Akira's consciousness left him pretty much the instant he stepped down onto Karakura's damaged streets. It slowly returned in dribs and drabs over the next few days – fleeting moments of pseudo-clarity occasionally punctured by food, water, or the soothing voices of his friends, which faded as quickly as they came. One morning though, Akira woke up to find that despite the way his body ached, his mind had finally switched back on.

Soft sheets had been draped over him, and while his mattress wasn't the most comfortable, it was leagues better than the milk crates he slept on in Leblanc. That wouldn't have been too strange, except for the fact that the aroma of the café's signature curry was wafting through the air. Blinking open his sleep-crusted eyes, Akira sat up, and realised he was in the Urahara Shōten. I suppose that explains the smell – Wakaba must be cooking. A frown crossed his face as the image of her slaying Shido flickered into his mind. With a shake of his head, the Shinigami banished those thoughts. He could process the last… however many days had passed once he got something to eat.

Stretching, the frizzy-haired teen rose to his feet. Ryuji was snoring by his side, resting on a futon identical to his own. The blond looked peaceful, and there were no signs of injury on the scant patches of his skin Akira could actually see. There was a third bed in the room, but it was currently empty. He assumed it probably belonged to Uryū – the Quincy tended to be an early riser. Taking a step forward, Akira winced as a burning sensation filled his calf and the world swayed around him. For a moment, he was half-tempted to flop back into bed, but the hunger in his belly was ferocious enough to keep him upright. Food, then rest.

Sensing a cluster of Reiatsu in the living room, Akira stumbled over, clumsily sliding open the shoji screen doors. He couldn't see hide nor hair of Urahara himself, but plenty of other people filled the room. Unsurprisingly, Uryū was kneeling by the table, slowly sipping on some miso soup. Across from him, Wakaba sedately finished a cup of her own. Meanwhile, both Niijima sisters were animatedly chatting to each other, breakfast forgotten.

"Oh, Akira!" Makoto's eyes widened, and a beatific grin crossed her face as she saw her friend. "You're awake!"

"Eh, kind of." He winced, plonking himself down next to Uryū before greeting the Quincy with a nod. "How long have I been out?"

"Around three days." The bespectacled teen put down his soup. "Most of the other Phantoms have recovered, though Futaba is still resting."

"She's okay." Wakaba interjected before Akira had the time to worry. "She's simply burnt out. Futaba's not used to being exposed to that much spiritual pressure."

"Good to hear." Akira nodded before a painful growl emanated from his stomach.

As the teenager winced, Wakaba let out a laugh. Standing up, she poured him a small bowl of miso soup. "Here – a proper breakfast is coming, but this will hopefully keep you upright for now."

"How are you feeling, Kurusu-kun?" Sae asked once he'd finished sculling down his soup. "Makoto's been telling me about Hueco Mundo and Karakura. You've… all been through a lot, haven't you?"

Vivid images of Akechi's serene corpse instantly flashed into his mind, and Akira remained silent as his stomach twisted itself in knots. For a brief moment, a bolt of fear flashed through him – he didn't want to be sick all over the Shōten's tatami mat floor. The absurdity of that thought then struck him, and Akira felt his innards unclench. Leaving behind his complicated feelings for Akechi – he didn't have the emotional or physical stamina to deal with that right now – he let his mind drift over the rest of that fateful day.

While most of it had been awful – Rukia's near-death experience, the brutal clash against Ulquiorra, their failure to apprehend Shido before he'd crushed most of Karakura beneath his heel… there'd been some highs as well. Their alliance with the Arrancars, which meant more to Akira than they'd ever know, and most importantly, the way the Phantoms' hearts had beaten as one as they finally toppled Aizen off his pedestal. Truthfully, he was still wrapping his head around that one.

"Tired, I guess." Were the words that came out of his mouth, and while they didn't touch on even a fraction of the emotions he was feeling, Akira couldn't think of anything more accurate to say. "No – exhausted."

Before Sae could respond, a rich, baritone voice filled the room. "Well, hopefully, you'll perk up soon."

Whirling around, Akira's jaw dropped as he came face-to-face with Sojiro. The barista arched a brow, fundamentally unimpressed at his unabashed gawping. Sojiro looked the same as he always did – beard styled slickly despite his balding head, a neat apron covering his pink shirt, and most importantly, a pot of curry in his hands. It was almost as if his guardian had been plucked out of Leblanc and dropped straight into the Shōten.

"Wah…?" Was Akira's incredibly intelligent response as he rubbed his eyes.

Nope – he wasn't hallucinating things. Sojiro was still standing there, expression faintly disproving as he eyed his foster son.

"Trust me, kid." The barista sighed deeply. "We've got a lot to talk about, but first thing's first –breakfast is ready."

All thoughts fled Akira's mind as the rich scent of curry hit his nose with full force, and as Sojiro served him a plate of his favourite recipe, the teen salivated as he watched it with anticipation. When the barista passed Wakaba her meal, his expression softened, and Sojiro's gaze lingered on his friend as if he could scarcely believe she was there. The second everyone had been served Akira practically lunged at his food, wolfing it down like a wild animal. He cleared his plate in minutes, and quickly went back for seconds.

"Eager, aren't you?" Sojiro's brows rose as he watched the teen.

Wakaba smiled. "Food is one of the most efficient ways to restore Reiryoku – everyone's probably going to have a hefty appetite the next few days."

The psientist was right – Akira felt a hell of a lot better once he had some fuel in him. Now that he was finally mentally capable of actually handling a conversation, he turned to his guardian. "How long have you known about, well… this?" He gestured at the Shōten.

Sojiro's shoulders slumped as he shook his head. "Not long, kiddo. Only found out the day Shido tried to do… well, whatever the hell that was. Trust me, it came as a hell of a rude shock."

Akira listened with wide eyes as Sojiro described what had happened in Shibuya while they'd been fighting through Hueco Mundo, Sae or Wakaba occasionally interjecting for the sake of clarification. Quite frankly, the entire story sounded like something straight out of a movie. The fact that Akira pretty much recognised every second name the barista mentioned only added to its unbelievability.

