Death and the Trickster

by HawkfireWritesStuff

Despite being able to see ghosts all his life, Kurusu Akira is far more haunted by his criminal record. Meanwhile, in the World of the Dead, Kuchiki Rukia has existed in a malaise ever since the tragic loss of a dear friend. After a chance encounter brings them together, they quickly find that corrupted souls aren't the only monsters roaming Shibuya...

5. Dark Portrait

As Ann stepped off the train platform, she felt the pinprick of eyes tickling the back of her neck. The sensation had been bothering her all week - she'd broached the topic with Rukia and Akira, but even the experienced Shinigami hadn't been able to sense anything weird. Today though, it was worse than usual, and naturally, today was also the day both her Shinigami friends had been summoned on a Hollow hunt, leaving her and Ryuji alone on their journey to school. Flicking her head around, yet again, Ann tried to sense the station for any strange Reiatsu, but couldn't pick up anything aside from Ryuji's dull buzz. A man then moved in the corner of her vision, and Ann almost face-palmed. She'd been so caught up in supernatural drama lately, she'd completely forgotten about your good old-fashioned human stalkers.

"Ryuji, did you see that guy get off the train?" She hissed. Her friend, meanwhile, only replied with a large yawn, and Ann narrowed her eyes in annoyance. "Hey! At least act like you care!"

"Fine…" He rubbed his eyes. "Seriously, if there is some dude creepin' on you, did they really hafta do it during exams?"

Ann's glare intensified, and Ryuji sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Look, let's wait at the top of the stairs, and see what he does. If he tries anything funny, I'll step in. Honestly, I don't get why you're so freaked out, though. You can just ghost-magic the guy."

That… was true, actually, but Ann wasn't going to admit it.

Closing her eyes, it didn't take Ann long to pick out a faint dot of Reiatsu making a beeline in her direction. Whirling around, Ann set eyes on the man who'd been stalking her and paused. He… was just an ordinary high schooler. Pretty, but nondistinctive outside of his long-lashed eyes, and he wore a plain white uniform she thought belonged to Kosei High. As Ryuji stepped between them, mild confusion entered both boys' eyes.

"Hey, Ann, you sure it's him? This is just a normal dude."

"Is there something you want?" The strange boy blinked, voice flat.

Ann scowled and shoved a finger in his direction. "That's my line!" Just because he wasn't some middle-aged man, it didn't mean that he couldn't be a creep. "You've been stalking me all week!"

The boy merely blinked again. "That's outrageous."

Annoyance bubbled up in Ann like a volcano. "That's – that's…! Don't deny it! You've been following me since the train!"

"Yes?" He replied, and Ann almost went into a frenzy. "Of course I've been following you."

What is wrong with this guy!?

"Hold on." Ryuji's face scrunched in concentration. "You say ya haven't been stalking her, then you say you've been following her? Which one is it?"

The boy's expression turned truly troubled, and Ann felt her ire fade into confusion. "I saw you from the car, and I couldn't help but chase after you. You're the woman I've been searching for all this time!"

Oh nooooo. Ann's heart skipped a beat, and not in a good way as the poor boy suddenly dropped to his knees, hands clasped in prayer. She had an awful hunch about where this was heading - she'd had to turn down a few loony fans her modelling work had captivated, and it always made her squirm.

"Will you please be the model for my next artwork!?"

Ann was so blindsided she felt like someone had hit her in the face with a baseball bat. Uh, what?

The boy continued, completely oblivious to how absolutely batshit this entire situation was. "All that I've drawn till now has been lacking, but if I manage to capture your radiance, that will finally come to an end! Will you please model for me?"

He took an impassioned step towards her, but Ryuji blocked his way. "Woah, hold your horses! Ain't you kinda getting ahead of yourself? For all we know this is some sort of scam!"

Ann disagreed, if only because actual scammers would be far more competent and less bewildering. "Um, Ryuji's got a point. I have no idea who you are."

"Ah." The boy stepped backwards and gave them a polite nod. "Forgive me – where are my manners? I am Kitagawa Yusuke, a second-year at Kosei High's fine art division."

Before Ann or an increasingly annoyed Ryuji could ask for some proof, a chauffeured vehicle pulled up beside them, the window rolling down to reveal an older gentleman. Ann wasn't sure what it was exactly, but something about him almost seemed familiar.

The man looked friendly, amusement glimmering in his eyes as he surveyed the scene before him. "My goodness… so this is where your passion led. I was wondering why you had left the car. Perhaps give an old man a bit more warning next time, hm? We don't want you getting hurt again." He laughed, a classical, gentle sound.

Kitagawa gave him a respectful bow. "My apologies, Madarame-sensei."

It was then that Ann put two and two together. "Wait, do you mean that Madarame? The one who was on 'Good Morning Japan' the other day?"

Ryuji's eyes grew wide at that. Ann sincerely doubted he'd ever heard of the artist, but he'd certainly heard of the TV show.

"The very same." Kitagawa nodded in confirmation, and any doubts Ann had about his sincerity vanished. It turned out her stalker was just a socially inept art student. All's well that ends well, I guess?

Madarame called out his pupil's name, and Kitagawa's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, Sensei. I'll be right there!" Turning back to Ann, he continued. "Madarame-sensei's exhibition is beginning tomorrow. I'll be there to assist on opening day. Please come by – it would be great if you could give me your answer in regards to modelling then."

Reaching into his pocket, he handed a ticket to Ann, before passing one to Ryuji with great reluctance. With that, he turned around, sleeve drifting in the wind, and a waft of acrid Reiatsu flowed from the boy. Her breath caught in her throat – she'd recognise that heady miasma anywhere. It belonged to a Hollow. As Kitagawa walked away, Ann pinpointed the origin of the energy – a vivid bruise creeping up the art student's arm. A second later, the door to Madarame's car closed behind them, and in a flash, they were gone. Despite knowing she needed to hurry to her exams, Ann found herself frozen to the spot.

"Ugh. I guess I can give this to Rukia, or somethin'…" Ryuji muttered, before waving a hand in front of her eyes. "Uh, earth to Ann?"

"Ryuji, we need to meet with the others, ASAP." Ann bit her lip.

Something fishy was going on here, and it wasn't just Kitagawa's personality.

…..

Ann: meet me at the roof after school. it's important.

The words haunted Akira all through his final exams. With the addition of some basic Kaidō to his arsenal, he'd been confident he could come back feeling fresh and chipper from his last-second Hollow hunt, but he'd been plagued with anxiety from Ann's message instead. As Akira left the classroom, he winced. He'd thought he'd done pretty well the other days, but this one would most likely be a flop.

