After scouring the surrounding rooftops, Ishida held a small pile of chalky fragments. Two more chunks, smaller than the ones he'd already held, that was all there was to find. Using more than one disc of Hollow bait was unnecessary. One was enough to have the town crawling with the monsters, so why were the fragments scattered? He dropped the new pieces into the small bag that held the others and considered his options.

He could wait and see what happened next. If he set off to join Kurosaki, he could look out for unusually large groups of Hollows. But that would be a waste. All of them grouped together would be unbeatable by any number short of the full might of Hueco Mundo, but if several spikes of Hollow activity occurred in multiple areas, that strength would be meaningless. Better to stay separated and cast a wider net.

There was the possibility that whoever used the bait might have been targeting the rookie guardians. In that case, joining the boot camp would allow Ishida to watch for suspicious onlookers. But that possibility wasn't any greater than any other. If they weren't being targeted, then it would be a waste of time.

Hollow bait was a Quincy tool, which meant the culprit was likely to be a Quincy. But that simply couldn't be. The only two Quincy remaining were himself and Ishida Ryūken, and he could hardly imagine his father hunting Hollows, let alone drawing them into town with Hollow bait.

Ishida wracked his brain for a solid plan. There were many practical ideas for him to pursue, but ultimately, none of them brought him closer to the answers he sought. He did his best to put one particular solution out of his mind, however. If it were up to him, he wouldn't involve anyone else in this matter. But still, the option remained.

Urahara Shop . . . If he took the bait there, they might be able to glean some clue from the fragments that Ishida himself couldn't. He couldn't imagine how they would manage that, but then again, Urahara Kisuke had a knack for doing the unthinkable.

The more he thought, the more that solution stood out, until he was left with little else to do. Worst case scenario, Urahara finds a clue and then asks for some nonsense favor as payment. Honestly, the man was almost as bad as that mad Gotei Captain.

"I suppose there's nothing for it," Ishida sighed. "I'll just have to-" A flash of white caught his eye. A brief glimpse of flapping white fabric. Ishida nearly dropped the bag of bait in his haste to give chase. Leaping through the air, he was upon the corner where the white fabric disappeared in seconds. And what he found was . . .

Nothing. There was nobody that he could see, and no hanging clothes or windswept articles that he might have mistaken for something more.

"Hmm . . ." Ishida inspected the area more closely. He may have been seeing things, jumping at shadows, as it were, but he may not have been as well. He could not see any evidence that someone had been here, so instead, he felt for it. Immediately after focusing his attention on the Reishi of the surrounding area, he felt a response. It was very near, but also quite faint, and it was stationary.

Ishida hesitated. The response he felt was familiar, but also not. What he felt was an area where the Reishi in the atmosphere was less dense. That could have meant any number of things on its own, but there was something else. Reiryoku. Specifically that of a Quincy.

He approached the affected area cautiously. The feeling of unease that had been plaguing him for some time now flared in his chest. It couldn't be a Quincy. They were gone. Aside from himself and Ryūken, no Quincy walked in the living world. That would mean he was being toyed with, and if that were the case . . . What would he do? Responding with violence was obviously off the table until he knew the trickster's intent, but could he control himself when faced with such mockery?

Then again, what if he turned the corner to find a Quincy, alive and well, after believing that he was one of the last for so long? Relief seemed appropriate, as did anger. Anger at his fool of a father who hid the continued existence of the Quincy from him. Anger at the Quincy themselves for keeping themselves hidden.

He shook his head to do away with those damning thoughts. No good could come of them. His next step was clear now. He would go and confront whatever lie just ahead, either way things turned out.

In moments, he was before the source of that eerily familiar feeling. The source was located in a narrow alleyway. Trash cans and dumpsters hugged the walls, making the alley feel even more cramped. He steeled his heart for whatever was there to face him, and he found what he was looking for on a short pile of boxes. It was not a person, Quincy or no. It was a newly crushed disc of Hollow bait.

Ishida spun around, his bow in hand in the blink of an eye. This was a trap, no doubt about it. Not only was the Reishi in the area drained, but the Quincy Reiryoku was planted specifically to lure him into this tight space. A space that was sure to become even tighter as the crushed bait drew in a horde of Hollows. He quickly examined each end of the ally, noting the unusual stillness in the air. Whoever, or whatever it was that wanted to get him into this alley was going to regret underestimating his ability to fight in such a confined space.

