Yammy Llargo yawned lazily, cracking his massive knuckles.
"This place stinks," he muttered. "The souls are weak… and taste even worse."
He casually opened his palm and inhaled three human souls, their bodies falling lifeless to the ground.
"Ugh," Yammy growled, licking his lips and wincing, "like chewing on rotten fish."
Ulquiorra Schiffer, ever emotionless, floated behind him. "These are low-grade humans. What did you expect?"
A Flicker of Fear
Across the street, Tatsuki Arisawa stood frozen. Her knees buckled at the sight of the towering Yammy. Her spiritual awareness—once a gift—now felt like a curse.
She could see them.
Yammy turned, licking his teeth. "Oho? A little girl who can see us?"
He raised his arm to strike.
BOOM!
A golden, hexagonal barrier flared between him and Tatsuki.
Orihime Inoue stood in front of her friend, trembling but determined.
"I won't let you hurt her!" she shouted, arms stretched.
Yammy paused. "Hey, Ulquiorra—is she the brat we're here for?"
Ulquiorra's gaze didn't waver. "No. The target is a Soul Reaper. Male. Black cloak. Orange hair."
"Fine then," Yammy sneered, turning toward Orihime and Chad, who had arrived beside her. "I'll just squash the rest."
The Hero Appears
As Yammy's colossal fist thundered down—
CLANG!
Ichigo Kurosaki, clad in Bankai form, intercepted the blow with Zangetsu, the shockwave crushing the pavement in spirals around him.
"He's here," Ulquiorra said, dispassionately.
"Finally." Yammy cracked his neck. "Now let's play."
The Battle Begins
Yammy charged, every step a mini-earthquake. Ichigo met him head-on. They clashed across rooftops and alleys. Zangetsu sparked against Yammy's fists. Ichigo's speed was blinding—but Yammy's raw strength overwhelmed him.
"You're fast, brat," Yammy laughed, grabbing Ichigo mid-attack and slamming him through two buildings. "But speed can't beat strength!"
Bloodied, Ichigo crawled to his feet. He coughed and gritted his teeth, ready to unleash another attack—
But before he could move—
CRACK!
A massive fist collided with Yammy's jaw, lifting the Espada off his feet and sending him spiraling through a nearby warehouse.
Ichigo blinked through the dust.
"…Arthur?"
His English teacher floated in midair, coat flapping in the breeze, shirt torn, but eyes calm.
Arthur smiled faintly. "You okay, Ichigo?"
"I… yeah, I think—" Ichigo started, confused. "Who… are you?"
Yammy roared, crawling out of the debris, blood pouring from his lip.
"You're gonna regret that—"
He charged at Arthur, but the man sidestepped with graceful ease and countered.
What followed wasn't a fight—it was a lesson.
Arthur blocked every strike, tanked every blow, and punished Yammy with precision that made Urahara's jaw clench miles away.
Each punch from Arthur cracked bone. Each dodge made Yammy stumble.
The Finishing Blow… Denied
Arthur's final punch was a blur—a finishing blow to Yammy's skull.
But—
CLANG!
Ulquiorra stepped in. He caught Arthur's fist with both hands.
SNAP!
His right arm broke instantly. Cracks appeared along his ribs. Blood spilled from his mouth.
But he stood, trembling.
"You fool…" Ulquiorra said to Yammy, who lay broken on the ground. "If he gets serious, you'll die instantly."
He glared at Arthur, eye narrowing.
Arthur simply lowered his fist. "You're not my target today."
Ulquiorra picked up Yammy with his left arm and opened a Garganta.
As they stepped through, he said, "We'll return. With power enough to erase you."
They vanished into the void.
Hueco Mundo — Aizen's Palace
Aizen sat on his throne, fingers steepled, eyes narrowed.
Gin watched the projection Ulquiorra conjured from his crushed eye. It replayed the entire battle.
"That man…" Aizen murmured. "I didn't think we'd see him again."
"Arthur Karlsefni," Gin said with a smirk. "He's just as fun as ever."
"Who is he?" Ulquiorra asked.
Aizen smiled faintly. "Centuries ago, he served as a captain… under the title of Kenpachi."
The Espada tensed.
"Only Espada rank 4 and above will engage him. Anyone lower will be crushed. This is an order."
Espada 6 and 5—Grimmjow and Nnoitra—scoffed.
"Sounds like a challenge," Grimmjow muttered, fists clenching.
Back in Karakura
Urahara and Yoruichi landed at the ruined block—too late.
Orihime was healing Ichigo. Chad stood silently.
Arthur adjusted his torn shirt. "You're late."
"My, my," Urahara said, tipping his hat. "We missed the fireworks."
"You should be thanking me," Arthur said, stretching. "The kid would've died if I hadn't shown."
Yoruichi whistled. "You're stronger than you look."
Arthur smirked. "He was all talk. The pale one was the real deal. Took my punch and still stood up."
Ichigo looked up at Arthur, mind racing.
"What… are you?"