"It's over!" Ann cheered, stretching her arms into the sky as they marched onto the roof. "We're finally free!"

Ryuji, meanwhile, was far gloomier. "It's over…" He pouted, before looking at Akira. "How 'bout you…?"

Akira shrugged, before taking a seat. "Could have done better, could have done worse."

Rukia followed suit, scowling. "Why is nobody asking how I went?"

"Because you're not exactly a proper student?" Ryuji swung back in his chair. "Seriously, I don't know why you didn't just dip…"

"How did you go, Rukia?" Ann asked kindly.

"Terribly!" Rukia announced, beaming brightly. "Now, let's move on to more urgent matters. You said you had something to discuss?"

As Ann explained how she'd finally found out who'd been following her, Akira felt confused. It was certainly unusual, but nothing worth panicking over.

"So, are you going to go to this exhibition?" Rukia asked, swinging her legs.

Ann didn't immediately respond, and Ryuji let out a loud groan."Urgh, please don't tell me you're actually going to model for Kitagawa. He's so shady!"

"Probably not." Ann shrugged, expression dour. "I do want to go to the exhibition though. When Kitagawa-kun left, I felt something odd about him. Almost… Hollow-like."

Everyone snapped to attention at that.

Ryuji's eyes blew right open. "Dude, for real?! Why didn't you mention that first?"

Ann shrugged, looking away. "Look, it's not like I think he's a Hollow or anything. I think he might have been attacked by one, though - the Reiatsu seemed to be coming from an old bruise on his arm. I just thought it'd be a good idea to check up on him, and make sure he's safe."

Ryuji looked sceptical for a moment, until he saw how deadly serious Rukia's expression had turned, and glanced away bashfully. Akira was also taken aback by the intensity in the Shinigami's eyes – she wouldn't have looked nearly so grim unless she thought Ann was right, and Kitagawa was in genuine trouble.

"You're right." Rukia announced. "Perhaps the injury was incidental, and the Hollow is already dead, but if there's a chance one is targeting Kitagawa, we should keep an eye on him."

Akira's stomach flipped in unease.

"Here." Ryuji withdrew his ticket and handed it to Rukia. "You'll make better use of this than I will."

Rukia glanced at Akira, and he gave her a nod. "You should take it. You know far more about Hollows than I do, after all. Plus, only one of us is an artist, right?" He finished with a boy grin.

…..

Ann wasn't exactly artistically inclined herself, and would place her skill level somewhere between 'average' and 'Kuchiki Rukia'. Her parents though had dragged her to a few galleries on their overseas journeys before Ann grew too old for them to constantly take her out of school. While she was more of a video game fanart than a fine art sort of girl, she still enjoyed the latter to some extent, even if she probably wouldn't have gone without free tickets and an ulterior motive. It would also be refreshing to enjoy some female company for a bit – as much as she'd grown to appreciate the boys, Ann missed talking gossip and fashion with Shiho. Shaking her head, Ann brushed her lingering thoughts of her old friend to the side, knowing it'd suck the life out of the day if she wallowed in her grief. Besides, Shiho would hate it if she did that, especially if it came at Kitagawa's expense.

Alright, Ann – it's time to enjoy some art, and pry some information out of Kitagawa!

It took a while for her to find Rukia – as bombastic as her personality was, she was a bit of a shrimp. It didn't help that the department store the exhibition was held in was packed – Ann was a bit relieved it was just the two of them, honestly. The Shinigami had donned a stunning blue and white dress Ann swore she recognised from somewhere. She looked beautiful – Ann felt almost underdressed in her red jacket and tights.

"Ah, there you are!" Rukia chimed, eyes shining in delight as she advanced towards Ann.

"Sorry I'm late!" Ann gave her a quick hug. "Jeez, it's busy today, isn't it?"

"Quite." Rukia nodded as they withdrew their tickets, and showed them to the lady manning the entrance. "For so many people to come and view the fine arts… I could scarcely imagine such a thing happening in the Soul Society."

They don't have galleries over there? She wrinkled her brow.

Rukia must have caught Ann's expression, and gave her a strained smile. "It's a large place – even the busier areas have only a fraction of Shibuya's population in them."

Before they could continue their conversation, a familiar voice interrupted them. "Ah, you came!" A delighted smile crossed Kitagawa's face, as the lanky boy approached them. Upon seeing Rukia, he eyed her curiously. "I see you brought a different friend."

"Yeah – I can't imagine Ryuji in a gallery, honestly." Ann forced a laugh. "This is Kuchiki Rukia."

"True." Kitagawa rubbed his chin. "One with a proper sense for aesthetics would never dye their hair such a garish colour." Turning to Rukia, he gave her a slight bow before introducing himself.

"A pleasure to meet you, Kitagawa-san." Rukia returned the gesture. "I'm looking forward to seeing your Sensei's work."

Any reservations Kitagawa had about her seemed to vanish at that. "Of course – I'll be happy to show you around. It'd be a good opportunity to speak more about the picture I'd like to draw, too."

As Kitagawa escorted them around the gallery, Ann's attention was drawn in several different directions. Firstly, she tried to analyse the Hollow Reiatsu drifting off him – was it better or worse than yesterday? Secondly, there was the exhibit itself. A lot of the paintings were of a traditional Japanese style, but there was an eclectic mixture of impressionist pieces and abstract works woven in as well. Thirdly, she had to listen to Kitagawa's ramblings about the artwork he was planning. Suffice to say, that fell to the back burner, but given the eccentric boy seemed to change his mind about what he wanted to do every five minutes, Ann thought she probably wasn't missing out on anything important.

Luckily Rukia had enough questions about the artwork to keep him busy. "It's certainly an interesting collection. Madarame seems to use a broad variety of traditional techniques in his works." She noted, examining a woodblock print of a cat with a frown on her face.

"While many artists focus on honing their own unique style, Sensei prefers to keep his horizons broad. It is how he creates all of this by himself. He truly is fantastic."

"I see…" Rukia murmured.

Yusuke continued to talk about his Sensei, however, Ann was distracted by a painting in the corner of the room. A vivid red tree stood out in broad defiance against a forest of dull green around it, leaves burning with the light of a furious fire. It was one of the pieces that had caught her eye when she googled the exhibition yesterday, and it looked even better in the flesh.

"Rukia, check this one out! This was the one I wanted to see."

As they dawdled over, Kitagawa's eyes widened. "This piece?"

"Yeah. There's… something almost furious to it? As if the painter was burning with anger. Look at how frantic the brushstrokes are!" Ann laughed. "Honestly, it's hard to imagine Madarame painting this – he seemed so calm yesterday."

