Modern Day, Karakura Town, Tokyo—
"I'm dead?"
The words were a disbelieving whisper on the wind. Ichigo Kurosaki could only stare as paramedics loaded his own mangled body into an ambulance. Below the overpass, a gruesome, messy stain was already drying on the concrete, the only testament to his violent end. A tremor ran through his soul, his mind refusing to catch up with the impossible reality before him.
In the growing crowd of onlookers, not a single person gave him a second glance. To them, he was nothing. He was now a soul—a Plus, as the departed were called—and utterly invisible to ordinary human eyes.
The only ones who could see him were other souls.
"Yeah. Died pretty horribly, too," a voice commented from the curb, its tone clinically detached. "Hit by a dump truck, thrown a few dozen meters, and then run over. Flattened him like a rug."
The speaker was a young man, no older than seventeen or eighteen, with a well-proportioned figure and an unnerving air of calm. Had he been wearing a pair of black-framed glasses, he could have passed for the harmless class nerd. His eyes, however, were exceptionally bright, sparkling with an intelligence that seemed to go beyond mere book smarts. It was the gaze of someone who simply knew things. The morbidly casual way he described Ichigo's death only sharpened the unsettling edge to his presence.
"Damn it, where the hell did that truck even come from?!" Ichigo snarled, the shock finally giving way to his usual temper. "And stop describing how I died, or I swear I'm going to be sick!"
He was a high school freshman with surprisingly good grades, but no amount of studying could have prepared him for being run down in front of a convenience store. It had been so sudden, so silent. The truck had seemed to materialize out of thin air, crashing into them without a sound.
And there had been no one in the driver's seat. It was nothing short of a supernatural event.
"If you'd rather not discuss the particulars of our demise, we can change the subject." The young man stood, brushing nonexistent dust from his clothes. "My name is Sigong Zun. I was about to enroll in university. Since we seem to be sharing the same unfortunate circumstances, I look forward to getting along."
"Kurosaki Ichigo. High school student…" Ichigo's voice trailed off. "You said 'our' circumstances… you mean…?"
"Ah, yes. You weren't the only one it killed," Sigong Zun admitted with a startling frankness.
These days, getting sent to another world has become so cliché, Sigong thought to himself. Used to be lightning strikes, now it's all about trucks. This is the second time for me. The first time, he'd been celebrating a birthday, eating hot pot, when some unseen god decided to send him the "gift" of a new life in Tokyo—a world that was an uncanny mix of mundane reality and anime tropes. He'd been reborn as the son of a wealthy chaebol, a life he'd navigated with the ease of a seasoned reincarnator. But then, a sudden whim to visit Chiba during summer vacation had apparently offended that same god, who dispatched another truck to forcibly alter his itinerary. An itinerary that had, unfortunately, included Ichigo Kurosaki.
"Then again," Sigong said aloud, his attention shifting. He looked down at the heavy, ornate lock embedded in his chest, from which a half-broken chain dangled. He flicked it with his finger, producing a faint, metallic chime. "If it weren't for this thing, I might have thought I was still alive. This feels completely different from the last time I died." The lock felt so alien that he had to resist the urge to simply pry it out.
"You say the weirdest things," Ichigo grumbled, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "Aren't you supposed to be sad right now?"
"What's the point? We're both fine, more or less. We've just lost our bodies, that's all. Besides," Sigong waved a hand dismissively, a knowing glint in his eye, "this isn't necessarily a bad thing. Getting hit by a truck is practically a prerequisite for a protagonist. Next, a goddess will probably show up to guide us to another world."
As if on cue, the air ten meters away shimmered and tore open, revealing a traditional Japanese lattice door—a Senkaimon—hanging silently above the sidewalk. It slid open, and a petite figure stepped out, heralded by the gentle flutter of a pale blue butterfly.