Arthur simply said:
"Someone who's not done fighting yet."
The warm rays of morning sun filtered into Karakura High, but inside the classroom, the atmosphere was buzzing with confusion and whispers. Ichigo walked in, a bandage wrapped around his forehead, his face a mix of fatigue and wariness. Orihime followed shortly, one arm in a sling. Chad and Uryu were already seated, equally worn from the previous night's confrontation. The battle had left its mark—physically and mentally.
Their homeroom teacher stood at the front, a wide smile on his face.
"Class, I have several announcements today," he said, pausing for dramatic effect. "We have new transfer students joining us today, and a new kendo instructor. Please give them a warm welcome!"
The classroom door slid open.
Ichigo's eyes widened.
In walked familiar figures—too familiar.
Ikkaku walked in first, bald, confident, and already grinning like he was ready to fight someone. Behind him, Yumichika followed, fanning himself with elegance and making an exaggerated show of looking down on the room. Rangiku stepped in with a lazy wave and sleepy eyes, drawing the attention of every boy in class. Then came Renji, arms crossed, red hair tied back, scanning the room like a bodyguard. Rukia followed, her eyes immediately locking with Ichigo's.
The room erupted in confused murmurs. Ichigo's jaw nearly dropped.
"Yo, Ichigo," Renji smirked. "Miss us?"
Before Ichigo could reply, the teacher gestured toward the door again.
"And now, your new Kendo instructor. Please welcome… Mohit-sensei."
The air seemed to thicken as a tall man entered the room. His black hair hung loose, a long white coat trailing behind him. What caught Ichigo's attention wasn't the commanding aura—but the man's eyes.
White. Empty. Yet focused.
Ichigo's mind flashed back to Soul Society—he remembered Mohit. He had been blind. He wore a black blindfold. So how could this man…?
Mohit bowed slightly. "Greetings. I am Mohit. I will be your kendo instructor and… guidance counselor. Please take care of me."
The classroom was silent.
Until Ikkaku whispered loudly, "Guidance counselor? Heh… that's rich."
Scene: School Gym – Kendo Class
Later that day, in the school gym, all students stood in rows, wooden swords in hand. Mohit stood in front, his posture relaxed, but his presence heavy like thunderclouds.
"Combat begins with basics. Today, you will learn how to swing a blade without relying on instinct. You will learn discipline," he said firmly.
"Kurosaki Ichigo," Mohit called out. "Step forward."
Ichigo hesitated.
"You're hesitating," Mohit said. "Your mind is clouded with questions. That's natural. Attack me."
Ichigo, still stunned, muttered, "I… you were blind before. How—"
Mohit raised an eyebrow. "You're still hesitating. Attack me. Now."
Ichigo gritted his teeth and charged, swinging the wooden sword with solid form.
But Mohit twisted sideways fluidly, barely moving, and tapped Ichigo sharply—on the butt.
The class burst into laughter. Even Renji smirked, and Rangiku chuckled, hiding her mouth behind her hand.
"Lesson one," Mohit said calmly. "Never assume your opponent is the same as before."
Ichigo grunted, standing up again, a slight flush of embarrassment on his face.
After that, Mohit spent the next hour demonstrating core techniques with elegance and terrifying precision—his movements were impossibly efficient, his senses honed to perfection. Even Yumichika watched with grudging admiration.
Scene: After School – Ichigo's Room
The sun was setting. Ichigo had just reached home when there was a knock at the door. Before he could respond, the door slid open—and in marched Ikkaku, Yumichika, Rangiku, Renji, and Rukia.
"Yo," Ikkaku said, plopping down on the floor like it was his own house. "We brought snacks."
"Snacks?" Ichigo muttered. "What the hell are you all doing here?"
"Mission, dumbass," Renji said, waving a wrapped rice ball. "And you're the target."
Ichigo blinked.
That's when Mohit entered—through the window, landing without a sound.
"…You couldn't use the door?" Ichigo deadpanned.
"I'm used to rooftops," Mohit said, straightening up. "Listen carefully."
Everyone quieted.
"There were two hollows you fought yesterday," Mohit said. "But they weren't just hollows. They were Arrancar—evolved hollows with shinigami powers. In the past, such beings were rare. But after Aizen's defection, our sensors have detected a rapid rise in their numbers."
"You're saying Aizen is behind all this?" Ichigo asked.
Mohit nodded slowly. "I don't believe in coincidences. The Hōgyoku that was extracted from Rukia was designed to blur the line between hollow and soul reaper. He's using it—perfecting it."
Rukia frowned. "Then he's building an army…"
"Exactly," Mohit said. "We've been deployed here not just to monitor you… but to assist you. You're the key, Ichigo. He's interested in you for a reason."
"Me?"
Mohit nodded. "Your hollow. It's more than just a burden. It's a power Aizen is watching closely."
Ichigo clenched his fists. "So what now?"
Mohit looked out the window at the darkening sky.
"Now," he said, "we prepare for war."