The journey through the Dangai to the World of the Living was uneventful. When Akira stepped out of the Senkaimon, however, he quickly noticed a slight, itty-bitty problem. Namely, the portal had opened up about twenty metres off the ground. Oh, fuck. The frizzy-haired teen cursed as he started to fall. Apparently, Shinigami could stand mid-air in the World of the Living if they gathered Reiatsu at the bottom of their feet - it had something to do with the realm's low Reishi density - but it hadn't been a trick Akira had intended to learn on the fly (pun only somewhat unintended).

Luckily though, it turned out to be an educational experience he could save for another day. Akira had barely fallen a metre when a blur of white rushed underneath him, and he landed gently on something soft. With a series of oofs, the rest of the Phantoms followed suit sans for Sae and Ishida. Both Quincies had kept themselves aloft by forming small Reishi platforms under their feet. For a moment, he felt a pang of envy - cheaters, the both of them.

"Come on now, don't be shy!" Urahara - who was sitting on top of the pale cloth - called out to the duo. "It's not every day you see a flying carpet!"

The second the shopkeeper made his presence clear, a palpable tension flooded the air. As Sae and Ishida joined the others, both wore matching expressions of disdain. While the rest of the Phantoms weren't quite so blatant in their hostility, nobody was humouring the shopkeeper with a smile.

"Kisuke." Yoruichi coughed, clearing her throat. After spending most of the week as a human, she'd returned to her cat form just before they re-entered the World of the Living. "Now is not the time or the place."

"Ah, I see. I suppose you've discovered the truth about me." The blond murmured, his smile evaporating. Removing his hat, he held it to his chest, and to Akira's shock, Urahara dropped his head in a contrite bow. "I… I'm sincerely sorry for my actions, and the grief they caused you. I overestimated my abilities, and you were the ones to pay the price."

Silently, the Phantoms exchanged a glance. It was clear nobody knew exactly how to react to the unexpected apology.

Eventually, Akira sighed, biting the bullet. "It's… it's okay, I guess. I understand why you kept everything about Aizen and the Hōgyoku secret, and I suppose to some degree we owe you an apology too. We did kinda rat you out to the Onmitsukidō, after all."

Urahara's surprised smile froze, and he shot a mildly alarmed glance at Yoruichi. The shapeshifter nodded in confirmation. "Soifon almost had a field day."

"Still…" Akira continued. "You shouldn't have used Rukia as a pawn in your game without her consent. I'm sure someone out there would have been willing to help you keep the Hōgyoku out of Aizen's hands, but you took that choice away from her."

Urahara inclined his head, mulling over Akira's words. "I suppose you're right – I'll make sure to give Kuchiki-chan my apologies in person the next time our paths cross."

"While we're on the topic of apologies..." Ishida's voice was clipped, the Quincy's hands balled into tight fists. "I'm not as sentimental as Kurusu – while your decisions were flawed, I accept that you were simply trying to prevent a megalomaniacal lunatic from gaining even more power. What I have to question you about, however, is Kurotsuchi. Just what in the world were you thinking?!"

The shopkeeper's furrowed his brows in confusion, until a quiet Yoruichi muttered into his ear, and Urahara blanched. "… Ah. It seems my failures have hurt you yet again. I know this won't be much consolation, but Kurotsuchi truly was a genius. If his skills were put to use, I knew he could have been a great boon to the Soul Society. I supposed I just never anticipated that I wouldn't be there to control his more sociopathic tendencies."

Ishida frowned. Giving the former Captain a jerky nod, he looked away, arms crossed. It was hardly forgiveness by any means, but it seemed like the Quincy had come to the conclusion this wasn't a hill worth dying on.

"… Anyone else have any questions for me?" Urahara asked ruefully.

Ryuji raised his hand. "Yeah, actually. Why the fuck do you have a flying carpet?"

…..

By the time they landed in the Urahara Shōten's dusty front yard, Ryuji still hadn't received a satisfactory answer. The second the assorted group of teenagers, two adults, and a cat landed on the ground, the shop's shoji screen doors swung open and a familiar figure charged out.

"You're back!" Futaba shrieked, engulfing Akira in a flying hug before moving on to the rest of the Phantoms.

"Damn – you have no idea how much I missed you." Ryuji grinned, indulging her display of physical affection.

"Quite." Makoto sighed. "If there's one thing I learnt in the Seireitei, it's how useful you are. It's amazing how unwieldy a Tenteikūra is when you compare it to normal human technology."

Futaba preened at the confession. "Mwehehehe, it's good to see that you've developed an appreciation for my wonderful mission control skills."

"We always appreciated them, Futaba." Akira grinned, warmth blooming in his chest.

A blush spread across the younger teen's face, but as Futaba examined the crowd, her smile began to fade. "Where's Rukia?"

"Oh, don't worry about her!" Ann chimed up. "She's fine – she just decided to stay in the Soul Society for now."

"Really?" Futaba wrinkled her nose. "Uh… didn't you guys go off because they were literally trying to kill her?"

The members of the expedition party exchanged a glance.

Akira sighed, sweeping a hand through his hair. "It's a long story."

Stepping through the door of the Shōten, Wakaba appeared, approaching them at a far more sedate pace than her daughter. "Well, why don't you come inside and enlighten us? I've made curry."

