(For clarity, Raizen Kō's clone residing in Soul Society will hereafter be referred to as Ito Makoto.)
Ito Makoto retrieved the wooden identification plaque issued to him at the transfer station and followed the directions etched into its surface, making his way toward the residence assigned by Seireitei.
The streets of East Rukongai's Fifty-Seventh District were narrower than he expected. Low wooden houses lined both sides of the road, their tiled roofs uneven with age. The air was thick with reishi, denser than the outer districts but still far inferior to Seireitei itself.
He had taken only a few steps when a hesitant voice sounded behind him.
"Um… excuse me."
Ito Makoto paused and turned.
Standing there was a petite, frail-looking girl wrapped in a faded floral kimono. Her frame was so thin it looked as though a strong gust of wind might carry her away.
"Are you… also heading to the assigned residence?"
Her voice grew softer with each word, her face steadily turning red until the final syllable was barely louder than a whisper.
Ito Makoto recognized her.
She had been standing near him in the registration queue earlier.
"Yes," he replied calmly.
Relief flashed across her face.
"My name is Iwasaki Eri. I -- um -- I can't really read maps very well. Would you mind if I followed you?"
Ito Makoto pinched the bridge of his nose internally.
So she's hopeless with directions.
"…That's fine," he said. "Stay close."
Her eyes lit up.
"Th-thank you!"
Assigned Residence — East Rukongai, 57th District
The walk took longer than expected.
Iwasaki Eri spoke constantly about the crowd at the transfer gate, about how overwhelming Soul Society felt, about how she couldn't remember anything clearly from her previous life.
"Makoto-san," she asked suddenly, "you don't remember anything either, right? About… before?"
"No," Ito Makoto replied smoothly. "Souls that reach Rukongai usually lose most memories from life. Only lingering attachments remain."
It was a carefully crafted half-truth.
When the clone had first manifested in human form, his consciousness had been briefly fragmented. The momentary loss of memory was real but it lasted only an instant before Raizen Kō's main body reestablished synchronization through their shared soul.
As they spoke, the wooden plaque in Ito Makoto's hand began to emit a faint glow.
They had arrived.
Rows of compact wooden houses stretched ahead. The plaque's markings led them to one with a weathered sliding door.
Ito Makoto stepped forward and knocked.
After a moment, the door slid open.
A very short elderly woman barely over a meter tall peered out at them. Her face was caked in heavy makeup reminiscent of old entertainment districts, wrinkles folding deeply when she scowled.
"More newcomers?" she snapped. "Those idiots in Seireitei keep dumping people on me. Not a single extra coin of rent, either!"
She glared then her expression froze.
Her eyes traveled up Ito Makoto's frame.
"…Oh my."
A flush crept across her aged cheeks.
"Well now," she said sweetly, "what a handsome young man. This old woman suddenly feels twenty years younger."
Iwasaki Eri stared blankly.
"C-come in! Please, come in!" the old woman chirped, sliding the door wide open.
"My name is Sanhana," she declared proudly. "Everyone here calls me Sanhana-bāba. Seireitei covers your lodging for the first three years. After that, rent's your responsibility."
She glanced at Ito Makoto again and giggled.
"…But for you, young man, we can make exceptions."
Ito Makoto felt a chill run down his spine.
Iwasaki Eri's mouth twitched.
Inside the Residence
Sanhana-bāba ushered them into a large tatami room and laid out cushions.
Iwasaki Eri knelt gracefully.
Ito Makoto hesitated for half a breath then mimicked her movements, kneeling stiffly. He accepted the cup of steaming tea placed into his hands.
He drank it in one swallow.
"…Ha."
Warmth spread through his chest.
It was the first human food he had consumed since separating from his Hollow body.
In Hueco Mundo, sustenance was violence. Hunger never faded it merely sharpened.
Tea, simple as it was, felt almost overwhelming.
Then
ROOOOAAAR
The sound tore through the district.
The ground trembled.
Before anyone could react, a massive pale claw burst through the roof, splintering wood and sending debris flying.
A Hollow.
Ito Makoto vanished.
He reappeared outside in a blur of Shunpo, carrying both Sanhana-bāba and Iwasaki Eri, placing them safely behind a collapsed wall.
"Stay here," he said calmly.
He turned back toward the wreckage.
A Gillian-class Hollow skeletal, malformed, its mask cracked dragged itself from the ruins.
Strange, Ito Makoto thought.
Hollows did not simply appear in Rukongai without cause.
Suppressing his reiatsu, he leapt onto the rooftops, deliberately drawing the creature away.
Once clear
He stepped forward.
He no longer possessed a Hollow body.No Cero.No Sonido.
But his spiritual pressure remained far above that of a normal soul.
He struck.
Not wildly but precisely.
His fist connected with the mask.
CRACK.
The Hollow reeled backward.
Ito Makoto followed, movements controlled, measured. Each strike was reinforced with focused reiatsu not brute force.
Within seconds, the Hollow's mask shattered completely.
The body dissolved into reishi.
A faint blue particle drifted downward.
Ito Makoto caught it instinctively.
"…A residual soul fragment?"
Before he could examine it further
Multiple unfamiliar spiritual pressures flared nearby.
Several more Hollows.
Ito Makoto's gaze hardened.
He followed the disturbance to the outskirts, where multiple Gillian-class Hollows were rampaging, devouring unprotected souls.
This was wrong.
There had been no Senkaimon fluctuation.
No Garganta rupture.
These Hollows had not come from Hueco Mundo.
Which left only one explanation.
"…Artificial manifestation."
One name surfaced unbidden.
Aizen Sōsuke.
Ito Makoto stopped.
If this was part of an experiment, intervention now would place him directly within Aizen's awareness.
Too early.
He withdrew.
Moments later, a squad of Shinigami arrived via Shunpo and engaged the Hollows.
They struggled.
Then
A dark-skinned Shinigami with curly hair and goggles landed atop a nearby structure, observing the battlefield with sharp eyes.
Ito Makoto disappeared into the shadows.
For now
Survival meant patience.
And patience was a skill Raizen Kō had mastered long ago.