CH 19. Death.

The air was thick with tension—and a profound awkwardness—as Shinichi's face contorted like a man caught in the middle of a jumpscare. Even the stoic Captain Byakuya seemed slightly fazed. Rukia looked around in confusion, only now registering the stunned silence and the way everyone's eyes were locked on her and Shinichi.

Then it hit her.

Her words.

Her eyes widened as her face turned beet red. "W-WAIT! T-THAT'S NOT—"

But it was too late.

Renji stormed forward, fury etched into every line of his face. He grabbed Shinichi by the collar and yanked him up to eye level.

"How dare filth like you do such a disgusting thing with Rukia? She's from the noble Kuchiki family and you're a nobody!"

Shinichi clenched his jaw, barely holding himself back. He wasn't the type to take insults lightly. A slow smirk crawled onto his lips.

"Oh? We shot a video of it too... wanna see?"

The blood drained from Renji's face—then returned with volcanic heat. With a roar, he punched Shinichi square in the face, sending him tumbling backwards.

Shinichi rolled, then pushed himself up with a hand, chuckling darkly as blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

"Hahaha... did I hit a nerve there?"

Renji's teeth ground together as rage boiled within him. Rukia shouted, panicked and furious, "RENJI, STOP! IT'S NOTHING LIKE THAT! HE'S JUST STUPID AND HAS A BAD SENSE OF HUMOR! LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

But Renji wasn't listening. Not when he had a chance to impress his captain and put Shinichi in his place.

He turned to give Byakuya and Rukia a proud look—as if to say, Watch me. Little did he know that the man he was confronting was planning to end his whole career.

When Renji turned back to Shinichi, he was gone.

"Hey! Dipshit! Where are you?! You ran away because you're scared, huh?!"

[Peak-A-Boo! Activated.]

Renji puffed his chest in triumph—until he felt the knot of his shihakusho loosen.

Fwip!

In a single second, his robe dropped to the ground, leaving him stark naked in the moonlight.

Byakuya sighed and facepalmed. "Tch."

Rukia turned away so fast she nearly spun.

Renji stood frozen, utterly mortified.

He scrambled to grab his clothes, face crimson with humiliation.

Then a voice echoed:

"Hawwwww..."

It was Shinichi, teasing with perfect timing.

Renji's patience snapped. "FUCKER! IF YOU HAVE THE GUTS THEN SHOW YOURSELF! I'LL KILL YOU, I SWEAR I WILL!"

"Who the hell said I was a brave person? I won't show myself, fuck you."

Then—

[Time's up. Deactivating Peak-A-Boo.]

"Oh, c'mon, man! Did you plan this or something?!" Shinichi muttered.

His invisibility wore off, revealing him standing a few feet away.

"Uh... hey... sorry for... you know... stripping you."

Renji didn't wait. He lunged with Zabimaru, Shinichi barely ducking out of the way. A slice ran across his cheek.

Renji pressed forward, each swing sharper, faster, deadlier. Shinichi tried dodging, but Zabimaru's reach and speed kept landing glancing blows.

He's fast... and strong, Shinichi thought. If Byakuya jumps in, I'm screwed. I can't keep this up.

Renji roared and swung again. This time, Shinichi caught the whip-like blade with both hands and redirected it into his side—choosing a non-lethal spot near his pancreas.

Blood spilled, but Shinichi held tight.

"Listen... take her away. I don't care about her. I never thought of her as anything. She was annoying. A nuisance. I'm just happy I'll finally have my house all to myself. So just take her and go. Let me be happy."

Rukia's breath hitched.

His words hit her like a slap.

All the moments they shared—the quiet meals, the jokes, the laughter... meant nothing to him?

Her gaze dropped to the ground.

She turned to Byakuya. "Nii-sama... let's go. I don't want to stay here."

Byakuya nodded. "Renji, we're done here."

Renji hesitated but withdrew Zabimaru and joined them. The senkaimon opened with a hum of energy.

Rukia was the first to step in. Willingly.

Renji followed.

Byakuya paused, looking back at Shinichi one last time.

Rukia didn't.

Not out of hate. Not out of anger.

Just sorrow. Disappointment. And hopelessness.

Then the senkaimon closed.

Shinichi finally exhaled—a long, unsteady breath of relief.

That could've gone south way too quickly.

He didn't yet register the weight of the words he'd said about Rukia. All he cared about in this moment was that he had made it out alive. Barely.

He pushed himself off the ground, still clutching his side. The gash from Zabimaru near his pancreas was deep and bleeding freely.

He looked down at it, teeth clenched. "I'll be okay, I guess..."

His eyes scanned the alleyway.

Ichigo and Ishida were both sprawled across the pavement—unconscious, broken, unmoving.

Shinichi made his way over to Ishida first, crouching beside him.

"Sorry, Ishida... but I need this."

He held his hand a few inches above Ishida's chest. His voice dropped to a low whisper.

"Predation."

