The air was thick with tension and leftover humidity. The dust had barely settled from Tatsuki's wild transformation. Her breathing was ragged, and her claws still twitched with instinct. But now, she stood frozen — her wrists gripped tightly by Shinichi.
"Would you calm the hell down?!" Shinichi barked, holding her claws inches away from his face. "You trying to slice me up like a daikon?!"
Tatsuki didn't answer. Her golden slit pupils stared into his with feral rage, a low snarl rumbling in her throat. Her muscles were tense, wild, shaking with fury she couldn't contain. Shinichi's grip held — barely.
Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed behind her.
Yoruichi had reappeared in a blur and struck Tatsuki at the base of her neck with a clean, swift chop. The beast inside her groaned once — and dropped. Shinichi let go of her wrists as her body slumped forward into the dirt.
He took a long breath and rubbed his face, finally able to blink without fear of being turned into sashimi.
"I see you've still got a hell of a lot of work to do with her," Shinichi muttered, brushing claw dust off his collar.
Yoruichi nodded. "I know. And we're running out of time fast. Five days, if that."
She glanced at Tatsuki's unconscious form, her expression unreadable. "I'll have to crank the pressure. She's not just another recruit. She could be... an asset. If she learns to tame that beast."
Shinichi raised a brow. "If."
Yoruichi tilted her head, studying him now. "And how's training with Kisuke?"
Shinichi exhaled like a man who had aged five years in two nights. "Oh, you mean the worst sensei ever to exist?"
Yoruichi smirked.
"I'm not joking," Shinichi said, eyes half-lidded. "He's insufferable. Talks a lot. Hits hard. Never explains anything. Just expects you to dodge or die."
Yoruichi laughed. "Sounds about right."
Shinichi stretched his arms and cracked his neck. "Still… I can't lie. I'm getting stronger. Way stronger. His brutality works."
Her smile faded slightly as she looked at him more seriously. "That's good. Because you need to be."
Shinichi's expression shifted. "What do you mean?"
"You're not just fighting for Soul Society," Yoruichi said. "Not really. Not for me. Not even for Ichigo. You're fighting for Rukia."
There was a pause.
Shinichi chuckled and rubbed the back of his head with a practiced, lazy grin.
"You've got it all wrong, Ms. Yoruichi," he said, waving dismissively. "Rukia is just a friend. That's all. This? This is just good karma. I help her, and maybe someday, the universe helps me back."
He turned, lifting a hand behind him in a half-wave. "Anyway, good luck training your wild furry. I'm out."
Yoruichi watched him walk off, his steps casual, but too casual — like a man acting normal with a blade between his ribs. She looked back down at Tatsuki.
Then, under her breath:
"Liar."
---
Everything was quiet.
Tatsuki opened her eyes to a world drenched in white mist. She wasn't standing on ground—there was no ground. Only water, cool and still beneath her feet. The air around her felt heavy, saturated with something ancient. The kind of silence that made your heartbeat sound too loud.
She spun around. Nothing. Just fog. Endless fog.
Her breathing hitched.
Then she heard it.
Thud…
A massive footstep.
Thud…
The echo of it rippled across the water, followed by another, and another. The fog began to shift, disturbed by the force approaching. That's when she saw it—a colossal silhouette, beastlike in shape, its limbs like the trunks of fallen titans.
Two eyes cut through the fog like spotlights. Glowing. Green.
Tatsuki's voice trembled despite her best efforts. "Who are you?! Where the hell am I?!"
The shadow didn't move faster. It crept toward her, its presence alone bending the space around it.
Then it spoke—a deep, guttural voice that rumbled in her bones like a low earthquake.
> "I am... your truth."
> "The power you keep suppressing…"
> "I am... the Tsukikon."
Tatsuki stepped back instinctively. Her throat tightened as she whispered the word, "Tsukikon…?"
The silhouette nodded. "Yes. The Moon Fang."
Her heart pounded. Her breathing slowed. She clenched her fists, steadying herself.