Makoto clearly felt as incredulous as he about the appearance of numerous familiar faces. "I suppose I'm not too surprised about Mishima-kun and Haru, but Kitagawa-kun? Kawakami-sensei?"

"Yeah." Akira blinked. He'd never have imagined his tired homeroom teacher of all people taking up arms and fighting to save Shibuya. "We owe them all one hell of a thanks."

"A proper explanation will probably do." Sojiro shrugged before his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And speaking of that… the Phantoms? Seriously? You're on probation, and you pull a stunt like that?!"

Wincing, Akira scratched the back of his head. "Well, in our defence, we were using ghost magic…"

Haltingly, the frizzy-haired teen stammered out his story as Sojiro's scrutinous gaze bored into him like a drill. As he explained how the Phantoms had formed, Makoto patted his knee in commiseration - given she'd gone through the same mortifying ordeal with Sae several months ago, the brunette knew what it was like to be in his shoes.

Thankfully, Sojiro seemed more exasperated than truly angry when Akira's story came to an end. "Honestly… kids these days." He groaned, rubbing his temples. "Why can't you have normal problems?"

Sae nodded rapidly in response. "Exactly!"

Makoto and Akira exchanged a glance – the prosecutor had never had a normal problem in her life. The frizzy-haired teen couldn't help but snort, and in turn, Makoto let out an involuntary giggle. Even Wakaba smiled in amusement when Sae shot a dirty glare their way.

Unfortunately, the moment's levity didn't last. Uryū had remained entirely silent during the exchange, and as Akira finally drank in the Quincy's features, he felt his good mood abating. All of the Phantoms looked tired, but while there was a twinkle in Makoto's eye, Uryū's were flat. He'd always been pale, but at that moment, the other boy could have been a ghost. The Shinigami swallowed as he remembered the devastation that had gripped Karakura. Uryū's home had potentially been destroyed – it was little wonder he wasn't feeling up to any light-hearted chatter.

"So… what happened?" Akira grimaced, eyes lingering on his friend. "With Karakura, I mean. I don't really remember anything after… after Shido's death."

He tried not to dwell on his memories of the Gates of Hell rising from the ether and the politician getting skewered on an elongated blade. While Shido had deserved it, Akira knew if he thought too heavily about the asshole's fate, his mind would drift over to the other fatalities he'd witnessed in the skies of Karakura.

Wakaba's lips thinned. "Thankfully, the town's citizens are all unharmed. There were some civilian fatalities, however, when Shido summoned his tributes." The psientist shook her head. "It's small commiseration, but the numbers remained below the double-digits at the very least. It could have been a lot worse."

"The town is beyond ruined though." Uryū sighed. "I'm hoping Urahara might be able to get the Gotei 13's aid with rebuilding once they've recovered. Half the reason Karakura is in this state is because of their negligence, after all."

Akira frowned. "Speaking of the Gotei 13, I noticed Renji and Rukia aren't here. Have they gone back already?"

Makoto nodded. "They left pretty much immediately after Shido's defeat. While I'm not sure about the details, the Gotei 13 is in a very rough state. I think they need all the able-bodied Shinigami they could get. Rukia did say she'd swing around once things settled down a bit though."

"Were there any…?" His voice trailed off.

Wakaba picked up what he was asking. "I believe a Captain passed away during the battle, and they're not sure that all the wounded will pull through. I believe all the Shinigami you're personally acquainted with have survived, however."

The news wasn't much of a relief. As much as he disliked the Gotei 13 as a system, he held no ill will towards the Shinigami as individuals. Swallowing, Akira's tongue felt thick in his mouth. There was one last question he had to ask, and while he knew it'd open a can of worms, the frizzy-haired teen couldn't put it off any longer.

Akira's breath caught in his throat. "Sae-san, Akechi-"

The look of grief that flickered across the prosecutor's face was all the answer he needed. He hadn't expected any good news, still vividly remembering the boy's blood soaking into his gloves, but that didn't mean that he hadn't hoped.

"I'm sorry." He sighed, closing his eyes lest they filled with tears. "I shouldn't make this about me. You knew him the longest out of all of us…"

Akira felt rather than saw Sae give his shoulder a gentle pat. "Perhaps, but I think you knew Akechi-kun better than I ever did. You saw past his façade to the side of him he kept secret from the world. I never did – not until it was too late, anyway."

Slowly, he creaked open his eyes, and while his heart still felt like it had been dunked underwater, he was no longer drowning without a lifeguard.

As the teenager met the prosecutor's sympathetic stare, she continued. "Please don't blame yourself for what happened to him, okay? Even if Akechi-kun survived the battle at Karakura, his future was forfeit anyway. The only thing he had waiting for him here was a life sentence at best."

Akira pursed his lips but nodded anyway. As bitter as it was, he knew Sae was right. Akechi's plan to take down Shido was always going to end in self-immolation regardless of what Akira did. In fact, it was by design – his rival had intended to destroy himself and take Shido down with him from the very start. If anything, death on the battlefield might have been one of the better fates awaiting Akechi. Somehow, the Shinigami had a hunch that the detective would have rather gone out fighting than wasting away for decades in a cell. No matter how much he tried to rationalise away his feelings though, a part of Akira still felt as if it was slowly bleeding.

He jolted as Makoto's warm arms suddenly wrapped around him, snapping him out of his thoughts. The tension slowly fled the frizzy-haired teen's muscles as he melted into her embrace, nestling his face in the crook of her shoulder. Uryū reached out his hand tentatively, hesitating for a moment before mustering his courage, and leaning into Akira's other side. Wakaba joined in next, ruffling Akira's hair maternally as Sojiro and Sae wrapped their arms around him too.