Suddenly, thin, luminous blue vines of reiatsu erupted from Ishida's body. They weren't chaotic—they grew with eerie elegance, like intelligent tendrils. They wrapped and curled upwards, drawn toward Shinichi's palm like iron filings to a magnet. The vines shimmered in the air, veins of power pulsing through them, growing denser as they converged on Shinichi's hand and were absorbed into his core.

The moment was surreal—eerie and awe-inspiring all at once.

Then it hit.

A wave of nausea crashed through Shinichi like a tsunami.

He staggered back, gripping his head with both hands as his vision blurred and his stomach turned. He dropped to one knee, groaning as if something inside him was tearing itself apart and rebuilding at the same time.

Two full minutes passed in hellish agony.

Then it stopped.

A screen appeared before his stinging eyes:

[Strength +30] [Speed +25] [Endurance +20] [Reiatsu has increased significantly.]

"That... gave me so much more than the hollows..." he muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead. "But shit... I'll never get used to this feeling after absorption..."

He turned toward Ichigo.

For a moment, the thought crossed his mind to use Predation again.

But he stopped himself.

Byakuya had severed Ichigo's soul chain. He was no longer a Shinigami—at least not right now. Whatever reiatsu remained in him was unstable, untethered. Useless.

"I should get going before Urahara shows up..."

With a final glance at the broken scene around him, Shinichi walked away into the shadows.

But he wasn't alone.

Behind the veil of darkness, a pair of calculating eyes followed him.

Urahara stood silently, hidden in the shadows, arms folded beneath his striped hat. He had watched everything—every word, every movement, every absorption.

He adjusted the brim of his hat.

"Just.. what are you.. Kisaragi-san..."

With a flicker, he moved forward, quietly retrieving Ichigo's unconscious body.

Ishida, meanwhile, stirred awake some distance away. Weak and dazed, he refused Urahara's approach with a slight wave of his hand.

"I'm fine," he muttered, brushing the dust from his uniform.

Still feeling drained, he staggered away from the scene on his own, unaware of what had just been taken from him.

Or what had just been set in motion.

---

Shinichi finally arrived home.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

For the first time in a long while, the space felt genuinely empty. Rukia was gone. Her presence, though subtle, had filled every corner of the house. Now, the absence of her soft footsteps, her scolding voice, and her scattered belongings created an unsettling stillness.

Shinichi let out a heavy sigh and collapsed onto his makeshift bed on the floor.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on him. His body was sore, beaten, and his soul strained from the events of the night.

He was about to close his eyes when a strange realization struck him.

"Why the hell am I sleeping on the floor...?"

His gaze shifted to the bed—the one he hadn't used since Rukia started staying there. A slow smirk curved across his lips.

"My bed is finally mine now."

Dragging himself up with effort, Shinichi flopped onto the mattress. He hugged the pillow close, letting out a relaxed breath as he nuzzled into it.

But then—

He froze.

"Huh...? This pillow smells good... It's... pleasant. Comforting, even. Like... like a girl slept on—"

His eyes shot open wide.

"Oh hell no!"

He sat up in horror and hurled the pillow across the room like it was on fire. A faint blush dusted his cheeks.

"H-How the hell did I become a creep all of a sudden?! Shit... I gotta change the bedsheets... But I'm so damn tired."

With a defeated groan, Shinichi rolled off the bed and collapsed onto the floor once more.

"Yup... this place suits me better... I'll sleep on the bed tomorrow... after I change the damn sheets."

And just like that, he was out.

Sleep took him fast—his body demanding rest, his mind dulled by exhaustion. His wounds from Renji throbbed dully, and the aftereffects of Predation weighed heavily on him.

But his sleep was far from peaceful.

A voice pierced the void.

Seductive. Sweet. Chilling.

"If you don't meet me... you won't be able to save anyone... you'll stay weak and die..."

Shinichi stirred, sweat already forming on his brow.

"Come to me, Shinichi... come to me..."

The voice sharpened.

"COME TO ME!"

Shinichi jolted awake, gasping.

His entire body was drenched in sweat. He sat up, chest heaving, heart racing.

He turned to the window.

Darkness. 3:35 a.m.

The world was silent.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic pounding in his chest. Her words echoed in his skull.

I want to meet you... he thought. But how?

He dragged himself to the washroom.

Turning the faucet, he splashed cold water onto his face, trying to shock himself out of the spiraling dread. Water dripped from his chin as he looked up—

And screamed.

"FUCK! SHIT!"

He stumbled back, crashing to the floor.

Crimson-red letters had appeared across the bathroom mirror, thick and dripping.

One word.

"DEATH."

It looked like blood.

Shinichi crawled back, hyperventilating, his back hitting the cold tiles.

He gulped, staring at the mirror.

"Since when did Bleach become a horror movie...? Shit..."

His gaze locked onto the word again. Something clicked.

"You'll have to touch the gates of death to meet me..." Shinichi remembered her words.

Sweat rolled down his temple.

