"Come on." Kurusu's voice was gentle as he guided Ann back into her body. Or maybe she should call him Akira now – he'd earnt it after this evening. "Let's get you home."

Darkness embraced her, and Ann found herself waking up, body sluggish and heavy and oh so very welcome after her extended out-of-body experience. Despite the fact that her physical body hadn't shed a tear, Ann's eyes felt bloated like she'd cried a marathon. Glancing down at her wrist, joy and grief struck her in equal measure as she saw Shiho's hair tie exactly where her friend had secured it. The tie was slightly translucent, just like Shiho herself had been, but it felt as solid as any mortal object did.

Shiho…

At least she was safe now. Hollows wouldn't pursue her, and Kamoshida would never touch her again (and neither would Ann). A spike of rage burned in her chest as the bastard entered her mind, and Ann's exhaustion melted like frost. As the motley group marched over to where Akira had stashed his body, she barely even registered the fact that she could still see Akira, even though she was no longer a half-ghost herself. In hindsight, while Ann's initial revenge scheme was even more justified than she had realised, it was far too risky – someone else besides Kamoshida could get hurt, and Shiho would never want that.

It quickly became apparent that she wasn't the only one stewing over that loathsome excuse of a teacher's actions. As Akira settled back into his body, flexing his fingers, Rukia cleared her throat.

The Shinigami's violet eyes were as cold as ice. "Provisional Spirit Law forbids Kidō use on humans without extenuating circumstances. I believe we have found those extenuating circumstances. It's time to use ghost magic on Kamoshida."

"Fuckin' finally! That asshole's gonna pay for this!" Ryuji yelled, a fire blazing in his eyes. He then paused, mouth drooping. "So, uh, anyone got any ideas?"

A jolt of realisation ran through Ann, and she straightened her shoulders. "Not an idea, exactly, but… you want to know why I was at Shujin so late?" Three sets of curious eyes landed on her, and Ann pulled up her sleeve. "I was looking for this. It's Kamoshida's home address."

Ryuji's eyes were as wide as saucers. "For real?! We know where he lives?!"

Rukia tilted her head, arms folded. " I suppose you were already planning to avenge Suzui-san?"

Ann winced, cheeks blushing red. "I was sort of… um. I was going to cut his car's brakes."

A long silence followed her announcement.

"Dude, that's mental." Ryuji whistled, sounding more impressed than anything.

Rukia, meanwhile, just looked vaguely baffled. "What's a brake?"

"… Do you actually know how to do that?" Akira asked her, expression dubious.

Ann grinned sheepishly. "Uh, no? I'll admit, I wasn't exactly thinking things through…"

"But now what? If vandalising his car's out of the question and all that." Ryuji mused, rubbing his chin. "I don't really care if Kamoshida eats it, but I don't wanna hurt anyone else."

"Now, we go home." Akira's voice was authoritative. "It's almost eight – Sojiro's going to get on my ass as-is, and your mum's probably waiting for you. Tomorrow…" His lips curled up in a smirk. "Tomorrow, we plan."

…..

Kamoshida Suguru was woken up by the sound of shattering glass. He rubbed his eyes, brain still foggy with sleep. It was only when he heard the second crash that he realised what was happening. Scrambling upwards, he trembled with barely restrained malice. Some degenerate fuck was trying to burgle him! Snarling, the gym teacher clenched his fist. Whoever this intruder was, Suguru was looking forward to making them beg for mercy. Mercy he had no intention of showing them.

"Who's there?!" He roared, storming out into the hallway.

As he glanced towards his apartment's entrance, he was distracted by the glittering on his carpet - the glass strewn across the floor was reflecting the moonlight. Because of that, it took him a second to realise the door was wide open. Still more angry than apprehensive, he crept through his house on full alert. A flicker of movement caught his eye, and Suguru whirled around just in time to see the antique vase his mother had given him for his birthday shatter into pieces.

What the hell? There's no one there!

For a moment, he thought some dumb kids must just be throwing rocks at his house. Sakamoto, probably – that brat would pay. An awful screech suddenly filled the air, several long slashes gouging themselves into his wall. As paint peeled away from the scratches, a shiver ran down his spine as Suguru realised they looked eerily like claw marks. The gym teacher's fury rapidly became replaced by fear.

"W-who are you?" He stammered out, whipping his head around, but his apartment was empty. Far, far too empty.

It was then that pandemonium broke out. A whirlwind of cuts ripped apart his walls, and blood started pooling out from under his living room door. Yelping, he toppled over, hands landing in the warm, sticky liquid. Quivering, Suguru watched bug-eyed as the door blew off its hinges. A golden-red light caught his eye, and scrambling towards the back of his apartment, he entered just in time to see his prized nationals trophy melt into a pile of golden goop.

"No no no no no!" He howled as he quickly raced to his trophy cabinet.

His leg snared on something, however, and the gym teacher fell flat on his face. Suguru could only watch in dismay as all his medals and awards disappeared one by one into the ether. He was so overcome with dismay, Suguru barely noticed it as his curtains were ripped off their rails. He did notice it, however, when a hand gripped the back of his shirt and hauled him into the air with inhuman strength. Suguru flailed, kicking and screaming, as whatever the hell had grabbed him dragged him down the hall.

