided to let it go. "You saw my chain technique. Do you have any suggestions?" he asked, changing the subject to something he could work at.

Nelliel approached the chain, eyeing them in a considering manner. Then she took out her sword and slashed down swiftly and surely, focusing her power and slicing through a single link in the chain, making the rest fall slack. "A chain is only as strong as its weakest link," she reminded Ichigo. "And in every link, the weakest point is the middle." She picked up a length of chain and indicated by pulling it in opposite directions. Sure enough, it was the middle of one of the links that stretched and then broke. "Hell has his lieutenants, who will surely try to free him. If your seal is to keep him bound eternally, then we can have no weak links. Perhaps after the chains have wrapped up your opponent, you should change it physically to something else?" she offered.

Ichigo frowned. Her words made sense, but he wasn't sure how to make that happen. He said as much to Nelliel, who promptly suggested he speak to Shinigami skilled with sealing. "In the meantime, why not try your chains on me?" she smiled in an almost-suggestive manner, and Ichigo had to fight down the blush that threatened to resurface.

Mentally slapping himself and focusing, Ichigo forced himself to look at Nelliel like he would an enemy. He couldn't have his emotions weakening the chains. With a breath, Ichigo summoned his power and fired a chain once again, which shot through the air like a spear at his friend.

Nelliel stood still, allowing the chain to impact her and wrap her up. She began trying to break free, starting with a low amount of strength and then progressively more. Finally, she gave up and sighed with a smile. "Alright, Ichigo. You've got me all tied up." She smiled again, her eyes darkened with something that until the previous day Ichigo had had no experience with outside Yoruichi's teasing. This time Ichigo knew there was no fighting the blush that burned brilliantly on his cheeks.

… which was exactly what Nelliel had been waiting for, it seemed, as she immediately redoubled her struggles. But even so, she still couldn't break free. Instead of frowning in frustration, Nelliel instead let her smile become a simple, genuinely pleased one. "Very nice, Ichigo. Once your chain is cast and your target bound, its strength isn't reliant on your continued focus. Now would you let me loose? I do have other things to do today."

"Sure. I should probably get going to get some sealing advice anyway." With a nod and a brief moment of concentration, Ichigo made the chains disintegrate. Then he frowned, sensing another presence. It took him a moment to identify it. As it happened, it was exactly who he needed. "Ulquiorra."

The Arrancar materialized next to him. "Yes, Kurosaki-sama?"

Ichigo scowled. He didn't like being referred to with such a respectful suffix, but it was one of the things that he and Nelliel had talked about. As the king of Hollows, he had to be shown respect by other visibly strong Hollows, or else he'd have to prove his strength over and over again. So he had to put up with it. Still don't like it. "I need to visit the living world, and possibly Soul Society. I'll be back later today. If anyone asks for me, tell them only that I am busy regarding the Hell crisis. If something critical that requires my immediate presence occurs, come get me immediately."

"Yes, Kurosaki-sama."

Nodding once again, Ichigo spun on his heel and gestured with hand to open a Garganta, stepping through and quickly making his way to the living world.

Yamamoto breathed deeply, letting the air heated by his rising power penetrate deep in his lungs, letting the familiar burn purify him. Here, deep beneath the 1st Division barracks, in Muken – the 8th and final level of the underground prison – Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni could relax his control and let his power flare out like it wished every second of every day. "Reduce all creation to ash, Ryūjin Jakka," he intoned, calling forth the fire of his Zanpakutō.

Flame erupted around him, a fiery blaze that licked at the walls and ceiling of Muken. Yamamoto swung in the direction of one of the walls, barking out a command. "Taimatsu!" From his sword an enormous inferno was spawned, a spiral of fire that nipped at Yamamoto himself as it consumed everything within it greedily.

The sōtaicho's eyes never wavered, never betrayed anything but determination and a will of iron, and the fire left him untouched. Yamamoto took another deep breath through his nose, and gave a wordless roar. The firestorm that raged around him leapt to even greater heights, hotter flames that had begun to take on a slight shade of electric blue at their core. With a slash of Ryūjin Jakka, the old man gathered all the fire to swirl around his blade, and then with a sharp flare of his power, quenched all the flames instantaneously. Ryūjin Jakka was still released, but Yamamoto had sealed its fire.

The air was hot, scorching hot, but it did not bother Yamamoto in the slightest. He had long since learned how to protect his body with his spiritual energy, especially from the power of flame that his Zanpakutō wielded. He was at home with the element of fire – centuries of using Ryūjin Jakka, of training with his Bankai, had left him unimpressed with anything less than the heat of the fires of the sun itself. The only reason he had been burned at all by Ennetsu Jigoku was that he had dedicated all of his power to destruction, and little to his own protection.