Now that she mentioned it, Akira could faintly smell a familiar spicy aroma wafting through the air. It was nearing dinnertime anyway, and now that she mentioned it, he was getting a bit hungry.

"Sounds good." The frizzy-haired teen winked.

They didn't eat immediately – Ryuji and Ann were ushered away by Tessai to fetch their bodies, and Makoto, Ishida, and Sae needed to gather their belongings. Akira contemplated calling Morgana, but decided he'd just swap bodies with the Mod Soul once he got back to Leblanc – he might as well save him the trip. Texting Morgana a heads up that he'd gotten back safely, Akira ended up ambling into the kitchen to give Wakaba a helping hand. Making sure there was a plate for everyone, the duo brought dinner into the Shōten's living room, and it wasn't long before the others came slowly trickling in.

As the group settled around the Shōten's traditional dining table, Sae turned on her phone and immediately winced as she received what sounded like fifty messages at once. "Ugh. Work tomorrow is going to be a nightmare…" She groaned, her expression growing increasingly gloomy as her mobile continued to buzz.

"Yeah – I get it." Ryuji's shoulders slumped. "I've got social studies first thing tomorrow with Ushimaru of all people. Ushimaru!"

Sae looked down at her phone, which was still receiving notifications, then slowly back up to Ryuji with a flat stare that probably could have killed a lesser man.

Makoto pinched her brow. "I… really don't think those two things are comparable."

Ryuji opened his mouth, wholeheartedly ready to argue his point, but thankfully for everyone's sanity, Futaba beat him to the punch.

"So, spill the deets already!" She demanded, jabbing her chopsticks at the Phantoms. "What happened?"

After a moment's deliberation, Akira was elected as the evening's storyteller, with Ryuji and Makoto covering the parts of the tale he'd been absent for. As they moved on to the story's climax – the revelation of Aizen's treachery – Futaba's brows soared through the roof.

"Whoa – I let you run off for a month, and you uncover a government conspiracy? No, scratch that – a ghost government conspiracy."

Akira gave her a weak smile. When his thoughts trailed back to the Sōkyoku Hill, however, it was not Aizen's dramatic departure that lingered in his mind. It was him, burying the hilt of Tasogare no Dorobō into Renji's guts. As the conversation moved on, the teenager remained lost in thought. He'd promised Ukitake he'd continue to perform his Shinigami duties, but Akira hadn't factored his inner Hollow into account when he made that promise. The beast had only surfaced when Akira was pushed to his limits, sure, but what if a freak accident happened? What if it crawled out and hurt his friends, again?

Maybe… maybe I CAN fix this, actually. He mused, eyes flicking to Sae.

When the meal finally wrapped up, Makoto and Ann volunteering to handle the dishes, Akira approached the prosecutor and cleared his throat. "Hey – can I talk to you about something for a second?"

Sae arched a brow, rising from her seat. "I assume this is a private conversation?"

He nodded, and discretely, they slipped into the Shōten's halls. Akira followed the prosecutor as she weaved randomly through the corridors before pausing by a dusty storage closet.

"This should be far enough away from the others. What is it?"

Akira shuffled awkwardly, not entirely sure how to broach the topic. "I want to talk to you about your Hollowfication." Sae immediately grimaced, and he hurriedly continued his explanation before she got even more upset. "I just thought you might, well, have some advice for me. How… how did you manage to control it?"

At that, the tension in Sae's shoulders loosened, and the pity in her eyes felt like a punch to his gut. "While my inner Hollow might affect my mood at times, it's never sought to possess my body – in fact, that would be counter to its goals." She must have sensed his disappointment, as her expression softened. "I'm sincerely sorry, Kurusu-kun – if I knew how to help you, I would."

"That's okay, Sae-san." He took a deep breath in before giving her a brittle grin. "Thank you for your time."

Spinning on his heel, Akira marched away, stomach churning. He... he needed some fresh air. The frizzy-haired teen was so caught up in his foul mood, he almost didn't notice it as Wakaba walked past him. Instinctively, he gave the psientist a distracted nod, and it only hit him once she'd rounded the corner. Hold on. Akira froze, hairs on the back of his neck prickling. Wakaba had been the one to Hollowfy him in the first place – maybe she would know how to stop it from showing its ugly face again? Heart fluttering, he hurried back after the psientist, only to duck back around the corner when he saw she was engaged in what looked like a tense conversation with Sae.

The prosecutor had her arms crossed as she scanned the other woman. "In hindsight, I just assumed it was something you made up to convince me to go."

For a second, Akira had every intention of walking away and hunting down Wakaba later, but he stopped in his tracks when he heard the woman's reply.

"Oh, no – it was very much the truth. While I'm not entirely sure who's pulling his strings, I do know the identity of the White-Masked Killer."

Immediately, Akira compressed his Reiatsu down to a slither. Palms sweaty, he flattened himself against the wall as the Shōten grew so quiet one could have heard a pin drop.

"Well, go on." Sae narrowed her eyes. "Who is it?"

Wakaba's expression was completely unreadable as she made an announcement that sent Akira reeling. "The White-Masked Killer is Akechi Goro."

