Cw: major character death.
As Akira's inner world faded away and he slowly drifted back to reality, he felt something yank at his Reiatsu, and Futaba crashed down by his side with a quiet eep. Head snapping in her direction, a wave of relief rushed through Akira when he saw she was still cloaked in the Kyokkō he'd cast on her earlier. The second he verified the hacker's safety, it was like a dam inside him had snapped, and exhaustion flooded through the teen. Before he could curl up into a ball and sleep, however, the frizzy-haired teen suddenly noticed the air reeked of Arrancar Reiatsu.
Suffice to say, that jolted him wide awake, even if Akira's limbs still somewhat felt like jelly.
Shit.
Slowly, subtly, the teenager scanned his surroundings. To call the place Shido had dragged them into a mere room would be doing it a disservice. The grey walls were so distant they were partially blurred, and the ceiling was held aloft by a series of jet-black columns that were larger than even the tallest tree. Despite its size, the room was practically empty, the juxtaposition only making the place seem even more desolate. Perhaps the unsetting atmosphere of the room wasn't caused by its architecture, however, but instead by the people inhabiting it.
At the far end of the room, ten tall white chairs surrounded a large obsidian table, each seat occupied by an Arrancar. The Hollow hybrids were staring directly in Akira's direction with varying degrees of shock on their faces. Akira's eyes drifted over a scarred Arrancar with neon blue hair, followed by a pale one with tear-shaped patterns on his face, and the teenager's stomach churned as he put two-and-two together. These aren't just any Arrancar. The number of chairs, their overwhelming Reiatsu… Akira knew deep down in his heart that they were the Espada.
Horrifically enough, the nine Captain-class warriors weren't even the biggest threat in the room. At the table's end, a white platform rose off the dark floor, a pale marble throne standing in its centre. Upon it sat Aizen Sōsuke, whose eyes were glittering with amused delight. The man's hair was still slicked back and his glasses absent, but he'd abandoned his Captain's uniform in favour of a plain white Shihakushō under a Western-style robe since Akira had last seen him. To his side stood Ichimaru and Tōsen, both men having made similar changes to their attire.
Double shit.
While this would have been a fundamentally awful situation to be facing alone, Akira would probably have been better off staring down Aizen's top soldiers on his lonesome than with his current company, Futaba excepted. While the politician had changed his outfit since brainwashing Akira, it was obviously Shido standing barely half a metre before him. His suit had been replaced by an ostentatious military uniform along with a flowing cape and ridiculous spiked helmet. Despite its goofiness, Akira knew from first-hand experience that underestimating the asshole was a bad idea – it was highly likely his strange outfit had been decked out with the most cutting-edge technology his Cognitive Psientists had whipped up.
Careful not to tip Shido off that he'd snapped out of his brainwashing, Akira surreptitiously glanced around. A lump formed in the frizzy-haired teen's throat as he glimpsed Akechi in the corner of his eye. His tan peacoat had been replaced by a dark body suit, and even though his face was obscured by his bird-like mask, his golden eyes were dull. All traces of Akira's rival, enemy – and in another lifetime, friend – were gone.
Looking over to his other side, he could faintly see Futaba cover her mouth, pale as a sheet, but thankfully Shido and Aizen were too busy having a silly little standoff to pay her any heed. Akira gave her the subtlest of nods, and a look of sheer and utter relief crossed the hacker's face as she gripped his hand like a lifeline. Futaba's heart was pounding so rapidly he could feel her pulse through her palm. The Shinigami wished he could pat her head and reassure her he was terrified too, but he knew if he slipped up here, they were both dead.
Finally, though, the stalemate between the two forces came to an end. A grin crossed Aizen's face as he smiled indolently at the man who'd dared invade his fortress. "Oh my. I wasn't expecting guests. You should have let us know – I would have prepared some tea."
Shido's lips curled, and the contempt in his voice was obvious. "Aizen, I presume?"
"Ah, so you know who I am. Unfortunately, I feel somewhat remiss – while you know my identity, I cannot extend the same courtesy to you."
A smirk crossed Shido's face. "I am Shido Masayoshi, and god's throne belongs to me, and me alone! I'll give you one chance – submit to me, and I will permit you to share my glory. Defy me, and I will crush you under my heel."
Oh boy. It was nice knowing you Shido, I guess. Akira barely resisted grimacing. The politician was about to be deader than a doornail - double-dead, probably, considering they were almost certainly in Hueco Mundo. Idly, Akira wondered what would happen to Akechi if Shido ate shit – would the brunet turn back to normal, or would he simply collapse like a puppet without strings?
"Will you, now? How lovely." It seemed Aizen put about as much stock in Shido's threat as Akira did – namely, none at all.
"… Impertinent, aren't you?" Shido murmured before his mouth spread into a brutal grin. "No matter – you won't be the first arrogant man I've made grovel before me, and you won't be the last!"
The politician raised his hand into the air, and Akira flinched as a pulse of invisible energy rushed through the room. A sense of trepidation ran down the teenager's spine – he would recognise the power that submerged his mind and left his body as nothing but a puppet for Shido to use anywhere. While it was clear the Espada had felt it too – even the ones who hadn't seemed phased by Shido's invasion had now narrowed their eyes – none of them had the same emptiness to their expressions that Akechi did. It was then though that a flood of horror swept through Akira. Oh, for the love of god, please tell me he DIDN'T. When he slowly looked up, however, the teen internally screamed as his suspicions were confirmed.
The one who had fallen under Shido's thrall was not one of the Espada, but Aizen. Akira trembled in impotent fury, mentally cursing up a storm as haltingly, the ex-Captain rose to his feet. Given the traitor had given a whole spiel about breaking the boundaries between species on top of the Sōkyoku Hill, Akira should've realised that meant he'd gone and played mad scientist with himself. Oblivious to his thoughts, Shido's eyes glistened with triumph as Aizen bowed before him, and kissed the politician's feet.
The reaction to the traitor's submission was immediate. Futaba gripped Akira's hand with enough force to break bones as half of the Espada leapt to their feet.
"Aizen-sama?" A dark-skinned Arrancar with a spikey mohawk stuttered. "What sort of witchcraft is this?!"
He was hardly the only one horrified – Tōsen was already reaching for his Zanpakutō, and the sole female Espada had taken half a step backwards, eyes wide. Another Arrancar with wavy hair and a stubbled chin blanched, all of his prior indifference thrown out of the window. Unfortunately, while many of the other Espada looked wary – Ulquiorra's brows had furrowed imperceptibly, and Grimmjow's eyes had narrowed to slits – plenty more looked nothing but amused. An elderly Arrancar's eyes lit up in glee at Aizen's humiliation, and a giant, shit-eating grin had spread across Ichimaru's face.
Akira clenched his fist. They were fools – this situation was far worse than anything the teenager could have imagined.
"You…!" Tōsen snarled. "How dare you march in here and make a mockery out of us?!"