His eyes swung from one end of the alley to the other. He focused his spiritual sense above in case an attack came from the tops of the buildings blocking him in. But his unease continued to grow. Even if he could see an attack coming, it was never a good idea to allow himself to be stuck in one place. There were all sorts of potential enemies out there, he'd seen firsthand how varied attacks and strategies could become from low levels to high. The enemy might be weaker than him, but this alleyway could be the perfect environment for their abilities to shine.

In any case, he needed to move, relocate and take up a position that would better serve him. He tried to create footholds in the air, but the Reishi in the area was too thin. If he couldn't rely on Hirenkyaku, then he'd have to make a break for it. Ishida barely took two steps before the sound of boots on pavement echoed throughout the alley.

Someone was behind him.

He spun bow drawn and ready to fire as many arrows as was necessary, but the moment he set eyes on the mysterious enemy, his breath caught. The uneasy feeling surged, sending a numbing shock down his back.

A white hat and a uniform, almost entirely white save for a light blue trim, sent Ishida's mind reeling. If the energy he felt emanating from the person approaching him didn't match the Reiryoku left as a lure, he would have been sure he was seeing things. But he was sure. The man casually walking down the alleyway was a Quincy. "Impossible . . ." Ishida gasped, feeling a tremor travel up his legs.

The man in white stopped and stood with his heels together, one arm at his side, and the other folded behind his back. A light breeze passing between the buildings caught a small cape draped over his shoulders.

"You are Ishida Uryū, I presume?" The man spoke in a deep voice that matched his stature through a thin-lipped smile. The expression he made seemed amicable enough, but his eyes were hidden by a small pair of round, dark glasses. "I'm relieved you answered my invitation. We have many things to discuss."

Ishida almost lost himself in shock. There couldn't possibly be a Quincy standing in front of him. It would be one thing for the mad captain of the Soul Society's 12th Division to lie, and he wouldn't put it past Ryūken either, but what of his master? Would Sōken not have told him if other Quincy still lived?

He narrowed his eyes at the man in the dark glasses. It seemed that the truth of the world was more complicated than he had been led to believe. "Who are you?" he demanded, purposefully keeping his bow drawn.

"Ah, my apologies," the man in white removed his cap, revealing his mostly shaved head with hair combed over one side. "My name is Quilge Opie, retainer of His majesty Ywach, and Sternritter of the Wandenreich," his brow arched, looking as if Ishida should be impressed. He wasn't.

"You're a Quincy. I was under the impression that the last of the Quincy were wiped out 200 years ago," Ishida demanded. He needed to push until he got the answers he was really after.

"The last of the Quincy, you say? 200 years? And yet, here you stand. Am I to believe that Ishida Uryū does not see himself as a Quincy?" Quilge chuckled, a strangled wheezing sound. "Jokes aside, there was indeed a tragic spilling of Quincy blood some 200 years ago, but to assume that those were all that was left of us is pure nonsense." He sounded as if what Ishida had said was preposterous, but he had yet to offer an explanation.

To simply say that there were more Quincy than were killed and that's that was far too easy. He might still not be a Quincy, and this could still be a trap.

That suspicion took root as Ishida felt a spike of spiritual pressure around the alley. The crushed Hollow bait was doing its job, drawing what felt to be dozens of monsters to that tight space. If he'd been the same person he was a few years ago, that might have been an issue, but he had much more experience now and his strength was far greater.

That bait would have to draw in some pretty high ranking Espada to pose a threat to him now. He took a guarded stance, facing down the self-proclaimed Quincy. "What would you do if I said I don't believe you?" He asked, trying to get a rise out of Quilge.

"Hmm," the tall man in white rubbed his chin with a gloved finger, "I suppose I would prove it to you." He gripped the scabbard on his hip, jingling a charm dangling from a thin silver chain. The five points of the Quincy cross were unmistakable.

A cacophony of shrieks and roars tore through the narrow alleyway as dozens of lumbering, monstrous shapes slithered, swung, and leaped toward Ishida and Quilge. Even as they approached to breath down his neck, Ishida kept his eyes glued to Quilge.

"Wonderful timing." Quilge drew his saber. A white-blue glow surrounded the Quincy charm at his waist and spread to the weapon in his hand. Arcs of that same white-blue energy that Ishida was all too familiar with shot out of either side of the blade's guard. It almost resembled a bow. "Tell me, Ishida Uryū, is this proof enough for you?" Blue bolts shot out of the tip of Quilge's sword at the Hollows approaching from behind Ishida. They accurately struck the monsters, obliterating each one in turn. In a flash of white and blue, the several dozen Hollows behind Ishida vanished.

