Disclaimer: I don't own Yakuza or Bleach


On August 10th 2021, I died, getting run over by a truck when I was walking to Morrisons, my local supermarket in Acocks Green, a district in the British city of Birmingham. I'm not sure why this happened but I can remember it as clear as day, how a white truck changed direction seemingly automatically and accelerated into me full force. The vehicle's flashing white lights were the last things I saw of my previous life.

When I woke up, I could barely move my legs and arms nor could I open my eyes. I was gently pulled out of a tavern or something, into a pair of warm arms and even warmer arms when I was passed over into a woman's motherly embrace. It didn't take me long to realize I had been born again

I spent the next five years replaying memories of my old life to retain some semblance of who I was. For some reason, I couldn't remember my previous name. I was given the name Sun Wei by my new Japanese mother of Chinese descent. Her lover was apparently a Chinese immigrant. I wouldn't know (outside of secondhand knowledge) He was never around.

And soon after, she disappeared, too.


When I was 6 (again) gramps let me off the imaginary leash, allowing me to venture out all on my lonesome in Tokyo's Karakura Town. That caught me off-guard, too, not just because Karakura Town wasn't a real-life Tokyo district but because my grandad bared a striking resemblance to old man Komaki in the fucking Yakuza franchise.

Was I in some weird crossover world of Bleach and Yakuza?

"This is too spooky," I murmured aloud, walking around Karakura Town. It looked pretty indistinguishable from the one in the Bleach anime and manga but then again Kubo modelled it off of a standard Japanese ward.

I nodded to myself, setting off to the train station as fast as my little legs would carry me. It sure sucked to be a kid again with tiny, stubby legs. Took me ten minutes to arrive at the train station. When I got there I made a bee-line to the terminal railways' map, brushing past rows of districts until I found the one I was looking for.

"No way," I whispered. Yakuza's fictional town of Kamurocho was listed among them. Just where the hell had I been reborn into? "This I gotta see." I scanned my railcard my Elementary school funded for me to ride the train to there and hopped over the walkthrough, boarding the train I could find. Because I'm stupid, I jumped on the wrong train and ended up in Ebisu. Don't judge me, please.

I've always been terrible with directions and being the anti-social, shy guy that I am I don't like asking for them either. I'm stubborn like that. Eventually, I sucked it up and asked a worker at Ebisu's terminal which train would take me to Kamurocho. Thirty minutes later and I was at my destination.

"Holy," I drawled, goggling up at the exact flashy red billboard of Kamurocho, with its name displayed in signature Japanese Kanji, "Shit…" I was actually in Kamurocho and not its real-life counterpart that it was based off. I walked slowly through the streets of Tenkaichi, marvelling at my surroundings with childlike wonderment.

It felt like I was playing Yakuza 0 or Kiwami 1 (the remake of the first Yakuza) The streets weren't as clean and pristine as the later games like Yakuza Kiwami 2, Yakuza 6 and Judgement. I must be between the events of Yakuza Kiwami 1 since I was in the year 1998 again.

"Kiryu musta been jailed for about 3 years now," I remarked, "Haruka-chan must be 3. No, wait. That's not right. If memory serves, she was 19 in Yakuza 6, which takes place in 2016, meaning she had to be 8 in 2005. So, she was just born last year, then." Good thing I retained my English because I imagine people woulda thought I was crazy mumbling about the future. Few of them gave me odd looks when they realized I was speaking a foreign language, though.

"Hm." I stopped at a familiar place to my left. A beaming smile of joy eclipsed my young, Asian face at the nostalgic sight – a small pathway leading to an elevator tucked into the corner and the name Serena slapped out front in a black sign. "Yo, sick! It's Serena! Talk about memories. Reina must be running the place. I wonder if I can go in?" Stupid question.

My smile turned dry, "Oh, wait. I'm 6 now. Of course, I can't go in." I wouldn't be able to go for another thirteen years, when I was eighteen. Actually, tell a lie, until I was twenty-one. I was thinking of England's age laws on drinking for a minute. "Meh. I don't drink anyway," Besides, you needed a membership if memory serves correctly. I tucked my hands in the pockets of my orange shorts with a DBZ kanji emblazoned on the left and ambled away, smiling faintly as I passed an iconic poppo store.

My enthusiasm for being in the Yakuza verse (or this fusion of the Yakuza and Bleach verses) was doused by a wave of trepidation. Walking toward me (or opposite to where I was walking) was the unforgettable hulking figure of the mini-boss you encounter out in the hub world in Yakuza 0.

"Mr Shakedown…" I trembled.

One of them at least. This one was as imposing as ever, standing 8 feet tall, nothing short of a giant of a man. Mass muscles threatening to rip out of his grey blazer jacket and a red undershirt. Black jeans, matching loafers and his signature fedora, two brown fangs of his hair draping out of it.

"He's still around in 1998," I murmured. Wearing the same shit he wore in 0 apparently. 0 took place in the late eighties, "I wonder if he's still shaking dudes down for money." I hated fighting him in 0. I mean, I liked the challenge but I could never beat him comfortably. I could beat him by spamming recovery items and hitting him with weapons but I couldn't do it skilfully like the way many pro Yakuza players could.