It's WHO now?! Akira gawped, jaw dropping to the floor as a stunned silence followed the psientist's words. Was she seriously saying that Akechi – the dorky Detective Prince who enjoyed philosophy and debating justice – was the Hollow who'd killed Wakaba before becoming a hired assassin?! An assassin who'd fucking framed the Phantoms for one of his crimes at that?!

It was clear he wasn't the only one having trouble wrapping his head around the idea.

"… I'm sorry, but are you sincerely accusing my teenage celebrity co-worker – who spends his free time writing a food blog about meals he doesn't even like so random strangers will think he's cute – of being a murderous Hollow assassin?" Sae's voice was pitched high with incredulity as she looked at Wakaba like she'd grown a second head.

The older woman shrugged. "He wasn't an idol when I first met him – he only entered the spotlight after the first few Vanishing Incidents occurred. I assume that was his reward for his duties – it'd explain how a scrappy orphan with no connections managed to crawl his way into the limelight."

Now that his initial explosion of shock had faded, Akira's mind raced over her words. As ludicrous as the idea of Akechi being a mass murderer seemed in theory, in a bizarre way, it made a twisted form of sense. He'd known from the start that the detective was spiritually sensitive, and had always assumed Akechi's overtures of friendship were just a ploy to get more information on the Phantoms. What if the Detective Prince hadn't approached Akira because of his job, however, but for reasons far more sinister? The White-Masked Killer also somehow knew Akira's identity, after all.

Sae still seemed unconvinced. "I'll admit Akechi-kun does have some spiritual power, and is a bit of an attention whore, but… are you certain you're not mistaken? I've worked alongside him for nearly two years now, and while he's smart, he's not quite as smart as he thinks he is. If he was corrupt, he'd surely have slipped up by now. Besides, I've felt both his and the White-Masked Killer's Reiatsu – they're practically opposites."

Wait. Akira's back snapped ramrod straight. That's it. His Reiatsu. The Detective Prince had always felt like a dull, but consistent light. Meanwhile, the White-Masked Killer's Reiatsu felt like the umbra of a shadow. And what did all shadows need? A light source. It seemed Sae's analysis of Akechi was correct. He had dropped the ball, just not in front of her.

"I'm quite certain. Still, I can understand your scepticism– just promise me you'll be cautious." After receiving a tentative nod from the prosecutor, Wakaba moved on. "Akechi's identity is nowhere near as important as the identity of the one controlling him. They have to be someone either spiritually aware or cognizant of my research. I've curated a list of former sponsors and spiritually sensitive individuals who benefit from the White-Masked Killer's actions, but I can only investigate so far. Besides, even if I found the mastermind, it's not like I could do much to them outside from pushing my Zanpakutō into their back."

"Now that would be useful - anything relating to your research is well above my clearance level." Sae murmured. "If there's any overlap between your sponsors, their connections, and my current suspect list, it could narrow down the suspect pool by a lot."

"Let's move this talk to my office." Wakaba suggested. "I have a couple of odd ends to wrap up first, but I'll join you there in a moment."

Sae nodded before striding off. Akira ducked into a nearby room, breath catching in his throat as she approached his location. The Quincy walked past without even batting an eye, however, and he sighed in relief. Alas, his rejoicing turned out to be a bit premature.

"Eavesdropping isn't a good habit, Akira." Wakaba chided, lounging against the doorway.

"Sorry." He blushed, scratching his head sheepishly as he left his refuge. "I didn't intend to. I realised there was something I needed to talk to you about, and, well…" His voice broke off, and he looked the woman in the eye. "I believe you about Akechi, by the way."

A flicker of surprise crossed Wakaba's features, before her expression grew serious and she gripped his shoulder. "Don't try to confront him, okay? I know you're a lot stronger than you used to be, but he's a dangerous individual. Now that I've raised her suspicions, Niijima will connect the dots sooner rather than later."

"Would you like me to talk to her?" The Shinigami offered. "No offence, but she's more likely to listen to me than you."

Wakaba shrugged. "Do what you please – honestly, I'm not even sure how important Akechi is in the grand scheme of things."

Akira rubbed his chin, echoing what Makoto had said to him a long time ago. "He's just a tool. What matters is who's wielding him, and Sae-san's already searching for them."

A glint of approval shined in Wakaba's eyes. "Sensible as always. Now, what do you need me for, Akira?"

He grimaced, insides twisting. "I didn't really want to get into it over dinner, but… when the Hollow inside me came free, he… he hurt someone. Badly. I can't let that happen again. Sae-san doesn't have any useful advice, so I was hoping you would."

Wakaba's lips sunk down into a frown, and a lump entered Akira's stomach. She didn't have any solutions for him, either.

"I'll talk to Kisuke about it – he's tried to cure Hollowfication before, and while he didn't succeed, he might have some suggestions on how to mitigate its effects." She gave him a strained smile. "In the meantime, I think the only thing you can do is stay cautious. Try to avoid getting severely wounded or exhausting your Reiryoku. If the Hollow starts bothering you in your day-to-day life, contact me immediately."

"Alright." Akira sighed, finally giving up on hiding his discontent. Still, it wasn't like he could really blame Wakaba for his situation – he'd known the risks and had been more than happy to take them on.