"Please, please! Don't kill me, I beg you!" He wailed, snot and tears dripping down his face as the being hauled him into his bathroom.

"Kamoshida Suguru…" A legion of voices echoed in a haunting whisper, as the tiles began to shatter around him. "We know what you have done. How you beat and bruised the students in your care. How you raped a child and led her to her death."

Something cold pressed up against his neck, and Suguru froze as warm blood began dripping down his throat, followed by a prickle of pain.

"Reveal to the world what you have done, or you will burn in the fires of hell."

As his shower curtain was thrown away, Suguru could only watch in mounting horror as vivid red words appeared on his mirror.

CONFESS TO YOUR CRIMES

OR YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR SINS

- THE PHANTOMS

A scream tore itself out of Suguru's throat, and as his heart pounded a thousand beats a second, he bolted out of his apartment, heedless of how the glass cut into his feet.

…..

"Well, that was a rousing success!" Rukia cheered as the four teenagers, carefully cloaked under a blanket of thick Reiatsu and several spells, casually sauntered out of the scene of their crime. "That trick with the fake blood was truly inspired, Ann!"

The blonde giggled, curling a finger in her hair. "Aw, thanks! I put it in the microwave for a bit, just for that extra authenticity."

Ryuji, meanwhile, frowned. "You don't think holding your Zan-whatsit to his neck was a bit much?"

"Nah." Akira shrugged, putting the myriad of things he'd stolen from Kamoshida into his pockets now that he was back in his human body. "I've got three medals, half a dozen trophies, a whole bunch of paper, some flowers I stole from that vase, oh, and his wallet."

Ryuji took the wallet from his hands, plucked out the cash, and promptly gave it back to Akira. "Let's dump the rest in the river somewhere. Though... maybe we should keep that medal. We might be able to pawn it off for some serious cash!"

"Don't be imbecilic. A delinquent trying to sell a medal after a renowned volleyball player was robbed?" Rukia tutted, shaking her head as they made their way to the train station. "You'd be reported to the authorities immediately."

"Ugh, I guess you ain't wrong..." Ryuji sighed, shoulders slumping.

Ann, meanwhile, laughed and claimed the peonies. "Akira, are you sure your criminal record is for assault, and not robbery?"

Akira gave her a wolfish grin. "Thieving is more of a hobby than a lifestyle for me."

The jovial light died from Ann's eyes, and her smile dropped into the tight frown she'd been wearing for most of the last few days. "Hey… what if it didn't work? What if he doesn't turn himself in?"

"Dude, did you see how he shat himself?" Ryuji scoffed.

Akira, meanwhile, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Then it's back for round two."

…..

Round two turned out to be unnecessary.

Kamoshida was absent from gym class the next day, and when Akira came down for his breakfast the following morning, it was just in time to hear the news.

"And now to our next topic… Fall from Grace: The story of a dishonoured Olympic medallist. Two nights ago, former Olympic volleyball player and Shujin Academy coach, Kamoshida Suguru, turned himself over to the police. He confessed to various crimes, including the physical assault of numerous students, and the sexual assault of a girl, aged sixteen, who committed suicide just last week."

As the report moved on to some anonymous student interviews, including a damning tirade from a boy Akira thought was Mishima accompanied by an impassioned speech from Ann, Sojiro watched the TV, slack-jawed.

"That's your school, isn't it?!" At Akira's nod, Sojiro's skin paled. "Is that why you came back so late that day?"

Akira repressed a shudder at the memory of the harrowing Hollow fight, followed by Suzui's farewell. "Yeah. Ryuji used to go to middle school with her, along with another girl in my class. I spent that evening with them. It… it was pretty rough."

Sojiro shook his head. "No kidding. Kids like you should be dealing with girl problems and grades, not your teachers beating you or friends jumping off rooves." A far-away look entered his eyes. "Accidents, suicides, and all these people vanishing into thin air... I don't know what the world is coming to, these days."

"Kamoshida's apartment was vandalised the evening he turned himself in. Extensive property damage occurred, and the Olympian's trophies were either destroyed or stolen in the attack. More interestingly, however, there was a message scrawled across the bathroom mirror warning him to turn himself in, signed by a group calling themselves 'the Phantoms'. Kamoshida claims that he witnessed the attack, however, states that these so-called Phantoms were invisible to the human eye. Currently, the teacher is undergoing psychological evaluation. The police are still investigating the scene, and despite Kamoshida's wild claims, are optimistic they will find evidence that will bring the identity of these thieves to light…"

…..

Akechi Goro half-skimmed through the police report, and half kept an idle eye on the news report he had playing on repeat. He was in the SIU offices that day – not that he had that much actual work to do. There hadn't been any Vanishings in a while, after all. Still, that didn't mean his mind wasn't churning. There was every chance Kamoshida had just had a mental breakdown, but the idea of an invisible assailant lingered in the detective's mind. Of course, Goro was no stranger to such a concept, but Hollows didn't tend to leave their victims alive or write funny little messages on bathroom mirrors. As a familiar figure with silver hair walked past his desk, paying more attention to the case files in her hands than her surroundings, the Detective Prince saw an opportunity.