"Okay… if you're real—if this is real… where am I?"
The shadow rumbled again. "This is your Inner World."
She looked around at the endless fog. "Then why… why does it look like this? Why can't I see anything?"
The Tsukikon's voice rolled through her like thunder.
> "This fog… is yours."
> "Your doubt. Your fear. Your refusal to accept the truth of who you are."
> "It will vanish… once you embrace me."
Tatsuki shook her head slowly, confused, overwhelmed.
"I don't even know what that means—!"
WHOOOOOOSH!
A sudden gale slammed into her. Wind so sharp it felt like it had fangs. The pressure cut through her skin, ripped through the silence. She screamed, closing her eyes against the force.
Then—
Silence.
Her eyes snapped open.
She was back.
The training ground. Night sky. Dirt beneath her again.
And Yoruichi standing in front of her, arms crossed, a smirk on her lips.
"Nightmare?"
---
The sixth night of training had turned the mountain into a graveyard of broken boulders and shattered pride.
Blood soaked the dirt. Concrete lay scattered. Trees trembled with every sonic boom. And standing at the eye of the storm, shirt torn, eyes twitching in frustration, was none other than Shinichi Kisaragi—battle-worn, breathless, and done with everything.
"OH, FUCK THIS!" he shouted, stumbling to his feet, body steaming with exhaustion. "IS THERE NOT A BETTER WAY TO TRAIN!? I'VE ALREADY CRASHED INTO FIVE FUCKING BOULDERS!"
Urahara chuckled, fan in hand, completely unfazed. "If you don't want to eat rock again, master the move. Otherwise—well, I quite enjoy the sound of human-boulder collisions. Very therapeutic."
Shinichi flipped him off with shaky fingers.
Urahara added, "You've used a lot of that demonic reiatsu too. I give you two, maybe three more tries before you black out like a dropped toaster."
But Shinichi's glare faded as his eyes narrowed at the shimmering air around them. "Hey… don't you think the reiatsu in this barrier... lingers too long?"
Urahara paused, fan mid-swing. "Keen eye, Kisaragi-san. The barrier stores reiatsu. Its signature. Its intensity. Its… personality, even."
Shinichi's expression sharpened. "So you're saying… you could replay it?"
"In theory," Urahara replied, adjusting his hat. "Yes. Like an echo."
Shinichi closed his eyes for a moment. A thought sparked in the background—but he buried it just as quickly. "Eh. Nothing important."
Urahara raised a finger. "Man, I'd love to see you crash into another boulder."
Shinichi's eye twitched. "Not happening."
"Ten thousand yen says otherwise."
"…You're on," Shinichi muttered, a bead of sweat sliding down his temple. "Fuck."
He took position. The air around him crackled as the black and red energy of the Demon Queen flared to life, dancing like flame across his skin. But this time, he did something new—he tossed his zanpakuto aside.
Urahara blinked. "That's new."
Shinichi closed his eyes, tuned out the world, and focused.
No more boulders. No more crashes. Just Urahara. Focus on him. Lock in. No distractions. No hesitation. One shot. One punch. No more damn debt.
His foot dug into the dirt. Muscles coiled.
And then—
BOOM.
The earth shattered beneath him.
A vortex of wind exploded out as Shinichi launched himself forward, moving faster than sound, faster than thought. A blink—and he was already at Urahara.
A crack echoed through the mountains.
Urahara felt it before he saw it—a sudden impact to his gut, a shockwave detonating through his body like a bomb. His breath left him in a single choked gasp as Shinichi drilled into him, and together they blasted through a massive boulder, shattering it into dust behind them.
The mountain roared.
When the debris cleared, both figures lay sprawled on the rocky floor.
Shinichi staggered to his feet, bloodied, face swollen, but his arm shot into the sky like a flagpole.
"HEEEEELLLL YEAHHHHH!" he roared, voice hoarse and manic. "I PUNCHED THE OLD BASTARD! I FUCKING LANDED IT!"