She was a young girl in a black kimono, her dark hair tied up in a peculiar style. Though her large eyes and delicate features were cute, the long sword at her waist and her solemn aura gave her an undeniable air of authority.
Ichigo froze. "?"
Sigong simply smirked. …
How could the crowd not see someone so conspicuous? But of course, they couldn't. Just as they couldn't see the two souls she was now focused on.
If Ichigo and Sigong were drawn in by her sudden, bizarre appearance, Rukia Kuchiki was stunned by the sheer atmosphere the two boys projected. In the living world, where spiritual energy was thin, any significant fluctuation of Reiatsu should have stood out like a beacon. Yet, standing before these two, she had the momentary illusion that she had never even left the Soul Society.
Their spiritual pressure is leaking out unconsciously, she realized, her expression growing serious. It's so dense it's merging with the spiritual particles in the air, changing the very nature of this place…
In such an environment, even a Hollow might fail to notice them.
Rukia landed softly on the pavement, her hand resting on the hilt of her Zanpakutō as she approached them. She moved with the cold, decisive purpose of a law enforcement officer on duty.
"Hey! Who are you?" Ichigo demanded, taking a nervous step back.
Beside him, Sigong Zun's expression clearly said, See? What did I tell you? Goddess.
"Don't be alarmed," Rukia said, her tone practiced and formal. "I am the Shinigami stationed in Karakura Town. I am responsible for guiding the souls of the deceased to the Soul Society, the spirit world." She scanned them both, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. "That said, I never expected to encounter two souls with such immense spiritual power on my first day. You should be grateful I arrived when I did. Any later, and you would have attracted powerful evil spirits, forcing you to face a fate far more terrifying than death."
"Shinigami? Soul Society?" Ichigo was utterly bewildered. Meeting two bizarre individuals in a row had short-circuited his ability to think.
"Does the Soul Reaper business have regional jurisdictions?" Sigong Zun interjected, his question instantly cutting through the tension. "What about foreigners with different beliefs? Wouldn't they be put off by a kimono and a katana instead of the traditional cape and scythe?"
Rukia blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Of course not," she said, puffing out her chest with a confidence that seemed at odds with her aristocratic bearing. Her tone shifted, becoming as smooth and practiced as a street-smart veteran. "Because I would use force to make them leave without giving them a chance to complain."
"Wait, by 'leave' you don't mean to Hell, do you?!" Ichigo protested, his face etched with alarm. "We don't even know if you're telling the truth! And a Soul Reaper who looks like an elementary school student? That's not very reassuring!"
"Shut up!" Rukia snapped. "I'm at least ten times your age. A human brat like you has no right to question me. However, since you possess the necessary spiritual aptitude, you may one day become colleagues. I will introduce myself." She stood taller, a hint of pride in her voice. "My name is Rukia Kuchiki. In the Soul Society, you will come to understand the greatness of that name."
"Hey, I haven't even said goodbye to my family yet—!"
Before Ichigo could finish, Rukia stepped forward, a strained smile on her face. With a swift shing, she drew her sword, not by the blade, but by the hilt. She swung the pommel and struck Ichigo squarely on the forehead. He fell backward, his form dissolving into a pillar of white light that erupted from the ground.
Next, she turned to Sigong Zun.
He offered no resistance, merely standing with the calm acceptance of a passenger letting a flight attendant buckle his seatbelt, ready for takeoff.
With both souls dispatched, Rukia let out a sigh of relief. She leaped onto the overpass, surveying the modern landscape of Karakura Town. Though there might be whispers that her position was unearned, she was determined to prove everyone wrong with an impeccable performance.
Come to think of it, I forgot to ask their names, she mused. But… it doesn't matter. If they graduate from the Academy and join the Gotei 13, our paths will cross again. By then, I should be a vice-captain, or at least a seated officer.
A smirk touched her lips. That'll be the perfect time to show that orange-haired brat the dignity of a senior. Humph… calling me an elementary school student!
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