Shido tipped his head in Akechi's direction, expression almost bored, and the ex-Caption barely had the time to blink before the detective was on him. Tōsen moved to defend himself, but it was too late. The ghost of a vicious grin crossed Akechi's face, but it was a mere spectre of the boy's usual bombastic bloodlust. Instead, when he batted the former Captain's blade out of his hands before ripping out his throat, Akechi's movements were cold and methodical. Even as Tōsen collapsed by his feet, choking on his own blood, the detective merely watched, face still locked into that damned grin. Eventually, a death rattle escaped the Shinigami's torn neck, and Tōsen grew unnaturally still.
Silence descended over the hall. A wave of bile rose to the back of Akira's throat and Futaba pressed herself against him, desperately trying to quiet her sobs. The black-haired teen couldn't move his eyes away from Tōsen's corpse. While he'd hardly liked the former Captain – he'd willingly joined Aizen's side, after all – watching his life end so brutally and suddenly… it was too cruel a fate, even for him.
"Hmm, y'know what?" Ichimaru drawled, still grinning like a madman. "I never much liked him anyway."
"I am not a cruel leader." Shido tilted his head towards the last remaining traitor. "Give me your loyalty and respect, and I will grant you freedom and a place in my new world. Defy me, however…" His eyes moved towards Tōsen's body. "… and you will pay the consequences."
The Espada remained silent. Even those who'd initially been amused at Aizen's capitulation had stiffened, well aware that if Tōsen was expendable, so were they.
It was the oldest Arrancar who broke the stalemate. Rising to his feet, he grabbed a hefty axe that was resting against the side of his chair. "Pah! I am done lending my blade to arrogant whelps such as you!"
The Espada would have cleaved Shido in two if Akechi hadn't rushed to intercept him. Reiatsu exploded off the man, and the bones in the detective's arms began to creak as the axe pressed down on his sword. Despite the Espada's raw power though, it wasn't enough – another pulse of cursed energy rushed through the air, and the Arrancar suddenly grew docile, his weapon clanging as it landed on the ground.
"Very well." Shido sneered. "I have given you plenty of opportunities, and you have squandered them at every turn. There is no room for rogue elements on my ship!"
Pandemonium broke out instantly. While Ulquiorra and an orange-haired Espada simply watched impassively – expressions barely changing at all as Shido's spell washed over them – the rest of the Arrancar clearly had no intention of becoming the man's puppets.
"What the hell?! I ain't gonna work for some pathetic human!" A man with an eyepatch bellowed before all fight left his eyes as the air around him blurred.
"I'll join you!" An Espada with a frilly collar and helmet obscuring their face bowed, distorted voice frantic. "I'll be your loyal servant!"
His desperate pleas weren't enough, however, and soon enough, he fell under Shido's thrall. Finally releasing that both fighting and reason were off the table, the remaining Arrancar did the only thing they could – flee.
The mohawked one disappeared first. A pink-haired man turned to run away, but Grimmjow grabbed him and used him as a human shield as Shido directed his rays towards the one-armed Arrancar. It seemed to work – while the pink-haired Arrancar's eyes glazed over, the Sexta Espada managed to flee in a burst of shunpo. With his departure, only two were left unaffected – the female Arrancar and the man with the stubble. As Shido pointed his wrist towards the former, the male Arrancar's eyes widened in shock.
"Halibel, watch out!" He called, throwing himself between her and Shido.
The Espada's expression clouded over, eyes vacant, but his sacrifice was a success. The woman shot him one last grief-fuelled glance before fleeing into the night. Akira's stomach twisted. Before now, all of the Arrancars he'd met were more unpleasant than Akechi on a bad day - he hadn't realised they were capable of caring about their comrades enough to all but die for them. The revelation was as disturbing as it was sad. The dark-haired teen supposed it really shouldn't have been so surprising – after all, while Akira was also capable of being a monster, he was equally capable of being a decent human being. If it hadn't been for Shido… would he have actually been able to reason with some of these people?
Yet again, the room fell quiet. The agitated tension faded, replaced by a sense of unease. The only sentient people left in the room were Akira, Futaba, Shido, and Ichimaru – everyone else were mere shells.
"You there…" Shido glared at Ichimaru as his curse failed to affect the Shinigami – it seemed Aizen hadn't forced his Hollowfication experiments on his underlings. "You seemed disinclined to follow your companions' footsteps." He glanced at Tōsen's body.
"You wanna know a secret? I never much liked Aizen either." Ichimaru's eyes were mere slits. "I fight for the winning side. Ichimaru Gin, at your service."
"… Very well." The politician conceded after a moment's hesitation. "It will be useful to have the ear of someone who knows the full extent of Aizen's operations. Gather your men – I want to see what I'm working with here. Akechi!" He barked, turning around. "Return to the World of the Living – gather all the spiritual weaponry you can find. We will march on Karakura as soon as Aizen's army is armed and ready."
"… Of course, sir." Akechi's voice was flat as he opened a Garganta and disappeared into its dark maw.
Akira's blood turned to ice. Forget winter – the World of the Living would be invaded in a matter of days. I have to warn the others about this. But how?
Slowly, Futaba tapped his arm, voice nothing but a mere whisper. "Y'think we might be able to catch a lift from one of the non-brainblasted Arrancar? The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that?"
Akira gave her the smallest of nods. It was as good a plan as any. "On the count of three. One… two…"
He scooped her up, threw all rhyme and reason to the side, and ran. Shido's startled yell echoed out behind him, but Akira paid it no heed. Focusing on a thread of Reiatsu that might have belonged to Halibel, the Shinigami dashed out of the room and was instantly greeted with an almost blinding light. In contrast to the shadowy meeting room, the halls of Aizen's places were made of a brilliant white stone that seemed to stretch up almost infinitely. Akira had no time to sight-see, however. He wove through the halls, growing more and more disorientated with each step.
The teenager cursed under his breath. Fucking hell – this place was a maze! To make matters even worse, he could hear footsteps echoing behind him, and they were gaining.
"It's Ulquiorra and pink-hair." Futaba called out, poking her head over his shoulder. "Pinkie's kinda lagging, but unless we make like a tree and get out of here, emo-boy's gonna clap our asses!"
With a brusque nod, Akira rounded the corner, before skidding to a halt as a wave of horror rose through him. He must have gotten Halibel's Reiatsu trail muddled, as Akira had shunpoed right into a dead-end.
Turning around, he cursed. Ulquiorra and his companion were almost upon him – there'd be no avoiding a confrontation now. Akira ignored the pale Espada and focussed on his companion. Futaba had said he was the weak link, after all. Darting forward, he ran straight past Ulquiorra and entered a flying leap. Either Shido's brainwashing had addled his senses, or the pink-haired Arrancar was a poor hand-to-hand combatant to begin with, as he was far too slow to shield himself from Akira's attack. The Shinigami's foot smashed into his nose, sending blood spraying everywhere. The Espada faltered, collapsing, and while he tried to launch a Cero at Akira's back as the teen ran away, the Shinigami ducked and the beam of light flew wide.
