"The person who apologized? Big sister, who are you talking about?"
Shiba Ganju blinked in confusion.
"Boom!"
Before he could react, Shiba Kūkaku's fist slammed down, sending him sprawling into the dirt. She planted a foot squarely on his back, scowling. "It's none of your business. I told you to buy shōchū—where is it?"
"Sis, it hurts! The wound isn't healed yet!" Ganju winced, trying to play the sympathy card with a weak grin.
"Ha! I knew it," Kūkaku said with a devilish smile. "You didn't do anything useful in the second half of the Seireitei battle, did you?"
"Who said that?!" Ganju protested frantically, still pinned under her heel.
"I should make you regret coming back alive," Kūkaku growled, pressing harder. "Die! Just die right here!"
Her stomps drew a strangled scream from Ganju.
At that moment, a flash of light split the air. Shiraha appeared at the edge of the clearing, flanked by Ukitake Jūshirō, Kurosaki Ichigo, Rukia, Inoue Orihime, and the others. Having obtained the Shiba family's location, Shiraha had used his spell Cang to cross the distance in an instant.
"Mr. Shiraha, that's incredible!" Orihime exclaimed as her eyes widened at their surroundings. They had been standing in Seireitei mere seconds ago—and now they were here, deep in West Rukongai.
"Mr. Shiraha, is that teleportation a special Shinigami technique?" Ichigo asked curiously. He had only recently become a Shinigami and assumed all captains could perform such feats.
"No," Shiraha replied with a faint smile. "It's simply my Zanpakutō's ability."
Ichigo's shoulders slumped slightly. "So that's how it is…" He had secretly hoped to learn it himself.
"Even so," Ukitake said, astonished, "to travel from Seireitei to West Rukongai in seconds—and bring so many people with you—that's remarkable. Your Zanpakutō's power is truly something."
Shiraha smiled politely. Cang could teleport up to two hundred thousand meters—two hundred kilometers—in an instant. The journey here had taken only a few short leaps. If he had known the exact coordinates from the start, he could have done it in less than a second.
Through his Observation Haki, Shiraha observed the woman before them and thought privately, Just as I remembered—she's as beautiful as ever, and her outfit is as bold as her personality.
"Miss Kūkaku, it's been a long time," Ichigo greeted warmly.
"Oh? It's you guys."
Kūkaku turned, her sharp gaze passing over the group before settling briefly on Rukia. When her eyes landed on Shiraha, her expression flickered in surprise. In all her years in Rukongai, she had never met a man whose presence rivaled his.
"Kūkaku," Ukitake said gently.
"Jūshirō?" she blinked, genuinely surprised. "You came all the way here? But your health…" She trailed off, realizing what that meant. For him to be here at all, this man's condition must have improved—or he'd risked everything to come.
"Yo, Ichigo!" Ganju called out, rising awkwardly while glancing warily at his sister.
"Ganju, your injuries still aren't healed?" Ichigo asked, noticing the still-bleeding bandages. "Want Inoue to take a look?"
"No, no, I'm good!" Ganju waved his hands frantically. Truthfully, his injuries were his only defense—Kūkaku hit him less when he looked half-dead. If she thought he'd fully recovered, he'd be pounded into the ground within days.
Ichigo gave him a flat look. There are people who actually want to stay injured?
Ganju quickly turned away, pretending not to notice his expression.
"Rukia," Shiraha said softly, giving her a slight nudge. "Go ahead."
Jūshirō nodded in quiet support. Ichigo and the others exchanged encouraging glances.
Taking a deep breath, Rukia stepped forward toward Kūkaku. Her hands trembled slightly. She opened her mouth to speak—but no words came out.
"What's the matter?" Kūkaku asked bluntly.
"Wait, sis!" Ganju stammered, waving his hands. "This is Rukia—the Shinigami Ichigo and the others went to rescue!"
"I know," Kūkaku said evenly. "Rukia Kuchiki. The Shinigami who killed my brother Kaien. So tell me—what do you want?"
Rukia's breath caught. She bowed deeply, voice trembling but firm. "I'm sorry. I've wanted to apologize for so long, but I was a coward. I kept running away. I came here because I couldn't live with that regret anymore. I'm truly sorry."
Kūkaku sighed, scratching her head. "Enough already."
Rukia blinked, confused.
"I said that's enough. Don't keep apologizing," Kūkaku said, pretending to sound indifferent.
"But—"
Before Rukia could continue, Kūkaku suddenly stepped forward and swung her fist toward Rukia's head.
But the strike stopped midair—caught effortlessly in Shiraha's hand.
"Miss Kūkaku," he said calmly, "you can't hit anyone in front of me." He released her gently, still smiling.
Kūkaku didn't react with anger. She turned her back, walking a few paces away before speaking softly, her voice carrying an edge of emotion. "I told you, it's enough. Jūshirō already told me what happened. I know it wasn't your fault. You were the one who suffered the most from it."
She paused. "So, I decided that once you said those words, everything between us would be settled."
Rukia's eyes widened. "Thank you… and I'm sorry," she whispered again.
Kūkaku whirled around, raising her fist again. "Didn't I just say stop apologizing?!"
Before the punch could land, Shiraha's hand caught it once more. "Miss Kūkaku, I meant it—no hitting people in front of me."
Kūkaku glared, then dropped her arm with a huff. "Fine."
Shiraha smiled faintly. "Aside from Rukia's matter, there's something else we came for." His eyes flicked toward her right arm. "We'd like to treat your injury."
"My… arm?" Kūkaku blinked in confusion, glancing down at the mechanical prosthesis attached at her shoulder.
"Inoue," Shiraha called.
"Yes!" Orihime hurried forward.
Kūkaku frowned slightly. "You're saying she can… heal this?" She didn't even know such a thing was possible. Neither, truthfully, did Orihime—until Shiraha said it.
Shiraha raised his finger, spiritual energy gathering at the tip, and lightly tapped the prosthetic. The artificial limb disintegrated into fine dust, scattering in the evening wind.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing to my sister?" Ganju shouted, ready to rush forward.
"Stop, Ganju." Kūkaku raised a hand. Her eyes fixed on Shiraha, who met her gaze with calm assurance. "Go ahead," she said finally. "Let's see what happens."
"Reject the phenomena of loss—Sōten Kisshun," Orihime murmured, extending both hands.
Her hairpins dissolved into light, manifesting Shun'ō and Ayame, who hovered in the air and projected a golden oval barrier over Kūkaku's right shoulder.
Warm light enveloped the area.
The bare flesh of Kūkaku's arm began to shift. Muscle threads reformed, granulation tissue blossomed, and bone slowly restructured beneath the skin.
"Ah…" Kūkaku's eyes widened. The strange itch of regeneration crawled up her arm as color returned to her face. Her voice shook with disbelief and joy. "It's… it's growing back…"
Before their eyes, the once-severed limb reformed—reborn through light.
Her right arm was whole again.
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