But then, a different look took over his face. The panic faded. In its place—a quiet, burning resolve.

He stood, slow and steady.

Grabbed his coat.

And walked out into the night.

Shinichi walked across the dark, silent streets of Karakura, his hands in his pockets, the cold breeze whispering against his skin. The streetlights flickered above him as if resisting the gloom.

"Hey, system—you there?" he asked aloud, his voice barely louder than the wind.

A familiar blue screen blinked into existence before his eyes.

[Yeah... that thing was straight out of a horror movie.]

Shinichi let out a tired sigh. "I know... but I think I get her message now."

He paused for a moment.

"Hey... if I die... will the Divine Potion actually bring me back to life? Automatically, I mean."

[Yeah... that's what it says in the description. But... no one's ever tried that, so I don't know.]

Shinichi didn't respond immediately. He simply nodded to himself and began climbing the stairs of a tall, deserted building. Step by step, higher and higher.

"It's a gamble then, huh..." he muttered.

[Honestly? I feel like it should work...]

The wind grew stronger the higher he went. The cold was biting now.

Finally, he reached the top.

The edge of the roof stretched before him like a boundary between worlds.

Twenty stories above the ground.

Shinichi stepped toward the ledge, his coat fluttering behind him, hair tousled by the wind.

"Well... let's find out."

The system chimed in again.

[Aren't you scared of the pain and... you know... death? I mean, you're jumping from this height. Isn't it scary?]

A faint smile tugged at Shinichi's lips. "Scared?... No. I'm not."

[And why is that?]

His smile remained, but his eyes said something else. They were tired. Hollow. Sorrowful.

"Because... this is how I killed myself in my past life. There's no pain... you die instantly."

The system went quiet.

[Oh.]

Shinichi closed his eyes.

And jumped.

The wind howled around him, rushing past his ears. Time slowed.

The ground rose rapidly beneath him.

But just before impact—

It vanished.

The world twisted.

The street disappeared, replaced by infinite black. Like a hole in existence itself, a pitch-black vortex swallowed him.

Shinichi plunged into it, weightless.

He floated through the darkness like drifting through ink. It wasn't cold. It wasn't warm. It was nothing. Like swimming through an ocean that had forgotten it was water.

Suddenly, gravity returned.

He dropped.

With a thud, he landed on something solid—stone, maybe—but it didn't feel like any material he recognized.

He groaned, rubbing his head as he sat up.

Everything around him was pitch black. No sky. No ground. No horizon.

"Where the hell am I...? Hey, lady! You there?!"

No response.

Then, slowly—one by one—torches burst to life along invisible walls, each flame igniting with a whoosh, casting flickering golden light that illuminated his path forward.

The flames formed a corridor.

Shinichi stood, hesitating only briefly, then began to walk.

Bones lay scattered on the path—skulls with empty sockets staring back at him. Ribs. Vertebrae. Broken blades embedded in the stone. Every step echoed, each crunch underfoot gnawing at his nerves.

The path twisted, then straightened, and at its end, something enormous began to reveal itself.

A throne.

The throne stood tall and menacing at the heart of a ruined, ash-covered plain—a monument of darkness and power. It was forged from jagged black stone, cracked bones, and molten obsidian, rising like a spire from the ground. Twisted carvings wrapped around the base like coiled serpents, and trails of dark smoke slithered between its steps, as if the throne itself breathed.

Its seat was deep and high, padded with velvet so dark it seemed to absorb light. Crimson threads pulsed through the fabric like veins, glowing faintly in rhythm with a heartbeat that didn't belong to anything living. The armrests were shaped like snarling skulls, and behind the throne, a massive blood-red sigil floated silently—an ancient mark of authority that cast an eerie glow across the cracked ground.

And there she sat.

One leg crossed over the other, she reclined like a queen, her posture relaxed but commanding. Her gown of black and crimson flowed over the sides of the throne like a river of shadows. Long hair spilled over her shoulders, and her red eyes gleamed with quiet amusement—and danger.

Her fingers lightly tapped the skull-shaped armrest, each sound echoing through the stillness like a countdown. Around her, ash swirled through the air, caught in a wind that didn't blow. Her presence made the throne feel alive, as if it was part of her, or perhaps she was part of it.

This wasn't just a seat of power.

It was her dominion.

Her crown.

Her warning.

Shinichi stood at the edge of the shadows, his breath caught somewhere between awe and disbelief.

Then he smirked.

"So... you're that creepy cougar who wanted to meet me?"

The woman laughed, low and seductive, a sound like velvet laced with poison.

"Oh my dear Shinichi... we finally meet."

She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward slightly, her smile widening, though her eyes gleamed with something far more ancient.

"However... I'm not a creepy cougar."

The air thickened.

Her posture shifted. The amusement faded, replaced by majesty and unshakable pride. Crimson fire ignited in her gaze.

"I am the Absolute. I am—"

Her voice rose, resonant and thunderous, shaking the very stones beneath Shinichi's feet.

"The Demon Queen of Hell."