Just because he'd managed to shake off one of his opponents, however, didn't mean that Akira was out of the danger zone – Ulquiorra was still hot in pursuit. Light gathered in the teenager's hand, and this time, it was his turn to launch a Cero at his pursuer. Unfortunately, the Arrancar batted the red beam away like it was nothing. Akira cursed, but there was nothing he could do – there was no way in hell he'd beat the Espada in a fight, especially not with Futaba in his arms.
Akira's heart raced as Ulquiorra grew closer and closer, arm rigidly straight like he intended on plunging his bare hand right through Akira's chest. The pale-skinned Arrancar was almost on top of the duo, when suddenly, the air in front of Akira split in two. With a yelp, the teen tumbled into a Garganta, getting one last look at Ulquiorra's dead green eyes before the portal snapped shut behind him.
As a hand with distinctive purple nails reached down to him and hauled him and Futaba to their feet, Akira could do nothing but gawp. Standing before him, clearly worse for the wear and covered in her own blood, but, well, standing, was Niijima Sae.
"I said I'd be up in half an hour, didn't I?" She smiled, before immediately swaying on her feet.
Darting forward, he quickly supported the prosecutor on his shoulders, much to her clear disgruntlement. A wave of relief ran through him – even Morgana hadn't looked that pouty when Akira had accidentally put him in the washing machine that one time. If she could pull a face like a five-year-old, Sae was probably fine.
"I've never been happier to see you in my life." Akira laughed, joy bubbling within him as he realised they were finally safe.
…..
The mood in the Urahara Shōten was grim. Ryuji flexed his bandaged wrist and his muscles strained, but unlike before, it wasn't accompanied by a sharp burst of pain.
"Thanks, Ann." He murmured.
"No worries." The blonde wiped her brow, dark rings under her eyes. "Ugh – I haven't felt this exhausted in ages."
Anger prickled in Ryuji's stomach. That's because you're not meant to be our healer.
A combination of the Phantoms' arrival and Hitsugaya finally having enough time to prep his Bankai had given Karakura's defenders the edge they needed to ward off the invading party. Ryuji's fight with Dordoni had kept him on his toes, but ultimately, with the extra power his new armour gave him, the battle had gone in the blond's favour. Still, it hadn't been without its wrinkles – while Futaba's suit had shielded him from the tornados the Arrancar slung his way, it hadn't been designed to mitigate recoil, and the teen had fractured his wrist when he swung a fist into Dordoni's Hierro.
While most of the Phantoms only sustained light injuries – Ann had a few cuts, and Makoto had been scorched by one of her opponent's attacks – the same could not be said for those who fought against Luppi. While Hitsugaya managed to kill the Espada in the end, it wasn't until after Ikkaku and Yumichika had the living daylights beat out of them, and Matsumoto was still in critical condition after the spikes on Luppi's tentacles tore through her abdomen. Tessai had been too busy with her to tend to the others, so Ann – the only other person who knew Kaidō in their group – had been tasked with healing up everyone else.
Unfortunately, while the blonde could use healing magic, she wasn't a natural at it. Patching up Ikkaku and Yumichika had wiped her out, meaning the Phantoms had to rely on Makoto's Gintō to keep them stable while the blonde recovered. Most of the Shinigami had returned to their lodgings by the time she'd felt well enough to continue.
Clenching his fist, the blond felt his rage growing. They'd been messaging Akira for hours to no avail. Sure, Ryuji understood that his Hollow training was important, but for fuck's sake, the invasion could have started today! What was the point of spending all this time trying to control his bloody inner Hollow if Akira didn't even rock up to the final fight?!
We're meant to be a team, aren't we?
"Thank you for your services, Ann-chan." Urahara smiled tiredly from the doorway and tossed her a small box. "They're rejuvenation pills. Take one, and it should give you enough of a boost to get home safely."
"Thanks." She sighed, opening the packet and swallowing one of the capsules, nose wrinkled.
"Speaking of that… maybe we should go no." The weariness in Makoto's voice was palpable. "It's late, and the trains are likely stopping soon."
A chorus of nods went around the Phantoms at Makoto's words – Ryuji had told his mum he was going out to dinner with his buddies, but even she'd begin to fuss if he was out much longer. Silently, the Phantoms gathered their gear and exited the store. They'd barely taken two steps out of the establishment, however, when suddenly, a strange Reiatsu flooded the air, and the sky split in half.
Ryuji could do nothing but watch, eyes wide with horror, as a Garganta opened right in front of the Urahara Shōten.
Heart racing, the blond reached for his Zanpakutō, painfully aware of the twinge in his wrist. Fuck, fuck, fuck! More Arrancar?! This was a disaster – the Shinigami were in no state to help, and even if the Phantoms hadn't been badly injured, they weren't fresh. If another Arrancar of Luppi's calibre appeared, Ryuji didn't think they'd all be getting out of it in one piece.
It was then though, that a voice echoed from the Garganta.
"Oh, sick, I've got internet again! Yeeeees! Come back to me, Twitter feed!"
Internet? Ann mouthed silently, Makoto responding with a confused shrug. As a wave of confusion ran over Ryuji, he rubbed his eyes. There was something familiar about that voice…
"Yikes, it's 11:30." The person wince, before their tone turned more suspicious. "… you said you were half an hour! That's not thirty minutes – it's three hours!"
It was a different voice that replied – while the speaker was also female, they sounded significantly testier. "No, I said it'd take half an hour for me to get back on my feet. Besides, it's not it's easy tracking someone through the Garganta – would you like to give it a go?"
A third person responded, a male, this time. "Hey, calm down. Save that energy for the jump – we're here. Do you need my help?"
"… I should be alright, thank you."
Ryuji braced himself as several figures leapt down from the portal. Well, perhaps leapt was too strong a description – while the man at the front of the group landed gracefully, the girl to his side fell on her butt with a squeak, and the final member of the group sort of just crashed on the ground in a pile of limbs. As the man rose upwards, trepidation flashed in Ryuji's stomach as he caught the glitter of golden eyes, but as the streetlights illuminated his face, the blond wheezed.
A bone-white mask with strange eyelash-like markings covered the upper half of his face, but the tousled black hair and the Shinigami's Shihakushō were unmistakable. Standing before him was Akira. It wasn't just any Akira, either. His Reiatsu burned bright and strong, and he held himself with a confident poise Ryuji hadn't seen in a long, long time. It was… like he was himself again. As Ryuji watched his friend, his anger dissipated and was quickly replaced by confusion as he saw Futaba's long mop of burnt orange hair.
Just what the heck is going on here?
Ryuji received approximately zero answers to that as Futaba walked to the final member of their group – who was still lying in a crumpled heap – and peered at them cautiously. "… Are you still alive?" The hacker asked, before she shrugged and kicked them in the side in lieu of an answer.
While they remained face-down on the ground, a litany of muffled curse words escaped their mouth.
Futaba turned back to Akira with a thumbs up. "She's fine!"
The black-haired teen groaned and massaged his brow, but his reply was cut off as Makoto's horrified gasp echoed across the courtyard. "Sis?!"
