Twelfth Division, Technical Development Bureau, Spiritual Wave Measurement Research Department.
"Akon, Captain Hitsugaya and the others have already departed, but we've been monitoring for days without detecting anything unusual."
"Don't be stupid," Akon adjusted his glasses and spoke calmly, though irritation flickered in his tone. "This surveillance is necessary. Captain Hitsugaya's deployment and our monitoring are both precautionary measures against Aizen's movements."
As the vice-director, Akon knew more than most. Since the betrayal of Sōsuke Aizen, their eyes had remained fixed on the Human World. They had been waiting, searching for the emergence of the Arrancar that Kisuke Urahara had warned them about. And yet, until now, nothing had surfaced.
Captain Hitsugaya and the others should have reached Karakura Town by now, Akon thought, With them there, Soul Society won't be caught off guard.
The research department had grown restless with the silence, boredom pulling at their focus, when suddenly—
"Reaction! There's a reaction!" Tsubokura Rin shouted, his voice cracking with alarm. "Coordinates: 360014000! Tokyo sector, east of Karakura Town! Capture corrections—now!"
Hiyosu's fingers raced across the instruments. His face went pale. "Akon, it's real! This spiritual pressure… its density and stability are too high. It's a genuine Arrancar—an Espada-class one!"
"As expected…" Akon muttered, his eyes narrowing. "Don't panic. Relay the coordinates immediately to Captain Hitsugaya's team. They should already be stationed in the Human World. I'll notify the Rindō unit myself!"
Issuing his orders swiftly, Akon strode out of the Technical Development Bureau, his mind already racing through possible scenarios.
...
Meanwhile, in the Human World—
Captain Tōshirō Hitsugaya and his team were already discussing their arrangements.
"What? We're supposed to find our own lodging? What are we, tourists?" Rangiku Matsumoto whined, folding her arms with a pout.
"Matsumoto!" Hitsugaya snapped, his brow twitching. "We're here on a mission, not a vacation. Just deal with whatever we can find."
Amamiya Miyako, walking calmly beside him, glanced at Rukia Kuchiki, who spoke up softly. "Miyako-kun, should we contact Ichigo first? It's been a while since we last saw him."
Miyako nodded with quiet seriousness. "Yes. Reaching Kurosaki is our first priority. There's much he needs to know."
Because Miyako had uncovered fragments of Aizen's records within the Great Spirit Arts Library before deployment, Soul Society had adjusted their plans earlier than expected. Their presence in Karakura Town came ahead of schedule.
But just as their conversation carried on, all their Soul Transmitters began to shriek with urgent alerts.
"Huh?" Matsumoto's eyes widened. "Already?!"
The team quickly checked the incoming transmission—and what they read left them shocked. A true opponent had appeared, and far sooner than they'd prepared for.
"Heh… interesting," Ikkaku Madarame cracked a grin, resting his hand on his Zanpakutō's hilt. "We just got here and already there's a fight waiting? Now that's my kind of welcome!" Without waiting, he dashed ahead in the direction of the spiritual pressure.
"Tch, that idiot," Yumichika sighed, but followed without hesitation. The rest of the group moved swiftly, streaking through the Human World sky toward the east of Karakura.
...
At that same moment, in a street torn apart by spiritual shockwaves—
Kurosaki Ichigo had already released his Bankai. His black robes fluttered in the storm of pressure, Tensa Zangetsu gleaming in his hands. His face was calm, but in his eyes burned anger.
"Bankai…? Did he just say Bankai?" Yammy gawked, scratching his thick skull.
"Yes," Ulquiorra replied flatly, observing Ichigo's stance with sharp, unreadable eyes. "I hadn't expected your pointless rampage to draw him out. But the orange hair, the black Bankai—there is no mistake. He is our target. Kurosaki Ichigo."
Yammy broke into a toothy grin. "Heh! What luck! No need to go searching—the brat came right to us!" With a roar, he threw a massive punch down at Ichigo.
But Ichigo raised one hand, catching Yammy's fist with terrifying ease.
"Chad's arm…" Ichigo muttered, his voice low and trembling with rage. He lifted his eyes, locking onto the towering brute. "You're the one who destroyed his right arm, aren't you? Then I'll do the same to you."
