Nonchalant guy (119)

Aizen steepled his fingers, contemplating the possibility of using noble influence to temporarily rid himself of Sora. It was an elegant solution in theory—Tokinada Tsunayashiro would leap at the opportunity, practically salivating at the thought of sinking his claws into a Quincy with Sora's notoriety. It would be effortless to fabricate a crime, orchestrate his detainment, and remove him from the board without lifting a finger.

Yet, Aizen did not deal in imperfect solutions.

The problem lay in the unpredictability of Sora Ishida.

Falsely accused and imprisoned? Sora was the kind of person who would make the crime real out of sheer spite.

There was no doubt that once backed into a corner, the boy would abandon all restraint. Given his volatile disposition, he wouldn't simply escape—he would burn down the system that allowed his incarceration.

An unnecessary complication.

Even more inconvenient was Byakuya Kuchiki's increasing proximity to Sora. If a noble of his stature shared living space with the boy, any timeline the Central 46 fabricated would collapse under scrutiny. 

Sora was not a recluse—his presence was known, his daily activities tracked by those around him. A missing Quincy in Karakura Town would not go unnoticed.

Of course, that issue was easily remedied. Aizen could orchestrate a mass memory wipe, erase any traces of Sora's existence, and be done with it.

But therein lay the second issue.

The moment the truth was revealed—and it would be—the situation would spiral out of control. Sora was not foolish; he would see through the ruse immediately. And once suspicion took root, it would not be long before the rest of the Gotei 13 followed.

The boy's adaptability was already a nuisance. Left in frustration, he had engineered a cloning technique—a new Quincy system—in less than a week. A year later, it was perfected. If given sufficient motivation, what else would he create? How much further would he evolve?

Next thing you know, he could create a technique that could kill someone that was immortal....

Worse yet, what would happen if he truly embraced the Quincy cause?

Aizen allowed himself the briefest smirk. The irony was almost poetic—if the nobility were to force Sora's defection, they would manufacture their own demise. The boy would dismantle the noble houses piece by piece, not out of duty, but out of sheer petty vengeance. And once his task was complete? He would simply walk away, satisfied with his work.

Not to mention—Yamamoto.

For all his rigidity, the old man was not a fool. He had surely taken notice of Sora's current strength. Should the conflict escalate, the Captain-Commander would be forced to acknowledge the shift in power.

No.

This was not the ideal path.

Aizen had spent too long crafting this stage to dispose of a potential asset so recklessly. What was the purpose of investing in an experiment if one did not take the time to observe its results?

No—this required control.

If he dictated the parameters of Sora's anger, he could predict its limits. As long as Uryu remained unharmed, Sora's hatred would remain contained—present, but not overwhelming.

And that was the key.

Hatred, when properly cultivated, was not a liability.

It was a tool.

Meanwhile, Sora is blissfully unaware of the manipulations of the one with a god complex. He is seen going on a date with Rukia. Since today is his day off, he decides to enjoy himself.

Sora held Rukia's hand as they walked through the amusement park, the bright neon lights reflecting in his silver hair. The air smelled of caramel popcorn, some grilled food, and other stuff lingering in the air.

Maybe some nostalgia. Well, who cared? Not Sora. He got his waifu, and she was all his.

"For old times' sake, huh?" Rukia said, looking at her boyfriend. Yes, boyfriend. She acknowledged it fully.

Which he was quite happy about.

"Yeah, except this time, we're actually dating," Sora teased, giving her hand a small squeeze.

Rukia scoffed, though her grip on his hand tightened. She liked this. Not that you'd hear her saying it, though.

The two wandered through the stalls, playing a few games—Sora winning a ridiculously oversized rabbit plushie that he promptly handed to Rukia. Mind you, the plushie was bigger than her. Granted, she was short as heck.

Why was he getting death glares? Could she read his mind?

"This is bigger than me."

"Exactly. Now if I'm not around, just imagine it's me," he said with a smile.

"Though not too much. Only I get to taste the blueberry."

...

Did he...

"You idiot," she muttered, her cheeks turning a bright shade of red.

"If you don't like it, we can go with yuzu sorbet. It's known for being refreshingly cold with a hint of tartness. It starts off icy and crisp, but as it melts, you get a subtly sweet, delicate flavor that lingers. So, you. You can be quite cold sometimes, but you get sweeter... a lot sweeter. I know that," he said, lightly licking his lips.

Smack.

You know what? He deserved that one. That was totally understandable.