When Ryuji and Ann stumbled into the room, bleary-eyed with sleep, they started at the group hug, and not even bothering to ask for context, the blondes walked over and joined in. Footsteps then echoed down the hall, and Futaba of all people staggered through the door, hair messy and dark rings under her eyes. Marching forward, she flopped onto Akira's back and gave him the world's most boneless embrace.

A startled chuckle burst from his mouth, and even as his vision blurred with tears, the warmth in Akira's chest and his brilliant smile remained. Even if his heart ached today, as long as his friends were at his side, he knew that he'd be okay.

…..

In the World of the Dead, the atmosphere couldn't have been much more different. A tense uncertainty filled the air as Retsu advanced through the 1st Division. The oppressive weight that pressed down upon her, however, was nothing compared to the knot of grief in her chest. The Captain's poor mood must have been obvious, as the Shinigami manning the Division gave her a wide berth as she continued to walk towards the Captain Commander's private residence. On the other hand, Retsu mused that they might simply be mourning too, their worries about the uncertain future consuming all the emotional energy they'd normally reserve for their peers.

Retsu couldn't blame them. After all, the founder of the Gotei 13 – Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni – was dying.

It was not Aizen or Shido's machinations that had sealed his fate, but a simple matter of triage. In a hospital setting, a healer would logically focus on those who were most grievously wounded. On the battlefield, however, pragmatism took key – while they might be medics, the 4th were still soldiers. Healing a fighter who could return to the fray took precedence over saving someone's life. After all, if the battle was lost, many more lives would be forfeited instead.

That philosophy held very true in the fight for Karakura – if Shido won, reality itself might have been at stake. Therefore Isane had done the sensible thing, and had focused on the less seriously wounded Captains instead. It was the same decision Retsu would have made in her shoes, and one the Captain had made many times before. The consequences always felt terrible, however, and this time they were even more bitter than normal. By the time Yamamoto had received medical care, it was simply too late. The 4th had managed to prolong his life for now, but Retsu knew it would be a small miracle if the Captain Commander made it to the end of the week.

Once it became abundantly clear his days were numbered, Yamamoto insisted on spending the limited amount of time he had left in his Division, the place where his heart truly belonged. While Retsu normally detested the idea of removing a patient from the 4th's state-of-the-art care, the Captain Commander had not asked her as a healer, but as a friend. Who was she to say no to a request like that?

While she'd been careful to balance her duties as a medic along with Yamamoto's need for privacy, Retsu wasn't here to simply check up on his health today – she'd received a formal summon earlier that morning. As she reached the Captain Commander's residence, she knocked on the door and waited for Sasakibe to usher her in. While Yamamoto's Lieutenant's bearings and presentation were as immaculate as ever, the dark rings under his eyes belayed his struggles. Sasakibe had been the Captain Commander's devout servant for millenniums – he would likely struggle more than any of them once he passed away.

"Please, come through. Genryūsai-dono is expecting you."

Guiding her to Yamamoto's room, he gave her one last bow before leaving. Retsu approached the Captain Commander, her lips slowly turning downwards into a frown. On the surface, it was hard to tell that the elderly man lying in the futon, back propped up by pillows, was dying. His Reiatsu still burned, and as he met her eyes, she saw that his were unclouded and alert. If it wasn't for the bandages swaddling his torso, he could have merely had a cold.

"Unohana." Her superior officer rumbled. "Come to me."

She sat demurely at his side. "You asked for me, sir?"

Yamamoto gave her a strained nod. "Yes. Today, I will give my last order to you as Captain Commander of the Gotei 13."

"You're not going to ask me to become your successor, are you?" Retsu joked, though a flicker of worry ran through her. Was he? It wasn't impossible – she was the second oldest Captain after all, and one of the few founding members of the Gotei 13 who still lived to this very day.

Much to her relief, the elderly man shook his head. "Do not fear – I am well aware you'd find the position chafing. Shunsui will take my place – he will be informed of his promotion this afternoon."

The tension slipped out of Retsu's shoulders as she nodded. Kyōraku was a sensible choice – despite his nonchalant attitude, his intellect was keen, and his battle prowess rivalled both herself and Kenpachi. Unlike Ukitake – one of the only other serious candidates – he was healthy and hale, and the 8th Division Captain had an intuitive grasp on both people and politics that Retsu lacked. While time and experience had taught her how to play the game, it was not a battlefield she was naturally suited for. Admittedly, Kyōraku would hate being Captain Commander almost as much as Retsu would, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be good at it.

"A sensible choice, sir." She commented.

"… For you, I have a different task. Or to be more accurate, burden." Yamamoto jerked his head to the side. "My drawer… open it."

Curiosity overwriting her wariness at his words, Retsu opened the wooden shelf and reached inside. While it was impossible to see amongst the shadows, her fingers quickly collided with something small and round. While on first touch, it had felt somewhat like an oversized marble, as her hand closed around it, she shuddered as she felt foreign Reiryoku seep into her skin. Whatever the device was, it was no children's toy.

The second the Captain brought the device into the light, she almost dropped it in shock. Out of all the things she could find in Yamamoto's drawer, Retsu hadn't anticipated it would be the Hōgyoku. Faint light swirled inside the dark sphere, and as she stared at the device, she could almost feel it staring back.

Retsu immediately snapped her eyes away from it. "It's smaller than I expected." She remarked, voice even despite how unsettled she felt.

"Are you aware of its true powers?" Yamamoto asked.

After a moment's hesitation, Unohana nodded. She'd seen the twisted form Aizen had warped into during his fight with Urahara – even if only from a distance – and the scientist had given her a brief explanation after the battle's end. If the Phantoms hadn't severed the traitor's connection with the orb before Ichimaru struck, even the silver-haired man's Bankai wouldn't have been able to defeat him for good. Aizen would have become the god he fancied himself as, if only in a purely physical sense.

"Yes." The Captain swallowed. "Do you wish for me to destroy it?"