Rukia cocked her head. "It truly does have a sense of malcontent to it, doesn't it?"

Instead of gushing about his teacher, however, a deep frown crossed Yusuke's features. "There are better pieces than… this one. Come now, this way!"

As he quickly ushered them off, Ann blinked in confusion. What was that about?

"Say, Yusuke…" Rukia ventured as he dragged them to the other end of the exhibit. "How did you become Madarame's pupil? Given his talent, I'm sure plenty of students would strive for his tutelage."

Yusuke slowed down, eyes widening curiously. "Ah, well, I'm afraid it's not much of a story. My mother was a former pupil of his. She…" He diverted his gaze. "She passed away when I was young. My father had perished in a vehicular accident earlier that year, so Madarame took me in and has been guiding me ever since. I am very grateful for all he has done for me."

"You're an orphan?" Ann felt her heart pang. "I'm so sorry, Kitagawa-kun."

"There is no need for pity." He shrugged her off. "Truthfully, I was barely more than an infant when they died, and it is hard to feel grief for something you do not remember having."

Rukia nodded along as if Kitagawa's words made perfect sense to her, but Ann didn't feel reassured at all. Didn't not remembering just make it even worse?

"On that note, are you feeling better?" Rukia continued. "Ann noticed you had a rather nasty bruise on your arm yesterday."

Kitagawa's eyes widened in surprise. "You saw that?" Flinching, he instinctively pulled down his sleeve. "Truthfully, I've been having a stroke of bad luck as of late. Vehicles not noticing me, easels suddenly falling down… it is why finding you was such a fortune – like a beam of sunlight piercing the rain."

Rukia nodded sympathetically. "Hopefully your luck is beginning to turn around, Kitagawa-san."

It didn't take long for them to finish exploring the exhibition after that. Before Kitagawa could bother Ann about modelling again, Madarame popped up and asked for some assistance. In the end, he gave her his address and contact details with a plea for Ann to visit him when convenient. Hurrying away, Kitagawa disappeared into the crowd.

Ann turned to her companion. "So, thoughts? Both on the art show and the Hollow situation."

"The exhibit was… certainly interesting." Rukia concluded.

"Huh." Ann raised a brow. It was faint praise, considering how much attention Rukia was paying to it. "I thought you'd enjoyed it?"

"Oh, the individual pieces were marvellous, however…" Rukia sighed. "Truthfully, I have some experience with traditional art."

… You do? Ann really couldn't have guessed that, judging by Rukia's artistic capabilities.

"My brother's- my family owns a large quantity of artwork." She explained. "One thing I have noticed is that even when they create vastly different pieces, most artists approach their works in a particular way. For example, I draw my eyes in a certain manner, whether I'm using a pencil or a brush."

Ann resisted the urge to make a comment on Rukia's vast overestimation of her own abilities, and mulled over what the Shinigami was implying. When she finally caught onto the meaning of Rukia's words, Ann's jaw dropped. "You think Madarame has been stealing people's art?!"

Rukia nodded. "Remember that piece Kitagawa-san dragged us away from? The brushstrokes were unlike most of the other acrylic paintings, and you yourself noted the emotions of the piece clashed with Madarame himself. I wouldn't be at all surprised if that was made by someone else."

"Huh, that sucks." Ann frowned, crestfallen - the whole exhibit had been tainted in the light of that revelation. And Madarame seemed so nice, too. I suppose that doesn't stop him from copying people, though…

"On to your other point, I believe you're right that Yusuke has been targeted by a Hollow." The Shinigami continued.

Ann froze, apprehension running down her spine. "Really?"

"Yes. While it's an abnormally large amount of time, if she used to be an earth-bound spirit…"

Ann had no idea what the Shinigami was mumbling about, but had gotten the pertinent point. "What should we do? Can you sense the Hollow now?"

Rukia shook her head. "It's likely hiding in the boundaries between worlds. Pass his details onto Akira, and the two of us can stake Kitagawa-san's house out in the evenings. Hopefully, we'll be able to catch the Hollow when it next approaches him."

Ann's lips curled into a grim line. "Can I join you?" Surprised flickered into Rukia's eyes, and Ann explained herself. "Look, I know he's a bit weird, but I think Kitagawa-kun means well. Honestly, I'm not interested in modelling for him, but I don't want him to get hurt either."

"Very well." Rukia nodded. "Welcome to the team, Ann."

…..

Naturally, their plan was derailed before it even began. After a lovely shower, Ann slipped into her pyjamas, warmth from the hot steam still lingering on her skin. Today had been a good day – she'd seen some lovely art, helped create a plan to keep Kitagawa safe, and had some quality time with Rukia. Unbeknownst to her, she was about to get a lot more of the latter.

Pulling off her bedsheets, Ann was a second away from turning off the lights, when a beeping noise echoed through the house. The blonde furrowed her brow. Did I leave the microwave on or something? But no, as Ann listened, the sound seemed to be coming… from one of her closets? Curious, she took a step forward, hand a mere centimetre from its handle, when the closet suddenly flung wide open and she found herself practically nose-to-nose with Rukia.

"Ann!" The Shinigami shouted. "We've got orders – a Hollow is coming!"

Shrieking, the blonde toppled to the floor, scrambling backwards. "What the hell are you doing in my closet?! Hold on – those are mum's pyjamas!"

"It's nicer than Ryuji's!" Rukia yelled, which did not make the situation any better at all. "That doesn't matter though! The time and place is right here… right now!"

Ann barely had time to process her words before reality itself tore open, and with a wet plop, a massive, serpentine creature pooled out of the ceiling, a growl bubbling in its throat. Its body dripped with black tar – if it wasn't for the spindly arms and mane of dark hair, Ann wouldn't have been sure if it was liquid or solid. The Hollow's mask was not the pure white like the other one she'd faced, instead decorated with elegant red lines. It almost would have been beautiful, if not for the serrated row of teeth splitting it in half. The Hollow's head snapped to the side, yellow eyes drilling into Ann, and she barely had a second to prepare before it struck. With a scream, Ann rolled out of the way as the Hollow tore a chunk out of her bed. Black ink splashed onto her side, and Ann barely managed to scramble backwards as its teeth snapped where she'd been just a second before.

Rukia shoved her phone into her pocket, and Ann realised she must have sent an SOS to Akira. "Use a barrier spell! I'll stun it!" She roared, before beginning her own chant.

Shakily, Ann nodded and thrust out her wrists. "Bakudō #39. Enkōsen!"