Pushing back his chair, he turned to face her. "Tell me, Sae-san, what do you think of the Kamoshida incident?"

Niijima Sae was probably his favourite co-worker, if only for her utility (and Goro's ability to occasionally wheedle free food out of her). She was completely oblivious to the darkness lurking behind the SIU's doors, and yet her instincts were sharp enough to link several previously ignored missing person cases to the so-called Vanishing Incidents plaguing the country right now. It was a pity Goro had never met anyone with less Reiatsu in his life – she might have almost been interesting if she had some. As it stood though, she was the perfect layman to bounce his theories off on. If she identified something odd, chances were she was on the money. If not, it was either a dead end, or something exceptionally bizarre was going on.

She paused, barely resisting a snort. "I think a group of impatient teenagers decided to take justice into their own hands, and were lucky their target was a complete coward. There's nothing more to it, Akechi-kun. Forensics should catch them sooner or later."

An unspoken if they actually bother to do their job went between them. Goro was bitterly familiar with how complicated cases with no obvious answer tended to be swept under the rug.

"That's fair enough. The death of Suzui Shiho was clearly the motivator." The teenager rubbed his chin. "Still, I can't help but wonder if there is something more to it. After all, people with no drugs in their system don't often claim that they were attacked by an invisible man."

"Are you suggesting Suzui's ghost came back to get her revenge?" Her voice was dry, but Sae's eyes were teasing.

A grin crossed Goro's face. "My, Sae-san, how did you guess?"

He could tell she was tempted to roll her eyes but thought she was too mature for such a childish gesture. (She wasn't – she really, really wasn't). Instead, Sae just slowly shook her head. "Well, if you want to examine the scene, I won't stop you. If anyone asks, I'll tell them you're out on an investigation. It's not like you're doing anything useful right now anyway."

Goro beamed, quickly packing his suitcase. Trust Sae to be cynical, but never quite cynical enough. There wasn't a direct train line from the SIU offices to Kamoshida's apartment, so Goro decided to ride his bike instead. He slowed as he entered the street, immediately catching sight of the uniformed police stationed in front of an apartment. If they weren't there, however, the smashed window planes would probably have tipped him off to the location of Kamoshida's abode anyway. The officer peered at him curiously as he dismounted his bike and approached the building, but as Goro grew near, their eyes lit up in recognition.

"Hello." Goro made sure to don his most winning smile. "Akechi Goro, SIU. Though, I suppose you probably know that already. May I please talk to the detective in charge of the scene?"

One nod later, and he was introduced to Hashimoto Taro, who was currently leading the investigation. Luckily, the middle-aged man took no offence to Goro's presence, unlike how some inspectors did when the underaged celebrity detective intruded on their crime scenes.

"No harm in having a fresh set of eyes look things over." The older man shrugged. "There's something odd about this one. Mind your step – it's a clusterfuck in there."

As they passed through, Goro's brows rose as he surveyed the destruction. A clusterfuck indeed – vandalism was far too light a term for the scene before him. Shards of glass and porcelain littered the floor, and the walls had been torn to shreds as if a great beast had ravished them. He traced his fingers over one of the tears. Even through his gloves, Goro could feel the rough, splintered edge of the plasterboard. Despite the animalistic nature of the tears, however, they were most likely caused by a blade as opposed to a claw – too slender, for one.

Goro's attention was quickly diverted however when he caught sight of the bloody trail leading deeper into the apartment. His brows rose. He wasn't aware anyone had been injured that badly.

Hashimoto must have caught his expression. "It's fake. Chemical dye and a bit of cornflower. Fooled uniform for half a second, too."

Goro bit back the flash of anger he felt when he realised he'd fallen for a cheap trick, and forced an amused chuckle. "It most definitely fooled Kamoshida."

As Hashimoto guided him through the apartment, the chaos didn't end. Shelves had been torn open and their contents scattered, and curtains ripped to the ground. There was even a warped and melted trophy stuck to the floor, which a forensics officer was pouring over, looking completely and utterly stumped.

"Was there anything stolen?" Goro's eyes lingered on the empty trophy cabinet.

"Yep." Hashimoto whistled. "All of his sporting awards and medals were taken, along with his wallet, and a handful of flowers. The boys fished most of it up from Shibuya River an hour or two ago. The cash in his wallet was gone, but everything else sans the flowers were accounted for."

Goro blinked. The cash made sense, but the flowers? That was just weird. Mocking, almost. Folding his arms, he stroked his chin. "It seems like the theft was more incidental than anything – an act committed to distress Kamoshida, rather than monetary gain. Taking the money – and flowers, you said – was probably a spontaneous act."

Hashimoto nodded. "Seems likely to me. Unfortunately, they didn't use his card or try to pawn anything. A pity – it would have been a good lead."

The grand finale of the tour was the bathroom. There were a few drops of genuine blood on the tiles – apparently, something had nicked Kamoshida's neck – but the main point of interest was the message scrolled onto the mirror.

The Phantoms.

An interesting declaration. Not content with just leaving a message, they clearly wanted Kamoshida to know who'd taken him down. A foolish choice – simply by the title chosen, they'd outed themselves as a group, as opposed to an individual. Albeit, it was consistent with it being a crime of passion – that was one thing he and Sae agreed on.

