Chapter 24: Hanging Out with Orihime
Narrator's POV
Akira walked into his house completely exhausted.
He just wanted to sleep for a while after a night packed with emotions. Falling face-first onto the bed with a satisfied grin, he let the weight of everything that had happened slowly melt away.
His rest, however, didn't last long. The sun had already begun to rise, and the first rays of light were slipping through the window. Akira opened his eyes with irritation, squinting as the city outside began to brighten.
"Already morning? How long was I actually inside that castle doing the class-change mission?" he muttered, sitting up reluctantly.
"Eh, whatever… time for the old reliable—coffee!" he declared with a grin as he dragged himself toward the kitchen.
If Regular Show had taught him anything, it was that coffee could keep you awake no matter how tired you were.
---
A few hours later, Akira was slumped at his desk, head resting on his folded arms. The coffee's effect had long since worn off, and the day itself was painfully uneventful. Just another dull, ordinary school day.
Well—except for the fact that he had a small boxing-bear plush sleeping in his hand, there wasn't much else worth noting.
What was impressive, though, was that Akira could now maintain a steady flow of cursed energy even without focusing. His body had started to circulate it naturally—almost automatically. That was his goal: to make controlling cursed energy as effortless as breathing.
"Akira! Akira! Akira!"
He groaned as he lifted his head. Of course—it was the ever-cheerful (and slightly scatterbrained) Orihime, bounding over with her usual enthusiasm.
"What?" he replied flatly, too tired to match her energy. At that moment, he deeply envied the boxing bear sleeping peacefully in his hand.
"You look exhausted… didn't you sleep?" Orihime asked, genuine worry in her voice as she noticed the dark circles under his eyes.
"Yeah… maybe… no. Let's just say I couldn't sleep."
Akira adjusted himself in his seat, half-staring at the orange-haired girl with the… notable figure.
"Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, as if struck by divine inspiration. Orihime beamed brightly. "I know what'll help!"
Oh no… I don't like that smile, Akira thought nervously, already sensing his health might be in danger.
---
A few minutes later…
Akira now sat beside Orihime, staring at the lunchbox in front of him with an expression of pure resignation. He wasn't exactly sure what the thing inside was supposed to be. Somewhere between a mutant sushi roll and a tuna-chocolate cake… or something like that.
It wasn't that he disliked weird food combinations.
He could handle a lot of them. But Orihime… Orihime played in an entirely different league.
(Let's hope I don't die of food poisoning…) he thought, swallowing hard as he picked up the chopsticks with trembling hands.
"Come on, Akira! Eating helps you forget how tired you are—it always lifts your spirits!" Orihime said cheerfully, eyes sparkling as she waited for him to take a bite.
Akira looked down at the contents of the box as if it were a living creature. Then he looked at Orihime. And sighed.
(…Well. If I die, at least I won't have to come tomorrow. Igris, you're in charge if I kick the bucket. The Shadow Monarch's journey ends here…) —He braced himself, taking a bit of the strange food in front of him. —(Look on the bright side… at least it's not Indian food. Compared to that, Orihime's cooking looks like a five-star meal.)
With that questionable motivation—and not wanting to be rude—Akira took a bite. He chewed slowly, raising a finger for silence as he processed the experience.
After a few suspenseful seconds, he frowned slightly… and then nodded.
"Hey… not bad. Actually tastes good," he admitted, genuinely surprised, as though his tongue had just been spared by a culinary miracle. "Edible," he added with a thumbs-up toward Orihime's bizarre creation.
"I'm so glad you liked it!" she replied, smiling radiantly, visibly thrilled that someone had eaten her food without collapsing. "I honestly didn't think you would. My friends usually reject my dishes," she added, scratching the back of her head shyly.
(Well, with how your food looks—and those completely random ingredient combos—who wouldn't reject them?) —Akira thought with a faint, more relaxed smile.
"Well, it's really not bad. It actually tastes good… even though I have no clue what's in it," he said, studying the plate curiously.
Even with his enhanced senses, he couldn't quite identify what the hell he was eating.
"Hehehe…" Orihime giggled sweetly, her cheeks flushed a light pink from embarrassment.
It was, in fact, the first time someone had ever eaten her so-called revolutionary cooking.
And truth be told, Akira hadn't lied—despite its appearance, Orihime's food didn't taste bad. Or maybe it was simply because Akira wasn't picky—he could eat almost anything.