She gave his arm a gentle pat. "Come on, let's go – I'm sure the others are beginning to miss you, and I've got to give those names to Niijima. Try not to let this get you too down – it's not like you're going to charge into battle against Captain-class opponents again any time soon. Your Hollow shouldn't cause you any problems in the foreseeable future."

…..

As the evening came to an end, Urahara dropped them all home with his flying carpet (Ryuji finally had come to the conclusion its origins would forever remain a mystery). This time, Futaba was with them too, peeling away from the Shōten after giving her mother one last hug. Ishida disembarked first, the carpet landing by a row of apartments in Karakura's north. Ryuji was next – Urahara deposited him in the southern part of Kamimeguro, as the blond teen was eager to get in a jog before returning home. They then went north, dropping the Niijima sisters off at the foot of their apartment building before circling back to Ann's home. After that was done, they finally landed in Yogen-Jaya.

Hopping off the carpet, Futaba and Akira waved Urahara farewell, before the latter darted around the back of Leblanc and quickly scaled the wall. Morgana was seated at the teenager's desk, tinkering away at something, but he turned around when Akira tapped on the window.

"Akira! Long time, no see!" He chirped, opening it up.

The Shinigami dipped his head at the Mod Soul as he climbed into his room. "Likewise. How's Sojiro?"

"The same as always." Morgana waved his – or more accurately, Akira's – hand dismissively. "Honestly, it's a relief that you're back. I'm excellent at it, naturally, but I've made enough coffee over the last few weeks to last me a lifetime."

Akira laughed. He didn't quite believe the Mod Soul's claim about his coffee-making abilities, but didn't want to call him on it either. The duo swapped bodies quickly – Morgana re-entering his plushie as Akira settled back into his human form. Feeling the weight of flesh against his bones after going so long without it made him feel oddly heavy, but it wasn't a bad sensation by any means – the extra bit of substance made him feel grounded.

Walking downstairs, Akira beamed as he set eyes on Sojiro's familiar balding head, a pang of nostalgia running through him. His guardian was stationed behind Leblanc's counter, finishing off the last of the dishes. Before he could say hi, however, the café's doorbell tinkled and Futaba scurried in.

"Sojirooooo! I'm home!" She announced, dropping her bags to the ground with a thud.

"Futaba!" Sojiro perked up, expression softening. "How was the camp?"

"Pretty great." She lied, perching herself down on one of the barstools and swinging her legs. "But... I missed you!"

The barista's expression grew misty. "I missed you too, Futaba."

"What about me?" Akira grinned, taking a seat.

Futaba poked her tongue out at him, giggling while Sojiro rolled his eyes, but there was affection behind the motion. As Futaba began regaling the older man with a fabricated tale about her so-called summer camp, Akira settled back and watched the proceedings with a gentle smile. God, it was so nice being home. A wave of affection ran through him with so much power it almost sent him toppling off his feet. Oh. Akira realised, something clicking in his mind.

He loved them.

He loved all of them. Sojiro, Rukia, Ryuji, Ann, Futaba, Makoto – hell, even Sae and Ishida, to a lesser extent. Rukia had said the Phantoms were his family, and it was only now that Akira truly understood the magnitude of what that meant. He'd burn himself down to nothing but cinders if it would keep them happy. He'd wage war against the entire world if it would keep them safe.

Clenching his fists, he made a vow.

No matter what happens… I won't let any of you get hurt. And that's a promise.

…..

Akira had finished getting ready for school tomorrow and was just about to hit the hay when his phone buzzed. He hadn't received much in the way of calls over the summer break – Morgana had told all of his acquaintances he'd damaged his phone at the holiday's start, and would probably be out of contact for the next few weeks. Clicking on the notification, he froze when he saw who'd messaged him.

Akechi: Hello. Any luck with the phone situation?

Akechi: I must give you my commiserations – I'll admit it was eye-opening when I realised how much I relied on my smartphone.

Akechi: It's a pity Kuchiki had to move back to the country – I might have been able to relay my messages through her otherwise. I hope she's doing well.

Akira sat there in silence, fingers ghosting over his screen. He… shouldn't reply, should he? For fuck's sake, beneath the princely façade, Akechi was a homicidal hitman who had a weird hate boner for him – he wasn't a red flag as much as he was a whole red closet. A frown then crossed the teenager's face – on the other hand, if he didn't reply, Akechi might realise Akira was on to him, and that would be a disaster.

With a shrug, he threw caution to the wind and began to type. While he'd promised Wakaba he'd keep his nose out of it and intended to stick to his word, Akira would be lying if he said he wasn't at all curious about Akechi. It was hard reconciling the polite, justice-driven teenage celebrity with the gleefully vicious White-Masked Killer, and Akira was the only individual who was intimately acquainted with both. Plus, while he knew not to get his hopes up, a part of Akira wanted Wakaba to be misreading the situation.

He wanted their rivalry to be more than a mere act.

Akira: It's a lucky day to be you – I went to the mobile repair shop this morning.

Akira: I'm officially back in business, baby.

Akechi: Well, you certainly sound exuberant.

Akechi: I know it's been quiet on the Phantoms front for some time, but I've found myself unexpectedly enjoying our talks about the nature of justice.