With a low sigh, Yamamoto released his grip over Ryūjin Jakka's fire, allowing it only to manifest as a flame-covered sword. Holding it in front of him, he reached into his soul.

A moment later, the sword disappeared, instead replaced by a humanoid figure made of fire. Two tiny blue flames burned where a human's eyes would be, but the rest of its face was nothing more than a constantly-shifting blaze. "Shigekuni," Ryūjin Jakka hissed slowly, its voice high and deliberate. "Why have you summoned me?"

"I seek wisdom," Yamamoto answered quietly but strongly.

The Zanpakutō laughed, the sound crackling like hot embers. "You are old, Shigekuni. Your power wanes, slowly but surely. What use have you for wisdom now?"

"I am old," he admitted. "But I still have a duty."

Ryūjin Jakka moved inhumanly, his form contorting as it split and rejoined and writhed away and to itself. "We have been partners for so very long, Shigekuni. We have won countless battles. And still we have not ended that man. That Quincy. Are you hiding behind 'duty'? Are you afraid?"

"No. I have done all I can to prepare for him, and I have trained the two I love as sons to be powerful as well. However…"

"I know your every thought, Shigekuni," Ryūjin Jakka interrupted. "You have hidden our Bankai for a millennium, waiting to catch him by surprise. Yet Hell may be an even greater threat. And you are concerned that the boy, Kurosaki Ichigo, will destroy everything you have worked to achieve through the centuries because he refuses to accept that some sacrifices must be made for the greater good."

"Yes. While Kurosaki Ichigo does grow more mature every time I see him, I fear that he will not lend his sword to maintaining the fragile peace we have created. Nevertheless, I have a plan to mend the burnt bridge, as the saying goes." The thought crossed Yamamoto's mind that it was rather an apt expression in this case, as it was greatly his fault that relations were strained between Soul Society and Kurosaki's group. Blinking and returning his thoughts to the present, the sōtaicho continued. "Hell, however…"

"You know my advice."

"Yes." Now Yamamoto's voice had a hint of amusement. "As always, you suggest reducing all our enemies to ash."

"Of course." Shinigami and Zanpakutō chuckled at the long-standing joke before they grew serious once more. "Give all of yourself into every battle you intend to finish. Give all of yourself for those you have sworn to protect. Such is the way of fire. We burn our enemies as we consume everything in our path. Perhaps by burning Hell itself, that Quincy will hesitate, and give us opportunity to consume him as well."

Yamamoto paused. "Forcing Yhwach to take pause would be useful," he mused. "It would give everyone a chance to grow stronger, strong enough for his army."

Ryūjin Jakka turned the blue orbs of flame to stare directly into his wielder's eyes. "Our fires are hotter than they have ever been. If that Quincy sees your power, why does it matter? There must be a reason he has not yet attacked. Besides, Quincy abilities send souls to Hell, correct? If Hell is conquered, then what is there to fear?"

This too, Yamamoto considered for several moments before nodding affirmatively. "You are right. If Hell is defeated, and we have people capable of destroying his chains, then there is little to fear from the Quincy. Even less, should Ishida Uryū succeed in using or nullifying the contract in such a way that it removes all Quincy abilities. Thank you, Ryūjin Jakka."

"As always, my flames are yours to command. Burn bright, Shigekuni." And then the fire elemental swirled, compressing in on itself before vanishing.

Yamamoto felt his heart grow warm as the spirit of his Zanpakutō returned to his soul, and he let his lips curl into a rare smile. It was nice to have things going his way. And it would be nicer still to demonstrate exactly how strong he truly was.

"Again!" Amagai barked. The men before him groaned wearily before obediently getting to their feet and making their way back to their starting positions. Only one man, the one who had been captured mere moments before, grinned and bounced up and down, eager and willing to go again.

It was an exercise that Amagai and Hinamori had developed together. After having spent a day to assess the skills of the majority of his new division, Amagai had worked with Hinamori to pick the best four of them and began working with them exclusively. Strangely, only one of them had been a seated officer.

**Flashback**

"This doesn't make sense," Amagai sighed, rubbing his temples as his headache grew in intensity. "How can it be that so many of the unseated officers are stronger than the seated ones?"

Hinamori smiled sadly. "We all believed in Aizen, Amagai-taicho. When he betrayed us all, while I was recovering under the care of the 4th Division, several of the seated officers committed suicide, or transferred to other divisions so as not to be bothered by constant memories. By the time I returned to duty, the remaining officers had selected members who were capable of helping run the division. Rather than focusing on strength, they focused on administration skills – paperwork, division of responsibility and such."

