Meanwhile, at the Urahara Shop in Karakura Town.
The faded noren curtains hanging in front of the shop flapped wildly against the signboard in the wind and rain, making a loud clattering sound.
The shelves inside were piled high with boxes of cheap sweets bearing expired labels, colorful bottles of ramune, and magazines of questionable content, all casting mottled shadows under the dim lighting.
However, this seemingly dilapidated and somewhat shabby little shop held a hidden world inside.
Venturing deeper led to a vast underground training ground, where the glow of a television illuminated a living area.
A boring late-night soap opera played on the TV, its fluorescent light reflecting on the faces of two people.
"Hey, Kisuke! How many times do I have to tell you? At a time like this, we should be watching the late-night rerun of *Tales of the Unusual*. Turn off that tasteless romance drama right now!"
A dark-skinned, athletic woman stood with her hands on her hips, her tone brimming with impatience.
Her long purple hair cascaded down casually, and her golden, slit-like pupils exuded a commanding presence unique to those in power.
She was none other than the former Captain of the Second Division and Commander-in-Chief of the Onmitsukido—Yoruichi Shihoin.
"My, my, Yoruichi-san, you just don't get it."
The middle-aged man, wearing a green kimono and his signature green-and-white striped bucket hat, clutched the remote control tightly. He wore the kind of frivolous smile that made people want to punch him in the face as he spoke.
"On a rainy day like this, watching a sappy, pure romance soap opera is the ultimate enjoyment in life."
This man was the "traitor" of the Soul Society, the former Captain of the Twelfth Division and President of the Department of Research and Development—Kisuke Urahara.
"Cut the crap! Hand over the remote!"
Yoruichi lunged forward, and the two engaged in a completely undignified scuffle over the remote on the tatami mats.
If the Soul Reapers of the Soul Society were to see this, their jaws would drop—two fugitives who had once shaken the very foundations of their world were now wrestling ungracefully over a TV channel.
However, the moment Yoruichi's hand was about to touch the remote, her movements suddenly froze.
Kisuke Urahara also stopped moving in that exact same second.
His eyes, previously hidden in the shadow of his hat's brim, instantly became as sharp as blades, all traces of his former frivolity vanishing completely.
In the air, a violent and freezing Spiritual Pressure was surging over from the direction of Naruki City.
"A Hollow?" the two spoke in unison.
It was no ordinary Menos. The texture of that Spiritual Pressure was incredibly bizarre, like some chaotic amalgamation that had been forcibly mashed together.
"For a Hollow of this strength to swagger around here is truly intriguing," Yoruichi said as she stood up. Her expression turned serious, the previous playfulness vanishing without a trace. "Furthermore, I can feel it... That's Isshin from the Shiba clan, isn't it? Why would that guy be in the World of the Living?"
"Ah, the kid from the Shiba clan. He definitely wouldn't sit still," Kisuke Urahara said, resting his chin in his hand with a profound gaze. "He probably sneaked out behind the Head Captain's back."
"But since a Captain of the Gotei 13 is present, even if he can't deal with that Hollow immediately, he is more than capable of protecting himself... It's best if fugitives like us don't join the party. If we get recognized, explaining things would be a real hassle."
"You're as cautious as ever," Yoruichi said, sitting back down. However, she didn't reach for the remote, instead quietly sensing the movements in the distance.
"Hmm... Isshin seems to be injured? Is this... the presence of a Quincy? The World of the Living is ridiculously lively these days."
"A Quincy? Truly a rare specimen in this day and age." Kisuke Urahara pulled a stack of Reishi detection talismans from his robes, watching them tremble slightly in the air. "The situation should still be within a controllable range. Even though Mr. Captain is restricted, with that Quincy there..."
Kisuke Urahara's words suddenly caught in his throat.
Above Karakura Town, the originally chaotic field of Spiritual Pressure suddenly experienced a deathly silent collapse.
An indescribable aura, carrying ultimate malice, swept across the entirety of Karakura Town along with the fierce wind and rain.
It was a nothingness like a black hole, a despair that seemed intent on denying all existence and dragging the entire world into an endless quagmire.
Crack!
A teacup on Kisuke Urahara's desk shattered without being touched.
