Chapter 202: Women's Time
Captain level spiritual pressure surged into the sky above the Shiba Dojo, only to be dissolved and contained by an invisible barrier. The force that should have shaken half the district was absorbed, converted into turbulent ripples that rolled across the dome like waves across glass.
Lately, scenes like this had become common.
Gin Ichimaru always looked relaxed, as if nothing in the world could touch him. In truth, he had been watching everything with a careful, almost obsessive focus, especially this so called training with Kurosaki Ichigo.
Because chakra was not truly invincible.
Not in the strictest sense.
Once Gin began to understand even a portion of its properties, the picture grew stranger, deeper, and more complex. When it came to developing a Bankai and applying Kido in actual combat, Gin's talent surpassed even Toshiro Hitsugaya's famed genius, otherwise Sosuke Aizen would never have kept him on the list of people worth observing.
While Gin attacked outside with a cold persistence, another confrontation had already formed inside the Shiba Dojo.
Kukaku Shiba sat with her usual bold posture, unbothered by the storm in the sky.
Across from her stood a woman with golden wavy hair, a figure that refused to be ignored, and a presence that carried the confidence of someone who had survived too long to pretend at politeness.
Matsumoto Rangiku had arrived at the dojo at some point.
She had come of her own will, or rather, Aizen had given her a choice. Stay away, or go to Gin.
Once she answered, Aizen tore open the place Gin believed was safe and delivered her straight to the Shiba Dojo.
And yet, out of some thin respect for Gin himself, Aizen did not allow Rangiku to meet him directly.
In a sense, Rangiku was never just a pretty face.
A woman who had reached vice captain even while missing a piece of her soul would naturally explode in growth once that piece was restored. Aizen was not foolish enough to say that believing in Gin meant discarding a talent like hers. Gin could not stop anything at this stage, and one sided affection could never outweigh a woman's resolve once it hardened into devotion.
Rangiku had chosen to come despite the danger. The die was already cast. Whether Gin wanted it or not, he would have to face it.
Aizen had never cared about whether that was cruel.
He did not care that Rangiku now knew everything and had begun to hate him.
He cared about the essence of the world and the way it moved. He cared about the Soul King. He cared about Mayuri Kurotsuchi and Kisuke Urahara. He cared about Kurosaki Ichigo.
If hatred and malice could push the world forward, Aizen would gladly become the target.
That was why Rangiku now stood here, staring at the beautiful woman in front of her.
They had similar figures, similar boldness in their posture, but Kukaku's dress and manner carried an unmistakable eastern edge, sharp and unbending.
Rangiku had no idea what to say at first.
She could feel Gin's spiritual pressure outside, but she did not sense a sharp killing intent from it. Before coming, she had also been given a quick dose of common sense, enough to know where she was and who she was dealing with.
So she extended her hand with practiced friendliness.
"Let me introduce myself. I'm Matsumoto Rangiku. And in some ways, I'm a victim of that guy."
Kukaku looked her up and down with open appraisal, wine glass in hand.
"Were you tricked into coming here by Aizen, or threatened?"
Rangiku shrugged, surprisingly relaxed.
"I came willingly."
Then she pointed toward the direction of Gin's spiritual pressure, her tone turning softer.
"There's an idiot out there who's done so much for me and still insists on carrying everything alone. I figured I shouldn't hold him back. I never asked him to do any of it. It's better to be together than alone, right?"
Kukaku's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Gin Ichimaru and Rangiku Matsumoto, huh. I've heard of you. You were in Rukongai. That guy was a small legend there."
Rangiku's voice dipped, a brief nostalgia cutting through her usual ease.
"We were too young back then. We didn't understand what Seireitei really was. We weren't exactly setting a good example for anyone."
"There's no point being sentimental," Kukaku cut in, waving her prosthetic hand as if brushing away smoke. She downed the rest of her drink in one gulp, then looked up at the sky with a faint, sour irritation.
"You don't get a choice in this. We're all caged birds under Sosuke Aizen now. What we do, what he makes us do, that's his decision. It has nothing to do with us."
Her gaze sharpened, turning colder.
"Just like how everyone in Rukongai has to consider Seireitei's Shinigami before taking a single step. You can't do anything about that man."
Rangiku's lips tightened, but she did not back down.
"I think Gin will be fine. As long as there are two of us, it won't be a problem."