Akechi: And beating you at chess, of course.

Akechi: On that topic, have you had any experience playing billiards?

Akechi: There's a club in Kichijoji that has tables – I thought it might be fun giving it a go.

Again, he hesitated. If this was the Akechi of before the Shinigami would have instantly agreed, revelling in the chance to potentially one-up the Phantoms' largest long-term detractor. Now, though? Texting a mass murderer was one thing - hanging out with them on an afternoon off was another. Akira bit his lip – he knew it was probably a terrible idea, but… he wanted to do it. It was a risk, but the White-Masked Killer had stated that they had a very specific plan for Akira's demise – he doubted that meant shanking him in a back alley on a nondescript Tuesday.

In the end, he caved.

Akira: Sure, why not? I'll let you know my schedule after class tomorrow.

With that, he switched off his phone and slumped down on his bed. Akira tried to fall asleep, knowing he'd regret not getting a good night's rest when tomorrow came, but thoughts of Akechi kept swirling around in his mind like a maelstrom. Eventually, though, his eyes grew too heavy to keep open, and the world faded away as sleep finally claimed him. He received no rest, however - as soon as the frizzy-haired teen left the waking world, he found himself stabbing a blade into Renji's stomach as the White-Masked Killer's booming laugh echoed in the background.

…..

Akira's return to school was utterly unceremonious. He woke up that morning, brain feeling like molasses, and barely even managed a single sentence before Sojiro handed him a cup of extra-strong coffee. In other words, it was an alarming typical Monday morning. The train ride was a bit of a slog – thankfully, Akira didn't run into anyone he knew – but at least standing on his feet for a while helped jolt him into consciousness.

As he walked through Shujin's doors, some students whispered frantically and hurried away as he passed them, but Akira shrugged it off with ease – it was practically nothing compared to the rumours that had surrounded him when he first moved to the school. Ann was already in class when he arrived, but Akira didn't have the time to do much more than give her a nod before Kawakami strode in. When his homeroom teacher called attendance that morning, she hesitated when she reached the 'K's, but moved on after giving Rukia's now-empty desk a long stare. He didn't think much of Kawakami's odd reaction at the time, but as the day went on, one thing became abundantly clear.

All traces of Rukia's presence had been rubbed from existence.

Akira had first noticed something was up when a boy in his class mumbled about why they had a spare desk. He'd exchanged a sharp glance with Ann at that, and as the day went on, his hunch was confirmed. Absolutely none of Shujin's staff or students had any recollection that Rukia had ever been a member of the student body, with one exception.

Between classes, he and Ann were light-heartedly complaining about how Ushimaru had already given them homework, when Mishima unceremoniously parked himself down on Akira's desk.

"Hey – why on earth does no one remember Kuchiki?" The spiky-haired boy then narrowed his eyes before giving a far-too-loud whisper. "This isn't a Phantoms thing, is it?"

Ann and Akira's eyes both widened in horror.

"Ssh! Keep it down!" The blonde hissed, before grabbing Mishima's wrist and pulling the startled boy into a huddle. "How on earth do you know about that anyway?!"

Akira winced. "Uh - my bad. I bailed him out when Ishida summoned all those Hollows."

Ann shot him a frustrated glare, before sighing. "… Oh well. What's done is done." She cast a suspicious look Mishima's way. "You're not planning on ratting us out, are you?"

"Hell no!" Mishima hissed, genuinely offended. "You got rid of Kamoshida and then saved my life! I'm the Phantoms' number-one fan! Here." Shuffling around, he withdrew his phone from his bag and showed it to the two teens.

Akira recognised the red and black design of the webpage Mishima opened immediately. While he hadn't paid it much heed, he'd heard the other teen mention he'd made a pro-Phantoms website, and the Shinigami had given the so-called Phansite a scroll after class one day. Instead of opening up the forums where people debated whether the Phantoms were supernatural or mundane, however, Mishima had gone to a different part of the site. The word 'testimonials' was scrawled at the top of the page, and a series of anonymous posts appeared after it.

Anon: The Phantoms saved my life. Now that Madarame has been exposed as a fraud, he can't keep blacklisting me from the fine arts scene.

Anon: If they didn't take down Kaneshiro, I'd be toast. Thank you, Phantoms – signed, a relieved student.

Anon: Kamoshida, Madarame, Kaneshiro, Medjed… they were all scum of the earth. Sure, what happened to Kobayakawa sucked, but he must have done something really fucked up if the Phantoms' targeted him, right?

Anon: My elderly parents have most of their assets tied up in stocks – if Medjed ruined the economy, their retirement savings would have been destroyed. Thank you for saving my parents' futures!

Anon: i knew someone who got caught up in one of kaneshiro's scams. it ended up killing her, but thanks to you, no one else is going to follow in her footsteps. justice for mayumi xxx

Anon: I was a physio who worked for Kamoshida's Olympic team – the way he looked at me always made my skin crawl. So happy he's behind bars!