A large Hollow squeezed between the walls of the buildings overhead and slid down to the ground right behind Quilge. Before Ishida could raise his bow, the tall man in white spun and expertly cleaved the creature in two.

Ishida marveled at the effortlessness of it all. Quilge quickly and efficiently cut down every one of the Hollows with impressive grace. The techniques he used were, while not exactly the same, very close to the same ones Ishida would have used.

When the last Hollow vanished, Quilge sheathed his saber and the white-blue glow disappeared. The Reishi in the area began to rise as well. "Well? Surely you would not have me repeat myself." Quilge swept the dust from his shoulder with a quick flick and returned to his earlier straight-backed posture. It was like nothing at all had happened. "Now that you understand, I would like to formally notify you, Ishida Uryū, that you have been summoned to an audience with His majesty Ywach. Please, come with me."

"Wait," as Quilge turned to leave, Ishida spoke, "who is this Ywach, and what does he want from me?"

The tall Quincy stopped and his shoulders seemed to stiffen. He half turned his head to respond. "His majesty is the king of all Quincy, boy. You would do well not to speak his name so lightly. And His majesty's desires are not for anyone, you or I, to question." His expression seemed level enough, but he couldn't hide the scowl in his voice. "Now, come along. We must not keep His majesty waiting." Taking advantage of the rising Reishi levels, Quilge created a platform of spiritual energy beneath his feet and leaped up into the air.

Ishida hesitated. He couldn't deny what he'd just seen. An honest to goodness Quincy appeared before him, saying that there were more like him. There was a king, a king who wanted to speak to Ishida. It was a lot to take in. The possibility that he was being trapped once again sprang into his mind. Quilge was powerful. his arrows alone possessed a noticeably greater power than Ishida's. Would he be able to resist if he found himself in the midst of enemies on that level? That concern weighed on his mind, but it was quickly smothered by the weight of his curiosity. If there were more Quincy of that level, then there was more to learn. Surely there would be those that could teach him what his grandfather could not.

By the time Quilge crested the rooftops up above the alley, Ishida's mind was made up. He put away his bow and leaped into the air. He had new questions that he never would have thought to ask before, and he wasn't about to pass up a chance to have them answered.

+ Break +

The sky above Soul Society was almost entirely clear with only small, wispy clouds lazily drifting by to break up the blue. It was peaceful; far more so than any day in recent memory. On days like these, conflicts like those surrounding the traitor, Aizen Sōsuke, seemed so much further in the past. Yamamoto Genryūsai, Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13, relished these days.

An aid excused himself quietly after delivering a brief report from each of the 13 divisions. That there was little to be said from any of them was almost as refreshing as the air blowing in from the balcony. Yamamoto chuckled to himself. It was so soft as to be imperceptible by the most diligent observer-he couldn't have his stoic image tarnished by a good mood-and so short that anyone who did somehow manage to hear would mistake it for a cough.

He was getting old. It had been, what, a millennia since he formed the Gotei? And even then he was no spring chicken. For a thousand years he'd been Captain of the 1st Division. He'd led the Shinigami through countless battles and struggles. He took great personal pride in the fact that the system had managed to hold together for so long. This continued solidarity and the growing number of exceptional people in their ranks was reassuring as well.

Though, it seemed as if greater threats were rising to meet those exceptional youngsters. Even in this, balance permeated everything. It was important to remember that the cause the Shinigami continue to fight for did not benefit them exclusively, and remain diligent.

"Captain-Commander!" A messenger rushed into the room, breathing heavily. He knelt, waiting for Yamamoto's permission to continue. With the Captain-Commander's nod, he continued, "I have an urgent report from Lieutenant Sasakibe! There's been an attack by an unknown force! Five individuals, attacking indiscriminately and causing considerable destruction in the Rukongai!"

"And? Yamamoto maintained an air of composure and authority, but something wasn't right. It would be one thing for a group of hoodlums to be causing trouble in the Rukongai; a man of Chōjirō's caliber could dispense with that sort of rabble effortlessly. But for his Lieutenant to send an urgent message like this there could be no simple hoodlums. "Well? Out with it!" A sense of unease crept into Yamamoto's mind. Did the air feel thinner?

"Sir! Lieutenant Sasakibe, currently engaging with the attackers, requests immediate assistance!"

