In a corner of Junrinan, beneath the dim, lonely glow of scattered lantern light—
"What did you just say? You found the culprit?!"
Marechiyo Ōmaeda's eyes bulged wide, his expression downright frightening.
The Patrol Corps member standing before him was sweating nervously as he hurriedly repeated, in greater detail, what he had overheard during his covert investigation—an accidental conversation between Ganju Shiba and one of his men.
Ōmaeda listened in a daze, unable to believe his ears.
He'd thought they'd return empty-handed, only to get chewed out by his Captain. But now the situation had flipped—turns out that arrogant woman's younger brother knew where the culprit was, and had carelessly let it slip, only to be overheard by his subordinate.
He hadn't caught every detail, but so long as they had a rough location, wasn't finding the target child's play for the Onmitsukidō?
"Hahahaha! Truly, the luck of the rich is something else. No wonder they're rich!"
"Just wait until I drag the culprit before you—let's see if you can keep acting so high and mighty then!"
Ōmaeda cracked his knuckles, more fired up than ever, and immediately summoned all his men to rush toward the location the clue had pointed to.
It wasn't so much about worrying the culprit might get away—he was simply impatient to see the look on Kūkaku Shiba's face.
The moment he set out, Soma and the others followed in his wake.
"Man, he runs fast. If we didn't know the general location, we'd probably lose him."
Ichigo clicked his tongue.
"Speed is the specialty of the Onmitsukidō. That level is only natural. What's strange is that you're able to keep up at all."
Kūkaku eyed the four of them with genuine surprise. Even most seated officers in the Gotei 13 couldn't manage this level of Shunpo, much less current students of the Shin'ō Academy.
"At this rate, you could graduate early. Got any ideas which Division you'd join?"
Akari twirled her finger. "Haven't thought about it yet~"
Atae: [Either works.]
"I'd probably go with the 5th Division." Soma spoke casually.
"Now's not really the time for this kind of talk, is it?" Ichigo deadpanned.
"Being a Shinigami isn't exactly a cushy job. We're constantly dealing with death—nothing good ever comes of it. If you don't find some way to entertain yourself, life just gets unbearably grim."
Kūkaku's detached remark shifted the mood of the group.
The night pressed heavier on their shoulders, the moonlight struggling against shadows until it looked ready to retreat entirely into the clouds.
And at that moment, the outskirts of Junrinan felt like a place with no shelter for the living.
"…Is that so? Well, if that's the state of the Shinigami, then when I become a Captain, there'll be no question about what I need to do."
Another single sentence—yet the mood twisted once more.
Everyone but Soma instinctively turned to look at Ichigo.
Behind his bold declaration wasn't arrogance, but a face that knew exactly what kind of hardships lay ahead—and still managed to smile. A man's expression.
The night dulled his orange hair, and for an instant Kūkaku, who'd been ready to mock him for overestimating himself, found her vision wavering, as if another familiar figure overlapped with him.
"???"
Being insulted, even ridiculed, Ichigo could take. But Kūkaku staring at him like he had a ghost clinging to his back? That, he couldn't stomach. The look sent a shiver down his spine, and he quickly changed the subject.
"Soma, you're always coming up with weird ideas. Got anything this time?"
"No ideas. Just that wherever you are, there's never a shortage of fun."
Soma's voice floated back lightly. He didn't turn, eyes fixed on the path ahead, as though that alone demanded all his attention.
And maybe because he already knew exactly how Ichigo would react, he didn't bother to care.
"…You're mocking me, aren't you?"
"Loud as ever. This really isn't the time for that."
Ichigo's words were thrown back in his own face, leaving him momentarily speechless.
Before he could recover, Soma suddenly called for the group to halt.
"What's wrong?" Kūkaku asked on everyone's behalf.
"Ōmaeda and his men slowed down. Means they're close, probably preparing to strike. If we just barge in and show ourselves, we won't be of much use." Soma spoke thoughtfully.