Akira's brows rose to the roof as he continued scrolling down Mishima's phone. The messages went on forever – while some were alarmingly unsympathetic towards Kobayakawa, others assured the Phantoms that it wasn't their fault, or speculated that it might have been an accident. There were even people asking for requests, ranging from tales of cheating exes to scummy CEOs – at least five different people wanted some Okumura guy knocked down a peg. By the time he'd finished reading, Akira was utterly blown away. While their actions as the Phantoms had always been to get justice for both the living and dead, he never expected to see such tangible evidence that they truly had succeeded in their goals. The fact that people supported them, even after what happened to Kobayakawa... an odd mixture of shock, happiness, and bashful pride swirled in his stomach.

Ann's eyes were wide as she looked at the screen in shock. "Mishima, this is…"

"You like it?" He beamed. "After all the negative press you got after what happened to the principal, I thought I'd try to remind everyone why we started cheering for you in the first place. It was the least I could do after how you've helped me."

"… Thanks, Mishima." Akira smiled softly. "It means a lot, truly."

The fact that the White-Masked Killer's actions hadn't completely ruined the Phantoms' reputation… it wasn't a half-bad consolation prize, after everything that had happened.

The boy blushed and glanced away sheepishly as he stashed his phone. "Uh, I'm glad you like it."

"About what happened to Rukia…" Akira pushed up his glasses, getting the conversation back on track. "I can't give you the full details – we're caught up in some dangerous shit, and the less you know, the better – but I can tell you she's fine. Some things popped up and she needed to move back home."

"Oh, that's good to hear." Mishima's shoulders slumped in relief. "I was worried something bad happened to her. Let her know she's got my thanks the next time you see her!"

"Sure." Akira beamed. "Will do."

The conversation moved on to less sensitive topics after that, and eventually, Akira and Ann bid the other boy a warm farewell. They ran into Ryuji on the way out of school, quickly giving him the lowdown, but Akira was far too tired to spend the afternoon out with his friends. He actually managed to get a seat on the train for once, and while Morgana had been pestering him to read some books he'd found, the frizzy-haired teen decided to use his free time for something a bit more productive.

For the first time in a while, he booted up the Phantoms' encrypted group chat. Adding Ishida to it, he contemplated inviting Sae, but held back in the end. The endless deluge of messages would probably drive her up the wall, and given how goofy the chat got, he felt weird including an adult in it anyway. Besides, if anything she needed to know popped up, Makoto could just tell her.

Joker: Hey, just giving you all the heads up that Mishima knows who we are. Well, at least who me, Ann, and Ryuji are anyway.

Joker: Don't panic – he's a huge Phantoms fan

Alibaba: … who the fuck is mishima?

Ginger: Honestly, for a group of vigilantes, you are TERRIBLE at obscuring your identities.

Skull: hey, we've gotten better!

Skull: besides, that's not the important thing

Skull: show them the site, joker!

Alibaba: hey, Queen, do you know who the fuck mishima is?

Queen: Um… the name sounds vaguely familiar?

Alibaba: so you don't know

Queen: That's not what I'm saying!

Panther: oh lol – he's the guy we thought was being blackmailed by kaneshiro but turned out to just be an idiot

Queen: Oh, him! My apologies – I forgot his name.

Panther: that's not super surprising. he's nice enough, just… kinda forgettable?

Skull: enough about mishima! give us the links, joker!

Joker: Alright, here you go. ;) [LINK]

He grinned, anticipation bubbling up within him as the chat paused while the other Phantoms caught up to date with Mishima's work.

Queen: This is…

Alibaba: epic, thats what! im running some stats rn – theres crazy traffic for such a small site!

Alibaba: i don't think ive seen a forum this active since discord started to pop off

Queen: Yes – I was about to say, it's very touching. It's good to know we've genuinely managed to change peoples' lives for the better.

Ginger: I'll admit I'm impressed. Karakura is a bit far from Tokyo for much of the hype to travel here – while I knew of your exploits, I hadn't realised quite how far-reaching they were.

Ginger: Also, can I change my code name? This one sucks.

Alibaba: no

Panther: no

Queen: It'd be a bit inconvenient at this stage – I think we've gotten used to calling you that already!

Skull: no

Joker: Sorry, Ginger, but we're a democracy in this house.

Ginger: Ugh.

Laughing, Akira stashed his phone away as the train rolled into Yogen-Jaya. As he walked home, however, he jolted when he remembered he'd promised to send Akechi his schedule. Looking at his back pocket, his phone suddenly felt as heavy as a deadweight. For a moment, he hesitated, before taking it out and opening up his contacts.

…..

The second Sae stepped into the SIU's offices that morning, she received a muted hello from one of her senior colleagues, who then proceeded to immediately dump five different cases on her. Three of them she had no background on whatsoever, and two of them were going to trial practically next week. After a frantic day spent skimming her backlog of emails, chasing up her colleagues, and attempting to wrangle some actually useful evidence out of the police, Sae was at her wit's end. She'd barely finished slamming down the receiver of her office phone when she heard a knock at her door.

"Come in!" She called, before standing up and bowing politely when she realised it was the Director.

A flicker of fear ran through her as she realised he might be there to ask about the non-existent conference Isshiki had used as her cover story. Thankfully though, it seemed like he hadn't come to her to about the past, but the future.

"Niijima-san." He nodded, before placing a manilla folder down onto her desk. "Amano-san's wrapping up the remaining handful of Kaneshiro Family cases. I'm confident after your month off, you'll have the energy to help out with a couple of the trials."