"No – I am not cruel enough to saddle you with an unachievable task." The Captain Commander sighed, looking all of his years. "The Hōgyoku cannot be destroyed, only sealed. Placing it into a dormant host like Kurusu Rukia is unsustainable, however. The second any miscreants catch wind of the host's identity, this conflict will simply repeat itself. I can only think of one way to ensure it doesn't end in enemy hands."

"… And that is?"

He closed his eyes. "To give it a new master – one who could merge with the infernal device, yet retain their loyalty to the Gotei 13."

She froze, every hair on the nape of her neck prickling. Now that Retsu knew what Yamamoto was actually asking of her, she wished he was simply informing her that she was going to become the next Captain Commander instead. It would have been less of a curse than this.

It took an embarrassingly long amount of time for the Captain to recover her voice. "… My apologies. It pains me to say this, but I am uncertain about how wise this decision is." Shame washed over Retsu as a hint of desperation leaked into her voice. "You are well aware of the… lapses of judgement I've made in the past. My history speaks for itself."

Yamamoto shook his head, voice brokering no argument. "Your past is exactly why I am passing this burden to you. Jūshirō is too sickly to be a suitable host, and Shunsui…" The Captain Commander sighed. "The Gotei 13 is in tatters, and the Seireitei's government non-existent. It is no understatement to say the weight of an entire world will be on his shoulders. In the dead of the night, when he is too tired for rationality… do you think he will be able to resist the Hōgyoku's whispers? To deny the salvation it will pretend to offer him?"

Retsu paused. "… Captain Kyōraku is a strong man."

"Yes. But he has never had to grapple with temptation before – not like this." Yamamoto's gaze lingered on her. "You, on the other hand… you have been faced with your greatest desires, yet have denied them for the good of the Gotei 13."

"Ah." Retsu's voice was deceptively mild. "So you know about Kenpachi."

"Of course I do." The Captain Commander scoffed. "Do you think I am blind, child? I considered putting an end to your little game, but to my surprise, it seems you have finally learnt the art of temperance. That is why I am leaving this task to you – the Hōgyoku's powers hold no appeal for you, and yet you will accept them, as it is your duty."

She curled her lips into a rueful smile. "You know me too well, Captain Commander." Because as repugnant as Retsu found this particular task, it was Yamamoto's last request – there was no way she could refuse him.

"Thank you." Yamamoto jerked his head in a brusque nod. "No one is to ever know what has transpired in this room."

"Of course." This matter would stay between them, hopefully for all of eternity. Sensing that their conversation had come to an end, Retsu smiled, happy to change the topic. "Here, let me tend your wounds. I believe you will need the energy for Captain Kyōraku's visit this afternoon…"

By the time she left the 1st, it was well into the afternoon. Stepping out into the open, she progressed through the Seireitei's street. Even though the Gotei 13 was on the cusp of irreversible change, the city was the same as ever. The homes and offices that had stood for centuries remained unblemished, and a brisk yet pleasant breeze flowed through the air as Shinigami bustled through the streets, chatting with their friends. The bright sun that shone down on them all was the same as it had been yesterday, and it would be the same tomorrow. Retsu took comfort from the scene – amidst all the upheaval and change, there was still familiarity to be found, and there always would be.

She was broken out of her thoughts as a voice echoed further down the street.

"How the hell can you tell any of these places apart? They all look the damn same!"

Glancing down the road, the Captain's eyes landed on a mop of bright orange hair. Kurosaki Ichigo had thrown his hands up into the air while glaring at Kurusu Rukia. The Lieutenant met his gaze with equal ferocity, lips curled into a pout. Given that Kurusu was one of the few high-ranking members of the Gotei 13 who were still on their feet, the task of keeping an eye on the boy had fallen to her. While Urahara was confident the seal he placed on Kurosaki's inner Hollow would keep it sedated, leaving the redhead unobserved during this precarious time would be far too risky. As the youths bantered, however, they resembled a guest and their tour guide far more than a prisoner and their guard.

"Fool!" Kurusu huffed, placing her hands on her hips. "Every brick in the Seireitei has thousands of years of history behind it – far more than your feeble mind could comprehend!"

"Sure, but that doesn't change the fact that everything in this place is bloody identical!" Kurosaki protested.

"So, you agree with me that your mind is feeble?"

"What?! No, of course not!"

A slight smile ghosted her lips as Retsu passed the squabbling duo. Despite Kurosaki's heated words, there was a sparkle in his eye – it seemed he was enjoying the verbal sparring as much as Kurusu was. She'd have to tell Isshin someday that his son was settling in nicely.

…..

Despite his warm coat, Akira shivered, and as he exhaled, his breath turned into a plume of mist. Snow fell from the foreboding grey skies, flakes of white peppering the gravestone before him. In the wake of the war, winter had finally shown its fangs. The frigid air had nothing on his hometown, of course, but given it didn't tend to snow in Tokyo until December, the rapid change of weather had caught the teen off-guard. The sentimental part of him liked to believe the sky was grieving too.

A fortnight had passed since the climactic battle in Karakura - the damage to the city had been passed off as the result of a major earthquake, but the media didn't linger on the disaster for long. News of Shido Masayoshi's mysterious disappearance drowned it out, along with the devastating announcement of celebrity detective Akechi Goro's death.

His funeral had been held several days ago. The memorial was public, and Akira had genuinely contemplated using it as an opportunity to pay his last respects. When he'd arrived, however, he'd taken one glimpse at the fancy funeral home filled with stuffy old men and weeping fangirls, and had turned away in disgust. The girls had no idea who Akechi even was – he was just a product for their consumption. The men were worse, however – how many of them were buried deep in Shido's pockets? The entire service was one tacky spectacle, and the real Akechi would have hated every second of it.

It was the reason Akira had come here today – to hold the quiet, intimate funeral his rival would have wanted instead.

"Oh, who am I kidding." He laughed ruefully. "You'd just tell me I was being an idiot – it's not like you can hear my words from the Soul Society."