Still, the Phantoms… it would be immensely on the nose, but…

"Have there been any other crimes claimed by this group?"

Hashimoto mulled things over. "I don't think so. I can get uniform to do some digging?"

"Please do." Goro nodded. "While I don't think we'll find anything, the fact that they bothered naming themselves is mildly concerning. This might not be a one-off incident." The older detective turned away, but Goro quickly rested a hand on his arm. "Before you leave, Hashimoto-san, I was wondering if forensics had found anything?"

His groan was all the confirmation Goro needed. "Nada, zilch. They'd been over the building twice, but no dice. No hair, no fingerprints, nothing."

"Nothing at all?"

"Nothing." Hashimoto pinched his brow. "It's what makes this case so weird – who the hell could do something like this to a place without leaving a drop of DNA behind?"

Goro mused over his words. "Who, indeed. Thank you for your time, Hashimoto-san."

Once the detective left the bathroom. Goro abandoned his polite mask. There was only one thing left to do here. Closing his eyes, he reached out with all his senses, and a feral smirk crossed his face. Even though time had dulled it, the apartment was saturated with Reiatsu. It was not the rot of a Hollow, however, or the chalkiness of a particularly powerful Whole. It was a kaleidoscope of colours, dominated by a brilliant scarlet red.

It was unmistakably Shinigami Reiatsu.

The beast inside him writhed, and Goro held back the manic laughter that was burning at the back of his throat. Something exceptionally bizarre, indeed.

This was going to be interesting.

…..

Niijima Makoto's mind was spinning as she approached Shujin. Kamoshida, a predator? She could hardly believe it – Makoto hadn't interacted with him much, but he'd seemed perfectly normal. Not the sort of person to abuse and – and rape people. To think that a teacher at Shujin, at her school, could have done such a thing… it was beyond comprehension.

(She hadn't even noticed.)

Shaking her head, Makoto dismissed those thoughts, and more importantly, her guilt. She was the student council president. She needed to be a figure the students could rely on in such trying times – she couldn't go falling apart on everyone.

Speaking of the council, we'll need to discuss this… it might be a bit last minute, but perhaps we can meet at lunch?

She was so caught up in her thoughts, Makoto barely noticed the tainted aura flooding the courtyard until it smashed into her face. Freezing, she shuddered, her heart skipping a beat. It was as if an invisible wall of twisting miasma had materialised before her, and Makoto's breath caught in her throat. Great - this again? Unless she went all the way around to the other entrance, she'd need to pass straight through it if she wanted to get to school.

Breathing in, and out, Makoto attempted to soothe her nerves. There's nothing there. It's all in your head. Of course this place feels unnerving – somebody died here last week! The observation didn't calm her at all, as her brain immediately leapt to ghosts, and she let out an involuntary whimper. To make it worse, none of the other students seemed even remotely bothered by the twisted malaise surrounding them, and walked passed her without a care in the world. Why was she the only one working herself up into a fit?

Makoto. You're being ridiculous. There's no such thing as ghosts. She repeated that mantra as she marched through the yard, and almost collapsed in relief once the weight in the air began to lift and she safely entered Shujin Academy.

Looking around, Makoto hoped nobody had witnessed that embarrassing display, but it seemed like everyone was too busy discussing Kamoshida to pay any heed to her. As she moved away from the courtyard, the fear that had gripped her faded and Makoto went on with her business, silly superstitions forgotten. After preparing herself for class, she had just enough time to spare to approach some of her fellow student council members, so they could help her spread the message about today's unplanned meeting. As she walked down the hall, however, something caught her eye, and Makoto came to a halt.

It took her a second to place the lanky, bespectacled boy, but she quickly realised it was the infamous transfer student, Kurusu. He nodded to his companions silently, a smirk prying up his lips as Sakamoto prattled on by his side. Makoto barely noticed the blond delinquent, however, so obscured was he by the monstrous aura emanating off Kurusu. It was almost as strong as the force that tainted the courtyard, but instead of a dense cloud of darkness, it felt almost electrifying. Kurusu moved away, and Makoto's eyes drifted to his other companions – the glamorous Takamaki Ann, and another second year she didn't recognise. While Takamaki was always radiant, something about her seemed to shine brighter today, which was odd considering what had happened to her. There was something off with the other second year girl too, even if Makoto couldn't place what it was.

The group walked past her, and she felt her eyes narrow to slits. It was almost as if they were buoyed by something more than the jubilation all of Kamoshida's victims rightfully shared. They crackled with a silent energy the likes of which Makoto had never felt before.

... Didn't the news report say Kamoshida's house was vandalised by an unknown group?

… Did she seriously suspect Kurusu and his friends were behind what had happened to the teacher because they made her feel a bit weird? Makoto was being ridiculous, and she knew it.

She turned away, resuming her hunt for the other council members, but thoughts of the so-called Phantoms and Kurusu's group of friends continued to plague her mind.

(Especially when the principal summoned her to his office later that day and told Makoto to investigate the Phantoms, plainly stating failure would reflect poorly on both herself and her sister. They were positively haunting her then.)

…..

The weeks following Kamoshida's takedown were a rollercoaster. When Akira entered Shujin the day the news report was released, the school had whipped itself up into a frenzy. For once, the gossip that seemed to constantly whirl through the halls had nothing to do with Akira.