Yamamoto's unease grew. An enemy that Chōjirō would struggle with was not one they could afford to overlook. This beautiful day has given way to something quite harrowing. Balance indeed. "Send a report to all Divisions! I want at least three Captains on the scene. No exceptions! Now go!"

""Right away, sir!" the messenger bowed his head and sprinted off, leaving Yamamoto alone to ponder about this sudden threat.

The Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13 turned away from the mostly clear blue sky; through the haze of unease it seemed all too bleak. On his desk lay reports from several Divisions, each one detailing the goings on around the Seireitei. Looking at them now, Yamamoto noticed small oddities across the board. Spiking Hollow appearances, accounts of low soul density, violent disturbances across the Rukongai that, upon closer inspection, had much in common.

Something was happening. A small leak in a dam could easily be patched. However when one small leak is joined by a thousand others little could be done to stop the water from bursting through. How long had he been overlooking the leaks?

A sudden change in the air, as if the room was less solid, clued Yamamoto in to the presence of the intruders before he heard them approach. By the sounds their boots made on the bizarrely infirm floor there were five of them. He didn't need to turn and see their pristine white uniforms to know who they were.

The sensation of his surroundings being drained and the unmistakable tugging on his own being painted them as Quincies immediately. But how had they gotten so close? "Who are you?" he spat, barely deigning to turn his head and acknowledge them.

The Quincies stood at attention, faces covered by odd masks. There were only four in the line, none of which were anything special it seemed, but there was an odd pressure about them. Oh, their Reishi absorption was clearly evident, but it there was something more to their presence. It was a power that did not come from the surrounding environment. Unease spread throughout the room to fill the Reishi void.

"What the hell's this? A feeble old man in a big empty room? I thought the Captain-Commander was supposed to be some big shot!" one of the Quincies stepped forward. Unlike the others, he wore no mask, and he regarded the room with a crazed look in his eyes that suggested he might lash out at any moment. Yamamoto almost wished that he would. The especially bold Quincy was much larger than his companions, rivaling Sajin in height and broadness. Though he lacked any of the dignity and composure that the Captain of the 7th Division had. "And here I let myself get worked up over His Majesty's stories."

The arrogant Quincy stomped around his masked companions. He was definitely different than they. He had the same odd presence, but his power was real. It was clear that the majority of the Reishi absorption was his doing. "Now, I was expecting some resistance. A retinue of guards willing to die for their precious Captain-Commander, at least. But no, you just let us walk right in. What kind of security is this?"

"I am here. There is no greater security," Yamamoto said, turning. He was growing impatient with the large man's misplaced confidence. "If your intent in coming here was to run your mouth, then you'd best be prepared to die."

"Now there's the Captain-Commander I was expecting," the Quincy laughed, "There's fire buried in those old bones of yours!" Yamamoto drew his sword and the temperature in the room rose dramatically. The other Quincy shifted and wavered as their thick uniforms became significantly more uncomfortable. "Not so fast, old man. We didn't come here to cross blades, unfortunately. We're just messengers this time. See, we brought you a gift." The massive Quincy pulled a large satchel from his back and threw it on the floor. A hand clutching a broken sword stuck out as if it were meant to be seen.

There was no mistaking that sword. Very few Shinigami ended up with Zanpakuto with such a shape. The thin, straight blade, and the hand guard in place of a tsuba. Yamamoto stared at the blade, his anger building. "Sasakibe . . ."

"Consider this a declaration of war, Genryūsai Yamamoto Shigekuni." As if speaking those words was some kind of trigger, the Quincy vanished, leaving a void of Reishi.

Yamamoto sheathed his sword and knelt beside the sack containing his Lieutenant's body. Carefully, he undid the ties holding the parcel together to reveal Sasakibe Chōjirō's body, fortunately all in one piece. He placed a hand on his lieutenant's forehead and mourned quietly. His thoughts drifted to a time centuries before. A time when A young Sasakibe swore to dedicate himself to improving his skills in service of the Gotei 13 and all of Soul Society. Yamamoto prayed. A prayer he held for all souls as they traversed the boundaries between realms. He hoped that however Chōjirō's soul turned out, he would find the same passion he had as a Shinigami.

As guards and messengers carrying urgent notices poured into the Captain-Commander's office, Yamamoto stood ready to lead. And as he gave orders to the gathered Shinigami, he pushed the soul-destroying nature of Quincy power out of his mind.