"Director Ishida, this is already the tenth unexplained death this month... and I heard there are more cases coming in," a young nurse said in a trembling voice as she handed over the file.
Ishida Ryūken, Director of Karakura General Hospital and the last proud heir of a pure-blood Quincy line, took the file with his usual cold composure. But the way his fingers tightened around the paper betrayed his concern.
"…Sou ka. Wakatta." ("…I see. Understood.")
Yet in his mind, a storm was brewing. Again... another one. The symptoms are too similar. Could it really be the same cause? Were they all Quincy—half-bloods, perhaps?
"Director... the corpses, they've been found all over the city. And their conditions—they're exactly alike. Please, we have to find out what's happening. If it's some kind of virus, we could be facing a disaster."
"I understand," Ryūken replied, his voice like ice. "I'll perform the autopsy myself."
He placed the file down with a soft thud, then walked silently into the morgue. It wasn't the first time this month. Each corpse had left behind a strange residue—a silver-like substance that shimmered faintly in the light.
He called it simply: Gin (銀)… Silver.
But what was it? A Quincy phenomenon? A byproduct of spiritual disintegration? A symptom of exposure to something darker? Ryūken didn't know yet. But he would find out—no matter how many times he had to cut into the cold, pale flesh of the dead.
Hae... I must uncover the truth behind your death, he thought, slipping on his gloves and picking up a scalpel.
As the blade sliced through skin and muscle with surgical precision, he frowned. "…As expected. Gin is present. But this one—this one is different."
The silver inside this corpse was... overwhelming.
"…This can't be right," Ryūken murmured. "The concentration is off the charts. Much higher than the others."
He reached for the man's file again.
Name: Amamiya Miyako. Age: 24. Time of Death: June 17th, 200x. Location: Found deceased in his own apartment.
Why you? What makes you different? Why is the silver in your body so dense? The questions piled in his mind like snow.
Meanwhile, in a dim, quiet apartment across Karakura Town…
A figure lay motionless on the floor.
Eyes shut tightly. Brows knit in pain. Teeth clenched. Hands frozen in claw-like spasms.
His spirit was writhing.
Pain. Regret. Despair. Zetsubou… A flood of emotions surged through him, and then—suddenly—he gasped and bolted upright.
"Doko da…?!" ("Where… am I?!")
He looked around wildly. The room was dimly lit, old papers scattered on the desk, cups overturned. He stumbled to the mirror—but what he saw chilled him to the bone.
Nothing.
His reflection… was gone.
He waved his hands. Stepped side to side. Nothing. No shadow. No image.
Yabai... no way… am I…?
The thought struck him like lightning.
Am I dead…?
Just earlier, he had been working late, barely staying awake. He rested his head on the desk for just a moment. And now, this…
He ran to the door. Tried to open it. His fingers passed through the handle. He couldn't touch anything. Couldn't leave. Couldn't scream. He wasn't even sure this was his own home.
Amamiya Miyako… He saw the name on some scattered letters.
"…That's not me."
Suddenly, the wind outside picked up.
Zuh… zuh… zuh…
A heavy, unnatural sound echoed from beyond the window. Footsteps. Slow. Hollow.
He approached the window carefully, heart pounding in his chest— —only to recoil instantly with a gasp.
Standing just outside… was a creature.
A monster.
Pitch-black skin. Long claws. A white mask shaped like a demon's face.
And in the center of its chest…
A hole.
"…Uso daろ… A Hollow?!"
His thoughts raced. This is the world of Shinigami? His breath caught in his throat.
Yabai… this world is seriously dangerous.
Hollows, monsters born of twisted souls, devoured the spirits of the dead. And he… was one now. A soul. Vulnerable prey.
I'm not some overpowered protagonist with a hidden Zanpakutō. I can't fight. I don't even know Kidō or Shunpo. Even if I turned into a Hollow myself, I'd have to fight, consume, evolve… And even then, I'd just end up as one of those low-rank Gillians. A foot soldier. Cannon fodder.