Yoruichi abruptly stood up, her golden pupils shrinking sharply as every hair on her body stood on end.
"Kisuke! What is that?! What is this sickening chill?!"
Kisuke Urahara did not answer. For the first time, genuine astonishment appeared on his face, which usually wore a mask-like smile.
He quickly pulled open a hidden compartment beneath the tatami mats and pulled out two specially made black cloaks.
These were the same type of cloaks worn by Aizen. They could completely conceal the presence of Spiritual Pressure, and with just a slight infusion of Kido, they could blend the wearer's silhouette into the scenery, making them nearly impossible to detect.
To be precise, they were a precious legacy he, the President of the Department of Research and Development, had left behind for that bastard Aizen.
He tossed one of the cloaks to Yoruichi, his eyes turning resolute. "We can't just sit back and watch anymore, Yoruichi."
"This presence... if I had to describe it, it's as if the world itself is vomiting."
"If that power completely loses control, Karakura Town will likely become a 'non-existent place' tonight."
The two exchanged a nod. Their Spiritual Pressure was instantly concealed by the cloaks as they transformed into two nearly invisible black shadows, vanishing into the violent curtain of rain.
Meanwhile, within Asuka's inner world.
The white shadow still gripped Asuka's neck. Its face appeared twisted and frantic in the pure white light, even though it lacked facial features.
Its voice sounded like countless people wailing simultaneously. [Isn't this the fake? It's been hard on you, breaking through the blockade to get out!]
"Asuka! Don't listen to its deception!"
A snow-white figure pierced through the forest of swords on the mirrored plains. Its silver eyes were filled with anxiety and anger as its four paws struck the mirrored surface, kicking up sparks of Reishi.
It leapt into the air, its sharp fangs carrying a soul-tearing cold gleam as it bit straight toward the side of the white shadow's neck!
[Annoying beast!]
A flash of disgust crossed the white shadow's eyes.
It didn't even release its grip on Asuka, merely swinging its left hand fiercely.
A surge of black Spiritual Pressure slammed into the white wolf's abdomen like a heavy hammer, swatting it heavily away.
The white wolf rolled across the ground several times, shattering over a dozen rusted, broken swords before barely managing to halt its momentum.
[You are nothing but a Zanpakuto spirit that barely managed to manifest because this mongrel brat casually gave you a name, yet you actually try to fight me for control of this world?] It looked at the struggling white wolf and sneered, [I am the only truth! You are nothing but a 'guardian deity' he forcibly imagined!]
"I... am not... a fake!"
"I am who I am!"
The white wolf lowered its body again, a thunderous low growl rumbling in its throat.
Waves of divine radiance began to emanate from its body, attempting to resist the black malice constantly encroaching from its surroundings.
The white shadow's face darkened. With a sudden burst of strength, it viciously slammed Asuka into the ground.
Bang!
A massive fissure was smashed into the boundless mirrored plains. Asuka's body was cut by countless shattered mirror shards, and he rolled miserably for several meters before coming to a stop.
[Today, I must clear all of you eyesores out of here!]
The white figure raised its hand, and a pitch-black longsword condensed in the empty air.
The blade was covered in hexagonal patterns. Just a single glance was enough to feel the brimming malice within it, like an insatiable abyss intent on devouring everything in the world.
Asuka struggled to his feet from the bottom of the crater. His left eye had already turned pitch-black, and that ultimate malice was continuously surging up through his veins.
[Mongrel, your blade is broken, and your soul is shattered.]
[Here, aside from these trash memories, you have nothing.]
The white figure looked at Asuka, its face filled with an arc of pity and cruelty.
"You don't have... a sword?"
Asuka looked at the ruins beneath his feet.
Swords were planted everywhere here.
Although those swords were broken, rusted, and some were even reduced to mere halves, every single one of them was entwined with the aura he had left behind during that long journey.
He saw a tsuba with a flame pattern, a longsword as flexible as a whip, and a completely pitch-black sword that resembled charcoal.
Asuka suddenly reached out and grabbed a longsword by his feet, its blade covered in red rust and riddled with cracks.
It was old man Arisaki's sword.
"Then... I'll just borrow this."