"I can't believe it, Kamoshida-sensei couldn't have done something so horrible!"

"Hah, that fucker is finally gone! You think we'll be able to reinstate the track team?"

"Oh god, those noises from the PE faculty office, you don't think -"

The teachers tried to keep everyone calm, and the principal flitted about the school, sweating away like an overgrown puffer fish while loudly exclaiming that Kamoshida was still under investigation and urging people to not jump to conclusions. The official stance seemed to have been entirely ignored by some teachers though, as their English teacher, Chouno, had loudly apologized at the start of class that day, and gone onto a rant about her plans to abolish corruption in the school. Kawakami, meanwhile, just looked exhausted by the current events.

The best thing was, aside from that brunette who stared at Akira oddly that morning (which could have been about anything, honestly), absolutely nobody seemed to have an inkling who the Phantoms were.

"I don't know, but they're great!" Mishima enthusiastically informed him, eyes shining brightly. The boy had approached Akira that morning, and given him a hearty apology.

Apparently, he was the one who'd leaked Akira's records after Kamoshida had forced him to. Akira might have held it against him, until he examined the fading bruises on his face. Mishima had suffered enough already – not to mention he seemed to be beating himself up plenty already over what had happened to Suzui.

"I think I'm going to make them a fan site! There's bound to be plenty of people out there who need their help!" The black-haired boy chirped, seemingly a bundle of energy now that he was free from Kamoshida's reign.

"Woah, calm down." Akira laughed, but couldn't help but feel chuffed. "They're probably just some students who had dirt on him. I don't think they can fix the world's evils."

Akira would be way too busy juggling his Shinigami work and his studies to dedicate himself to the vigilante lifestyle, even if the idea did have a certain amount of charm.

...

The changes weren't restricted to Shujin itself.

"H-h-hey."

Akira blinked. He'd just entered Leblanc when a mysterious squeaking noise interrupted him. It was then that he caught a glimpse of orange in the corner of his eyes, and the teen's eyebrows rose to the top of his skull as he realised Sakura Futaba was actually speaking to him.

"Um." The slight girl bit her lip, looking anywhere but at him. "I heard about the girl who killed herself… I… uh, I wanted to say I'm sorry. I-I know what it's like to lose someone close to you. It's awful."

"… Thank you." Akira smiled softly, careful to keep his voice gentle lest he scared her off. "I'll pass your words on to Ryuji and Ann. I'm sure they'll be grateful."

Futaba gave him a shaky nod, before, much to Akira's surprise, quickly wrapping him in a hug. He stood there, blinking in bewilderment, as Futaba quickly released him and ran off.

What an odd girl.

…..

Of course, not every day was so good.

Naturally enough, a school assembly was held to discuss the recent tragedy. Kobayakawa gave a speech about the horrific loss of one of Shujin's own, followed by a plea for everyone to think of the bright futures that awaited them, before urging anyone facing any issues to either go to the guidance officers or the student council. Alone, the speech would have been acceptable. The principal, however, had to follow it up with a sermon about Kamoshida. He downplayed the gym teacher's abuse at every turn, and despite promising a series of investigations in the school's staff, he painted Kamoshida as a tragic figure who had just made an awful mistake, as opposed to a serial abuser who took sick pleasure in his actions. When Akira left the hall, his lips were curled with disgust, hands trembling with fury.

Later that week, what would have otherwise been a pleasant day was summarily ruined by the intrusion of one Niijima Makoto. They were discussing homework on the roof when the door swung open, and the brown-haired girl who'd glared at him the other day strode out.

"This place is off limits, you know." Despite the reprimand, her voice was calm, almost as if she was reciting something from rote.

Rukia merely blinked, but Ryuji's face contorted into a scowl. "… We'll get outta here when we're done with our homework. What's Miss Council President want with us anyway?"

Unease settled into Akira's stomach. She's the student council president? Suddenly, Ryuji's hostility made a lot more sense. It'd be one thing if she'd just told them the roof was off-limits and left, but it was clear that wasn't the only thing that had dragged her up here.

She crossed her arms, and Akira pushed up his glasses as her piercing red eyes stared right through him. "The troublemaker, Suzui-san's dear friend, the infamous transfer student…" Her voice trailed off a bit as she got to Rukia, who had donned her best I'm-an-innocent-maiden expression. "… and the other transfer student. An interesting combination."

The tension on the roof immediately ramped up.

"Great way to start a conversation." Ann scowled, blue eyes narrowed.

For sadly not the first time ever, Rukia's infamously bad acting skills came in clutch. "Well, of course we've become the best of friends!" The Shinigami chimed, fluttering her eyelashes. "Akira and I are Ann's classmates – we noticed her immense distress, and felt compelled to give her a shoulder to cry on. Who wouldn't have their hearts wrenched by such a tragedy?"

Literal tears entered Rukia's eyes, and the student council president suddenly looked insanely uncomfortable.

Ann, meanwhile, saw the opportunity and lunged. "Ryuji was a good friend of Shiho's as well. They – they used to play sports together, every day!" Ann fake-sobbed, and dear god, Ryuji was right – she was somehow even worse at this than Rukia.