"Hm." I musta been gawking too hard because Mr Shakedown spoke to me, "Need something, kid?"

I couldn't say I blamed him. I musta been like a deer caught in the headlights, "Um." I said, turtling up, "Oh, nothing. Sorry!" I hurried.

Mr Shakedown stared down at me for longer than I woulda liked then grunted, sauntering past me. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in. That was scary. Maybe I would be prepared to fight him in a few more years If I trained hard enough, but as of right now, as a weak 6-year toddler, I was powerless.

Another thought occurred to me, "Wait a minute. If I'm in 1998, does that mean…?" I trailed off. It was a long shot. This event could've happened anytime this year, but if luck was on my side it might be happening today, "Yosh. I gotta find a back alley." If I recall, the only back alley (outside of old Little Asia) in Kamurocho was between pink street and senryo avenue so that's where I headed, steeling my features.

I boot-legged it straight to pink alley, swerving past people who gave me annoyed looks. Realistically, if Mr Shakedown was around, then surely these two characters were, too. Surely. Granted, they weren't from any of the mainline Yakuza games but Judgement was still apart of the Yakuza world.

I slowed to a sudden realization after running into a side road off pink street, looking at the bright sky, "Oh, yeah. This happened at nighttime. It's still midday," I shrugged, "Oh well."

"Grr." I baulked at an angry growl resonating from a gap to my left. "Stay down already, you little shit!" A familiar voice demanded, quickly followed by the unmistakable impact of a fist meeting a face.

"Kaito-san!" I whisper-screamed, creeping my way along the wall until I was touching the gap leading to the back alley. My eyes widened. It was Kaitō Masaharu alright, twenty years younger than his initial appearance in the Yakuza spinoff, Judgement. He had a low fade and although I couldn't see his face with his back turned to me, I imagined he still had a small goatee extending into thin sideburns.

He wore a long-sleeved flashy, loud and dark blue collared shirt complemented by white pants and black shoes. He didn't have his shirt tucked in like he would do in 2018.

"It's… not… gonna… be… that… easy."

The little shit he was referring to was Yagami Takayuki; Judgement's protagonist. Yagami was a destructive youth after he lost both of his parents to vengeful assholes who wrongfully blamed Yagami's Dad for the murder of his daughter. It certainly wasn't Yagami's Dad's fault. He was just doing his job as an attorney. A lawyer's job wasn't to find the truth. It was ensuring the jury didn't have enough evidence to prosecute the defendant.

I smiled in fond remembrance.

I remembered Genda reminding Yagami of that line stemming from his father's philosophy as clear as day. It was a good doctrine to subscribe to if you were an attorney.

"See anything that interests you, kid?" I yelped, turning to find their father figure (or what would soon become Yagami's father figure) giving me a mysterious smirk. Crap. I totally forgot this was when Matsugane, in the last ambers of his prime years, met a fifteen-year-old Yagami.

"Matsugane-san!" I was so surprised I blurted out his name without thinking.

"Oh?" Matsugane's face morphed into an impressed look and I froze. Shit. Didn't mean to say that. "You know me, huh?"

"No!" I hurried, getting more nervous when Matsugane's eyebrow rose, "I mean, yes! No! Sorta…"

Matsugane chuckled, "Guess your old man warned you to stay away from people like me, huh?"

I latched onto that excuse-bone he threw me like it was my last lifeline, "Yep! Totally," I answered, nodding hastily. Matsugane was as nice as I remembered him, even in this flashback despite not being in his kindly grandpa mode. This was the end of his peak. Instead of the full kimono he would ultimately end up wearing in 2018, he was rocking a complete white striped suit embellished by a black dress shirt underneath, further highlighted by a loud, flashy tie. He still had his signature goatee and moustache circling his chin and upper lip, only neither had begun to grey yet.

His hairline hadn't shown signs of receding yet either. Man, his hairline in his mid to late forties looked better than mine in my twenties. I guess that's what looking after your hair does for you.

A closer look on his suit and I could see the Tojo badge pinned to the left side of his blazer.

Matsugane chuckled warmly, "Stick around and you might see something interesting, m'boy."

I nodded dumbly, watching him stroll into the back alley where he would have his chat with young Yagami. It went exactly as it did in the game, word for word. Matsugane mentioned seeing himself in Yagami's disruptiveness while Yagami denied the similarities. He told him while he didn't have a choice but to join the criminal underworld, Yagami did, leaving him to sit on those words.

He bid me farewell as he ventured with Kaito-san.

"Who's the kid?" I heard Kaito say.

"Just an interesting friend," Matsugane answered, looking at me with a smile I couldn't make out.

Strange.

I spent another hour just strolling nonchalantly around Kamurocho before venturing home to Karakura Town. It was fascinating and nostalgic to visit one of my favourite hub worlds in real-time in between the events of Yakuza Kiwami. The Millennium tower was only in the beginning stages of being built. The back streets and an empty lot of Yakuza had already been cleared out.

All that remained was a massive clearance barricaded from the public by construction tapes and signs.