A golden disk of swirling Reiatsu formed before her, and when the Hollow lunged, it bounced off the barrier, a roar bubbling in its throat as it hurtled itself at Ann again and again. Holding her arms perfectly still, sweat dripped off her brow as each blow pushed her another inch backwards. Hurry up Rukia, I can't keep this up forever!

"… Look upon yourself with horror and then claw out your own throat! Bakudō #9. Geki!"

A red light surrounded both Shinigami and Hollow, and the latter froze still, gurgling. Dropping her shield, Ann instantly launched a Shakkahō.

She shouldn't have skipped the incantation.

The fireball detonated on the Hollow's face, and Ann swore. Instead of blowing the Hollow's head clean off, it merely shattered part of its mask. As the red light of Rukia's Kidō faded away, Ann got ready to cast a sealing spell of her own, but then, the teenager froze. She'd expected to see either inky darkness or a sea of reptilian scales under the Hollow's mask. Instead, soft locks of indigo hair tumbled downwards, framing the Hollow's porcelain skin. Her long lashes and hooded eyes would have almost made her expression serene, if it wasn't for the burning hatred in her golden eyes.

The Hollow's face was human.

Ann was so shocked, all thoughts of Kidō fled her mind. It wasn't until the Hollow grabbed her with its needle-like claws and tossed her into the wall that Ann snapped back to reality. Rukia yelled and tried rushing to her side, but with a flick of its tail, the Hollow sent her flying. Winded, Ann took in a choking gasp for air as she staggered to her feet. She attempted to cast a spell, any spell, but she couldn't seem to keep any air in her lungs, and all that came out was a wheeze. Eyes shining, the Hollow bore down on her, and something in Ann snapped.

Clenching her fists, she started into the Hollow's eyes as a flare of pure defiance roared through her like an inferno. I'm not going down here! She was going to live – for herself, and for Shiho! She would never let her friend down by getting herself murdered by a Hollow in her own bedroom! As Ann's Reiatsu flared, the Hollow reared back in surprise. A swirl of scarlet energy surrounded her, but Ann barely noticed, distracted by a burning heat around her wrist. Glancing downwards, her eyes widened when she saw the hair tie Shiho gave her glowing with a ferocious light.

Instinctively, Ann knew what to do. Tearing the band off her wrist, it elongated, morphing into a fiery whip. With a crack, Ann lashed it at the Hollow. The beast reared back, an awful gargle tearing from its throat as the burning rope evaporated its flesh. Turning on its heel, reality cracked open again, and the Hollow fled into the night.

The world was silent, aside from Ann's heaving breaths. Her legs shook, and as the adrenaline pumping through her veins faded, Ann found herself falling to the floor. The burning whip Shiho's hair tie had somehow turned into coiled back around Ann's wrist, the whisps of flame fading until it returned to its simple elastic self.

What the hell was that?! What the hell was any of that?! What was that power Ann just unlocked, and more importantly, why the hell did the Hollow have a human's face?!

Ann's attention was diverted when her door suddenly flew open, and a panting Akira stood framed by the doorway. "Ann, Rukia, are you alright?! What just happened?"

Ann turned around, facing Rukia, whose expression was as hard as flint. "That's what I would like to know."

…..

Akira was very happy he'd delved into the art of lockpicking in preparation for the Kamoshida heist, as he shakily forced open the Takamaki family's door. Swearing, he worked double-time as Ann's Reiatsu flared. Finally, the door clicked open, and simultaneously, the Hollow's Reiatsu faded. While Akira would normally be curious about Ann's apartment – it was far fancier than anything in Yongen-Jaya – right now, he had nothing on his mind but his friend's safety. Charging in, he saw Ann's bedroom was a mess. A huge chunk had been ripped out of her bed, and black sludge had splattered itself indiscriminately across the room. Rukia was just getting to her feet, pyjamas stained with ink, as Ann stood in the corner, panting.

"Ann, Rukia, are you alright?! What just happened?"

Much to Akira's surprise, Ann glared at the Shinigami, eyes burning with accusation. "That's what I would like to know. The Hollow… its face was human."

Akira froze, goosebumps running down his arms. What…?

As he glanced towards Rukia, the Shinigami's expression was solemn. "… When fighting Hollows, Shinigami are instructed to kill them with a blow to the back of the head."

A sense of unease tingled within him. "So they can't bite you, right?"

Rukia didn't meet his eyes. "That's one reason, yes. The other… is so you never learn the Hollow's identity. All of them were once human, long ago."

The words pierced him like a knife. Stepping backwards, Akira raised a hand to his mouth as bile rose to the back of his throat. All this time… I've been killing people?!

"I thought they were monsters!" Ann snapped. "Not – not humans!"

"They are monsters." Rukia countered, eyes blazing. "Enough – we can have this discussion later. Ann, get Kitagawa's address. Akira, restore her Reiatsu. The Hollow is beginning to escalate - it didn't manage to satiate itself on your soul, so I'm certain it'll be heading straight to its true target."

Rukia's voice boded no arguments. While a thousand questions raced in his mind, Akira and Ann silently obeyed her commands. One second, they were in Ann's apartment, and the next, they were running across the rooftops towards Kitagawa's home, each step powered by a burst of Reiatsu.

"Why do you think the Hollow is after Kitagawa specifically?" Akira called out. It had ended up attacking Ann after all, and he'd only met her a couple of days ago, right?

"Hollows attack in a distinctive pattern." Rukia explained. "Initially, they target the ones they loved when they were alive. Once they run out of people, they then move on to random attacks."

Ann gasped, eyes widening in horror. "Wait – that's why you were asking about Kitagawa-kun's family!"

Rukia nodded, mouth drawn into a grim line. "I'm certain the Hollow is his mother. When a Hollow first turns, they normally retain some sentience and may simply stalk their targets, but eventually they'll succumb to their instincts and attack. That delay is probably the only reason Kitagawa-san is still alive."

Ann grew quiet, cheeks tinged mildly green.

"But why?" Akira asked, voice plaintive. "Why do they target their families? Why do they become Hollows in the first place?!"

As the tall skyrises melted into smaller, cheaper apartments, Rukia sighed. "Souls that are not found by Shinigami, and succumb to their grief and desperation… eventually, they lose their hearts and become Hollows themselves." Looking into the horizon, the Shinigami's brow furrowed. "That is why Hollows eat souls – not to satiate their hunger, but to fill the emptiness inside them. They start with those whose love they crave the most, before they move on to anyone who's there. No matter how much they eat, however, Hollows can never fill the void inside them."

The air was crisp, but the Rukia's words weighed down around them like a funeral shroud.

"That's… that's terrible." Ann's voice wavered.