Much to Akira's absolute shock, somehow Niijima seemed to buy their bullshit and watched in abject horror as the two other women burst out into ridiculous hysterics. "… I suppose I should come back later." She winced. The moment of humanity didn't last long, though. Turning on her heel, Niijima paused, something smug coming over her expression. "By the way, it's been decided that the roof will be cordoned off due to the incident. I heard some people are coming up here without permission, after all."

Anger flickered in his chest, matching the burning in Ryuji's eyes. While Niijima was technically following the rules, she was clearly doing this out of petty spite. Rukia's tears completely vanished, and before Akira could even blink, she whipped out the Kiokuchikan from her pocket, and a puff of smoke hit Niijima in the face. The brunette didn't even have the time to look confused before she collapsed onto the ground in a pile.

"Dude, Rukia, what the fuck?" Ryuji gaped.

"Um, what was that?!" Ann hissed, shooting upright.

"It's a memory replacement device." Rukia shrugged, before tilting her head in Akira's direction. "I know you have qualms about it, but she's clearly onto us. Given your record, that's not the sort of attention you want."

Akira mulled over her words, then nodded. "Sure, fine by me."

Ryuji squinted, rubbing his chin. "Can you make it so she doesn't lock this place up, too?"

A gleeful grin spread across Rukia's face.

Ethical or not, it did nip two problems in the bud. Niijima didn't approach them again, even if sometimes Akira could see her watching them in the halls, expression vexed. Good luck figuring out anything. He thought. Even if she did stumble upon the truth anyway, it wasn't like anyone would believe her.

…..

Unfortunately, it wasn't just external pressures hounding them. While Akira's horror at Suzui's death faded with time, and Rukia had always been more affected by Kamoshida's actions than the girl's passing, the same could not be said of their friends.

Ann tried to put on a brave face, but it was clear she was struggling. Sometimes during lunch breaks, she instinctively began to head to the gymnasium, before pausing in her tracks, realising Suzui was no longer there. Even on those days when she could put a smile on her face and laugh at Rukia's cluelessness, her eyes often drifted to the door, as if she was waiting for someone else to join them. Some days, she couldn't even fake it. The group would guide Ann, skin wan and a terrible dullness in her eyes, up to their hideout on the roof, and nestle around her as she cried and cried and cried. With every sob that left her throat, Akira could feel her heart breaking. He wanted to put the pieces back together, but this was no shattered vase that could be mended with mere kintsugi. There was nothing he could do to heal the agony that wracked Ann every day. For a so-called god of death, he was powerless.

Ryuji meanwhile was a thunderstorm, ready to snarl and snap at anyone. He always came back the next day with an apology on his lips, but eventually, it came to a head. Ryuji had spent most of the morning storming around Shujin, communicating solely in grunts, when Ann eventually snapped.

"Calm the fuck down, Ryuji! You'd barely spoken to her in two years! What goddamn right do you have to make this about yourself?!"

They'd screamed at each other for a good five minutes, before Niijima intervened, sending them to two different offices that uncoincidentally happened to be on opposite sides of the school. The very next day, the blondes approached each other, and both immediately blurted out an apology.

"I'm sorry, Ryuji…" Ann sighed, fiddling with her sleeve. "I really shouldn't have blown up at you yesterday. I know you're grieving too."

"No, no, you're right. I'm just… it just fucking sucks that this happened. Taking Kamoshida down helped, but I'm still so angry. I know I shouldn't be takin' it out on you guys though, and for that, I'm sorry. Really – I'll try to make sure it doesn't happen again."

Rukia sighed as she watched the display. "Human friendships truly are exhausting at times."

"Maybe." Akira agreed, a smile tugging at his lips as Ann and Ryuji hugged things out. "I think the good parts make up for it though."

Ryuji kept to his word, however, and slowly, the gruff but sunny boy Akira had first met began to shine through the dark clouds. Ann's laughs meanwhile grew more authentic, and eventually, instead of turning towards the gymnasium, she started leaving class at Akira and Rukia's side.

…..

In between the highs and lows, sometimes, there was just life. Rukia had been right about there being a lull in Hollow appearances the days following their first encounter. The duo would be lucky to go more than two days without getting a text from Soul Society. It was easy enough though to duck out in the evening and hunt them down, as after one too many late nights, Sojiro had simply sighed and handed Akira Leblanc's keys.

"If you're going out doing god knows what with that lady friend of yours, you might as well not keep the rest of us up. Do something stupid and I'll take them right back, okay?"

He'd then received a thinly veiled lecture about the importance of safe sex, which caused Akira more internal damage than any Hollow ever had.

If the alert arrived during school, however, things were a bit trickier. Akira had gone through a whole catalogue of excuses for why he and Rukia suddenly needed to leave class urgently, not to mention the hassle of roping either Ann or Ryuji into body-sitting duties. They'd left his body alone once, and almost given a poor third year a heart attack.

It was one balmy spring afternoon after a particularly annoying Hollow hunt when Akira broached the question. "Hey, Rukia, would it be possible for me to learn some Kidō?" Her spells were handy, but she could only cast so many of them before her Reiryoku grew too low.

The Shinigami tilted her head. "Hmmm… I suppose you do have good Reiatsu control. Still, there's more to the art than that."