A flicker of surprise entered Akira's eyes – he'd clearly only just realised he had company, and the black-haired teen stumbled back awkwardly as Makoto darted to the fallen woman's side. Now that the student council president had pointed it out, Ryuji could see a hint of rust-stained silver hair. It looked like Sae had picked a fight with a shredder, and had gotten her ass completely and utterly kicked.
"I'm fine." The prosecutor sighed, attempting to push herself upright.
"Sae got shot!" Futaba beamed like it was the most exciting news she'd heard all week.
"What?!" Makoto screeched, as Sae glared at the hacker.
The prosecutor gritted her teeth. "It's not that big a deal!"
Before they could continue bickering, Akira shook his head, and when he spoke, there was a grim weight to his voice that brokered no argument. "I can't believe I'm actually agreeing with Sae-san here, but she's right. I need to talk to Urahara immediately – the situation has changed."
…..
After sending Sae to Tessai so he could deal with the literal bullet that was apparently still embedded somewhere in her side, the Phantoms had moved to Urahara's living room. By the time Akira finished his tale, a heavy silence descended on the Shōten. Ryuji barely even knew how to begin processing what he'd just told them.
First of all, Sae had been shot by Akechi fucking Goro, who was also the White-Masked Killer, and Akira's fucking Hollow powers mentor. That was hardly the only bombshell Akira had dropped on them that night, but even as he told them about Shido and his mind control device and Aizen's possession, Ryuji couldn't help but fixate on the news about Akechi. As everyone mulled over their leader's words, the room was still other than the lashing of Yoruichi's tail – she'd turned back into a cat over the course of the night. Eventually, Urahara rose to his feet, and the usually jovial man's expression was so grim even Ryuji was snapped out of his rut for a moment.
"… Thank you for your candour, Kurusu-kun. This is dire news indeed." Rising to his feet, he approached the room's exit. "Yoruichi, mind preparing some rooms for our young guests? I believe it may be for the best if they stay the night. I'll contact the Soul Society."
Nodding, the cat followed him, and as the two adults left the room an oppressive silence came flooding back in. Judging by Makoto's pursed lips and Ann's drawn brow, Ryuji wasn't the only one who had a bitter taste in the back of their mouth. Futaba shot a worried glance Akira's way, but the shaggy-haired teen shook his head and opened his mouth.
Ryuji, however, cracked first.
"Akechi, seriously?" He threw his hands up into the air. "He's so… he's so bloody annoyin'!"
Akira suddenly wheezed, an odd choking sound that was half-laugh, half-gasp spluttering out of his mouth.
Uryū shot a mildly horrified stare in Ryuji's direction. "That's your problem with this?! Not the fact that this Akechi person is a literal fucking assassin, but that he's annoying?!"
Ryuji blinked. "Um, yeah?"
Makoto pinched her brow. "I… understand why you did what you did, Akira, but… I really wish you'd just told us."
"Yeah…" Ann's shoulders slumped. "I mean, the White-Masked Killer's identity didn't just affect you, but all of us. If we knew just how closely he was following us, maybe… maybe we would have handled certain things differently."
Whatever levity had entered the air was rapidly quashed by the subtle reminder of the Okumura fiasco.
"I'm more appalled by the fact that you've spent the last two months hanging out with someone who's made it explicitly clear they very much want you dead." Uryū pushed up his glasses. "Do you want to get yourself killed?"
"You're right, all of you. I'm sorry." Akira swept a hand through his hair. "I was… well, I was being a tool, to be perfectly honest. You're just…" He swallowed, before looking at them with so much sincerity in his eyes Ryuji almost flinched. "You're the first friends I've ever had. No – the first family. I can't even begin to describe how much you all mean to me. Honestly, while having a criminal record sucks, moving to Tokyo and meeting all of you has been the best thing that ever happened to me."
"Dude…" Ryuji murmured, guilt bubbling in his stomach at the rage he'd felt towards his friend earlier that day. Why the heck did Akira need to say something as sappy as that?
"That's why, after what happened on the Sōkyoku Hill, I pushed you all away." The frizzy-haired teen continued, not meeting the Phantoms' eyes. "I couldn't stand the thought of losing control and hurting you, and I didn't want to weigh you down with problems you couldn't do anything to solve. I was meant to be your leader – I was meant to have my shit together."
"Akira…" Ann reached out to him, trailing her fingers down her eyes. "You're not just Joker to us – you're our friend. If there's something wrong, we want to help you."
His expression softened, as a ghost of a smile played at his lips. "Thank you, Ann. I know that now – all of you would have been willing to hear me out, but I never gave you the chance. For that, I'm sorry." Akira's frown quickly returned. "I thought that with Akechi, I could have my cake and eat it too. He seemed like a perfect solution for the situation with my Hollow, and by the time I realised I was in too deep, it was too late."
For a moment, everyone digested Akira's apology. As Ryuji mulled things over, he could still feel lingering dredges of hurt and anger in him, but the blond knew what he needed to do.
"I forgive you." Ryuji stated bluntly, rising to his feet. "Look, I'm still annoyed you didn't tell us about Akechi, but…" He scratched the back of his head. "I know what it's like to feel scared of yourself. Sure, it's not like I literally have an evil monster in me, but I kinda know how it feels. Sorakaizoku said somethin' to me once though – anger isn't bad by nature, it's what you do with it that matters. So… just keep tryin' to be better, I guess, and if you're gonna snap, snap at the right people."
Akira's eyes glittered warmly. "Thanks, Ryuji."
"I forgive you too." Makoto's voice was matter-of-fact. "You're… not the only one here who's acted in a manner they regret, after all. Like Ryuji said, what matters is how you decide to progress from here."
"Yeah!" A beautiful grin crossed Ann's face. "Next time you feel like you need to draw away from us, just remember that we'll all be here waiting for you."
"I concur." Uryū pushed up his glasses. "I don't particularly like being sentimental, but… despite everything I did to you and the people of Shibuya, you continued to associate with me. You stuck by my side and helped me let go of my hatred and remember my grandfather's teachings. For that, I owe you the world."
"See?" Futaba put her hands on her hips. "I told you everyone'd be fine with it once you told them what was up!"
"Yeah." Akira's smile grew misty, and if Ryuji noticed the hint of moisture in his eyes, he was enough of a bro to stay quiet about it. "Yeah, you did."
…..
"… Excuse me?" Kisuke's voice was an incredulous hiss. "What do you mean, you won't marshal your forces?!"
The shopkeeper had set up a video link between the Captains' Assembly Hall and his store a while back, and it was a decision they'd benefitted from ever since. The second Kurusu had finished his tale, Kisuke had contacted the Gotei 13 and urged them to go on the offensive before it was too late.
Yamamoto's voice crackled with static as the Captain Commander replied. "It is just as I said. We do not have enough intelligence on the layout of Las Noches for an invasion to be anything but an unnecessary risk, and even if we did, the technology needed to replicate the Arrancars' Garganta is still in its infancy." The elderly Shinigami's voice was blunt. "Our numbers are diminished as-is – I will not potentially throw away multiple Captains' lives in a such foolhardy endeavour. We will wait for this Shido to arrive in Karakura and crush his forces there, as initially planned."