"What are you getting at?" Kūkaku asked coolly, forcing her attention back to the matter at hand.
"I'm saying—since we're already using Ōmaeda as a scouting stone, why not make full use of him as bait too?"
The group fell silent, but his meaning was clear enough.
"…I see."
Kūkaku rubbed her chin, eyes glinting brighter by the second.
"If Ōmaeda can't beat the enemy, he'll run first thing. We just have to lie in wait on his escape route, and when the enemy chases, we can ambush them."
"But what if the enemy doesn't give chase?" Akari tilted her head, curious.
"They'll chase." Soma's answer was heavy with implication.
The cave had no name, no particular features. Places like this were countless in the Rukongai. If not for the culprit hiding inside, Ōmaeda would never have set foot in such a dank, muddy hole.
"Damn culprit, making Lord Ōmaeda go through so much trouble… Once you're behind bars, I'll teach you a lesson you won't forget…!"
He could talk big all he wanted, but Ōmaeda still carried himself with the discipline of the Onmitsukidō, leading his squad carefully and professionally into the depths of the cave.
Which was precisely why the "culprit" he found waiting offered such unexpected praise.
"I thought it was just beasts, but Shinigami? To track me down so quickly… impressive. Truly worthy of being…"
The voice trailed into a murmur.
Ōmaeda had no interest in deciphering what he said—because his expression had already frozen over.
Standing before him was a monster.
Three meters tall, vaguely humanoid, with three grotesque heads that resembled hounds sprouting sharp bovine horns, each face wearing a skull-like mask.
And as if it had decided concealment was pointless, its faint presence suddenly shifted—thick, cold, oppressive. Reiatsu poured out like mercury from a shattered dam, shaking the cave itself, as though the very space could collapse at any second.
Sweat drenched Ōmaeda and his men, their bodies trembling.
The only reason they hadn't dropped to their knees was that their Captain's occasional bursts of Reiatsu had trained them to withstand something similar.
But this wasn't their Captain.
This was a Hollow—one with Reiatsu on par with a Captain.
"…No mistake. A M-Menos Grande! An Adjuchas!"
Ōmaeda's face twitched as he cursed silently.
What the hell was the Shinigami Research and Development Institute doing?!
An Adjuchas had infiltrated right outside Seireitei without anyone noticing.
Then again, it made sense—the creature clearly had some means of hiding its Reiatsu and erasing its trail.
That explanation didn't ease his frustration.
Of all the rotten luck—earlier he'd thought fortune was smiling on him. Now it seemed luck had delivered him straight to death's door.
"You there, Hollow! State your name!"
"My name is—"
"Smash him! Gegetsuburi!"
Before the Hollow could finish its arrogant speech, Ōmaeda abruptly released his Zanpakutō, swinging the spiked iron ball on its chain like a massive flail. The blow shattered the cave ceiling, bringing down rocks and dust. He followed with a swift Bakudō #21: Sekienton, filling the cave with smoke to block the enemy's vision.
And then, without a second's hesitation, he turned and bolted—his retreat flawless, fluid, almost beautiful.
"Move it, move it, move it!"
He didn't need to shout—his men already knew this was no opponent they could face.
But just as they scrambled out of the cave, a crimson beam lanced from the depths.
Had they not immediately thrown themselves flat, one of them would've been vaporized on the spot by the Cero.
BOOM!
The missed blast slammed into the distance, erupting in a deafening explosion. Red light dyed the ground, bleaching the night sky white.
The color drained from Ōmaeda's and his men's faces even faster.
"Quick on your feet, sharp instincts… Seems you're not just nobodies among the Shinigami. Facing prey like this truly delights me."
The Adjuchas emerged from the cave, standing in midair, scrutinizing its prey with a predator's satisfaction.
Ōmaeda sensed something odd in its gaze, though he couldn't place what. He only knew one thing—if he didn't act soon, he and every one of his men would be buried here tonight.