On his cheek, there was currently a handprint mark. He didn't mind it, like, at all.

Though he couldn't help but notice his Blut Vene did not activate. He was sure he placed it on automatic mode. It turned on the second it detected a threat... Oh. OH.

He didn't perceive her as a threat, and there was no ill intent behind her slap. Hoh, so his defense wasn't absolute, as he thought.

Now for the date.

The roller coasters were fun. Sora had zero issues. Rukia, despite acting tough, nearly crushed his hand. He didn't call her out on it—mostly because it was cute watching her pretend she wasn't freaking out.

Though, once again, his Blut was not turning on unless he himself activated it.

And then... came the haunted house.

"Oh, hell yes," Sora grinned. This would be fun.

"I don't see the appeal," Rukia muttered, clearly unimpressed. She was a Soul Reaper. Ain't no way she was scared of ghosts. She'd seen far worse.

"Come on, don't tell me you're scared?"

"Me? Rukia Kuchiki? Scared? Absolutely not."

So, hum... she lied.

Five minutes later, Rukia was clinging to Sora's arm like her life depended on it.

The second a zombie mannequin jumped out from a hidden corner, she punched it straight into the wall. Damn.

Sora was dying of laughter.

"Stop laughing!" she hissed, still latched onto him.

"Rukia... I love you, but this? This is the greatest thing I've ever seen in my life."

She huffed, but the light blush on her cheeks betrayed her.

When they were done, they went out to get some ice cream. Something to calm their minds, one might even say.

Sora had no clue that a few hours from now, his anger would reach its peak—that, for the first time in his life, he would hate someone about as much as he hated Yhwach.

Though that was for his future self to talk about. His past self was trying... and failing to do something right now.

Sora felt the presence of three Garganta opening up. They all appeared roughly near where the captains were training. Nah, they could handle it. This was more important.

He would hate this decision.

Meanwhile – Uryu's Training

Uryu panted lightly. He had been working his ass off over the last couple of days, weeks, months... Unlike Sora, he wasn't blessed with a large Reiryoku pool, nor did Reishi seem to love him.

He wasn't a Disney princess.

He had to be stronger.

Using his Schrift, he teleported an apple to his hand.

He bit down on the apple, then used his Schrift, and the bite mark vanished.

Hm. Reversing cause and effect.

Hm. Quite a strong ability.

Right now, with his Schrift, he should be a bit weaker than suppressed Sora before the Soul Society.

Around low Captain level—low to mid Captain if he was using his Schrift. So he could beat that Soifon lady, the dog man, and stalemate with the ice guy.

Byakuya would fuck him up, though. Unless Uryu cheesed it with his Schrift and let Byakuya fuck him up and then switched.

Hm... He would probably get fucked if he tried to fight Kenny. Shunsui would toy with him and kill him if need be.

And Yamamoto...

We do not talk about the old man.

Uryu did, in fact, watch Sora's clone get beat. Matter of fact, that was one of the main reasons he got caught. He was caught lacking. He was so busy watching his brother get his shit kicked in, he didn't notice the black man and the smiling man approaching him from behind.

If we're being honest, they could probably beat his ass regardless, but Uryu had the excuse that he got snuck, so he was fine. Unlike Sora, he didn't get touched, so his nonexistent street cred still existed.

He had to be ready.

His cheeks shall not be taken... Why the heck was he thinking like that?

Oh, lord, no. He was being infected with the Sora virus...

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Just as he was about to fire another arrow—

A Garganta opened.

Uryu's body tensed, his bow instantly forming in his hands. He aimed without hesitation—

But he never got the chance to fire.

A figure stepped out, and for once, Uryu felt so much pressure—the energy, the sheer power of a nonchalant, light-skinned dreadhead could be felt.

It was like Duke Dennis was coming down to Earth.

Coyote Starrk.

Uryu looked around and, somehow, all of the Vizards had been knocked out.

A chill guy, one might say.

The Primera Espada.

The man sighed, his posture lazy, his expression almost apologetic.

"...Sorry, kid. Not really my kind of mission."

Before Uryu could react, Starrk vanished.

And just like every guy who let their crush go out with one of them dreadheads for Halloween, reality hit Uryu like a truck.

His bow dissipated. His body went limp.

Starrk caught him before he hit the ground, sighing as he threw the unconscious Quincy over his shoulder.

Even now, the man was still acting all nonchalant and chill.

"Guess that's that."

The Garganta closed.

And just like that, Uryu Ishida was gone.

Captured by a chill guy.

A/N Just a chill guy