In a quiet corner of Karakura Town in the Human World, Ito Makoto stood before a small wooden house hidden away from the main streets. Above the entrance hung a simple signboard bearing four words: Urahara Shop.
"Finally found it."
After assisting his main body in completing its arrangements within Hueco Mundo, Ito Makoto had returned to the Human World to continue his Garrison mission. Remaining in a soul body was inconvenient in a place dense with ordinary humans, so he had come seeking a Gigai an artificial body suitable for long-term activity.
The moment he stepped across the invisible boundary surrounding the shop, a shadow flickered past him.
He turned sharply.
A black cat now stood behind him, tail swaying lazily, yet its position unmistakably blocked his retreat.
"Whoosh!"
At the same instant, a tall, broad-shouldered man with long hair and dark sunglasses appeared at his flank as if he had stepped out of thin air.
Then the wooden door creaked open.
A young man with short, light-yellow hair emerged, dressed in a dark-green short coat over light-green garments, wooden sandals clacking softly against the ground. A white-and-green striped fisherman's hat tilted over his eyes, and a cane rested casually in his hand.
Kisuke Urahara.
The moment his gaze landed on the Shinigami uniform Ito Makoto wore, the lazy smile faded. His eyes sharpened. The cane lowered slightly, its tip angled forward.
"This… Shinigami-san," Urahara said mildly, though the air grew heavy, "for what purpose do you visit my humble shop?"
Ito Makoto swallowed.
Three former captains in exile cornering a Vice-Captain–level rookie the moment he crossed the threshold. Were they treating him like Aizen himself?
"Shopkeeper Urahara. Former Kidō Commander Tsukabishi Tessai. And Ms. Yoruichi," Ito said evenly, forcing a polite smile. "There's no need to be so tense. I'm simply an enthusiastic Shinigami who happens to detest Aizen Sōsuke's crimes."
The name alone tightened the atmosphere.
"I came to share important intelligence."
The black cat leapt in a blur, landing lightly on his right shoulder.
"Kid," Yoruichi's voice carried a low edge, "what intelligence about Aizen? Speak. Now."
Ito Makoto glanced at the three of them and gave a helpless shrug.
"Wouldn't it be more polite to invite your guest inside first?"
…
Moments later, he sat at a low table inside the shop, a cup of steaming tea in his hands. He took a careful sip while discreetly observing his surroundings.
From the outside, the Urahara Shop appeared modest almost shabby. Within, however, its structure and spiritual density told another story entirely. The space extended far beyond what the exterior suggested. Subtle barriers, layered constructs, concealed mechanisms every corner whispered of a technical genius at work.
Kisuke Urahara truly deserved his reputation.
"Kid," Yoruichi said, now perched on the table, golden eyes fixed on him, "if you have something to say, say it. My patience isn't endless."
The tea warmed his body, and even his spiritual particles seemed to circulate more smoothly.
"As expected of Urahara Shop," he mused aloud. "Even the tea is infused with stabilizing properties."
He set the cup down.
"Before we proceed, Mr. Urahara, I would like to commission an artificial body."
Tessai's expression darkened slightly. Yoruichi's tail flicked once in irritation. Only Urahara maintained his faint smile.
"Kid," Yoruichi said sharply, "are you Aizen's envoy? Sent to mock us?"
Ito Makoto raised a hand calmly.
"Ms. Yoruichi, haste makes waste. The intelligence concerns Kyōka Suigetsu."
Silence.
"Aizen's Zanpakutō is not a water-type blade, as publicly declared. It is an illusion-type. Its ability is complete hypnosis. He used that ability to manipulate perception and frame you, leading to your sentencing by Central 46."
He looked directly at Urahara and Tessai.
"I assume you two have experienced that ability firsthand."
Yoruichi snorted softly. "Is that all? We already suspected as much."
Indeed, given their history and insight into Soul Society's internal politics, they had long deduced the illusion-type nature of Aizen's Zanpakutō.
Ito Makoto poured himself another cup of tea, unhurried.
"Once under Kyōka Suigetsu's complete hypnosis, a target remains under its influence indefinitely. There is only one method of exemption touching the blade before complete hypnosis is activated."
The words struck harder than before.
Urahara's fan paused mid-motion. Tessai's expression stiffened. Even Yoruichi's tail went still.
After a brief silence, Yoruichi spoke, though her tone had noticeably softened.
"That's a convenient claim. Entirely unverifiable. You could just as easily be feeding us misinformation."
Ito Makoto spread his hands.
"I cannot prove it. Believe it or not that is your choice."
Urahara's smile gradually returned.
"I understand. Thank you for the information, Mr. Ito. As for your Gigai request, please come with me. I'll need measurements height, proportions and a sample of your spiritual particles."
Thus, Ito Makoto followed him into a spacious back room. Urahara produced a measuring tool and carefully recorded his physical parameters, then retrieved an oval containment vessel to collect a portion of his spiritual particles for synchronization.
When the process concluded, Urahara closed his notebook with a soft snap.
"You may return tomorrow to collect your artificial body."
With his objective accomplished, Ito Makoto took his leave.
At the entrance, Tessai watched his departing figure.
"Is he trustworthy?"
Urahara adjusted his hat thoughtfully.
"I can't speak for everything he said," he replied lightly. "But if he were Aizen's agent, we would already be surrounded by Soul Society forces."
…
Yuhua Town. Night.
Ito Makoto sat upon the eaves of Yuhua Orphanage, gazing at the scattered stars above and the glittering city lights below. Each time he observed the Human World at night, an inexplicable sense of familiarity stirred within him a faint echo of a previous life.
Inside, the children slept peacefully.
Among them lay Ginjo Kūgo.
Since Ito Makoto had sealed Ginjo's spiritual pressure with Kidō, Hollows had ceased targeting him. However, the seal could last only half a year at most. Once it weakened, his reiatsu would leak again, drawing predators.
Ginjo, like Kurosaki Ichigo, possessed the qualifications of a Soul King candidate. His potential was extraordinary. Properly nurtured, he might one day become a decisive trump card.
Reapplying Kidō every six months was impractical. Thus, Ito Makoto resolved to use the remaining two months to teach Ginjo basic self-preservation methods.
The next day, at Urahara Shop
"Well then, Mr. Ito," Urahara said cheerfully behind his folding fan, "how does it feel?"
Ito Makoto stood inside the completed Gigai.
He flexed his fingers, lifted an arm, and took several tentative steps. The synchronization was precise, yet his movements remained stiff like a puppeteer still learning the weight of new strings.
Two steps later
Bang!
He stumbled and fell flat onto the floor, clearly unaccustomed to coordinating physical limbs after prolonged existence in spirit form.