Yammy's eyes widened in disbelief as Kurosaki Ichigo caught his massive strike with just one hand. A chill of dread ran through the Espada's body. He immediately yanked his arm back, but Ichigo's movements were already faster than his eyes could follow.
Zangetsu flashed, and before Yammy could retreat fully, the blade cut through flesh.
"Guwaaaahhh!" Yammy roared in agony as his right arm was severed. "Bastard!"
Blood spattered across the ground as Yammy's massive frame shook with fury. He lunged at Ichigo again, his anger overwhelming his pain, but Ichigo was gone in a blur. No matter how many times Yammy swung, Ichigo's speed left only afterimages. In moments, Yammy's hulking body was already marked with several shallow cuts.
"Tch. Looks like you're struggling." Ulquiorra's calm voice drifted from the side. "Shall I take over?"
"Shut the hell up!" Yammy bellowed, snarling at Ichigo. He ripped his Zanpakutō from his waist with his remaining hand, the jagged steel gleaming.
Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed. He parted his lips to warn Yammy—but then froze.
Ichigo's expression twisted, his knees buckling. His spiritual pressure wavered wildly. The black blade lowered as if it had become too heavy to lift.
"Hm?" Yammy halted, blinking in surprise. Then a grin crept across his face. He sheathed his sword again, laughter bubbling from his throat. "Oi, what's wrong, kid? Where'd that arrogance go, huh?"
He stepped forward and kicked Ichigo hard in the chest.
"Guhh—!" Ichigo flew backward, slamming into the ground. This time, he didn't rise.
"Ichigo-kun!" Orihime screamed, rushing forward in panic.
"Don't—come… Inoue!" Ichigo managed to shout, his voice breaking.
Yammy's gaze snapped toward her. A woman running straight to the fallen Shinigami—of course she meant to heal him. His lips curled in a cruel grin. "Tch, annoying pest."
Raising his massive hand, he brought it down toward Orihime like a hammer.
'Move… damn it…!' Ichigo's mind screamed, but his limbs refused to obey. Helpless, his eyes widened as Yammy's shadow loomed over Orihime.
Suddenly—
Thwip!
A golden arrow sliced through the air, striking the back of Yammy's head.
BOOM!
It detonated with blinding light, forcing the brute to halt mid-swing.
"The hell?!" Yammy staggered, clutching the back of his skull.
At that same instant, reinforcements arrived—Hitsugaya, Rangiku, Ikkaku, Yumichika—Shinigami of Soul Society appearing in flashes of shunpō. They moved quickly, pulling Ichigo and Orihime back out of danger.
From a rooftop behind them, another figure stood tall, bow in hand. Amamiya Miyako's eyes were calm and focused, his Shikai bow glowing faintly with reishi.
He raised his free hand, spiritual energy crackling. "Hadō #63: Raikōhō."
A pillar of golden lightning erupted, crashing down toward Yammy.
The Espada gritted his teeth, his Hierro sizzling under the blast. He touched the back of his head again, wincing. The attack hadn't pierced completely, but it was far too close for comfort. His furious gaze locked onto the newcomer.
"You bastard… it was you!"
Miyako lowered his hand slightly, his bow still aimed squarely at Yammy. His expression didn't waver.
"Tch. Why the hell are there so many more people?" Yammy growled. "Ulquiorra, didn't you say there were only three strong spiritual pressures in the Human World?"
Ulquiorra's emerald eyes flicked toward him. "Fool. Look more carefully. They're Shinigami from Soul Society."
"Shinigami?" Yammy spat. "Che… I didn't think they'd move this fast."
Ulquiorra, however, was silent. His mind turned sharply. According to Aizen-sama's predictions, Soul Society should not have realized the true target so soon. The speed of this response didn't add up.
'A miscalculation? Or… a variable?' His eyes swept over the group of new arrivals.
And then—his gaze settled on Amamiya Miyako.
The young man stood calmly with bow drawn, his reiryoku swirling unnaturally steady, unlike any ordinary Quincy or Shinigami.
'…Amamiya Miyako,' Ulquiorra thought, his expression darkening. 'Could it be… him?'