"Man, I can't believe I'm in Yakuza," I said in English to myself, sauntering underneath the now dawn-dusk lit sky with arms atop my head in happy nonchalance. It was scary, but exciting all the same.

"Just leave us alone!"

I heard someone say. It sounded like the voice of a little girl.

I stopped, looking over to where the voice came from. Seems I had come across a park on my way home and a bad scene was unfolding in it by the looks of things. To my horror, I saw three older boys cornering two little girls.

"What the fuck are they doing?" I mumbled. Even I never woulda even considered the prospect of bullying toddlers. I chased around a guy at one point in our school life because I was stupid and thought it was fun (ironically, me and that guy became the best of friends in college) but I never picked on kids that much younger and smaller than me.

These boys looked like they were in the last year of Elementary school if not freshmen in middle school. They had no business troubling five-year-olds.

"Fat chance!" One of them said, cracking his knuckles threateningly, "Your friend let our prey get away so now we're taking it out on your two."

"Hurting animals is wrong!" The friend protested.

"Yeah, well, might makes right!" Another said.

I narrowed my eyes, "Hell to the no!" I charged blindly into the fray, overcome with disgust, "Hey, you pieces of shit!" They looked my way, but before they could get their bearings in order, I drop-kicked one in the stomach like a pro-wrestler, sending him plummeting to the dirt ground, "Stupid assholes!"

"Ryo!" His boys cried before looking at me with scorn in their gazes. "You little shit. You cruising for a bruising?"

I moved in front of the girls giving me bewildered stares, "Shut the fuck up, will ya? You're the ones picking on two little girls! I mean, c'mon! How weak can you get?"

They flushed, whether from my colourful language or from my calling them out, I wasn't quite sure, "Well, if they would stay out of our business, they wouldn't be bullied."

"Yeah, cuz picking on animals is so much better," I quipped, heating their faces in several shades of deep annoyance I took great satisfaction for, "What's next? Old people that can barely walk anymore? How manly you guys are. Hahahaha."

"Why you," One said, gesticulating toward me, "C'mon boys! Let's beat him up instead."

"I'm with ya there."

"C'mon then!" I roared, punching another in the face before striking another, but they were older than me. They were bigger than me. They were just plain stronger than me. As tenacious as I was, I couldn't beat three older kids by myself. Once the third kid grabbed me from behind, it was over before it started. They mercilessly pummelled me into submission, raining blow after blow upon me in an unforgiving bombardment as I regrettably turtled up.

But at least the girls were unharmed.

After they were done with me they left. Seems they spent all their aggression out on me. I considered that a win, spasming and coughing momentarily on the ground.

"Um." I found a small shadow eclipsing my eagle-spread form. "Are you okay?" A small, timid voice asked, one of the girls I took it, "I'm sorry you got hurt for me and my sister." I pushed my head a little off the ground, looking past my short body to see a pair of skinny, peach-cream legs and sandals. Lifting my view higher found a sunshine yellow dress, finishing the little girl's outfit. Her face, though, looked strikingly similar, as did her hair.

Well, I already met and seen Yakuza/Judgement characters today. It wouldn't surprise me to meet a Bleach one now.

The girl in question bared an exact resemblance to Kurosaki Yuzu, one of the little sisters of Bleach's main character. A short crop of light brown hair atop a delicate, innocent face. She even still had her strawberry-styled hair clip. I liked to think that that was a knock to her brother, whose name meant strawberry, too.

I sat up, giving the girl a soft smile, "Hey, it's nothing. I'm a guy, y'know. Guys are 'posed ta take beatings every now and then. Puts hair on our chest." I thumbed said chest.

Her hazel eyes shone in wonderment. "Really?"

My smile softened, "Really," I murmured, slowly pulling myself up to my feet. "So, don't worry about it. Okay?" I grinned. The girl continued to stare in silent awe. It was a little unsettling. I rubbed one of my swollen arms, averting my gaze from hers, "S-So, um. What's your name?"

"Yuzu."

"Yuzu what?"

"Kurosaki Yuzu."

Bingo.

I breathed leisurely.

Yuzu pointed to the other little girl beside her, who I already guessed, "That's my sister, Karin."

"Heya." Karin was already stoic even at age 6 but then again she was probably already hardened by her mother's death by now. To my knowledge, Masaki was murdered when Ichigo was 9 and since his sisters are 5 years younger than him that would've made them 4 at the time. They should've been motherless for about two years now.

Karin – like Yuzu – was as I remembered her in the anime, inheriting her father's black hair. It was a length longer than Yuzu's, cascading to her shoulders. True to her tomboy nature as well, she dressed like a boy, sporting a white collared golf shirt with black shoes, black and white sneakers and a baseball cap over her head.

"Yo, Karin-chan." I greeted. Karin just hummed. I looked at both girls with wide eyes of brimming vibrancy, hardly containing my excitement over interacting with two of Bleach's characters, "Nice meeting ya girls. I'm Sun Wei. Let's be friends. I sucked today, but I'll get stronger so I can protect ya from jerks like that."

Yuzu's eyes shined brilliantly, "Really?"

I grinned.

"Really."