Urahara pulled himself from the rubble, his shirt torn open at the gut. A deep purple bruise already swelling under a trickle of blood from his mouth.
He exhaled with a shaky grin. "You really did a number on me, Kisaragi-san."
Shinichi grinned, wobbling on his legs. "OH MAN, THAT FELT SO GOOD—WE GOTTA DO THAT AGAIN—"
THUMP.
He collapsed face-first into the dirt.
Urahara caught him just in time.
With Shinichi unconscious in his arms, Urahara looked at him with something almost close to pride.
"You're improving fast," he said quietly. "Too fast, maybe."
He stood, lifting the broken mess of a boy over his shoulder. The night was silent again—save for the crackle of spent reiatsu and the wind whispering through ruined trees.
"Kisaragi Shinichi…" Urahara smiled behind his hat. "You might just become my strongest student yet."
---
The morning sun had barely crept above the horizon when the doorbell shrieked through the silence of Tatsuki's apartment.
BZZZZT.
She jolted awake, eyes groggy and half-lidded. "Who the hell is at my door this early…?"
Grumbling, Tatsuki swung her legs off the bed—only to be stabbed by a sharp pain running through her arms and thighs. "Oww… what the hell…"
Still limping, she shuffled to the door and opened it.
Standing there, as bright as a sunflower and as sweet as morning dew, was Orihime Inoue.
"Good morning, Tatsuki-chan!" Orihime chimed cheerfully.
But the smile didn't last.
Her eyes dropped. Her face twisted. And horror overtook her features like ice spreading across glass.
"O-Orihime?" Tatsuki frowned. "What's wrong?"
Orihime's hand trembled as she pointed straight at her.
"T-Tatsuki-chan… W-What happened to you…?"
Tatsuki blinked and turned to the mirror inside the bathroom.
And that's when she saw it.
Her shirt and sweatpants were ripped—slashed open at random places like she'd clawed her way out of a cage. Bloodstains soaked through the fabric, some dried, some fresh. Her mouth… stained dark red. Her fingernails—dirt embedded underneath, smeared with dried blood—were jagged and cracked, like they had dug into something. Her hands looked like they had ripped someone open.
The metallic taste in her mouth—she hadn't even noticed it until now.
Her stomach twisted violently.
She lunged for the toilet and vomited, clutching the seat as she heaved and retched. Her puke hit the water with a splash of red.
She stared at it, trembling. The tears came fast.
"N-No… I didn't… I didn't…"
Orihime rushed in, wrapping her arms around her from behind, holding her tight.
"It's okay, Tatsuki-chan. I'm right here. We'll figure this out. Don't panic—please."
Orihime helped her to the bed. Tatsuki sat down, shell-shocked, her body slumped like a lifeless doll. Her shoulders shook as the reality sank in.
"I… I killed someone," she whispered. "I ate someone, Orihime. I can feel it—I can feel their blood on my teeth. I don't remember it, I don't know when it happened, I just know. I've turned into a fucking monster."
Orihime sat beside her, squeezing her shoulder gently.
"No, you're not. You didn't have any control. You were unconscious, the beast… it must've taken over. You would never do that, Tatsuki. Not you."
Tatsuki's voice cracked as she clutched her head.
"I don't even know who I am anymore."
Wanting to pull her out of the spiral, Orihime quickly grabbed the remote. "Let's… let's watch TV, okay? Just until we calm down. We'll talk to Yoruichi-san later."
She switched on the news.
The screen lit up with a reporter standing at the site of a cordoned-off parking lot.
"Breaking news out of Karakura Town this morning. The notorious criminal Takao Yagami, known for a string of gruesome murders and sexual assaults, was found mutilated and dead at the scene. Police say his internal organs were torn apart. Parts of his body are missing. Families of the victims call it justice, claiming this monster got what he deserved."
The screen flashed to a photo of the man. Tatsuki stared, still trembling.
Orihime looked between the screen and her bloodstained friend.
"Look, Tatsuki-chan… that's the man. That's the one you—"
"...killed," Tatsuki finished.