"I see. They did what they had to do to keep the division running?"

"More or less." She shrugged. "Despite their efforts, there were problems due to a lack of perceived authority. When I was able to take on the responsibilities of fukutaicho once more, I became that authority, but I was still incapable of handling all of the responsibilities of the taicho as well, so I left the system as it stood. I just had the final say if there were conflicts."

Amagai nodded thoughtfully, his headache lessening as he rubbed his chin. "It's a good idea," he admitted. "And it's proven its usefulness when a division is missing a taicho. I'll leave it this way for a while, to give me to time to adapt to being a taicho."

**End Flashback**

With four people chosen, the next task was to train them to be able to capture a Togabito. With the knowledge that they would simply resurrect back in Hell if they died, the logical thought was that they would fight without caring for their own wounds, instead only focusing on destroying their opponents. It was Hinamori who pointed out that there were a group of people in the Gotei 13 with a similar mindset, and more specifically, comparable strength.

So Amagai had approached Kenpachi and successfully persuaded him to lend Madarame Ikkaku to help out for the time being. The argument that Ikkaku would gain battle experience against several opponents at once had won the bloodthirsty taicho over immediately. Ikkaku had been slightly harder to convince – he believed in honorable one-on-one fights, but after Amagai had pointed out that Yamamoto planned to use Ikkaku to help face an army of Togabito that grossly outnumbered them, and that they likely wouldn't be honorable, the 3rd seat had listened to reason. Naturally, Amagai had then listened to Hinamori's fervent advice and gone to the 4th Division to borrow one of their healers.

So far, Ikkaku hadn't even been hurt yet, and he hadn't needed to use his Bankai at all, such were his skills with his Shikai, Hōzukimaru. But that healer had certainly proven his worth. After every battle, he had healed Amagai's team's wounds and restored their reiatsu, gaining a little more confidence every time. What was the kid's name? Yamada something? Whatever it was, Amagai was definitely appreciative of his efforts – without them, the exercise would have ended several hours ago.

Amagai watched his team try to force Ikkaku to submit with a blank expression. He'd formed the team with versatility in mind. Haku, a pale-skinned somewhat withdrawn young man who hardly looked older than 16, was skilled in Hadō. He was also good friends with a short but fiery-natured redheaded girl named Chinatsu, who had tested very well for Bakudō. They were the Kidō sub-team of the group of four.

Hayate, average in every visible way, was the 6th seat of the division. He looked in his late teens, with common brown eyes and short, straight black hair that was in no particular style. He was calm and dedicated according to Hinamori, but otherwise was utterly forgettable. That would be changing soon, as he had managed to unlock his Shikai recently. His Shikai, Kodoku no Kishi, had taken the form of a broadsword wider than his own head with two oval-shaped holes near the hilt. It was as tall as his own body, reminding Amagai vaguely of Kurosaki Ichigo.

So far, Kodoku no Kishi hadn't displayed any special techniques beyond being far more durable than standard asauchi, though that hadn't stopped Hayate from trying to fight Ikkaku up close. He was probably thinking that it was his job to keep Ikkaku – and later, a Togabito – occupied while the rest of the team weakened and set up the capture. To be fair, he was probably right.

Daiki, a broad-shouldered youth and the last member of the capture team, was surprisingly light on his feet and apparently specialized in Hohō, preferring to use Shunpo to land an attack and immediately move out of range of counterattacks. His Shunpo wasn't that good yet, but with every battle it was getting just a little faster, a little more efficient, to help him with his flagging stamina. The kid learned quickly, Amagai noted, and he was good at judging his own limits. It was a good strategy when working with Hayate, and likely would have worked, if Ikkaku wasn't so highly experienced and skilled enough with his Shikai to block them both at once.

Amagai watched as Chinatsu hurriedly muttered an incantation, reading her lips. She was trying for Bakudō 61: Rikujōkōrō, he observed. It was a good choice for the situation, seeing as Ikkaku specialized in brute strength, while a well-cast Rikujōkōrō was durable enough to handle all but the strongest of threats. But there was something not quite right – he frowned and focused his attention on her before realizing what the problem was. Judging from her expression and fluctuating reaitsu she hadn't quite mastered the spell yet. It wouldn't be strong enough to hold Ikkaku for long, but perhaps it would give her team a better opportunity.

Sure enough, when she cast the spell, Ikkaku was stopped in mid-motion but the spell was already fraying. "Now!" Chinatsu cried out. "It'll only last a second!"

