Chapter 43: The Day Has Come
Narrator POV
Date: August 1st | Time: 8:00 p.m.
Akira finished fastening the last button of his shirt. The day had arrived.
If his calculations were correct, tonight Urahara would activate his strange Minecraft-shaped portal, a spiritual anomaly that would serve as a pathway to the Soul Society. A… peculiar method, but functional for Ichigo and the others.
He, on the other hand, didn't need any of that. His own Gillian could open a direct Garganta to the Seireitei. However, though Akira wouldn't admit it out loud, he knew that using such a Hollow-specific method would raise suspicion. The shinigami would instantly recognize it was a Garganta opened by a Gillian, and that would draw far more attention than he wanted. Better to let the spotlight fall on Ichigo… for now.
He had supported Ichigo during his training, mainly helping him understand his bond with Zangetsu. But he wasn't the substitute shinigami's master. Akira had his own path to follow, his own evolution to achieve.
"There are still a couple of hours left…" he murmured, releasing a sigh, his eye glowing with a faint, ominous light. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little nervous…"
For days now, he had taken a liking to wearing black. Tonight was no exception: black shirt, dark pants, matching shoes, and of course, his signature long coat of shadowy tones, swaying softly with every movement.
Facing the mirror, he looked at his own hand. His expression shifted, hardened. A faint but dense cursed aura began emanating from his body, like a whisper of restrained power on the verge of eruption.
He was about to enter the Seireitei. Unlike Ichigo and the others, Akira knew what awaited him. He knew the captains' true strength. He knew their names, their powers, their demons.
And even so… he had no intention of backing down.
Akira opened his inventory, a gesture as natural as breathing for someone with his background. As a seasoned player of exploration and combat games—from RPGs to PvZ—he kept everything perfectly organized. Symmetry and order were part of his strategy.
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Category: Weapons
• Kasaka Dagger: its poisoned blade caused continuous bleeding, draining 1 HP per second with each cut.
• Demon Blood Dagger: specialized for exterminating demonic entities, increasing damage by 35% against that type of enemy.
• Magma Ring: a defensive item that reduced fire-type damage by 35%. He planned to equip it as soon as he stepped into the Seireitei, just in case he ended up facing someone like Yamamoto…
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Category: Potions
• MP Potions Level 1: restored 100 mana points.
• MP Potions Level 2: restored 300 points, and were more expensive.
He used them sparingly, usually when his MP bar dropped below 50%.
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Category: Equipment
• Travel Cloak: durable and enchanted with a slight evasion boost.
• Gold Pouch: contained system-currency, useful for purchasing items in the internal shop whenever he needed an extra weapon or potion.
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He didn't have an excessive arsenal. He didn't need one. His true weapons were his body—his fists, his kicks, and his cursed energy. Everything else was tactical support when he needed it.
But his greatest advantage wasn't in his inventory, nor in his stats, nor even in his ever-growing strength and infinite potential.
It was knowledge. He knew the captains. Their names, their powers, their shikai, their bankai, even how they reacted to different threats. He had information no one else could dream of having. And that… that gave him an overwhelming advantage. That is, if he knew how to use it. If he didn't, it would be useless.
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Some time later…
The room was in complete silence, illuminated only by the faint moonlight filtering through the window.
Akira remained seated on the bed, eyes closed, back straight. He had been like that for hours, meditating in absolute silence. It wasn't a simple break before a mission. It was a deep mental preparation.
He visualized possible entry routes, potential enemies, inevitable confrontations… and most importantly: what he would do when the moment arrived. He wasn't going to storm the Seireitei like a madman looking for a fight. No. He would go with a clear mind, with conviction, without hesitation. His soul was already in combat, even before crossing the first gate.
A faint whistling sound broke his calm. Akira opened his eyes just in time to raise a hand and catch a ball that had slipped through the window.
He blinked.
The ball had Urahara's face drawn on it, smiling, hands raised as if wishing him "good luck."
"Did he really want to stain my wall just to leave a message? Not on my watch…"
He already knew what it meant. It was the signal: the portal was ready.
Without bothering to activate it, he tossed the ball straight into the trash.