Kisuke had cursed the arrogant stupidity of the Shinigami many times, but never more keenly than in this particular instance. The blond almost wanted to tear out his hair. Instead, he flicked out his fan, hopefully obscuring his immense displeasure. "You were listening to everything I said, yes? Including the part about how Shido Masayoshi has access to technology that can allow a Lieutenant-level warrior to fight on par with Captains? By the time he finishes assembling his army, it will be too late – he will not just have eight or nine Captain-level warriors at his disposal, but potentially hundreds. The Gotei 13 will be overwhelmed, and thousands upon thousands of people will die."
But you don't care about that, do you? Kisuke simmered in rage. Sure, the chances of Shido being able to defeat the Royal Guard were still minimal, even with the aid of his technology, but a world governed by the prick would be worse than anything Aizen could ever dream of. While the traitor was a monster, he was at least he was capable of acknowledging people other than himself. Shido didn't even have that minor virtue. The blond stilled his tongue, however. Kisuke knew he needed to show some deference to the Captain Commander if they ever wanted this truce between them to work, and quite frankly, he couldn't risk losing the Gotei 13's manpower. Still, it was a rather difficult task given the man was so utterly grating.
"Aizen's fate was the result of his own hubris." Yamamoto's nostrils flared. "He tampered with arts that were forbidden for a reason, and paid the price. If this mere human thinks he stands a chance against the forces of the Gotei 13, he too will pay for his arrogance."
Kisuke's lips pursed. It seemed like Yamamoto's answer was definitive – the Gotei 13 would not help him infiltrate Hueco Mundo, regardless of the circumstances. His mind raced. Even if he didn't have access to the bulk of the Gotei 13's forces, Hitsugaya's advance team was still stationed in Karakura. The Captain was young enough not to be set in the Gotei 13's rigid ways – if the shopkeeper told him stakes, he would see reason.
Of course, he wasn't the only one who'd thought of that.
"Hitsugaya's advance team will be withdrawing immediately." Yamamoto's statement hit him like a punch in the guts. "Now that we know the final battle is imminent, we must prepare our forces. Lieutenant Kurotsuchi will contact you at a later date about the final adjustments that need to be made to the substitute Karakura Town." Without another word, the elderly man ended the call.
For a moment Kisuke stood there, staring at the black screen. A rueful chuckle then escaped the shopkeeper's throat. "My, my. What an absolute mess."
…..
The news that the Arrancar invasion was imminent had spread around the Seireitei like wildfire, even if only a handful of people knew all of the complexities of the situation. The eerie quiet plaguing the city of late had faded, replaced by a manic tension as Shinigami hurried around in a last-minute attempt to bolster their defences. As Retsu approached the Senzaikyū, she felt the slightest twinge of pity. Their preparations were meaningless – a battle like this would be decided by the Captains and the Lieutenants, and them alone.
As she entered the tower – the ever-present sensation of her Reiryoku extinguishing as the din outside grew muffled – the Captain couldn't help but frown. While Yamamoto did not think that this Shido man would be much of a threat – it was hard to fathom how on earth a nearly powerless mortal could cause more devastation than a former Captain – Retsu had noticed Urahara's expression. There had been fear in his eyes, and she was wise enough to know a man like him did not frighten for no reason.
It only made today's events more pressing – this would be the last of her and Zaraki's kendo lessons. He either won this evening, and proved that she was right to spare him all those years ago, or he was never worthy of the Kenpachi name to begin with. As she withdrew Minazuki, Zaraki mirrored her movements on the opposite side of the Senzaikyū. A smile crept at her lips. There was none of the awkwardness of their earlier spars – instead, he moved like lightning.
Both Shinigami leapt at each other at the same time. Their blades bounced off each other as they met in the middle of their unorthodox arena, the power of his blow sending tingles running down Retsu's arm. Zaraki recovered first and thrust his Zanpakutō towards her. She twisted her torso, dodging his stab by millimetres. This time, Retsu was the one to strike, and realising he wouldn't be able to deflect her blow in time, Zaraki adjusted his position so she did little more than scratch his collarbone. Her grin grew in delight – the Zaraki of before would never have been capable of making such a strategic decision.
For a while, they danced, oblivious to the way the midnight darkness brightened into a dusky dawn light. Retsu parried his blow and attempted to twist the blade from Zaraki's hands. In turn, he braced himself and countered her strike, hands not budging an inch from his hilt.
It was a beautiful fight. Retsu could scarcely remember the last time she'd had so much fun in a battle – perhaps their first encounter ever, nearing the end of her time in the 11th? The Captain's heart skipped a beat as Zaraki sliced a shallow blow into her side and warm blood seeped into her Shihakushō, and suddenly, her eyes were opened. She'd never felt quite so alive in her life.
Because of that, when an ache entered her muscles, and slowly but surely, her blows grew weaker and more sluggish, a wave of desperation ran through Retsu. They'd barely gotten started – she didn't want this to end. But as with all good things, it did.
Zaraki struck forward, and as she deflected his slash, her bones jarred. Darting back with the agility of a much lighter man, his blade rushed towards her yet again, and this time, Retsu was just a fraction too late. Her eyes flickered wide open as the other Captain's blade scratched Minazuki's side and plunged straight into her chest.
Shock smashed into her, and her Zanpakutō slipped from Retsu's grip. The Captain barely heard Minazuki as she clattered against the ground, a deep and aching pain spreading through her chest. Instinctively, she raised her hand to the wound. Punctured right ventricle. Remove obstruction and stop bleeding immediately. Shock in fifteen seconds, unconsciousness in one minute, and death in three.
Despite her best efforts, however, the green glow of Kaidō didn't light up her fingertips. It was only then that Retsu sluggishly remembered she was in the Senzaikyū – there would be no spells of any sort here. Zaraki screamed, hand wrapped around her back to stop her falling to the ground, but darkness clawed at her vision and his words were nothing but muffled noise.
Her limbs grew heavy, and as a chill set into her bones, Retsu couldn't help but lament her fate – there were so many things she had left to do. Aizen's war – or Shido's, to be more accurate – was on their doorstep. Would Zaraki – even at his zenith – be strong enough to stop him? What about the 4th – what about Isane? While she had faith in her Lieutenant, she would have at least liked to have been able to say goodbye.
Still… perhaps this wasn't so bad. There could only be one Kenpachi in any era, after all. A part of Retsu had known deep down inside ever since they first clashed blades that Zaraki would be the one to claim her life. And now, with her demise, the shackles that held him back would be gone. Soon, his Zanpakutō's voice would reach him. Zaraki would surpass her legacy, and become something far, far greater.
But no, he wasn't just Zaraki anymore, was he? He was the true Kenpachi.
…..