Dismay panged in her stomach as her stress levels escalated yet again. It was a feeling Sae was used to by now, but this time, it was accompanied by something new. Anger. Seriously? You're punishing me for attending an event you WANTED me to go to?!

His eyes softened at her silence. "Depending on how well you handle these, that promotion you've been looking for might be in sight."

She gave him a faint nod. "... Of course. You can rely on me, sir."

With a smile, he walked away. The second the elderly man left her office though, the prosecutor's shoulders slumped. A month ago, his words would have electrified Sae. Sure, she was already handling numerous cases, but only several of them were imminent - if she pulled a few all-nighters and skipped some meals, she'd probably be able to squeeze them all in. No, not probably – she would have handled it, come hell or high water.

Now, however? She felt nothing but annoyance. It wasn't that she was no longer interested in a promotion – she'd be much more comfortable financially, and she'd never squander the opportunity to finally gain a bit of her colleagues' long-overdue respect – but it was like a cloth had been torn off from over her eyes. The offer of a promotion was just a distraction - a way of ensuring she wouldn't kick up a fuss at how bloody unfairly she was treated compared to her coworkers.

Plus, she didn't give two hoots about convicting Kaneshiro's low-tier thugs or shutting down the latest wannabe drug dealers when new ones would just pop up again in two weeks. They were nothing but petty distractions – there was someone out there using a Hollow to commit mass murder, and she was the only one in a position to actually stop them.

A Hollow who might be one of my junior co-workers. Her stomach twisted at the reminder of Isshiki's words. After stewing in her thoughts for a good five minutes, Sae eventually thought fuck it, and picked up the manilla folder the Director had dumped on her desk - she didn't have the time for this petty bullshit. Himura was slowly beginning to pick up cases again, and putting the last of Kaneshiro's operation behind bars would hopefully be satisfying after the way the jumped-up pig had threatened his family.

Still, the prosecutor couldn't help but mull over the Akechi situation as she made her way to her colleague's office. She was so distracted, Sae almost walked straight into the devil himself.

"Oh, Sae-san!" The Detective Prince exclaimed, eyes wide as they veered away from each other at the last second. "You're back!"

For a moment, Sae froze, mind racing as she analysed the boy. Nothing about him stood out of the ordinary – he was a bit scatterbrained (but sharp, as proved by the confusion quickly seeping into his eyes), his Reiatsu was distinctive but weak, and his appearance was perfectly tailored. He was just... Akechi.

"… My apologies." She smiled weakly, hoping it would hide how rattled she was. "I took a late flight back home – I'm still a bit jetlagged."

Akechi glanced down at the folders in her hands. "… I wasn't aware you were scheduled for more Kaneshiro family trials."

"I'm not." She rolled her eyes. "I've got enough on my plate as it – I'm passing these to Himura." Sae's smile vanished completely, the prosecutor still feeling ill at ease. "How are the Vanishing Incidents and Phantoms cases going? I've gone through my emails, but didn't see anything of note."

Akechi's grin turned slightly plastic. "You mean the Vanishing Incidents case – we're still treating them as one and the same."

Sae nodded, stomach clenching. Was Akechi's offence because she was prying holes in his cover story, or simply because she was still refusing to accept his prized theory?

"It's been a quiet month." He informed her, his grin fading as he rubbed his chin. "The Phantoms are likely laying low after the poor reaction Kobayakawa's death received. It's likely they'll strike again soon in some desperate attempt to win the public's trust back." Akechi shrugged. "Or, they'll embrace the infamy, and do something a bit more shocking than simply faking a man's suicide."

The Phantoms better not be getting up to ANYTHING, infamous or otherwise. The last thing she needed was for Makoto's altruistic but poorly thought-out vigilante activities to muddy this case even more. Still, there had been something slightly odd about Akechi's words – not the content, but the tone. The teen had sounded almost resentful when he talked about Kobayakawa's death.

"What's wrong? You don't seem quite so thrilled with your theory anymore." Sae noted.

Akechi rubbed his chin. "While I'm still convinced the Phantoms and the Vanishing Incidents are intrinsically connected, I'm not entirely happy with how the entire department has gobbled up my suggestion without a second thought – current company excluded."

She raised a brow at that, doubt tickling at the back of her mind. If he was the White-Masked Killer, shouldn't he be trying to sweet-talk her into believing the Phantoms were the ones responsible for his crimes? "Really? It doesn't sound like you've changed your opinions on the case, so why the disappointment?"

His lips thinned. "The only reason the police are following my lead is because it means there's only one group of murderers they need to catch. They don't genuinely believe my theory – they just like that it makes things convenient for them."

God, Sae could relate to that. The lack of support she'd received from her father's former colleagues after his death had dented her respect for the force, and that was before she'd had to actually work with the bastards. Even if she ignored the blatant corruption, violence, and misogyny that ran rife in their ranks, the police were simply inept. The amount of corners they cut was beyond belief. Instinctively, her thoughts drifted back to the final conversation she'd had with her father, about the failings of the system and the nature of true justice.

