Back home, Sombravida washed the blood from his hands and collapsed onto his bedding.
The battle itself had been clean.
But teaching while fighting—maintaining composure, controlling reiryoku output, performing beyond his current limits—that had drained him completely. His spiritual pressure had fallen sharply after the final strike. If the Hollow had endured even a little longer, Sombravida might have been forced into a far more dangerous exchange.
Even half a roasted rabbit had not restored him immediately.
Only after separating from Kira had he finally allowed himself to relax.
He slept until noon.
When Sombravida awoke, the yard was quiet. Momo and Shiro were gone—likely at Grandma's house.
He reached into his clothing and removed the Hollow mask fragment he had taken the previous night. It had shrunk considerably, less than a third remaining. Not from waste—but because he had lacked the strength to absorb it while exhausted. Consuming Hollow reiryoku in a depleted state risked destabilizing his own spiritual structure.
After confirming his internal circulation was stable, Sombravida broke off a small piece and swallowed it.
Pain followed immediately.
Hollow reiryoku was chaotic by nature—unstable, aggressive, seeking dominance. But Sombravida's compressed spiritual pressure acted like a furnace. He wrapped the foreign reishi, suppressed it, and slowly smoothed its flow.
The strain was sharp but manageable.
Within minutes, the fragment dissolved into his system.
He sat cross-legged, refining the newly acquired reiryoku, compressing it until its violent edge dulled.
Only then did he stand.
Stepping into the yard, he examined the results of the morning's work.
The boar had been thoroughly processed. The hide was stretched and tanned neatly. The meat had been separated with surprising care. Two legs remained; the others had likely gone to Grandma's house.
He allowed himself a small smile.
For two children, that had not been easy.
His gaze shifted to the unfinished well.
The outline was complete. They had worked hard.
Sombravida picked up a shovel and stepped into the pit.
He dug swiftly, reinforcing each motion with controlled reiryoku. Soil loosened rapidly. Two meters. Three. Five.
The deeper he dug, the denser the soil became.
At seven meters, the earth grew damp.
At eight, mud.
At nine, water seeped in.
Sombravida continued until the water rose past his waist. Only then did he stop.
He stabilized his footing and tested a thought that had lingered in his mind.
In Seireitei, Shinigami often stood upon condensed reishi mid-air. That principle relied on controlling spiritual particles beneath one's feet.
Sombravida directed reiryoku downward.
A faint, compressed platform formed beneath his sole.
He shifted his weight.
It held.
He ascended slowly, practicing control as he rose from the well without carving footholds into the wall.
Imperfect—but functional.
After reinforcing the bottom with bricks to stabilize sediment, Sombravida climbed out.
The well was crude.
But usable.
By the time he finished, dusk had fallen.
He washed again and headed to Shiro's house.
They were already seated.
"Sorry I'm late," Sombravida said.
"It's fine," Grandma replied warmly.
Momo pouted slightly.
"You sleep too much, big brother."
Sombravida laughed.
"I woke at noon. I just finished the well."
Both children stared.
"You dug it alone?" Shiro asked.
"Mostly. It's stable. It just needs to settle."
He then instructed them to cut bamboo the next day for filtration and piping.
Dinner was lively. The boar meat had been distributed wisely.
Sombravida allowed the children to argue over portions while Grandma watched, smiling quietly.
After the meal, Momo and Shiro cleaned up.
Sombravida remained with Grandma.
"Have you been feeling colder at night?" he asked softly.
Grandma looked at him knowingly.
"You can sense it?"
"Yes."
Shiro's spiritual pressure had begun to leak during sleep. That was natural for a prodigy whose Zanpakutō spirit was stirring.
Hyōrinmaru's nature was ice. Even in an unawakened state, its presence would lower ambient temperature.
Grandma lacked spiritual power.
Prolonged exposure would weaken her.
"I haven't told him," she said gently. "It's a good thing, isn't it? His spiritual power is growing."
Sombravida nodded.
"It is."
Grandma continued softly.
"I've lived a long time. My husband passed early. My children became Shinigami… and never returned. Shiro is all I have left."
Her voice carried no bitterness—only acceptance.
"I want him to grow strong. Strong enough to survive. Even if he becomes a Shinigami, I want him to live longer than they did."
Sombravida understood.
Spiritual pressure leakage from prodigies was known in Soul Society. In canon, Tōshirō's overwhelming reiryoku manifested even before Academy training. Without regulation, it could affect nearby souls.
"There are materials in Seireitei," Sombravida said. "Special fabrics woven with reishi-resistant properties. Nobles use them to protect servants without spiritual power from ambient reiatsu fluctuations."
Grandma's eyes widened slightly.
"There is such a thing?"
"Yes. It's rare. But not impossible to obtain."
In truth, high-density reishi-treated textiles did exist in Seireitei, especially among noble households. Protective garments were sometimes used to prevent harm from uncontrolled spiritual pressure.
"If we obtain some, we can make you proper clothing. And bedding."
Grandma was silent for a long moment.
She had endured the cold quietly because she feared limiting Shiro's growth.
But she also feared leaving him alone too soon.
"Don't tell him," she finally said.
"I won't."
Sombravida smiled gently.
"Leave this to me, Grandma. Endure just a little longer. I'll find that fabric somehow."
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