Ryuji blinked, scarfing down his lunch. "Don't you just have to shout some words?"

Rukia swatted him lightly. "Of course not! If that was all it took, anyone could use it! Even you!"

Interest sparkled in the blond's eye. "Wait, seriously?"

"Ryuji, she just said there was more to it than that." Ann rolled her eyes.

"Exactly." Rukia nodded, and much to Akira's mounting horror, she withdrew her notebook. "To activate most Kidō, you need to channel your Reiatsu in two or three ways."

Oh no. We're about to be serenaded with more of her artistic monster-pieces.

"Firstly, you need to use some of your raw Reiryoku to power the spell." That was accompanied by a muscular rabbit thing lifting a dumbbell, with the word 'POWER' inscribed above it in block letters. "Secondly, you need to channel the spell audibly to contort the spiritual energy into the desired form you want it to take." Rukia then drew a bunny speaking, as a glob of orange formed at the tip of its… well, fingers were a bit too generous of an interpretation. "Finally, some Kidō also requires specific hand movements. Once you're familiar enough with a spell, your Reiryoku learns how to take the correct shape without an incantation, but doing so diminishes the spell's power. It does save time though."

… yeah, Akira didn't know how those things were meant to be hands at all, and honestly, he was fine not knowing.

Ryuji looked like he'd sucked something sour, having been exposed to Rukia-art before.

Ann, on the other hand, cooed. "Aww, I love your drawings! They've got so much character!"

"Really?" Rukia perked up, eyes shining brightly.

"Yeah!" The blonde nodded, eyes sparkling, completely oblivious to the landmine she was about to step on. "It's so funny seeing someone like you draw something so goofy! You're normally so… serious. Well, trying to be serious anyway."

"G-goofy?!" Rukia recoiled, looking as if she had been physically wounded. "My art is not goofy!"

Suffice to say, no actual spellcasting was learnt that lunchtime. Over the next few days though, Rukia slowly integrated Kidō lessons into their Shinigami training time. Channelling the correct amount of power was easy, and while some of the hand movements were finicky, it didn't take him too long to get the hang of them. There was, however, one problem.

"Ye lord! Mask of flesh and bone, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! Truth and temperance, upon this sinless wall of dreams unleash but slightly the wrath of your claws. Hadō #33. Sōkatsui!"

A torrent of blue fire formed at the base of his palm, and with a thrust, Akira sent it flying forward, where it detonated on the training dummy Rukia had somehow found, reducing it to cinders. With volleyball cancelled and PE currently replaced with study hall, the gymnasium area was nigh deserted most of the time.

"Dude, epic!" Ryuji roared, eyes shining brightly, as Ann clapped in the background.

Akira's favourite thing about Kidō practise was that no Zanpakutō was needed, and therefore he could use it in his human body. That meant even Ryuji, the least spiritually sensitive of them all, could see him casting the spells and his targets blowing up even if he couldn't see the magic itself.

Rukia, meanwhile, just frowned. "Impressive. Now try it without using a flash card."

"Ye lord! Mask of flesh and bone, um, fluttering wings, ye who bares the name of Man! Truth and, uh… What comes after truth?" The spell fizzled, and a glob of blue energy dropped from Akira's fingertips, flopping against the ground like a dead fish before bursting into a dozen small sparks.

Rukia bore a long-suffering look as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Temperance, Akira, temperance."

He shot her a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his head. "You sure I can't just use the flashcard until my body memorises it?"

"No, Akira, because if you don't understand it, how is your Reiatsu supposed to? Now, again!"

While Akira ultimately took to Kidō like he took to normal Japanese poetry, namely, with utmost mediocrity, the lessons did eventually end up with some results, even if they weren't the ones they were initially aiming for. One day, Akira was stumbling over the incantation for Bakudō #8. Seki, and consistently muddling it up with Bakudō #9. Geki, when Ann interrupted them.

"Hey, would Ryuji and I be able to give it a go?" She fiddled with the hair tie Suzui gave her. "I think I've heard Akira recite so much weird poetry I could write a whole essay on it."

Rukia narrowed her eyes. "… You just want to get out of your maths assignment, don't you?"

Ann laughed nervously, careful not to meet Rukia's eyes. "What? No, I'd never want to not work on maths, right, Ryuji? I love maths! It's my favourite subject!"

She elbowed the other blond in the ribs, who shot her a dirty look, before sighing. "Ann, your acting fuckin' sucks. Honestly though, screw algebra. I'd much rather be learnin' how to throw fireballs."

Rukia shrugged. "Well, I suppose there's no harm in trying. Let's start with Shakkahō. It's technically a mid-range spell, but doesn't need much Reiatsu or fine control."

Akira sat to the side, having already been quizzed on that particular spell (easy, if he had his flashcards), content to watch as Rukia ran through the incantation with Ryuji and Ann. Ryuji's face was scrunched up in a frown, but Ann looked fairly unphased. Eventually, Rukia seemed happy with their progress and dragged out another training dummy.

The blondes exchanged a look, and Ryuji stepped forward. "Can I go first? Don't think I'm gonna remember what to say if I don't do it now… actually, I don't think I'm gonna remember what to say, anyway."