Suffice to say, it was all rather anticlimactic when Retsu woke up. As consciousness returned to her in dribs and drabs, the first thing she noticed was how lightheaded she felt. The next thing the Captain noticed was that the ache in her chest had reduced to a dull throb instead of an aching roar. After that, it was the conversation happening above her.
"So, is she awake yet?" Kenpachi rumbled, an odd hint of concern in his voice.
"No, Captain Kenpachi." A woman replied, and while the words were superficially polite, there was an edge to them that indicated the speaker had been asked that question multiple times, and the answer hadn't changed.
"Tch." Retsu could vividly imagine his scowl. "This is borin'…"
"… Well, this is what happens when you stab someone in the heart during a training match." The woman muttered, and the slight edge of vehemence in her voice was so uncharacteristic, that the second Retsu realised who it was her eyes flew wide open.
"… Isane?"
"Captain!" The grey-haired woman shrieked, all traces of anger gone as she suddenly gripped Retsu up in a hug. "Are you alright?!"
As the world spun around her, Retsu saw morning light, and realised either Kenpachi or her Lieutenant had dragged her over to the Sōkyoku Hill while she'd been unconscious. Ignoring the continued pain in her chest, she placed a finger on her neck and quickly gauged her pulse. Weaker than usual, but nothing worrying. Glancing over Isane's shoulder, the Captain finally got a good look at Kenpachi. While blood still stained his haori, it was clear her Lieutenant must have healed him too. It was then, however, that Retsu noticed how red his eyes were. Had he… seriously been crying?
"I have some mild blood-loss symptoms and some lingering pain, but other than that, I'm alright." She assured Isane, who promptly began sobbing into her shoulder.
"Oh, oh thank god." The grey-haired woman wailed. "I… I don't know what I'd do if you were gone."
Something heavy settled into Retsu's stomach, and it took her a moment to realise it was guilt. "There, there." She patted Isane's back, the sole consolation being the fact that Kenpachi looked just as disquieted as she felt. "I'm okay. Still…" Her voice trailed off, confusion nagging at her. "I'm surprised Captain Kenpachi had the sense of mind to gather you, let alone the speed."
Even with the fastest of Shunpo, it would take several minutes to get from the Senzaikyū to the 4th, let alone get back. Theoretically speaking, it was possible that Retsu might have held on long enough for Isane to reach her – even if it was a stretch – but she doubted she'd be waking up on the Sōkyoku Hill barely an hour after she'd been stabbed if the colour of the sky was any indication. No – judging by her condition, Isane would have had to have administered aid almost immediately.
As the two women separated, a blush crept onto her Lieutenant's cheeks. "Um, well, about that… please don't get mad at me, but, uh, I was kinda… following you two?"
"She's been stalking us for two months." Kenpachi stated bluntly.
Isane squirmed. "N-not for creepy reasons, I swear! It's just, well, I noticed after one meeting you and Captain Kenpachi were going off somewhere, and that I thought that was really odd since you you're not, um, friends. I was going to ask you what was up, but then I realised you were trying to uh, teach Captain Kenpachi kendo, which I know is kinda illegal, so I didn't want to worry you two, but then, well, I realised if you were fighting in the Senzaikyū, you wouldn't be able to heal yourself if you got wounded, and uh…."
"She's been stalking us for two months." Kenpachi concluded bluntly.
… Alright, the next time Retsu asked her Lieutenant to explain something, she would wait until after she had fully recovered from any stab wounds. About half of Isane's ramble went in one ear and came directly out of the other. Still, she believed she'd gotten the gist of the situation. Retsu furrowed her brow, remembering the crack of a twig she'd initially dismissed as a pine marten.
Isane sighed, clearly taking Retsu's non-response as an indication she wasn't mad at her. "Honestly… I can't believe you forgot about that. That's not like you, Captain."
Retsu's stomach twisted. Because deep down inside, she hadn't forgotten, not really. A part of her had known how this would end, and she had embraced it. It was only then that the full ramifications of her survival hit her. While Retsu could try and pretend that the last duel of theirs was invalid – Kenpachi hadn't unlocked his Shikai yet, and she did not use her Bankai – ultimately, she knew that would be a lie.
He'd delivered the killing blow and claimed everything she once was. Yet, Retsu was still here. The revelation made her feel oddly… empty. It was as if a purpose she'd been striving for her whole life had suddenly been taken away, and now the future that had felt so clearly defined before was suddenly a nebulous blur.
"… I'm sorry, Isane." She smiled, not entirely sure if it was genuine or not. "I never intended to cause you any grief." That, at the very least, was true. No matter her feelings though, there was one more thing Retsu needed to say this morning. "Say, Isane… do you mind giving Captain Kenpachi and myself a moment of privacy? There's something I need to talk to him about."
A flicker of hesitation crossed her Lieutenant's face, but in the end, she nodded. "… Okay, Captain."
After the lanky woman walked away – settling down out of earshot, but still in sight – Retsu turned to face Kenpachi, respectfully bowing her head.
"I believe some congratulations are in order, Kenpachi Zaraki." The significance of her address wasn't lost on Kenpachi, as his eyes widened. "It seems you have finally surpassed me."
He frowned, brows furrowed. "Really? But… we'd barely gotten started. I've won once, for cryin' out loud, and I haven't even..." A flicker of joy entered her chest as he glanced towards his Zanpakutō.
However, Retsu shook her head. "The only difference between us has ever been skill, and now, you have breached that gulf. Bankai… Shikai… it doesn't matter. In a battle of pure swordsmanship, the victor will always be you. You have earned your title – rejoice."
Instead of looking happy, Kenpachi's frown deepened. "But… I want more. Even… even if I know I'm gonna win, I still want to fight you."
For a moment, Retsu desperately wanted to agree with him. To continue their never-ending dance, until the end of all days. But… to do so would be at the very height of selfishness. If Kenpachi bound himself to her, it would only end with him shackling himself again. Plus… as Retsu's eyes drifted over to Isane, silver hair bathed peach in the dawn sun, she noted there was one more reason for her to decline his pleas. While the way of the sword was her passion, currently, it was not her duty.
"There will be other opponents who will make your heart race, Captain Kenpachi."
He followed her gaze, eyes lingering on Isane. "… Why did ya do it? Not the healing – I know why you learned that – but leavin' the 11th."
"I had the required skills, and there was a vacancy." Retsu shrugged, before breathing in. "Truthfully, though, it was because of our fight. Our very first one."
A flicker of confusion passed through Kenpachi's eyes. "Really?"
"Yes…" Her memories turned back to that night in the rain, as she stared down at a child who lugged around a Zanpakutō the size of his body, and instinctively, Retsu rubbed the scar on her neck. "Truthfully, I had grown bored of the fight. Every battle was the same… until I met you. For the first time in years, I had found someone who could keep me on my toes. Found someone who could surpass even me with a little more time and proper training. And do you know what I did?"
Kenpachi scrunched his brow, deep in thought. "… Kicked my ass?"