He stood up.
Inhale. Exhale. He let the air flow out slowly, releasing any remaining tension. His gaze sharpened. A slight smile appeared on his lips. He shut the window with a sharp thud and walked toward the exit.
"It's hunting time…"
He stepped outside. The streets of Karakura were silent, wrapped in the calm of the night. His footsteps were firm, calm, confident. Hands in pockets, back straight, as if he weren't about to infiltrate one of the most dangerous places in the spiritual universe… but simply taking a walk.
He still didn't plan to use the Heart-Burst Liberation Fist. He didn't need it. Although, if the situation demanded it, he could throw two or three punches before losing synchronization—since forcing the heart to beat explosively wasn't easy. Enough to send a message… or destroy whoever stood in his way.
The moon accompanied him on his walk.
The hunt had just begun.
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Current Location: Urahara Shop — Outside
The night advanced, and the sky was starting to fill with clouds. In front of Urahara's shop, Ichigo, Orihime, Chad, and Uryū waited for the signal to depart. The atmosphere should have been tense… but it wasn't.
"You seriously plan on going dressed like that!?" Ichigo mocked after seeing Uryū's white uniform — something that looked more like a sci-fi cosplay than combat attire.
"This is designed for maximum spiritual efficiency!" the Quincy shot back, adjusting his glasses.
And just like that, the two began arguing like middle-schoolers. Chad simply stood there, arms crossed, unmoving, with his usual expression. But Orihime wasn't listening. Her eyes were scanning the surroundings, as if expecting someone to appear at any moment.
Nearby, Yoruichi —in her cat form— yawned and glanced up with a hint of curiosity. Her tail moved lazily, but her tone still carried that sharp edge she never lost.
"What's wrong, girl? Looking for something…? Or someone?"
"Akira…" Orihime lowered her gaze, as if she didn't want to say her feelings out loud. "He said he would come."
"Tsk. He made it clear he had no obligation to do so. If he doesn't want to come, he won't. End of story."
Orihime didn't reply right away. She simply lowered her head even more, her hands tightening slightly.
It wasn't a childish whim. She trusted Akira. There was something about him… something that made her feel safe, even if they barely exchanged words. Maybe it was his direct way of speaking, or his laid-back attitude. Or maybe… because Akira was the only one who ate her food without hesitation.
She remembered the scene: rice mixed with strawberries, sardines, wasabi, and jam. Everyone looked at her in horror. Everyone except Akira.
"Is it free?"
he had said with a shrug, and without thinking twice, he ate all of it. From that day on, something changed in her. As if that simple action had opened a silent but special space inside her. And now… he wasn't there.
"He said he would come." Orihime's voice was soft and quiet, more for herself than for anyone else.
Doubt began creeping into her heart, but deep down, she still held on to a small spark of hope. Because if she had learned anything about Akira, it was this: if he said he would do something… he would. In his own way, but he would. And maybe… just maybe… he was already on his way.
"People who fight… love each other."
Akira said in a teasing tone as he casually emerged from one of the alleys next to Urahara's shop.
His words landed right in the middle of yet another argument between Ichigo and Uryū, who at that moment looked like a newlywed couple fighting over who washed the dishes. Upon hearing him, both froze on the spot, turning toward him slowly.
A simultaneous blush —a mix of irritation and embarrassment— spread across their faces. Ichigo was the first to react.
"What did you say!?"
"That. You both turned red~" Akira replied with a mischievous smile, lifting a hand in a casual greeting. "Did you guys also get that low-budget horror movie-style message? You know, with letters written in what looks like the victim's blood…"
"Yes." Ichigo growled, still annoyed —especially because his sisters would probably be terrified when they saw the wall where the message had appeared.
"It did scare me… at first I thought it really was blood," Orihime admitted with a mix of nerves and honesty.
Chad nodded silently. He had also received that strange "notice," but unlike the others, his appeared right in the middle of the street. Seeing something like that on the pavement felt more like a crime scene than an invitation.
"That hat has a… twisted sense of humor." Akira clicked his tongue, waiting for Urahara to finally show up.
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End of the chapter