"Try not to take it too personally." Sae gave his shoulder a light pat. "The police are useless, but between us, we should have enough clout to stop them from making any erroneous arrests. I'm sure whoever is behind this case will eventually face justice."

"Justice…" He murmured contemplatively, before shooting Sae an award-winning smile. "That sounds lovely, Sae-san. It looks like having a holiday really has improved your mood!"

She narrowed her eyes. "Keep that attitude up and there'll be no sushi from me, conveyor or otherwise."

Akechi gave an exaggerated pout, and despite herself, Sae felt the corners of her lips rising. Shaking her head affectionately, she farewelled the Detective Prince – she didn't have time to lollygag, after all. As she walked away, however, Sae felt her smile dim.

Could the teenage boy really be the monster Isshiki thinks he is?

…..

As the first week of school came to an end, Akira found it surreal how quickly he'd fallen back into his old routine. If Rukia's absence wasn't as prominent as a missing limb, he could have dismissed the Phantoms' Soul Society adventures as a dream - he still got given homework by his teachers, made coffee at Leblanc, and felled the odd Hollow occasionally. While Makoto and Ann had seemingly slid back into the swing of things with grace, he thankfully wasn't the only one feeling some dissonance.

Sighing, Ryuji looked over his maths worksheet morosely. The two boys had gone to the diner after school, partially for a cheap meal, and partially because the teachers had left holidays mode and were therefore slamming them with stupid amounts of assignments.

"This sucks." The blond whinged, shoulders slumping. "I can't believe it – we busted into the Soul Society, awakened cool supernatural powers, and saved someone's life, but now we have to sit here and do bloody maths? I mean, come on! Exams are yonks away!"

Akira nodded in commiseration. He didn't quite have the same aversion to schoolwork his friend did, but he certainly understood Ryuji's sentiments. "I get it – trigonometry feels a bit lacklustre after doing all that."

"Exactly!" Ryuji threw his hands into the air. "When the fuck am I ever going to need to know about triangles' sins, anyway?!"

"Don't say that in front of Makoto." Akira laughed.

Ryuji shuddered. "Ugh, don't jinx us. I don't think she really gets that not all of us are gonna be high academic achievers no matter how hard we study."

Akira nodded, and the conversation petered out when their meals arrived. One delicious steak that warmed his belly later, Akira felt his prior melancholy fading as Ryuji leant back into his chair, a contented smile on his face.

"Aaaah, that hit the spot." The blond patted his stomach. "I wonder what the food's gonna be like in Hawaii - it's probably gonna be more Western, right?"

For a moment, Akira blinked, utterly baffled. What the hell did Hawaii have to do with anything? Oh, that's right – the school trip! He remembered Sojiro calling his caseworkers about it - Akira couldn't just swan off overseas while he was on probation, after all. He'd been elated when the café owner had eventually secured him permission to go, but amongst all the drama with the Soul Society and White-Masked Killer, Akira had totally forgotten about it.

"That's coming up soon, isn't it?" He mused

"Dude, it's literally next week!" Ryuji gawped. "Can't believe you of all people forgot about it – that's the sort of shit I'd do!"

Akira rubbed his chin. It looked like he wouldn't be catching up with Akechi anytime soon after all. Quite frankly, he wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Deciding not to touch that bombshell of a topic when hanging with his buddy, his thoughts drifted onwards. It was probably worth giving the other Phantoms a heads-up about the trip – the second-years would be unavailable for almost a week, after all.

"I'm gonna remind the others." He stated, withdrawing his phone.

Joker: Hey, Skull just reminded me that we have the school trip to Hawaii next Wed-Sun.

Joker: That means he, Panther and I won't be able to fight any Hollows those days.

Ginger: Hawaii? That's fancy – Karakura High certainly doesn't offer us the opportunity to go overseas.

Panther: shujin's overblown school fees have to go somewhere I guess – it sure as hell isn't to the teachers.

Queen: Actually, I'm not going to be here either.

Queen: The Vice Principal summoned me earlier this morning – the faculty has been a bit of a mess since Kobayakawa's death, so they're asking some of the more responsible third-year students to help chaperone the trip.

Queen: I probably won't be able to socialise much, but hopefully I'll at least be able to spend some time with you.

Panther: wait, you're coming with us? that's epic!

Alibaba: yeah, epically bad! who the heck is gonna fight hollows? i sure as hell cant do it! my arms are itty bitty noodles! noodles, joker!

Akira blinked at his phone owlishly. Now that Futaba mentioned it, if Makoto was coming with them, none of the combat-orientated Phantoms would be in Shibuya. Shit. Guilt twinged in the teen's stomach – they'd promised Ukitake they could keep an eye on the city, and yet, barely a week later they were already having issues.

Ginger: Hmm – I might be able to watch over the place with Alibaba's help?

Ginger: It's a bit inconvenient, but my Hirenkyaku has improved of late. It's not like Shibuya gets that much Hollow activity anyway.

Two texts quickly popped up in succession afterwards, and while the content was mundane, the messenger's identity almost made Akira spit out his tea.

Snow: No need – it won't be too much of a hassle to send an officer there on a short rotation.

Snow: We could contact the Shinigami stationed in Karakura – with Ginger there, it's not like he's doing much.

The teen slowly blinked.

Rukia?