Akira wholeheartedly agreed. He'd thought Hollows were just semi-mindless beasts, but now… he felt sorry for them. What Rukia described… he'd never heard of such a tragic existence.

He was snapped out of his musings when Ann inhaled sharply. "We're almost there."

As the trio departed from the rooftops, Akira blinked. This was where the great artist Madarame lived? The building could only be described as a shack – the walls were dirt-stained and rusty, and the construction ramshackle. It looked like a stiff breeze could knock it over. From what Ryuji described of his fancy car and chauffer, Akira would have thought the artist was loaded.

Rukia phone's beeped, and the trio glanced at each other. "It should be appearing… now!"

The sky contorted, opening up into a great black maw. The Hollow slithered out of the portal – long and gross and dripping with viscous black liquid. While most of its mask had reformed, Akira could still see strands of blue hair and a narrowed eye. There was a scar on its side – a long, shallow wound that puckered at its ends. Scanning its surroundings, the Hollow hissed as she saw the trio standing between her and her prey.

"Ann, seal off the shack – protect Yusuke! Akira and I will focus on the Hollow!" Rukia barked, and Akira unsheathed his Zanpakutō.

"Got it!" Ann saluted, charging to the shack's door before spinning around, an unfamiliar incantation exiting her mouth.

The Hollow slithered forward, as fast as black lightning, but Akira was quicker. Dashing so fast the world seemed to blur around him, Akira bolstered his Reiatsu and jabbed his blade deep into the wound in the Hollow's side. Screeching, it whirled around, jaws at the ready. Hopping out of the way, he glanced in Ann's direction just in time to see a faint green barrier engulf the house.

"Leave Kitagawa alone!" Akira cried, and if he hadn't gotten the Hollow's full attention before, that certainly did the trick.

"Yusuke is mine!" The Hollow shrieked, spitting a gunky blob of liquid at Akira. He attempted to deflect it with his blade, but instead of splattering away, it stuck to him, bogging down his blade with its weight.

"Try fire!" Rukia commanded. "It worked when Ann used it before!"

Thrusting out his clean hand, Akira chanted. "Hadō #31. Shakkahō!"

A weak, wobbling ball of flame appeared in his palm, and he managed to evaporate the slime seconds before the Hollow snapped its jaws at him. This time, Akira deflected the blow, and lashed his Zanpakutō at the Hollow's exposed face. The monster reared back, and his blade swished through empty air. Howling in fury at its failure, the Hollow lashed its tail, knocking over a pile of trash cans.

"Get out… of my way!" She screamed, voice nothing but a distorted echo.

Akira ignored her and landed yet another blow to the wound on her side. She attempted to lunge at him again, but her movements were shaky, and Akira knew she was on her last legs. It was then, of course, that the door to the shack swung open. Akira skidded to a halt, as an elderly man that had to be Madarame exited the building. The artist glanced around the street, tutting as he saw the fallen trash cans. Swearing, Ann shoved the man back inside and slammed the door shut, but she was too late.

"Mada… rame… you… murderer! Killer! Thief! STAY AWAY FROM MY SON!" With a burst of manic energy, the Hollow flung itself at the house, bouncing off Ann's barrier with a scream. It didn't hesitate before ramming itself into the barrier again and again, and the green light cracked under its assault.

Darting up behind it, Akira leapt, hoping to pierce the back of her skull, but the Hollow swished its tail, and a tidal wave of black gunk knocked him to the ground.

"Hold it right there!" Ann hissed, and instead of casting a Kidō, she instead reached for Shiho's hair tie, which for some reason turned into a whip made of swirling flame.

Akira blinked. That was new.

Rukia hurried to his side, repeating his trick with the Shakkahō, and Akira realised with a jolt of concern that her fire was even weaker than his. Meanwhile, Ann cracked her whip, glaring defiantly at the Hollow.

"You hate Madarame for stealing from Kitagawa-kun, and yet, you plan to take his life! You're nothing but a hypocrite!"

If Ann's goal was to piss off the Hollow, she succeeded spectacularly. "Me… a HYPOCRITE? You… you DARE slander me! If there is a thief, it is YOU!" The beast was so distracted, it didn't notice Akira creeping up behind it. "Yusuke… he could not remember my face, but even though it hurt, I could survive! The Sayuri, my masterpiece… he revered it, and therefore he revered ME! I was his muse! But then… you came along… and the only thing he could focus on was YOU!" With a roar, the Hollow slashed at Ann, and even though her whip burnt right through the Hollow's arm, it continued its assault. "He forgot me! He is my son… my son! I will take his soul from his body, and WE WILL NEVER BE APART AGAIN!"

Ann fended it off remarkably, as the Hollow attacked her again and again. Still, she couldn't keep up with it forever. Gritting her teeth, Ann faltered, sweat dripping down her brow, and Akira realised he needed to strike, now. Naturally, that was when the Hollow shuddered, and a burst of black liquid exploded from it in every direction, gluing all three Shujin students to the ground. Cursing, Akira hissed and attempted to wrench his foot free from the gunk, but it was stuck in place. While the liquid near Ann's whip melted away, her arms had been plastered to the side of Madarame's shack, and there was nothing she could do was watch as the Hollow opened its mouth.

"You're pathetic." The Hollow froze, then turned around to face Rukia. She looked ridiculous, in her stained pyjamas with tar splattered all over her legs, but the Shinigami's eyes burned with such intensity, Akira couldn't help but be awestruck. "I don't know what this 'Sayuri' is… but isn't finding a new source of inspiration something to be joyous about? You should be happy Kitagawa-san is thriving. Grief is a poison – is that really what you want for your son?"

The Hollow swayed, golden eyes widening. Akira felt the liquid evaporating, and without a moment's hesitation, he jumped. The Hollow turned around, but instead of blocking his blow, it let his sword pass through its chest. Akira's eyes widened as the Hollow's remaining hand grasped his own, and pressed the blade in deeper.

"Kitagawa-san…?" Akira gasped, as the Hollow's mask crumbled away.

Now that he could see her face properly, he couldn't help but be struck by her beauty. She almost could have walked right out of a painting herself, if it wasn't for the slight imperfections in her skin, and the way her eyes wrinkled when she smiled at the teenagers. They only made her appear more lovely, however.

Ann whirled to face Rukia. "C-Can we save her? She's… she's going back to normal, right?"

"No." It was Kitagawa who responded. "If I linger here… I will only succumb to my rage again. This must end with my death."