Ann acquiesced with a bow. "No worries! Good luck, Ryuji!"

The teen pushed out his hand, muscles straining and fingers far too curled, before narrowing his eyes in concentration. "Uh, ye lord, mask of blood and flesh, all creating – uh, creation, flutter of wings, he who… bears the name of Man? Inferno and… panic? The sea, um, splashes, and marches to the south! Hadō #31. Shakkahō!"

Nothing happened. Ryuji's face dropped into such a ridiculous pout, Akira couldn't help but wince as a wave of sympathy ran over him. He gave his buddy a pat on the back. "There, there. Look, it's not like I'm doing a good job either."

"Don't take it personally, Ryuji." Rukia shrugged. "The discipline is likely just a poor match for you. You'd probably be far better at Zanjutsu or Hakuda – neither of which I have much talent in."

"Uh, thanks, I guess?" He scratched the back of his head, but Rukia's admission there were areas even she was lacking in seemed to help bandage the wound. "Hey, Ann, it's your turn now!"

She shot him a nervous smile, before stepping forward, and taking a deep breath in and out. Ann flicked her wrist out with a flourish, and immediately chanted. "Ye lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! Inferno and pandemonium, the sea barrier surges, march on to the south! Hadō #31. Shakkahō!"

A ball of crimson fire burst into life in her palm, and with a flick of her fingers, it hit the training dummy, dead-centre. It wasn't anywhere near as powerful as some of the spells Akira had been flinging about, merely scorching the dummy as opposed to blasting it to pieces, but she'd done it, and more importantly, without the aid of flash cards.

A stunned silence filled the air.

"You… actually did it." Ryuji gawped, sounding as surprised as the rest of them felt.

"I… I did!" Ann's eyes were wide, and instinctively she rubbed Shiho's hair tie. "Holy shit, I can use magic!"

A slow grin spread across Akira's face, as pride bubbled in his stomach. "Well done, Ann. Maybe I'll have to take you Hollow hunting one day."

A shudder ran down Ann's spine. "Uh… only if you really need me. One out-of-body experience is enough, thanks."

"I thought you were a terrible student!" Rukia beamed, pleasantly surprised.

"I'm not terrible!" A blush spread across Ann's cheeks. "I mean, I'm not great, but I guess I've always found language kinda easy? It's a perk of being bilingual, I guess."

After that day It didn't take long at all for Ann to quickly surpass Akira in the art of spellcasting. She threw herself into it with gusto, previous depressive episodes replaced by long periods of pouring over Rukia's notes and practising on the rooftop. Truthfully, it got to the point Akira found it mildly concerning, a fact he ended up voicing to Rukia.

"I believe it's likely because of Suzui-san's passing." The Shinigami mused as the duo sipped coffee in Leblanc, having recently returned from the batting cages. "She felt powerless during that situation, so now, she wants to make sure she'll never be in that position again." Something distant entered Rukia's eyes. "It's admirable, in a way. Not many people can turn sadness into a strength."

He nodded, letting the smooth taste of Jamaican Blue wash over his tongue. Alas, as Akira actually cared about his grades (or more accurately, cared about Sojiro taking his keys back if he didn't keep them up), the gulf between their skills kept on growing. Eventually, it got to the point Rukia officially announced the end of Akira's Kidō lessons. Ann had a photo shoot with her modelling job, and it was Ryuji's mother's birthday, so the duo had headed to the rooftop alone.

"I've been thinking." Rukia announced, hands on her hips. "While you have the control, you're having too many issues with memorisation to bother continuing with your Bakudō and Hadō."

Akira looked wounded, and a flash of hurt ran through him. "I'll get the hang of it eventually!"

"I know." Rukia nodded, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "If I was training you to actually be a Shinigami, I'd encourage you to keep at it. However, this is just a temporary situation. By the time you stop mixing up your incantations for Shō and Sai, my powers should have returned."

A weird feeling ran through him, the same as it always did when Rukia mentioned the inevitable end of their collaboration. These last few weeks in Shibuya had been exhausting, but Akira didn't think he'd felt this alive in his life. Rukia clearly interpreted his odd mood as disappointment, and a smirk tugged at her lips as she raised a finger.

"However, there is a branch of Kidō I think you might excel at."

That snapped Akira out of his doldrums. "Really?"

Rukia nodded, and a faint green light pooled in her hand. "Kaidō, the art of healing. While the principles between it and basic Kidō are similar, no incantation is required."

Akira leant forward, a spark of interest igniting in his chest. Healing wasn't as flashy as barriers or fireballs, but it sure as hell sounded useful. "Really? Why didn't we start with that, then?"

"Normally it's regarded as harder than normal Kidō, as it's more Reiatsu intensive, and you need to have a basic understanding of human anatomy to utilise it properly." She explained. "Truthfully, I only know how to use it because one of my superior officer's sister is in the 4th."

The what now?

Rukia didn't explain, however. "Between your biology and physical education classes, you probably have enough knowledge to heal basic wounds. I can't teach you how to be a professional healer, but we should be able to make a good field medic out of you."

A grin crossed Akira's face. "Looking forward to it."

As Rukia started to describe the basics Akira listened along without a care in the world, entirely ignorant that his relaxing spring days were about to come to an end.