Taking blatant advantage of the opportunity, Daiki flickered behind Ikkaku, leaning low to strike at Ikkaku's legs while Hayate swung at his chest. It was a good example of teamwork, Amagai mused as he watched carefully, ready to step in and save Ikkaku if needed. But it turned out there was no need. Ikkaku had broken free with a fierce shout and instantly avoided damage by jumping over Daiki's attack and using Hōzukimaru to block Kodoku no Kishi, allowing himself to be pushed away by the momentum of the blow. "Not bad, kids! What else you got?"

"…In the abyss of conflagration, wait at the far heavens," Haku finished the chant with a cold expression. "Hadō 61: Sōren Sōkatsui!"

He unleashed a powerful beam of blue fire that obscured his vision, but when the spell ended Ikkaku was nowhere in sight, leaving only a partially-destroyed wall that had been directly behind him.

Haku heard a low whistle behind him. "I don't use Kidō myself but it looks like you pack a punch. Little bit faster, little bit stronger and you might've gotten me."

The Hadō practicioner began to spin to see his opponent, the simple Hadō 1: Shō already on his lips to push the opponent away, but it was too late. Ikkaku kicked him hard enough to send him right through the hole in the wall he'd just made.

"Alright!" Ikkaku laughed. "What's next?"

Hayate, though tired, looked ready to continue, but Amagai stepped in and shook his head. "That's enough for now," he decided. "Thank you for your time, Madarame-san. We'll continue this tomorrow, first thing in the morning."

"Sure thing," Ikkaku agreed. "It was good exercise, keeping track of four opponents at once. Are you going to bring more tomorrow?"

"No, you'll see these four again," Amagai replied with a smile. "But they may have a few surprises for you then."

Ikkaku shrugged, then sealed Hōzukimaru and sheathed the blade. "Alright then. I'm gonna go see if anyone at the 11th is up for a spar. See ya tomorrow." He turned on his heel and began walking away.

"Ow…" Haku muttered, climbing through the hole in the wall. "He's really strong."

"Yes, he is," Amagai confirmed. "But you guys are getting there."

Hayate frowned and looked at his Shikai unsurely. "I thought for sure I could at least hold my own against him until everyone else could wear him down or bind him or something."

Amagai clapped a hand on his shoulder sympathetically. "I know the feeling, Hayate-kun. When I first gained my Shikai, I felt on top of the world. I thought for sure that it meant I was stronger than anyone who hadn't reached Shikai yet. I was quickly humbled, though, when I was defeated by someone who beat me without using their Zanpakutō at all."

"Ouch," Chinatsu said with a wince.

"Yeah," Amagai agreed. "Not a fun memory. So don't feel too bad. We all start off somewhere, and you're better than I was at your age. Besides, Madarame Ikkaku is the 3rd seat of the 11th Division, who specialize in not using Kidō of any sort," he reminded them. He'd expected them to doubt their power after that display, and so he'd been ready to tell them exactly who they were up against. His team had done well, and it wouldn't do for them to feel like their efforts were in vain. "All of his reiatsu is dedicated towards offense. Only someone whose defensive or offensive power exceeds his could stand a chance alone. Even then, you need experience."

"I heard Kurosaki Ichigo fought him and beat him while he was trying to save Kuchiki Rukia-sama," Chinatsu volunteered. "And he didn't have much experience at all then."

"That's true," Amagai conceded, closing his eyes rubbing the back of his neck, not having been prepared for that event to be brought up. After a moment to gather his thoughts, he nodded and continued. "But he had been trained by Urahara Kisuke, so he had some experience, and a lot of power to back it up. Also, Ikkaku's grown a lot stronger since then. None of you are weak; you're simply inexperienced and need some additional training before you can take down someone of his level."

Hayate nodded, reassured.

"Now then!" Amagai clapped his hands with a smile. "You've been fighting for several hours now, and I've no doubt that you're hungry. Let's get some lunch, and we'll get some training in this afternoon. You almost had him – with a bit more training, you might even be able to push him into Bankai."

"Hai, taicho!" his four students agreed enthusiastically.

Amagai led the way, not letting his face reflect his thoughts. What am I supposed to do? What's the right thing to do? Once the threat of Hell is gone, how am I supposed to leave these kids alone again? They don't deserve to have two traitorous taicho in a row, let alone so quickly.

But I can't let Yamamoto get away with murdering my father! He has to pay!

Suddenly, a Jigokuchō flew down from the sky, approaching him. Amagai extended his hand and let the little black butterfly land on his finger. Listening to the message, the 5th Division taicho frowned. "Kumoi…" That was rather coincidental. Channeling a bit of his own reiatsu, he whispered a reply to the Jigokuchō, stating that he would meet with Kumoi that night.

He smiled in a reassuring way to his team. "Sorry about that, just an inconvenient meeting later. Let's go."