Rukia approached them, expression solemn. "She's right. Once a soul becomes a Hollow, there is no going back – any lucidity is temporary at best. Do not grieve, though. When a Hollow is struck down by a Shinigami, they are not killed – merely cleansed of their corruption so they can safely enter the Soul Society. That is why we hunt them."

… Oh. A ball of anxiety lifted from Akira's shoulders. A look of relief flooded into Ann's eyes, and the two teenagers exchanged a shaky smile. They weren't killing people, even if it was a sad necessity. They were saving them.

"Please… before I leave…" Kitagawa gasped, voice faint. "Madarame… you must save Yusuke from him."

The trio listened to the Hollow, rapt.

"I was ill… not long for the world. I painted the Sayuri as a gift for Yusuke, so he would always remember my face. Madarame was my teacher – I had asked him to critique my work when I had a seizure…" The woman's voice trailed off. "He… he left me to die, and claimed the Sayuri as his own."

Akira's eyes widened. He'd heard Rukia's suspicions about the plagiarism, but that was a whole different ballpark compared to murder by inaction.

Rukia pursed her lips and rubbed her chin in thought. "That would explain why we didn't find you earlier. When a soul carries too much regret, they become earth-bound, and their Reishi intertwines with the world around them. It's nigh impossible to find a Whole once that occurs."

Kitagawa nodded sadly, and something panged in Akira's chest, as her body slowly disintegrated into motes of dust. "It is as you say… Madarame's sins do not end there, however… he leeches off his students, claims their works as his own, and blacklists all of those who defy him… my life is not the only one he has claimed. Please…" She was barely solid at this stage, but Akira could still see the desperation in her eyes.

"We'll take down Madarame. I promise." He nodded solemnly.

A beatific smile crossed her face, and not a second later, she was gone.

The three students stood still for a moment, as the luminous moon shone down upon them.

Akira adjusted his glasses, as his melancholy was slowly replaced by indignation. "Well then. Looks like it's time for the Phantoms' return."

…..

As Kitagawa Yusuke opened the door, a trill of excitement ran through him. It was his muse, his idol, his galatea in the flesh itself – Takamaki Ann had accepted his request. Alas, she'd refused to model nude, which was a true shame – there was simply something so ethereal about the exposed human form. Then again, he was beginning the develop the impression that Takamaki was no gentle waif, but a burning force of nature. The teenagers engaged in some generic small talk as he brought her to his studio, and Yusuke felt a flash of relief that she'd come alone, which was quickly accompanied by a twist of guilt. As appallingly vulgar as that thug Sakamoto had seemed, Kuchiki had been perfectly pleasant to him. She was too smart, though. A voice whispered at the back of his mind. She was on to Sensei. Gathering those lingering, nasty, toxic thoughts, he shoved them firmly to the back of his mind. There's nothing wrong with what Sensei is doing. Stop dwelling on it.

"Oh, sorry!" Takamaki winced when they reached the entrance of his atelier. "I think I forgot to close the front door!"

Yusuke nodded solemnly. "When artistic inspiration has me in its grip, it is hard to remember much of the world around me, let alone something as insignificant as that."

She returned quickly, and they quickly got to work. Laying down a few rough strokes of paint, Yusuke frowned. No – that wasn't working. Moving around his easel, he asked Takamaki to change poses, before starting again. No matter how he seemed to approach it, however, even though his brush glided across the canvas, he could not call what he was creating art. Takamaki wasn't the problem – unlike most amateur models she didn't twist or turn. In fact, she was as radiant as she was the first time Yusuke set eyes on her, like a star plucked from the heavens and placed in his humble adobe. No, the issue here was clearly Yusuke himself.

It's hard to put my full heart into a piece when I know Sensei will simply claim it as his own.

Yusuke shook his head, in the hopes that it would dislodge the cloud of resentment that plagued him. Madarame had raised him since he was a mere child – what sort of person would Yusuke be if he refused to repay that debt? His teacher had sacrificed so much for him – offering a few paintings in return was not much of an ask.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a large crash. Madarame's shack had never exactly been soundproof – the hullabaloo last week attested to that. This time though, Yusuke could have sworn the sound came from inside the building.

Takamaki jumped to her feet, eyes wide with alarm. "What was that? We should investigate – someone might have fallen over!"

Without further ado, she hurried into the hallway, and Yusuke had little choice but to follow. They almost bumped straight into Madarame as the older man came down the stairs, brows furrowed. As he saw them, his frown deepened. "Yusuke, is everything alright? I heard a loud noise."

"Yes, Sensei. I had assumed you were the one who made it." Yusuke tilted his head. How odd. If it hadn't been himself or his teacher who caused that racket, what on earth was it?

"Maybe it's in a different part of the house?" Takamaki suggested. "Come on, let's go!"

Grabbing his sleeve, Takamaki pulled him through the shack. A flash of displeasure crossed Madarame's face and Yusuke cringed, but there was little he could do – not if he wanted to keep his muse (and therefore his teacher) satisfied. She turned a corner, before skidding to a halt. When Yusuke finally caught sight of what had alarmed her, he couldn't help but do the same.

While he knew most of the shack like the back of his hand, there was one room he had never entered – Madarame's private storage room. The shack had always been plain – easier to keep the mind clear when free of worldly distractions – with one sole exception. His teacher's personal room, which was adorned with a lavish peacock feather print. He'd been enraptured with it when younger – an interest that had died when Madarame caught him lurking around it one day and had given him the scolding of a lifetime. It was the only time his Sensei had ever yelled at him. Instead of looking at opulent feathers, however, when Yusuke stared at the storage room, all he saw was a dark void. The door had been blown right off its hinges – the lock was still dangling from the doorframe. Yusuke stood paralysed, transfixed, but Takamaki had no such reservations. Gingerly, she stepped into the forbidden room, unaware of the sacred rule she had just violated.

"W-wait!" In a burst of speed, Madarame hurried after Takamaki, eyes wide with panic.

Swallowing, Yusuke followed, a Molotov cocktail of misgiving and curiosity brewing inside him. He never could have prepared for the sight that availed him, however. When he stepped into the room, he saw it was filled to the brim with copies upon copies of the Sayuri - Madarame's flagship painting, the one that had launched his career. The very same artwork that had inspired Yusuke to pick up the brush. The very same artwork that was meant to have been stolen over a decade ago.

Yusuke's head snapped towards his Sensei, a ball of emotions tightening in his chest. "Sensei, what is this?"

Madarame flinched as if wounded. "I can explain. I… made some mistakes over the years. Currently, I'm in severe debt. The effect it has had on me has been profound – it's why I've been relying on so many donations lately…"

Donations. The word Madarame always used when he selected one of Yusuke's pieces to be his.