The frizzy-haired teen always knew that deep down inside, but Akira couldn't help but come anyway. In stark contrast to the hullabaloo surrounding his funeral, Akechi's grave was plain. The headstone was both cheap and basic, adorned by no other name than his own. Distantly, Akira wondered where Akechi's mother was buried. Perhaps her resting place was well out of Tokyo, or maybe whoever had organised the detective's funerary arrangements simply hadn't known about her existence. Grimly, Akira wouldn't be surprised if it was the latter.

Shuffling awkwardly, he placed the bouquet he'd brought for the occasion at the base of Akechi's grave. Sweet peas and gerberas – beloved memories and adventure. His rival would have puked if he saw them, which was half the reason Akira got them in the first place. The frizzy-haired teen wasn't sure how long he stood at the grave, soft flakes of snow melting in his hair, but eventually, a voice echoed across the empty yard.

"… Kurusu-kun? I didn't expect to see you here."

A flicker of surprise ran through him as he turned around. It was Sae. While she hadn't brought flowers of her own, a long black coat covered her usual suit, and her makeup was darker than usual. It was clear she'd been drawn here for much the same reasons he had – mourning.

"Couldn't stomach the funeral." He gave her a ruthful smile. "But I wanted to pay my respects."

She nodded, joining his side. The odd duo didn't bother speaking. They were both acutely aware there was no point singing sonnets or giving prayers – this, like all funerals, was a gathering for the living.

After an eon had passed, Sae finally broke the silence. "Akechi-kun's will was read out today. It's why I came here."

Akira's brow rose. He guessed it wasn't too surprising Akechi had one – the detective was well aware he was playing a dangerous game. The odd thing was that Sae apparently knew about it.

There was only one reason why she'd have been informed of it. "He left something to you?"

She reached into her handbag, pulling something out and passing it to him. Akira blinked. It was a toy ray gun. The handle was nicked and dinged, age dulling the white plastic into a greyish beige.

"Uh… that's nice?" He blinked. For a second, Akira thought it could have been a subtle dig about how he shot her once, before he remembered Shido had infested Akechi's mind barely an hour later.

Sae rolled her eyes. "The gun's not what he really left me – it was just a convenient hiding spot. There's a USB hidden inside it, containing a full confession along with all the evidence Akechi could gather on the Conspiracy."

His eyes blew wide open. "That's… that's fantastic."

While the prosecutor hadn't exactly looked happy before, she dimmed even further in the face of his exuberance. "Unfortunately, it's not quite the silver bullet it seems. Shido's allies will never go to court while the Director is still in charge of the SIU, given he's one of them." Sae forced a weak smile. "It's not all bad news though – Ohya-san's been working on an exposé on the Conspiracy for a while now, so we're thinking of collating our resources and releasing it to the public. Hopefully, that'll stop people lionising Shido at the very least."

A lightbulb went off as an idea flashed into Akira's mind. "Mind holding off on that for the moment? I've got a-"

His phone suddenly started to chime, interrupting him mid-sentence. It was not the familiar song of his ringtone, however, but the rarely-used sound of an alarm. A wave of emotions struck him as he turned it off, vividly reminded that visiting Akechi's grave hadn't been his only plan for the day.

"Is everything okay?" Sae asked, tilting her head.

"It's fine – it's just a reminder for an appointment."

For a moment, Akira hesitated, uncertainty warring within him – he hadn't told anyone about this except for Wakaba, and that was only because her advice had been necessary. The idea of sharing something so… so vulnerable with anyone made him cringe. Still, Akira knew he needed to be more open about his struggles – the prison of doubt had taught him that much at the very least. Plus, Sae would be a good warm-up – while he wanted her respect, he didn't crave it in the way he craved his friends.

Sighing, he bit the bullet. "I'm seeing a therapist. A former colleague of Wakaba's left to become one once the Cognitive Psience research ended up getting too weird for him. She thinks he might actually believe me about the spiritual world, given what he knows about the field."

For an awful, horrible second, Akira thought Sae would scoff at him, disgusted by how weak he was. He knew damn well that most people in Japan viewed therapy as something for only the truly deranged, after all. His fears were quickly assuaged, however, when Sae's eyes widened. "That's… remarkably mature of you, Kurusu-kun. It's… a lot easier to pretend you're fine than it is asking for help." She then pursed her lips. "Actually, if it goes well, would you mind giving me his details?"

A flicker of surprise ran through him. "Uh, sure. Do you think it'd be helpful for you?"

The prosecutor pulled a hell of an expression at that. "Actually… I was asking about it for Makoto's sake. She's been having a lot of nightmares since Hueco Mundo, and I've tried to help, but… emotional matters aren't exactly my forte." Sae then frowned. "… Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea, though. I'm more content with my life than I've been in a long time, but I know I've still got a long way to go."

A grin crossed his face. "That's remarkably mature of you, Sae-san. We can be therapy buddies together!"

She shook her head, but Akira could see she was smiling. "Good grief. You're incorrigible. Anyway, you better go – there won't be any of that if you miss your first appointment."

With a laugh, the frizzy-haired teen waved her farewell, and as he left the graveyard, it was with a skip in his step.

…..

Well outside the boundaries of Tokyo, Futaba frowned as her mother ordered around a flock of Shinigami. The black-garbed men marched through Shido's laboratory, carrying machinery and files alike as they walked into a Senkaimon leading back to the Seireitei. As every last trace of her mother's research was removed from this world, Futaba was unsure exactly how she felt. She'd spent the last few years of her life following her mother's footsteps, but now, Wakaba was going full scorched earth and getting rid of everything she'd strived so long to achieve.

"What's wrong, honey?" The psientist peered at her daughter. "You look like you've just bitten into a lemon."

"Sorry, sorry." Futaba sighed. "Look, I get why you're doing this – the world is absolutely not ready for mass brainwashing devices, and nor will it probably ever be. It's just… I was kinda hoping I'd be able to uphold your legacy? If I could publish your research, then… the whole world would remember you."