Her eyes lingered on her nails again.
The blood. The dirt. The vomit in the sink. The taste.
But this time… something inside her exhaled.
"At least…" she whispered. "At least he wasn't innocent."
She clenched her hands, staring at them as if they didn't belong to her.
"But I still need to figure this out. I need to control it. Because next time… it could be someone who didn't deserve it."
Orihime gently nodded. "We'll make sure there isn't a next time, Tatsuki-chan. I promise."
Outside the window, the sunlight peeked through the curtains—but it didn't feel like morning.
Not for Tatsuki.
Not after what she had seen in the mirror.
---
It was midnight again.
The sky above Karakura was choked with clouds, veiling the moon in a haze of gloom. On top of the mountains, deep within the sealed barrier. The winds were still, as if the night itself was holding its breath.
This was no ordinary training.
This was war.
Shinichi stood with his Zanpakuto sheathed at his waist, eyes locked onto the one man who had spent the last six nights kicking the everliving hell out of him—Kisuke Urahara.
Across from him, Urahara stood calm, his cane already unscrewed to reveal the blade within. His expression wasn't his usual playful smile or sarcastic smirk. Tonight, he looked… focused.
"Looks like we only have four—no, three days left," Urahara said. "Time moves fast when you're getting pummeled, huh?"
Shinichi rolled his neck, stretching the muscles as he raised his spiritual pressure. "Guess that means it's time to go even harder."
Urahara's eyes narrowed. "We're about to. These next three days, Kisaragi-san…"
He slowly raised his blade.
"…will be complete hell for you."
Shinichi smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching in confidence. "I don't think it can get worse than it already was these past few days."
He tilted his head, his golden eyes glowing in the moonlight.
"But do your best, Candyman."
That's when Urahara whispered something that made Shinichi's stomach drop.
"Awaken… Benihime."
A crimson surge of reiatsu erupted like a supernova. The once-still night wind exploded outward, shaking trees and shattering boulders. A red filament of energy danced like lightning along Urahara's blade, turning it into something more sinister, more volatile.
Shinichi blinked once.
"OH hell nah."
Urahara disappeared from sight.
CLANG!
Shinichi barely unsheathed his Zanpakuto in time to block the first strike. The sheer pressure of Benihime sent him sliding back across the gravel, his heels carving trenches into the stone.
"You never even used your Shikai until now!" Shinichi shouted, skidding to a stop.
"Because until now," Urahara replied, appearing behind him, "you weren't worth it."
He slashed downward—Shinichi twisted, parrying—but Urahara followed up with a lightning-fast upward cut that tore through the air and nearly opened up Shinichi's chest.
"You've improved, Kisaragi-san. I had to step it up too."
Shinichi landed on one knee, panting, and grinned through gritted teeth. "You're really trying to kill me, aren't you?"
"No. If I was trying to kill you," Urahara said, as red energy began swirling around him, "you'd already be dead."
"Scream, Benihime!"
A crimson wave of destructive energy screamed toward Shinichi. He leapt into the air, narrowly avoiding the blast as it annihilated a row of trees and detonated the ground like a bomb.
Shinichi hit the ground, rolled, and launched himself forward, finally starting to match pace.
His body moved faster. Stronger.
He dodged a red bolt of Benihime's energy, used the explosion behind him to catapult himself forward, and slashed.
CLANG!
This time his blade connected.
A shallow cut formed on Urahara's cheek.
Urahara smiled. "There it is."
"You gonna start calling me a prodigy now?" Shinichi asked, panting.
"No," Urahara replied.
"Why not?"
"Because a prodigy wouldn't be this easy to knock out."
Before Shinichi could respond, Urahara disappeared again—and this time, the training truly began.
Red flashes lit up the night.
The sound of clashing steel echoed across the mountains.
And somewhere, buried under sweat, blood, and stubborn pride—Shinichi grinned.
Because if this was hell…
He was finally strong enough to survive in it.