Takamaki frowned, glancing towards him. "Is that why…?"

Swallowing, the artist nodded. "I thought if I could display it again, I could drum up more interest in my exhibitions. All I ended up with though were these cheap copies." He gazed away, thinning his lips. "I was going to destroy them, but an acquaintance of mine suggested another idea. People would buy them, even if they were not the original – being painted by my hand would be enough. Demand grew, however, and I had to make more and more…"

"Sensei…" Yusuke's voice trailed off, an awful wretchedness bubbling in his stomach at his teacher's pitiful display.

Madarame bowed, head low. "I couldn't stop – I needed the money to continue your education… please, forgive your cowardly teacher, Yusuke."

Before he could reply, however, the room shuddered.

Schnk!

One of the false Sayuri's slid out of the rack it was held on and toppled to the floor. Yusuke barely had the time to blink before another imitation flew out into the room, quickly followed by another. In a matter of seconds, chaos erupted. One by one, every single copy of the Sayuri went flying. They cracked against the walls, collapsed to the ground in a pile, and sometimes even collided with each other mid-flight. Yusuke had to duck as one sailed right past his head, while Madarame cursed when one knocked him in the knees.

"Hey, watch it!" Takamaki yelped, as a painting clipped her shoulder.

"What on earth is going on?" Madarame scrambled backwards, face contorted into an ugly expression of bewildered shock. "What is this pandemonium?!"

Almost on cue, the room suddenly grew still. It was only quiet for a moment though, before four paintings floated into the air, and a letter was carved into each of them like they'd been attacked by an invisible knife.

LIAR.

It was then that drops of blood began dripping onto the floor. The sickly red trail slowly crossed the room, until they stopped at the base of an easel covered by a heavy cloth - the only thing in the storeroom that had been untouched until now. With a whoosh, the veil was torn away, revealing yet another Sayuri. The second Yusuke laid his eyes upon it however, he felt like he'd been punched. Hands trembling, he stepped towards the painting. The delicate strokes, the graceful serenity… it was impossible. And yet, here it was. The genuine Sayuri. The very same painting that had kept him going all those cold, hungry nights spent making art worthy of Madarame. The very same painting that had been lost to the world for years, its beauty only being able to be witnessed via mere second-hand copies.

All this time, it had been sitting in the corner of his teacher's shack.

Rage exploded in Yusuke's chest. "This is the real Sayuri! You told me it had been stolen!"

Madarame snapped, all pretence of kindliness thrown out the window. "It's a fake! Just another copy!"

For the first time in his life, Yusuke realised his teacher's words were just a bald-faced lie. Before he could ask why, however (or more accurately, how dare he), blood-red letters began to appear on the wall.

LIAR
THIEF
FRAUD
MURDERER

CONFESS TO YOUR CRIMES

OR YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR SINS

- THE PHANTOMS

With that, a gale of air rushed through the room, and then all was silent.

"Sensei…" The world spun him, the blood having rushed from Yusuke's face. It was like an empty pit had been carved into his stomach. No, that wasn't quite right. Yusuke didn't feel hollow. He felt horrified. "… What do they mean by that?"

His teacher was lying, ergo, these Phantoms were telling the truth.

(The words murderer burned into his retinas like the sun.)

"Nothing!" Spittle flew from Madarame's mouth. "This is – this is preposterous! Slander! Lies!" Ripping his phone out of his pocket, he dialled a number, hands shaking. "Security? There's been an incident! Intruders, in my home! No, don't get the police – do you know what would happen if the press found out?!"

As the grey-haired man continued to rave, Yusuke felt as if he'd been dunked underwater and left to drown. In a matter of minutes, the foundations of his world had crumbled to pieces.

A gentle hand tugged at his sleeve. It was Takamaki. Her eyes glittered with sympathy. "Come on, Kitagawa-kun. Let's go."

…..

After Ann had made sure Kitagawa was alright, the Phantoms had left the shack, retreating to Shibuya's central street. It was there that they gathered – Akira hopping back into his human body which Ryuji had valiantly guarded.

"Damnit, I can't believe we did all that, and it didn't even work!" Ryuji scowled, kicking a can.

Akira nodded in agreement. Sure, they hadn't physically touched Madarame like they had Kamoshida (he was rather elderly, after all, and they didn't want to give him a heart attack), but he'd been pretty proud of his idea. Akira thought it was just as terrifying, and yet, while Madarame had been upset, he hadn't broken.

A shudder ran down Ann's spine. The blonde rested against some railings, a distant look in her eyes. "Honestly, I'm not too surprised. Madarame was just so… two-faced. Honestly, if I didn't already know the truth, he could have pulled the wool right over my eyes. It's going to take a lot to get him to crack."

It had been a week since Akira had purged Kitagawa senior's Hollow. They'd organised an official Phantoms meeting almost immediately afterwards, and after hearing about what had happened, Ryuji had been in full agreement that they needed to take the bastard down. More interesting though was the discussion that had followed about Ann's mysterious new weapon.

Ryuji had been rather despondent at the news. "Wait, seriously?! You got attacked by a Hollow, and unlocked some swanky new powers? All I got were some bruised ribs!"

"If it's any consolation, if it wasn't for Rukia, I wouldn't have gotten any swanky powers either." Akira patted his back in commiseration.

Ann meanwhile examined Shiho's hair tie, intrigued. "So, uh, what is it, anyway?"

An awkward silence filled the rooftop.

"… Truthfully, I was going to ask you the same thing." Rukia confessed. "It… somewhat resembles a Shikai, but I've never heard of someone unlocking without an Asauchi before."

Akira furrowed his brow. "… Pardon?"

"It doesn't matter." Rukia shrugged, before muttering to herself. "I suppose I could ask him about it…"

On that mysterious note, the conversation had ended, though Akira had been intrigued by this Shikai thing Rukia mentioned. If he could turn his sword into a fiery whip, that would be pretty sick. She hadn't elaborated though, and they'd quickly moved on to their what-to-do-about-Madarame planning session – the failure of which brought Akira back to the present day.

"Do you think we should strike again?" He suggested, rubbing his chin. "If we keep it up over several days…"

Ryuji grinned, pumping his fist in the air. "The bastard should crack for sure!"

Ann didn't seem to have the same optimism, however. "I dunno… Madarame was more angry than terrified. More of the same might not cut it. Maybe Rukia and I could start chanting, and pretend we're Kitagawa-san's ghost or something?"

Oh, now that was a good idea. Akira cracked a smirk. Karma, at its finest – justice for the dead, and just as importantly, justice for the living.