What the man didn't realize was that the creature outside had already found him.
The Hollow's mask slowly pushed against the glass, cracking it slightly. Its mouth opened, the voice inside unnatural and broken, like rusted machinery grinding against bone.
"Mi〜tsuketa… oishii… umai… tamashii…"
("Found you… delicious… soul…")
The man's mind went blank.
No, no, no… not like this!
CRASH! The window shattered as a massive claw shot into the room, scattering broken glass across the wooden floor.
"—Tasukete!!" ("Help!!")
Instinct took over. He scrambled backward on hands and feet, crawling desperately into the corner of the room. The Hollow's long, clawed arm followed, scraping along the floor as it reached for him, inches away.
The beast's size made it unable to fully enter, but its intent was clear: devour.
This is it… I'm gonna die again… no——worse… I'll become a Hollow.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
So this is how it ends? I barely figured out I was dead…
He clenched his teeth and braced himself for impact.
But then—
ZSHUUN!
A flash of light. A sharp wind. A powerful pressure, like something slicing the air itself.
Moments passed.
Nothing touched him.
"…Huh?"
He slowly opened his eyes—and gasped.
The Hollow was frozen, its limbs pierced by glowing, pale blue arrows. Its screech distorted the air. The next moment, its body began to dissolve, spiritual particles scattering like ash in the wind.
W-What…?
Outside the broken window stood a tall man with silver-white hair, wearing a crisp white suit and narrow glasses. His posture was regal, cold, unshakable. In his hand, a Quincy bow flickered with radiant blue light.
"I didn't expect to find you still intact, even in soul form," the man said calmly.
The soul blinked in disbelief. That voice… that face…Ishida Ryūken…?
"Hontou ni… I'm saved?" ("Seriously… I'm saved?")
That means this really is Karakura Town. So this is the Bleach world. But now that I'm just a soul… how am I supposed to survive like this?
He stared at the man who stood above him like a guardian spirit.
The bow faded from Ryūken's hand as he gracefully stepped off the utility pole—walking on air, each step like ripples across water.
He's flying?! No, wait… isn't that… "…Hirenkyaku." The high-speed Quincy movement technique.
Ryūken landed inside the room, his sharp eyes scanning everything with a doctor's precision. Yet, his gaze eventually returned to the spirit.
There was no trace of Quincy reiryoku here. No spiritual pressure. And yet…
"…You must be Amamiya Miyako," he finally said. "There's no mistake. You've already died. What stands before me now… is your soul."
"...Sou ka…" ("…I see…")
"I am Ishida Ryūken," he continued. "The creature from earlier was a Hollow—corrupted spirits who devour other souls and even attack living humans."
The name Hollow echoed in Miyako's mind. Cold. Final. So it's true… I'm dead.
He let out a shaky breath.
"…But wait… Amamiya Miyako…? That's not my name." His eyes widened. Am I… in someone else's body? Or soul? Then how does he know that name?
Too many questions. He didn't know where to begin. So he stayed silent.
Ryūken, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes.
"…I have some questions for you," he said plainly.
"Hai. Ask anything you like, Ryūken-san… if I can answer it, I will," the soul replied carefully.
"What happened before your death? Do you recall any unusual events, or anything that could have caused your death?"
Miyako furrowed his brows.
Before I woke up here… there were emotions. Pain. Fear. Desperation. But they weren't mine… they belonged to whoever I've become. This soul—Miyako's soul.
"I don't know everything," he admitted. "But… before I woke up, I felt something deep inside. Pain. Regret. Like I was screaming for life. That desperate wish to keep living is still echoing in my heart, even now."
"I see…" Ryūken responded, as if analyzing every syllable.
"Other than that… everything's blank. Like the moment I died wiped everything else away."
Ryūken stood still, deep in thought.
This soul… it might hold more answers than it realizes.