[SCENE — DOWNTOWN MALL | EARLY EVENING | ESCALATORS, STOREFRONTS, AND SPARKLING CHAOS]
Sora wanted to make sure his brother did not remain bitchless for the rest of his existence, so he was out here, making sure his little bro got something.
Sure, Nemu was one thing—he was still working on that front. She would fall eventually. Then, the Bambie. And that should be enough to fix his horrible-ass karma, and also because if it wasn't Uryu, it would be him. And Sora was a one-woman man. He did not feel like having multiple wives.
It might be some people's cup of tea—it wasn't his. He wasn't a Hollow, for crying out loud.
Speaking of Hollow.
{I deeply thank you for giving him a dad, or else I would have that shit.}
Sora could be seen looking at Kagehito. What he saw was deeply unhinged. Killing your own dad, slaughtering so many people with idle transfiguration, dying, turning into a Hollow, becoming a Vasto Lorde in a month.
Truly some very heinous actions were being made in that world—some rhyming with the R word. He, in fact, didn't want to deal with that shit. Truly an heir of cosmic Satan.
Alongside that bastard taking over his body once Ichibei erased his name, cosmic Satan's plan seemed to heavily revolve around Ichibei using his power.
Like... heavily... oh well, not his business. Unless the man with the head-dent knew, he would always attack a Hollow which threatened the balance.
Oh well. Time to drag this group into a mall.
Sora had successfully dragged the group into Karakura's most mid-tier mall—because let's be honest, nothing says "bonding" like capitalist distractions and overpriced coffee.
And he was dripping.
Black layered cardigan, silver-streaked hair tied up just enough to show off that sharp jawline, and eyes cold enough to freeze global warming. He looked like a pop idol moonlighting as a mercenary.
Uryu, on the other hand?
Was in a hoodie.
A hoodie.
It was designer, of course. But still—a hoodie.
Sora had been offended on a spiritual level. Like, "this is what you're presenting to women?" offended. So he grabbed him by the metaphorical fashion throat and fixed it.
—
{Mental chat activated}
{"Why am I in a fitting room, trying on twelve different outfits like a concubine?"}
Uryu's voice was dry enough to sand wood.
Uryu didn't question the fact he was in a mental chat. He already knew of his brother's many powers. While only Sora's Quincy ability was gone, everything else was mostly there. He just chalked it up to him learning that Kido spell the Kotetsu girl knew.
{"Because if you're gonna be stuck in my divine matchmaking side quest, you're gonna look like someone who could survive fanfic shipping."}
{"Sora... this is ridiculous."}
{"You're welcome. That jacket makes you look like your trauma has a backstory and a Spotify playlist."}
—
By the time he was done, Uryu looked like the final love interest in a long-running shoujo manga. Clean dark coat, neatly fitted turtleneck, sharp glasses—his aura screamed emotional complexity with hidden softness.
Candice took notice. Oh boy, she noticed. A little spark jumped from her shoulder to the nearby wall. Definitely not on purpose.
Men who dress well? That's like catnip for girls who only like emotionally unavailable men with abandonment issues. And given Uryu's dad? Jackpot.
Meanwhile, Sora? Still plotting. He didn't say a word—but every glance, every movement, was orchestrated like an artful symphony of "I'm helping, but you can't stop me."
And as for the others?
They were being... well, themselves.
Bratty. Entitled. Walking like they owned the mall and everyone in it. Commenting on everything they passed by.
Bambietta: "Ugh, who even shops at places like this? It's giving poor."
Candice: "Sora, buy me that necklace. I mean, you owe me after emotionally rejecting me for, like, twenty blocks."
Sora sighed internally. Quincy girls with god complexes. His brother was doomed.
Unless.
His silver eyes flicked forward as they neared the escalator.
The Almighty stirred.
Just a whisper. A tickle in the web of fates.
And suddenly, the smallest ripple of misstep occurred.
Bambietta tripped.
Ever so slightly. Graceful like a ballerina—if the ballerina had too much ego and no humility. Her ankle twisted, her balance shifted—
And Uryu caught her.
Just one hand around her waist, the other steadying her arm. His posture perfect. Reflexes on point. The man was born to catch falling divas.
For some odd reason, the wind decided to pick up at that moment. Uryu's skin became flawless—no imperfection at all—and little hearts could be seen.
Bambietta blinked. Once.
Twice.
A faint blush dusted her cheeks.
She immediately tried to scowl like it didn't happen.
"Watch it," she muttered, brushing her jacket. "I had it under control."
Uryu didn't reply. He just nodded. Polite. Distant.
Like a tragic prince with emotional scars deeper than the Mariana Trench.
Sora, two feet behind them, had the biggest shit-eating grin imaginable.
—
{Mental call — Adyneus}
{"See that? That was fate, baby."}
{"You tripped her with a thread of time itself."}
{"...Exactly. Fate."}
{"...Still not forgiving your brother."}
{"Duly noted."}
—
They reached the next store.
Candice whispered something to Melinas, who shrugged.
Bambietta walked ahead without saying anything, but she stole a glance at Uryu when she thought no one was looking.
Sora saw it. He saw everything.
And with a subtle hum of victory in his voice, he spoke again.
"Operation: Get Uryu Some Bitches" is progressing smoothly.