---
The rest of the day passed uneventfully—classes, boring lectures, and the posting of the top-student rankings. As usual, Akira held the fourth spot.
Even though he occasionally skipped class due to his expeditions into the Demon Tower, he still kept his grades high enough to avoid drawing the school's attention.
The only thing anyone found noteworthy that day was the sudden, temporary disappearance of Rukia and Ichigo. Akira didn't care—it wasn't his problem.
Later that evening, he relaxed in the comfort of his home. Tonight, he had decided not to enter the Demon Tower. Even with a system, he knew the body still needed natural rest.
No healing potions.
No instant regeneration.
Just a good meal, a cold Coke, and a few hours of proper sleep.
"My grandpa used to say… 'When in doubt, pick the one with the biggest—'" he stopped, frowning. "Wait… no, that wasn't it… It was something else."
A pause. "Eh, I forgot what my grandpa's advice was."
He sighed, collapsing onto the couch with a lazy smile. For that night, there would be no battles, no demons, no brutal training— only peace.
---
The next day
Orihime and Ichigo peeked cautiously through the classroom door.
Most of the students were already packing up and leaving — it was the end of the school day.
Only a few remained seated, finishing up homework or chatting quietly.
"See? He's in our class," Orihime whispered, pointing discreetly toward Uryu Ishida.
"How did I not notice that until now?" Ichigo muttered, genuinely surprised. He'd only heard about the guy because of what happened yesterday.
"He's as quiet as Akira. Maybe that's why you didn't notice him before."
"Maybe…" Ichigo replied, watching as Uryu stood up from his seat.
At that moment, a girl approached Uryu, holding a torn plush toy and asking if he could fix it.
Both orange-haired "spies" watched the scene silently from their hiding spot, thinking they were being subtle.
But Akira, who appeared to be asleep with his head resting on his arm, cracked one eye open and glanced at them sideways.
He sighed softly and shook his head. If they really thought no one had noticed them, they were very mistaken. Their "stealth" was anything but stealthy.
With a lazy yawn, Akira stood up and began gathering his things. He had nothing left to do there… at least for now. But he wouldn't go far. He planned to stick around — to watch how things unfolded. And maybe… get involved, just a little.
---
A few minutes later, Akira stepped out of the school building. He walked slowly, hands in his pockets, shoulders slouched under the weight of boredom more than fatigue.
It had been a calm day — far too calm, to the point of being unbearable.
His footsteps were unhurried, occasionally kicking a pebble along the path — more out of habit than intent.
Then, he looked up. Something in the air had changed — a subtle pressure, yet unmistakably familiar. His gaze fixed on the sky. There they were: cracks forming like scars across the clouds, distorting reality itself with an ominous, twisted beauty.
A slow grin curved his lips.
"So… they've started their little 'game,' huh?" he murmured, his tone caught between resignation and excitement. "I doubt they'll mind if someone else joins in. Besides… I've been wanting to test something."
From his shadow — faintly cast by the warm light of sunset — dark figures began to emerge.
Silent. Without warning.
Slender, hooded assassins materialized one by one, surrounding Akira in complete silence.
These were beings he had acquired during his class-change mission — fragments of the same killers who had once tried to end his life. Now, they were bound to his will.
He could have summoned his shadow mages, or even Igris, his most powerful knight… but that would've been reckless. Too noticeable. This called for subtlety — and assassins were perfect for that.
"Search and eliminate every Hollow you find," Akira ordered quietly, not even looking at them.
"Don't get detected. Be shadows among the shadows."
In response, the assassins dissolved — like ink fading into water — and vanished completely.
Akira resumed walking, feeling lighter, as though an invisible weight had lifted off his shoulders the moment he gave the command. Above him, the sky continued to crack and splinter, and more Hollows spilled through the tears in reality. He knew what was coming… or at least, had a pretty good idea.
"I'll wait for the big one," he murmured to himself.
"I want to see if this works on Hollows too."
He was referring, of course, to his Shadow Extraction ability. If it worked on spiritual beings like Hollows… that would open an entirely new door of power.
He could create a silent army — unseen, untouchable — an army of creatures already dead, who now existed only to obey him.
His main target was the so-called Menos Grande.
The name sounded impressive enough, and Rukia had described it as an extraordinarily high-class Hollow.
But Akira wasn't easily impressed. He knew Rukia tended to exaggerate things about the spiritual world. For him, seeing was believing — until then, it wasn't worth fearing.
And if the creature proved useful… well, soon he might have another shadow under his command.
---
End of Chapter