With a laugh, Wakaba ruffled the hacker's hair, forcing her to duck away. "Oh, Futaba. My legacy isn't my research. It's you. Besides, I'm sure you'll be able to achieve far greater things than I ever did in the field of spiritual technology."

As warm and fuzzy as the first half of her mother's sentence made her feel, Futaba dimmed at the second. "… I dunno. Hollow sensors, weapons, armour… all my creations are about hurting things, and I don't think that's the legacy I want to leave behind either."

Wakaba hummed. "Unfortunately, that's what circumstances asked from you. Still, you're so young. You've got plenty of time on your hands to make something you can truly be proud of. People have the capacity to both hurt and heal, and technology is just the same."

The hacker perked up as an idea fluttered into her mind. "Ooh, like the internet!" She snapped her fingers. "There's the blackweb, radicalising content, and influencers, but there's also worldwide access to Featherman, tutorials, and GameFAQs forums. Not that the last one is necessarily a good thing, mind you, but they are funny."

"Exactly – that's the spirit!" Wakaba beamed.

The moment of levity didn't last long, sadly. As the flock of Shinigami started to grow smaller and smaller, Futaba's shoulders slumped. "… Once this is done, you're going to the Soul Society, aren't you?"

The woman's eyes glittered in sympathy. "Yes. I'll say my farewells to you and Sojiro first, but I've lingered in the World of the Living long enough."

Taking in a deep breath, Futaba squeezed her eyes tightly shut as she grabbed onto her mother. "I-I know you've gotta, but I don't want you to go..."

Wakaba rubbed the back of her head. "I'll miss you too, darling, but remember, you're not alone. Sojiro, Akira, and the rest of your friends will be at your side."

Despite her best efforts, hot tears ended up spilling down Futaba's cheeks anyway. Rubbing her eyes, the hacker gave her mother a watery, but genuine grin. "Yeah. You're right. As long as I have my key items, I'll be fine."

"That's my girl. Enough of this sadness though – let's move on to something happier." Wakaba's eyes shone softly. "Keep this to yourself for now – it's going to be a surprise – but Sojiro's been talking to Akira's parents about his custody. If Akira wants to, it looks like he'll be able to stay in Tokyo for good."

"Wait, seriously?!" Futaba gasped, eyes wide with wonder. "Oh, he's definitely gonna say yes."

While the girl might be losing her mother again, at least she got to keep her brother. It wasn't a terrible trade-off at all.

…..

"Holy shit!" Ryuji gawped, eyes wide as he gawped at the hotel. "Just how much money did Haru shell out for this place?!"

"No kidding." Ann whistled appreciatively. "This is even more impressive than Kawakami getting us time off."

Unable to resist, Akira laughed at his friends' antics. After everything to do with the Karakura fiasco had been wrapped up, Haru, Kawakami, and Mishima approached the Phantoms in school one day. The heiress' eyes had been shining as she passed him a series of tickets.

"They're for a luxury resort in Kyoto." The brunette explained. "All of us who battled in Shibuya that day… we wanted to show you our gratitude."

Ann had looked uncomfortable at that. "If anything, we're the ones who owe you one. None of you had anything to do with Shido or the spiritual world, and yet you all risked your lives to help us."

Mishima shook his head. "Sure, fighting in the TV station was scary, but… you were the ones literally carrying the fate of the world on your shoulders."

"He's right." Kawakami nodded. "No one your age should have to carry a burden like that."

A shudder ran down the Phansite admin's shoulders. "Seriously, I don't even want to imagine what would have happened if the Phantoms had lost."

"Shido Masayoshi would have become god." Akira replied dryly, a laconic smirk crossing his face.

The teacher shuddered. "Ugh. Ushimaru would have loved that." At the series of startled snorts that escaped the teens' mouths, Kawakami's grin grew wider. "I don't have the money to give you anything fancy like Okumura-chan, but I can wrangle you a couple of days off. You deserve the rest after everything that's happened."

Shaking his head, Akira's fond reminiscence ended as he drifted back to the present day. While the Phantoms had already given a thank-you present to the Shibuya defenders, he'd need to do something extra special for Haru. The past month had been an utter roller coaster, and Akira sorely needed a few days just to relax.

Most of the Phantoms were still ogling the hotel the heiress had booked them, which was more of a castle in reality. To be truthful though, Akira had a little bit of trouble paying attention to his friends. There was still one more person they were waiting for, after all.

Almost on cue, Akira perked up as a familiar blot of Reiatsu appeared. Turning to his friends, he grinned. "Everyone – she's here."

When Kurusu Rukia rounded the corner, she was greeted with a chorus of excited yells. The Shinigami looked startled for a second, but her shock faded away as she started to beam. She was already in a Gigai, and was wearing a brown coat over a lovely white dress and tights. When he paid close attention, Akira realised it looked like something Uryū would sew. He glanced over at the Quincy, and the frizzy-haired teen's suspicions were confirmed as Uryū's cheeks grew red.

"Rukia!" Ann shouted, running to her friend's side and sweeping her up into a hug. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

As the blonde spun her around, Rukia and Akira exchanged a bemused grin. Something inside him unclenched as he met his dear friend's eyes. While they'd exchanged texts since she returned home, it was heartening to see the Shinigami in the flesh, whole and unharmed.

"Apologies." Rukia stated once Ann finally let her go. "Renji would have loved to come, but he's unfortunately too busy with his duties."

Akira approached her and gave Rukia's shoulder a pat. "It's sad that he couldn't make it, but it's enough for me just to see you."

Makoto nodded in assent. "Truthfully, I'm surprised you managed to get time off at all, even if only for a day."

Ryuji shrugged. "Tell Renji we said hi when you get back home though, yeah?"

"Of course I will!" Rukia scoffed before her eyes lit up. "Anyway, Ann told me there were hot springs here!"

Akira chuckled – he had a hunch he knew how they were going to be spending their afternoon.

…..

