The stories of an evolving future had already shifted in silence.
Whether it was the Shinigami hiding behind the scenes or the Quincy Progenitor upon his throne, the trajectory of fate remained elusive; perhaps only the supreme King upon the Throne of God could glimpse a fragment of destiny.
Let time flow back to the beginning of it all—to the starting point of every fate.
“A…
Shinigami?”
The girl looked the orange-haired youth up and down.
He was indeed wearing a Shihakushō, but the long blade on his back and the short blade at his waist were far too conspicuous.
It wasn’t that there were no examples of dual-wielding in the Soul Society, but those were high-ranking figures at the Captain level—hardly something a random youth like this could be compared to.
“Well…
I guess so?” The orange-haired fifteen-year-old high school student, Ichigo Kurosaki, scratched his head, sounding unsure himself.
“Strictly speaking, I’m a human with the powers of a Shinigami?”
“You…
who exactly are you?!”
Taking a step back, the girl in black gripped the hilt of her sword.
She lowered her center of gravity, shifting into a combat stance.
“Ah…
my name is Ichigo Kurosaki.
I’m a human.” Ichigo smiled, completely unfazed by the girl’s hostility.
“And you are?”
…
“Kuchiki…
Rukia…?”
“Yes.”
It was the middle of the night at the Kurosaki Clinic, but the house was brightly lit.
All five members of the Kurosaki family had gathered in the first-floor living room, sitting in a row.
Opposite them sat Rukia, the girl in black, clutching her head.
A large, bright red bump had formed on her forehead, and she looked as if she were about to cry from the pain.
God only knew what kind of monster this boy was.
He was clearly a human teenager, yet he could transform into a Shinigami.
That alone was bad enough, but his Shunpo was so fast that even she, a certified Shinigami who had mastered the Shikai of her Zanpakutō, couldn’t react in time.
Though they hadn’t truly fought, the moment Rukia had prepared to draw her sword, a terrifying sense of suffocation had surged through her, pinning her in place.
Then, Ichigo had circled behind her and delivered a devastating blow.
“What do you think you’re doing, Ichigo!” Masaki Kurosaki, her long orange wavy hair flowing, scolded him.
“She’s a girl!
How could you hit her so hard!”
“Exactly!”
Karin Kurosaki and Yuzu Kurosaki chimed in, protesting their mother’s disapproval of Ichigo’s “brutality.”
“Hey, hey!” Ichigo’s mouth twitched.
“If I hadn’t given her that hit, she was about to slash me with a sword!”
“She wouldn’t have been able to hurt you anyway, so what’s the big deal?” As the true head of the household, Masaki pulled Rukia into her arms, gently rubbing the prominent bump.
She spoke softly, “I’m so sorry.
My silly son is a bit crude.”
“It’s…
it’s okay…”
A pleasant scent drifted to her nose, and Rukia couldn’t help but feel immersed in it.
It wasn’t a perfume, but a rich, comforting scent unique to a mother.
“Hey!
Why does it feel like I’m the outsider here?!”
…
“Kuchiki, huh…” Finally, the man with the lowest status in the house, Isshin Kurosaki, spoke up.
“You’re the younger sister of Byakuya Kuchiki—the adopted daughter of the Kuchiki family, right?”
“Yes!” Sitting up straight and proper, Rukia replied, “Do you…
does Uncle know my brother?”
“Haha…
who in the Soul Society doesn’t know the head of the Great Noble House of Kuchiki?” Isshin smiled.
“That was huge news back then; it shook the entire Soul Society.”
“May I ask which division you served in?”
“Me?
Oh, I was just an ordinary Shinigami.”
‘As if—who would believe that!’
Setting aside his status as the father of this monster of a boy, the Gotei 13—the Shinigami organization of the Soul Society—was not known for being lenient.
Without a valid reason, even the high-and-mighty Captains were not permitted to leave the Soul Society.
Let alone living in the human world like this.
If he were truly an ordinary Shinigami, he would have been branded a fugitive and dragged back for judgment long ago.
“Now, now, don’t sweat the details.” Isshin waved his hand dismissively.
“More importantly, how did you manage to wander into our house?”
“I was guided by a Hell Butterfly.”
“A Hell Butterfly, huh…” Isshin pondered for a moment.
“What I mean is, why did you come to this specific area?”
“…Eh?”
“Ah, right…” Ichigo took over the conversation at the right moment.
“It’s like this: on one hand, we’re afraid the Shinigami will discover us.
On the other hand, the adults didn’t want me having too much contact with them.
So, centered around our house, there’s a Cognitive Shielding Barrier with a five-hundred-meter radius.”
Shielding…
Barrier…?”
“It’s a type of complex, high-level Kidō.
Its purpose is to make Shinigami or Hollows unconsciously avoid the area, while simultaneously masking any Reiatsu within.”
“Usually, I can hide my Reiatsu well enough to avoid detection, but sometimes I train at night—just like when you first entered my room,” Ichigo explained.
“I can’t control my Reiatsu perfectly while training, so we need the barrier to prevent it from leaking.”
“I see…”
“But when I stepped out of the Senkaimon, I was already in this vicinity,” Rukia said, frowning.
“No wonder it felt strange.
Was it because of the influence of your Reiatsu…?”
“Just out of the Senkaimon…?” Isshin also frowned.
“Are you a new appointee?”
“Yes.”
“…” Isshin fell silent, his gaze deepening as he looked at Rukia.
*Smack!*
“Old man!” Living up to his status as the lowest-ranked member of the family, Ichigo slapped his father across the head.
“Stop pretending!
Just say what you want to say!”
“Waaaa—honey!” Reeling from the blow, Isshin buried his face in his wife’s chest.
“Look at this child!
Ichigo is getting more and more violent!
He’s not cute at all like he was when he was little!”
(ц｀ω′ц*)!!
Veins popped on Ichigo’s forehead in the shape of a cross, and he clenched his fists.
If the matriarch weren’t there, he would have turned into a Shinigami and slashed him right then and there.
“My, my.” Masaki rubbed Isshin’s head.
“You’re something else.
If you have something to say, just say it.
Stop fooling around.”
“Fine.”
With lightning speed, Isshin’s expression shifted back to seriousness.
The others were used to it; their husband (and father) had always been this way.
“Normally, the exit points of the Senkaimon are predetermined.
The standard exit is more than three thousand meters away from our house,” Isshin said, his voice grave.
“This is completely abnormal.”
“Which means…” Ichigo narrowed his eyes, glancing out the window.
“We’ve already been targeted?”