Kukaku's eyes flicked down and then away, as if she had been struck with a headache.
"No. No matter what, that's Aizen."
She shifted her gaze deliberately, like she was refusing to be overwhelmed by the abundant presence standing across from her.
At that moment, Gin's spiritual pressure outside surged again.
A towering black curtain swallowed half the sky. A sharp blade tore through it a heartbeat later, dazzling like a storm, refracting the air into colorful, shimmering fragments before snapping back into a single point.
The battle between Gin and Ichigo was still raging.
It did not feel like a fight fueled by hatred, but it did feel like two men who refused to stop until their point was made.
Then the dojo door slid open.
Ganju Shiba stumbled in, disheveled, as if the sky itself had thrown him aside. He greeted his sister out of breath, then froze the moment his eyes landed on Rangiku.
His expression turned solemn. He straightened his posture. He cleared his throat like a man preparing for something important.
"Ahem. Um. Miss, may I ask you"
A fist crashed into his face.
"Shut up, you idiot," Kukaku snapped, veins bulging at her temple. "She's a Shinigami, and one of Gin Ichimaru's people. Do you want to die?"
"Sorry," Ganju wheezed instantly, his dignity flattened right along with his cheek.
"The siblings have such a good relationship," Rangiku murmured, half amused, half wistful.
Kukaku shoved Ganju's limp body aside like a nuisance and glanced out at the sky again. The barrier absorbed another wave of pressure, swallowing Kido flashes that danced at the horizon.
Whoever built this protective field had done it properly. The impacts were eaten and digested, and the air above the dojo only grew stronger and steadier because of it.
No one in Seireitei would notice.
No one would come looking.
Kukaku grabbed her brother by the collar and hauled him upright.
"So," she said flatly. "What new kind of insanity are you trying to start now?"
"It's not really messy," Ganju said quickly, shrinking beneath her glare. "I'm going to spread chakra, like Ichigo suggested. I don't fully understand it yet, but I don't think anything changes if we do nothing. So I want to take the initiative."
Kukaku stared, silent.
Ganju swallowed, then pushed on.
"Using it to fight against the Shinigami sounds weird, but it's not a bad option. I don't understand the stuff between Jushiro Ukitake, Seireitei, and Sosuke Aizen. But this power is real. I think you should try it too. It feels more reliable than Kido and spiritual power."
"I don't need you to teach me how to live," Kukaku said coldly. "If you want to spread it, go do it yourself. Take your bunch of cronies and get out."
Ganju's eyes lit up.
"Really? I'll go then"
"You want me to treat you," Kukaku hissed.
Ganju fled instantly.
He scrambled and rolled out of the dojo so fast that even his shadow looked like it was trying to escape.
Rangiku watched the scene with an ache she did not show on her face.
Once, she and Gin had been inseparable, convinced they were the only two people in each other's world. Now a single man's interference had twisted everything.
And yet, in another sense, nothing had changed.
Rangiku was not greedy. People could change, grow into shapes you no longer recognized. But if their feelings remained, then the core remained too.
As for revenge, she did not truly cling to it. What she wanted was simple.
A quiet life.
A happy one.
With Gin.
But Aizen's shadow made that kind of life impossible.
Then, as if her thoughts were not chaotic enough, another disturbance rippled through the space inside the dojo.
A paper door appeared where there had been none, and slid open to both sides.
A green striped haori, wooden clogs, and a hat came into view, followed by a familiar lazy voice.
"Hey, everyone's here? Looks lively."
Kukaku's eyes sharpened instantly.
"So it's your turn to stick your nose in, Kisuke Urahara?"
Urahara stepped through the doorway with a folding fan in hand, laughing loudly.
"How could it be my turn? It's more like I've had a share from the very beginning, hahaha"
No one laughed with him.
Rangiku and Kukaku stared at him with the same coldness, different flavors of it.
Even Ganju, half collapsed outside the doorway, looked like he wanted to crawl farther away from the trouble.
Urahara's laughter faltered. A bead of sweat formed at his temple.
He coughed lightly and shifted back into something closer to his usual composure.
"Come on now," he said, fanning himself as if offended. "Can't you see how much happier everyone looks now that a newcomer arrived? Even if I can't do anything outstanding, I don't deserve to be looked at like this, do I?"
Kukaku's gaze did not soften.
"So," she said. "What are you here for?"
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