The frizzy-haired teen basked in the kotatsu's warmth, more contented than he had been in a long time. Akira happily admitted that Rukia was right to be excited about the hot springs – they were fantastic. The soothing waters had made him feel like a whole new man. By the time they were all finished soaking, evening had arrived, so the Phantoms had reconvened in their hotel room for dinner. Haru – as foresightful as ever – had paid for their meals to be served, and by the time the dishes stopped coming, Akira was stuffed.

The room was quiet for a moment, the atmosphere peaceful as everyone digested their meal, and a pang rang through the frizzy-haired teen. He'd needed to talk to his friends for a while now, and while he was apprehensive about having this discussion given the reaction it'd inevitably cause, deep down inside, Akira knew now was the right time.

"There's something I need to say." He cleared his throat, taking in a deep breath – he might as well rip this bandage off. "I want to disband the Phantoms. For now, anyway. I… I think I just need a break from the spiritual world in general, honestly. So much of my identity is based around Joker, and… I want to discover who I am as a person, not as a hero."

Unsurprisingly, the reactions were instantaneous. A flicker of shock crossed Uryū's face as Futaba blatantly gawped at him. Ann looked equally as surprised, the blonde's brows reaching the roof. Some of the Phantoms' reactions were significantly more subdued, however. Makoto simply tilted her head curiously, while Rukia looked at him in understanding.

"Wait, for real?!" Ryuji's jaw hung wide open. "But – but what about all the shitty adults out there? Your Bankai's pretty much a cheat code for dealin' with them!"

"I'm not saying we shouldn't intervene if we see anything awful, but I think we really need to dial things down. We're not just three kids who don't know what the hell we're doing anymore. We're powerful now, and I think that means we need to be more cautious."

Uryū nodded slowly. "… I can understand your reservations. Our abilities have all reached the point where no normal human could ever hope to touch us - we can do anything to anyone, and they would be powerless to resist. All mortal laws and boundaries have no meaning to us anymore."

"That… honestly does sound pretty freaky when you phrase it like that." Ann frowned, blowing the steam off her hot chocolate.

Akira gave the Quincy an appreciative glance. "That's exactly it. Look at Shido, and what he did to the Arrancar and all those innocent people. I know exactly what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a power like that – a power like mine – and it's not good." He stared into the distance, looking at nothing in particular. "I don't want Tasogare no Dorobō or Kokoro no Kaitou-dan to become a crutch. I don't want to become Akechi or Aizen."

"Buddy, you're nothing like either of those dudes." Ryuji blinked, eyes still wide.

The frizzy-haired teen shook his head, expression rueful. "That's not true. I don't think I ever told you just how much of myself I saw in Akechi – I'm not sure if I would have made the exact same choices in his shoes, but I know exactly why he became what he did. Plus, I've touched Aizen's heart. A long, long time ago, he wanted to help people too."

"… and we all know what he turned into in the end." Rukia murmured, expression pensive.

At that, a deep, heavy silence filled the room.

"Honestly… I'm not so sure about nixing the Phantoms yet, but there are some practical concerns with it." Futaba nibbled her lip, the first to speak after Rukia's statement. "We've delayed spirit-tech from going mainstream for a little while, but it's gonna happen eventually. One day, cameras are going to be detecting Wholes and Hollows alike. If we give the cops motive to come after us once that's happened…"

Akira winced. "… we're fucked. Hell - the Madarame footage already tipped Sae off to who half of us were. We're just lucky she had bigger fish to fry."

Finally, Ryuji's shoulders slumped, and the blond's expression grew defeated. "Fine, fine, I get it. It still sucks, though. I just… want to make sure people don't get fucked over the way we all did."

Makoto cleared her throat, the student council president speaking for the first time in a while. "Actually… I believe we can still do that." As everyone's gaze landed on her, she met the attention unflinchingly. "Truthfully, I've been thinking about this for a while. It doesn't matter how many Sugimuras or Shidos we take down – as long as our country functions the way it does, more people will just take their place."

"I see…" Rukia rubbed her chin. "You want to change the world at the societal level, not the individual one."

"Exactly." The brunette beamed. "I want to help reform the criminal justice system so it can't be abused by men like Shido."

"Ooooh, I get it!" Ann snapped her fingers. "Like… I could use my position as a model to tell girls that it's not okay to be preyed on by older men, and that attention like that isn't flattering even if people pretend it is. If we push back against attitudes like that… we could stop heaps of perverts, not just one of them."

Ryuji's eyes lit up as his brain put two-and-two together. "Huh, I think I get it. We could point out what signs of abuse look like and stuff, so bastards like Kamoshida get stopped before they really hurt people."

"… We could also try and fix things like the foster care system, so we don't get another Akechi." Futaba's voice was quiet as the hacker creased her brow. "So awful men like Uncle Youji can't take in a kid a-and treat them like they're a horrible burden."

The hotel grew quiet again, but this time, the atmosphere wasn't one of discomfort. It was one of determination. As Akira looked over each of his friends, his heart soared at the fire burning in each of their eyes. They'd change the world, and they wouldn't need to step into the realm of ghosts or gods to do it.

"… Thank you, everyone. From the bottom of my heart." Akira's expression grew misty, but his melancholy was quickly replaced by a mischievous glint. "Before we quit though, how about we go out with a bang?"

…..

The city of Shibuya was bustling – late-night shoppers, teenagers with their beaus, and salarymen looking forward to a stiff drink clogged the city streets. The windows in the stores were draped with tinsel, and fairy lights dotted the scant few trees poking out of the soil in the heart of Shibuya. Christmas was just around the corner, and it showed. None of the Phantoms were paying attention to that, however. As a matter of fact, none of them were even in the city. Instead, they silently slinked together on the outskirts of Chiyoda city, cute dresses and snazzy shoes exchanged in favour of their full Phantoms' ensemble. A rippling light passed over them as Akira cast a Kyokkō, watching his motley crew for one final time.

A pang of nostalgia ran through him. Despite everything, he was going to miss this.

It seemed he wasn't the only one reminiscing.