Retsu's smile was wry. "No – I made a mistake. You never should have been able to wound me, let alone so critically, but you did. I had grown lazy, and my strength had atrophied. A blow that should have been easy to deflect almost killed me instead. To make matters even worse, at that moment, even if only subconsciously, you grew so scared that you would never be able to experience the rush of a proper fight again, you started going easy on me." A bitter snort escaped her mouth. "I'd never been more humiliated in my life."
"… That's why you became a healer?"
"Yes. There is nothing I value more than the art of the sword, and if I kept my position in the 11th, I knew I would disgrace it further. If I could not muster the energy to fight you with all of my heart, I would scarcely be able to do so for anybody else. I made a vow that day that I would use my blade to empower my successor as Kenpachi, and that would be all. Unless I had no other option, of course."
For a while, her fellow Captain remained silent as he chewed over her words. "… Well, if ya ever change your mind, you know where to find me. See ya around… Unohana."
The significance of his term of address was not lost on her as he walked into the distance.
…..
When Akira's heavy eyelids finally fluttered open, it was well past his usual wake-up time. The second he'd laid down last night, the teen had crashed like a ton of bricks – he supposed getting brainwashed, obtaining Bankai, and escaping Hueco Mundo was a lot more than what he normally did in a day. Guided by the rumble of his stomach, Akira stumbled into the Shōten's kitchen and spotted Wakaba by the stovetop.
"Ah, you're awake." She smiled, before handing him a bowl of curry. "Don't worry about school – I've pulled some strings, and nobody's expecting any of you back for a while."
"Thanks." He nodded gratefully. Something then prickled at the back of his mind. "Has news about the Phantoms or Shido hit the press?" In the end, Akira had never verified if Sae had managed to cover up her tracks in the SIU offices or not.
Pursing her lips, Wakaba shook her head. "For better or worse, no. While I don't think any of you are in danger in the short term, I'm worried about how Shido's co-conspirators will act once they realise he's missing. If Akechi revealed your identities to anyone else, they could order a warrant for your arrest – either as a desperate hunt for information or to simply have a convenient scapegoat to place the blame."
Akira sighed. "So, things as usual, then."
"Pretty much." The older woman nodded wryly. "Now, away with you – your friends are in the living room."
It seemed Akira wasn't the only one who was absolutely bushed after yesterday's events. Ryuji and Ann were still in their pyjamas as they played on an old Gameboy and flicked through a magazine reflectively. While Makoto and Uryū were both mildly more dressed, instead of completing their homework, the student council president was reading some manga while Uryū knitted a scarf. Meanwhile, Futaba was still clearly in bed. Akira had probably been settled down for half an hour by the time she arrived, also clearly content to do nothing with her day, and Sae walked into the living room just after lunch, a glass of water and a packet of painkillers in her hands.
"Are you sure you should be out of bed?" Makoto frowned as she examined her sister.
Sae grimaced. "… Not particularly, but Urahara asked me to come here when he saw I was awake. I think he wants to talk to all of us."
Naturally, the morning's lazy mood vanished after that announcement, and each of the Phantoms snapped to attention. The prosecutor had only just sat down when the shopkeeper himself strode into the room, sword cane clicking against the ground. Akira didn't need to be particularly observant to pick up that Urahara was in an agitated state – the man's mouth was drawn into a thin line and his normally relaxed shoulders were rigid.
To Akira's surprise, the first thing Urahara did was turn to him. "Kurusu-kun, feeling better now that you've rested up?"
"Uh, yeah?" He replied, blinking. "What's wrong?"
The shopkeeper gave him a bitter smile. "Straight to the point, I see. I want to know more about your Bankai's capabilities. As far as I can gather, it allows you to manually destroy any form of corruption to a person's heart, granting them clarity over their actions?"
"Uh, yeah, that's essentially it." He blinked in surprise. "It's got limits though – I can't activate it by myself, and it's taxing. Tasogare no Dorobō was very firm I'd only be able to activate it once more before the war ends."
Urahara nodded curtly. "I see. Can it fail?"
"Uh… presumably." Akira furrowed his brow. "I'll ask Tasogare no Dorobō."
So, you heard that. Thoughts?
Thy shopkeeper friend asks intelligent questions. If thou sustains wounds you believe are mortal, or lose all hope, our heist will fail and you will be returned to the physical world. The length of time we can tread in the world of the heart is also limited by thy companion's mental endurance. Our Phantoms are strong, however, so I believe that is unlikely to cause us peril.
I see… Akira bit his lip. If we do get ejected back into reality, what state will we be in?
While one cannot truly die in the world of the heart, damage sustained by the spirit can be as deadly as damage sustained by the body. Failure will not end well for you.
"Yes." The black-haired teen concluded. "If we mentally reach our limit, we'll get kicked out. There's technically a time limit too, but Tasogare no Dorobō doesn't think it'll be an issue as long as everyone's by my side."
"It's kinda like mum's OG theories about Cognitive Psience." Futaba explained. "Instead of running on spiritual or physical energy, the... let's call it heart-scape is affected by cognition. As long as we believe we're still able to win, we can."
"That's harder than it sounds, though." Akira quickly interjected when some of the Phantoms started to look a bit too relieved by that. "You can still feel pain and exhaustion, and it's difficult to trick yourself into believing you're totally alright if there's a sword embedded in your stomach."
"Still, with enough conviction, you could achieve feats in there that you'd never be able to in the physical world…" Urahara murmured, stroking his chin. "One more question. I understand that your Bankai nullified the effects of Shido's brainwashing. Would you still be susceptible to it if Shido targeted you again, or are you permanently immune to its effects?"
Mulling things over, Akira rubbed his chin and internally called out to his Zanpakutō again.
Tasogare no Dorobō's answer was firm. Shido's device cannot snare you again - any corruption destroyed by my true form will never reform. Do not grow arrogant, though – even if his powers cannot touch you, thou are not immune to other forms of distortion.
"The latter." Akira confirmed. It made sense, after all – what was the point of having the power to change a person's heart if they ended up falling back into the same pitfalls?
"I see. It's as I thought…" Urahara murmured to himself, before straightening up and turning to face the group. "I'll be frank. I want the Phantoms to infiltrate Aizen's base – Las Noches – and change his heart."
A stunned silence followed the ex-Captain's proclamation.
"… Aizen's?" Akira wheezed, brows rising. "Why?"
"It's simple." The shopkeeper shrugged. "What makes Shido a threat is not his physical capabilities, but his resources. Without his army of brainwashed pawns, he's no one. Aizen, on the other hand… you've seen what he's capable of."
Akira's mind flashed back to the megalomaniac standing on top of the Sōkyoku Hill as he proclaimed he would reign over the heavens, and the teen shuddered. Even in Las Noches, Aizen had exuded endless power up until the point he hadn't.
"Now, imagine an Aizen free of Shido's brainwashing, with the cognitive blocks that allowed to him to experiment, torture, and kill people remorselessly removed. There's a very real chance he'll set out to right whatever wrongs he still can." The sandy-haired man continued. "For all his hubris, Aizen is smart – he wouldn't let anyone into his ranks he wasn't confident he could defeat. He would be capable of taking down any remaining Espada… and with them removed, Shido will fall in a matter of seconds."