Rukia mulled things over, violet eyes shining in the evening light. "Those aren't terrible suggestions, however, I believe we need to hit Madarame where it really hurts." A mischievous smile crossed her face. "And it's clear that there's one thing he values above all else. His image."

She glanced to the side, and Akira followed her vision – she was staring straight at a poster of the Madarame exhibit.

His lips curled up in delight. "You know what? I think that's a great idea."

…..

Akira strolled into the department store, donned in his dark Shinigami gear, which Rukia had informed him was officially called a Shihakushō. As he stepped into the exhibition, a trill of excitement ran through him. Every day for the last week, Akira had popped into Madarame's shack and used some of Ann's fake blood to graffiti the walls. As Friday came around, the artist had practically been frothing at the mouth, and Akira knew it was time for their pièce de resistance.

Footsteps echoed over the polished floor, and he turned around to see Ann briskly marching towards him, veiled painting under her arm.

"Did you manage to sneak out the real Sayuri?" He asked, and received a cheeky wink in return.

"Yep!" She responded, popping the 'p'. "I asked Yusuke about the best ways to transport it – we don't want to ruin Kitagawa-san's last work, of course – then I pretended I needed to go as I was having women's problems."

Akira nodded, smile turning into something warmer. "Good. Kitagawa is the real victim here – it'd be pointless doing this if we only ended up causing him more hurt." Withdrawing his phone (which he'd stashed in his kimono), he dialled Rukia. "Are you and Ryuji in position?"

"We are." She responded, voice smug. "We'll move when we sense your Reiatsu."

Akira nodded, and hung up. Hoisting up the buckets of fake blood at his side, he passed one to Ann and grinned. "It's showtime!"

…..

The lights cut. Panicked murmurs filled the halls as security quickly intervened, urging people to stay still. With his ability to sense Reiatsu however, the darkness was meaningless to Akira. Weaving through the hall like a shadow, he looked at the nearest painting's placard and got to work. On the other side of the hall, Ann followed suit, and was quickly joined by two dots of Reiatsu Akira recognised as Ryuji and Rukia.

"Everyone, please remain calm." One of the curators called. "The lights will be back any second now."

Scattered whispers filled the hall, and one customer peered at one of the paintings Akira had visited. "Hey, do you see that…?"

Akira flared his Reiatsu, hoping it would further obscure him from mortal eyes, and hurried to their meeting spot in the exhibit's main foyer.

"Ann, on my shoulders." He instructed. "Rukia, on Ryuji's. We'll let you know when to unveil the Sayuri."

After getting the blonde comfortable on his back, he turned to face the wall, and she got to work. When the lights flickered back on barely a second later, a series of shocked gasps filled the halls. While he couldn't see the fruits of their labour yet, unable to move from his designated place, Akira knew exactly what sight greeted the museum's patrons. Rukia had skipped school one afternoon and had spent six laborious hours identifying every single one of Madarame's plagiarised pieces. While the lights had been down, they'd gone and circled each of those works with a line of blood-red paint, accompanied by the word 'STOLEN'. As the murmurs began to escalate into hisses of shock, a wide grin spread across Akira's face.

"Stolen…? What do they mean, stolen?"

"I-is that blood?!"

"How… how did this happen?! The lights were barely out for five minutes!"

"Was it aliens?! Ghosts?"

"Look! Over there! There's writing appearing on that wall!"

Excitement bubbled in his chest, as Ann swayed above him, painting a message for all to see.

Thankfully, one of the patrons decided to read out her work. "Madarame Ichiryusai. We gave you the chance to confess to your sins, but you remained silent. So, we shall reveal to the whole world the depths of your depravity. You are a thief, who left your apprentice to die so you could steal the painting she made for her son. After claiming it as your own and reaping the rewards, you then pretended the painting was stolen, so you could guilt your students into providing you art while you scammed buyers with false copies. We are talking about the Sayuri, which we will reveal here today…"

The sound of a cloth fluttering into the air interrupted the speaker. From the audience's view, the Sayuri would have seemingly appeared from nowhere. In reality, Rukia was slowly lowering it, Ryuji taking over from her when it dropped beyond her reach, before placing it onto an easel Rukia had covered with a concealment Kidō earlier that day.

Several figures wearing bulky vests wove through the crowd, and Akira swore. While they'd never be able to catch him, the rest of his friends were still in their physical forms. "Ann, hurry it up – security is here."

"Just a minute!" She bit her lip. "… Done! Let's bolt!"

Ann scrambled off his shoulders, and the teenagers scattered mere seconds before the guards reached them. Slipping into the crowd, they hurried away. As he reached the doors, Akira glanced over his shoulders and read Ann's final words.

THE ORIGINAL PAINTER OF THIS PIECE WAS KITAGAWA SAORI

EVEN IN DEATH, SHE WILL RECEIVE JUSTICE, JUST AS YOU WILL RECEIVE YOURS

- THE PHANTOMS

If he looked at himself in a mirror at that moment, Akira would have seen that his expression was unbearably smug. Walking away, he almost brushed shoulders with a familiar-looking man in a dusky brown kimono.

As Madarame looked at the pandemonium gripping his exhibit, his skin grew clammy, almost as if he'd seen a ghost.

---

Okay, so, I prefer to keep my long-winded author's notes exclusively to AO3 (they kind of break immersion on for me), but given this chapter has a lore change and Controversial Plot , I thought it was kinda necessary. To cut a long story short, I'm not including Yusuke in the Phantoms in this fic. I love him, but in canon, he literally has no role outside of the Madarame Arc, and unlike Ann, he doesn't have backstory connections with the other characters to make up for it. To fix that, I'd either have to give him another character's plot beats (making their arcs worse), or make up a whole new plotline (which I didn't want to do since this fic was already massive and my main goal here is to actually finish this story). In the end, reducing Yusuke to a minor character made more sense, and it's not a decision I regret. If it's any consolation though, this isn't going to be his last appearance!

The other thing I want to talk about here is a lore change, specifically to how Fullbring (astute readers will realise that's what Ann's powers are), and the spiritual races work. Canonically, Fullbringers are humans who use empowered object to access an ability that's unique to the individual. In other words, they're basically proto-Shikais, and yet... their powers are apparently like Hollows in nature. Uh, no. Changing topic, one thing that always kinda bugged me in Bleach was that humans and Shinigami are viewed as separate spiritual races, when Shinigami are literally just human souls with Reiatsu and swords. So, in this verse, instead of being regarded as a separate species, they're one and the same - Shinigami is a job occupation as opposed to a race. Fullbringers, as a result, are just humans who've met the requirements for imprinting on a Zanpakuto while still alive.