"Damn." Ryuji whistled. "It feels weird, doesn't it? Just earlier this year Kamoshida was the worst of our worries, and look at us now."

"Yeah." Ann smiled, expression bittersweet. "It feels like a whole lifetime has passed, hasn't it?"

On cue, the sound of sliding doors filled the air. Turning around, Akira grinned as he saw a Senkaimon open. It wouldn't be a grand finale if some of their team were missing, after all.

Rukia was in her Shinigami garb as she descended from the air, though she'd thrown a dramatic white cloak on top too. Renji was at her side, his Captain's haori matching her perfectly. Truthfully, it was absolute overkill bringing him with them too, but the redhead was pretty much an honorary Phantom by now – it wouldn't have felt right not inviting him.

"Ruminating on our past is a bit premature." Rukia warned as she joined them. "After all, we still have one more battle ahead of us."

Akira nodded, straightening up. While Sae and Ohya had considered using the court of public opinion to condemn the remnants of the Conspiracy, the frizzy-haired teen knew it was a risky gambit. There was a surefire way to make sure Shido's allies faced justice, however, and all they needed to do was change one heart.

The last target the Phantoms would ever haunt would be the SIU Director. It had taken a bit of bartering to get Tasogare no Dorobō's consent given winter hadn't yet passed, but the Zanpakuto spirit had acquiesced in the end - they were both showmen at heart, and there was no way they'd accept closing the curtain on this part of their life without one last performance. Besides, compared to Aizen or even Akira himself, the teen had a hunch he was going to be small fry.

Renji rolled his eyes before giving Rukia an affectionate nudge. "Relax – compared to Aizen, this is gonna be a breeze." He then grimaced. "Uh… this guy doesn't think he's literally god, right?"

"I sincerely doubt it." Akira snorted, shaking his head with a grin. "How are things in the Seireitei?"

The redhead immediately pulled a face. "Busy."

Rukia perked up. "Ichigo and Renji are getting along like a house on fire!"

"If by that you mean there's a lot of screaming, sure." The Captain rolled his eyes.

Their banter was interrupted when Futaba clapped her hands. "Alright, that's enough of that. I've got Featherman Victory to watch – let's get this over and done with." Grinning, she winked at Akira. "Permission to send the calling card?"

"Permission granted." Akira grinned.

Turning back to her laptop, the hacker started typing away at a truly impressive speed, before clicking a button.

"Come on, gather around." Ann instructed, ushering the others to her side. "I've opened a stream of the Crossing!"

Akira's heart skipped a beat as he watched the grainy footage, every single display in the heart of Shibuya square suddenly flicking over to an intimately familiar red screen. While Futaba had shown all of them the footage before, Akira's heart still raced as it was displayed for the whole world to see.

"Yo, what is UP, everybody!" Ryuji's heavily edited voice echoed from the blonde's phone. "It's been a long time, but we're back for one final heist – the Phantoms have returned!"

People in Shibuya square were starting to pause, murmuring to each other as they stared at the silhouette shown on screen – it was clear some of them had realised this wasn't the regularly scheduled programming. Meanwhile, the footage of the Phantoms' announcement cut away from a familiar skull-masked silhouette and moved on to a female figure.

"A powerful man attempted to ruin our reputation and use us to cover up his own crimes, but karma has finally caught up to him!" The Ann of the past roared as the Ann of the present giggled.

The camera panned again, and in contrast to the blonde's exuberance, the next figure was far more formal. "Blackmail, money-laundering, assassination, and the recent death of Akechi Goro… this man was behind them all." Makoto announced, voice as cold as steel.

"And this man is… drumroll, everybody!" The Futaba in the footage paused dramatically. Before she could announce his identity, however, the screens suddenly glitched.

"Got a little bit of interference, guys!" The hacker called out, pounding away at her keyboard. "Heh – is that all? These suckers have got another one coming if they think baby code like that is gonna keep me out!"

On cue, the displays in the stream flickered, and the Phantoms' broadcast resumed.

"Shido Masayoshi!" The teenager cried out for the world to hear. "Still, while he's down and out, he wasn't able to hurt all those people on his own."

"That's right." The camera moved onto Uryū, who was even stiffer than Makoto had been. "The late politician had allies in business and government alike who were willing to turn a blind eye to his misdeeds as long as they profited from it."

The audio was beginning to get a bit hard to hear amidst the frenzied chatter that now filled Shibuya Crossing. Everyone in the square's eyes were glued to the screens as the Phantoms' broadcast finally came to an end. Zooming out, each member of the vigilante crew who lived in the World of the Living filled the video.

"We are only interested in one of these people, however." A prickle ran down Akira's spine as his own edited voice left Ann's phone. "Once this man confesses to his misdeeds – which he will – us Phantoms will finally rest, our justice achieved."

The Akira in the video walked forward until the camera showed nothing but a shadowed mask. "Our final target is the Director of the SIU, a lynchpin in Shido's foul operation. Do not bother fleeing – we are already at your door."

With that final announcement, the video feeds in the Crossing turned back to normal, though the people filling the streets certainly did not. Akira had no time to bask in his success, however, and strode to Futaba's side.

"Is he on the move?"

"Yep." She popped the 'p'. "As expected – he's just left the building. Is everyone ready?"

"Hell yeah, I am!" Ryuji pumped his fist.

Ann nodded. "Let's do this!"

"Of course I am." Makoto mirrored her movements. "It's time for him to see what true justice is actually like."

Uryū readied his Heilig Bogen. "On my pride as a Quincy, Shido's legacy will be laid to rest."

"I'm a bit late for the party, but I'm always down for a justified fight." Renji grinned.

Finally, Rukia placed her hands on Akira's shoulders, and he met eyes with the woman who irrevocably changed his life. "If I have learnt one thing over the last year, it's that if we work together, we can achieve anything."

A chorus of cheers echoed around the Phantoms, and a wild grin spread across Akira's face.

"Alright everyone, it's showtime! Bankai: Kokoro no Kaitou-dan!"