A tense silence settled over the room at Urahara's grandiose proclamation. Akira mulled it over, a tingle of apprehension running down his spine. The idea of potentially fighting alongside Aizen unsettled him. Still, he could follow Urahara's logic. As long as Kyōka Suigetsu was still in play, the Gotei 13 would be at a severe disadvantage – changing Aizen's heart would be worth it alone if it took the powerful Zanpakutō off the battlefield. At the same time though, there was a significant flaw with Urahara's request, and Akira wasn't the only one to pick up on it.
Futaba polished her glasses, brows furrowed. "Hmm, that sounds great and all, but how the heck are we actually gonna do it? Sure, I didn't exactly spend that much time in Las Noches, but I was there long enough to know that we're way underleveled. The Arrancar will kick our asses so hard we won't be able to sit down for weeks. Or, well, we'll just be dead."
She'd hit the nail right in the centre. Ultimately, changing Aizen's heart wasn't the issue here – it was simply getting to him. Even with Shido's mind control potentially dulling his senses, Ulquiorra had caught up to Akira with ease, and it was abundantly clear who'd win that fight. Would the other Phantoms' aid really tip the scales...?
Urahara sighed, exhaustion sweeping over his features. "I understand your scepticism – in an ideal world, I would never be asking this of you. I'm afraid though that I have no other choice. Yoruichi, Tessai, and myself are all needed here to facilitate Karakura's defences, and Yamamoto refuses to send any Shinigami to Hueco Mundo, even though I've made it abundantly clear by the time Shido marches on Karakura it will be too late."
Sae pursed her lips, expression drawn. "Are you certain that's the case?"
"Positive. Imagine, if you will, the power of Aizen's forces if every single Arrancar had access to weaponry and armour like the ones Futaba-chan made for Sakamoto-kun."
While the impact was partially lost on Akira – yet again, he cursed himself for running to Akechi's side instead of seeing what Ryuji's new kicks were capable of – the same could not be said for the rest of the Phantoms. Each and every one of them blanched.
Urahara's expression softened as the man tipped his hat. "I understand your concern, however, especially since you won't be joining them."
Shock flashed through Akira as Makoto whirled around to face her sister. "What does Urahara mean, you won't be joining us?!"
It was Uryū who answered. "Ah." He winced, pushing up his glasses. "Shido's brainwashing technology was created using Akechi's Shikai as a base. Given Sae-san's susceptibility to the latter…"
Akira swallowed, shoulders stiffening as the Quincy's implications settled in. If Sae got hit by Shido's device, there was a very real possibility that she'd just become another one of the bastard's puppets.
Makoto faltered but wasn't yet deterred. "But… Akira's Shikai snapped you out of it, right?"
"Yes, because I had enough presence of mind left to fight back against it, which was almost certainly because Akechi-kun was almost entirely depleted of Reiryoku when he hit me." Sae pointed out, before slumping back into her seat. "… Plus, even if I could shrug Shido's brainwashing off, I'm in no fit state to fight right now. If I joined you on the battlefield like this, I'd be nothing but dead weight."
"Sae-san's right." Akira's mouth narrowed into a thin line. "Speaking as someone who's been under Shido's thrall, there's no way in hell you can power-of-friendship your way out of it. I was completely dead to the outer world. Besides, if my Shikai was enough to ward it off, I wouldn't have needed my Bankai in the first place."
While her brows were still furrowed with worry, Makoto acquiesced with a nod and settled back down.
"If I may, I believe you are all stronger than you think you are." Urahara's voice was gentle. "If I didn't think you could pull this off, I wouldn't have asked you to do it in the first place."
"… You're right." Fire blazed in Ann's eyes as she rose to her feet. "I know this is going to be harder than anything we've done before, but… I believe in us – I believe in the Phantoms. If this is what we need to do to save the world, then I say we do it!"
Warmth ran through him, Akira's worry retreating in the face of Ann's conviction. Mirroring her movements, he stood up and surveyed the Phantoms. Ryuji, Ann, Futaba, Makoto, Uryū… they'd been through thick and thin, and despite it all, they were all still standing.
"Let's do what we did before we invaded the Soul Society." He decided. "I'm in, and Ann is too, but I'm not going to force anyone to come along with us if they have doubts. This is dangerous. Unlike the Shinigami, Shido's thralls will fight to kill, and there'll be no reasoning with them." Akira shuddered, images of Tōsen's death flickering through his mind. "I won't think any less of you if you don't want to join us. This shouldn't be our fight, after all, and even if they're putting their heads in the sand, the Gotei 13 are still waiting in reserve. This isn't necessarily the only way to win this war."
Ryuji was the first to respond. "If you're going, I'm going." He nodded, raising his hand. "You've stuck by my side all this time, and I'm gonna stick by yours. That's what friends are for!"
"Thanks, bro." Akira smiled, warmth bubbling in his stomach.
Makoto, however, furrowed her brows. Glancing at her sister, uncertainty danced in her eyes. "I… want to go, but I won't if you disagree. I promised we'd work as a team from now on, after all."
The older Niijima bit her lip, but after a moment's hesitation, gave Makoto a weak smile. "I wish you didn't have to do this – I wish none of you had to. Unfortunately, the stakes are far too high for me to selfishly keep you by my side. You have my blessing, Makoto. Just… promise me you'll come back, okay?"
A warm smile crossed the brunette's face as she hugged her sister. "I will. Thank you, Sae."
Futaba cleared her throat, directing attention back to the topic at hand. "T-this time, I'm coming too - Ryuji's new kit isn't the only thing I've been working on! After the Soul Society, I promised I'd never be so useless again. I won't join you on the front lines, but I've rigged up some new sensors and a comms system, so I should be able to stop you wandering into any traps." Her eyes began to sparkle. "Plus, I've got a few other bits and bobs that should make this infiltration three hundred per cent safer! You won't have to worry with me onboard!"
"Good to hear it." Akira grinned. While he'd be lying if he said he had no trepidation at all about Futaba joining them, her presence had been sorely missed during their time in the Soul Society.
The final member of the Phantoms to speak was Uryū. The Quincy grimaced, turning to Urahara. "… You mentioned you're working on Karakura's defences. How strong are they?"
"We have a full evacuation plan for the citizens in place, along with countermeasures to prevent Shido from immediately destroying the town." The blond replied. "Of course, nothing's perfect, but frankly if Shido gets to the point where he can start preparing the ritual for the Ōken, we're fucked anyway."
Uryū took in a deep breath. "Very well. I'll accompany the rest of you – Karakura would be far safer if Shido's forces never set foot into it."
"Well then, it seems everyone is on board." A wry grin crossed Urahara's face as he began to head to the door. "Sae-san, can you teach Kurusu-kun how to open a Garganta? Once that's done, I'd recommend going home and spending today with your loved ones – tomorrow, you march on Hueco Mundo, and there's a distinct possibility you may not come back."