After three years.
The passage of time in the Seireitei was a subtle thing, marked not by dramatic revolutions but by the steady accumulation of experience, the slow solidification of reputation, and the deepening of bonds. For Akio Kurozume, Ninth Seat of Squad 10, these three years had been a forge, tempering the raw, sharp-edged survivor into a disciplined and respected officer.
The changes were evident in the way he carried himself. It became somewhat more mature, maybe due to becoming more responsible now. His gaze, once a burning ember of sheer will, was now a cooler, more analytical flame, missing little. He had learned to lead.
His team, the same trio he had been assigned years ago, was a testament to that growth. Anzu's fine sensory net was now a precision instrument, capable of distinguishing between the spiritual signature of a restless Pulse and a nascent Hollow from a kilometer away. Kito's brute strength had been channeled; he could now execute devastating strikes with the exact force required, not a shred of energy wasted. And Choji, the once-nervous recruit, could now reliably cast many difficult Hado without fumbling the incantations, his confidence bolstered by Akio's patient, if relentlessly demanding, tutelage.
Their dynamics were seamless. On patrols through the mid-districts of Rukongai, they moved as a single entity. A flick of Akio's fingers would send Anzu scouting ahead; a slight nod would position Buntaro as an immovable bulwark; a quiet word would have Jiro preparing a binding spell. They trusted his judgment implicitly, and he, in turn, had learned to trust their capabilities. He no longer felt the need to solve every problem himself. He delegated, he guided, he empowered. It was a more efficient, more sustainable form of strength.
This leadership extended beyond the field. He had mastered the soul-crushing bureaucracy of the Gotei 13. He now knew which forms required triple signatures and which could be fast-tracked with a well-placed comment to the right clerk. He had learned, from observing Rangiku and Shunsui, the art of leveraging favors and social capital. He maintained a cordial, if distant, relationship with many important people and their group, a connection that provided valuable, informal intelligence from across the Seireitei. He was no longer just a fighter; he was a part of the machine, learning to make it work for him.
It was during one of his scheduled analysis shifts, buried in the Squad 10 records room, that an anomaly presented itself.
He was reviewing the weekly Denreishinki data feeds from the Human World, specifically Karakura Town. It was a routine task—cross-referencing Hollow sightings, Pluse konsō, and energy fluctuations to identify patterns and predict future hotspots. For years, the data had followed a predictable, chaotic rhythm. A spike near the hospital after a tragic accident, a cluster around the school during periods of adolescent angst.
But this was different.
Akio's fingers, which had been idly tracing lines on a chart, stilled. He pulled the logs for the last 48 hours. Then the last 96. His brow furrowed. He called up a map of Karakura Town, overlaying it with the sighting data.
The pattern was… wrong.
It wasn't the usual random scatter of dots. This was a coordinated wave. Hollow manifestations were appearing in a precise, concentric pattern, emanating from a central point in the town and moving outward in near-perfectly timed intervals. The spiritual pressure signatures were diverse—low-level, mindless ones, but also a disturbing number of semi-sentient variants that usually hunted alone. They weren't just appearing; they were being deployed, like pieces on a board.
He ran a statistical analysis. The probability of this occurring naturally was so infinitesimally small that the calculation software returned an error. This was not a natural phenomenon. This was a guided event.
'Hollow Bait.'
The term surfaced in his mind, cold and clinical. An artificial spiritual pressure source used to lure a large numver of Hollows. By his 'previous life's' knowledge, it was a tool Aizen Sousuke had used extensively in his experiments, most notably to create the Visoreds and to test Ichigo Kurosaki.
'This seems too intentional to be coincidence. Probably Aizen did it...'
The thought was a quiet confirmation, not a shock.
For some reason there was no assassination attack after the last time so his life was quite peaceful without any villain. But obviously it wasn't meant to be. 'Aizen is probably testing the boundaries, gathering data, or perhaps setting a larger plan in motion.' Karakura Town, with its high concentration of spiritual energy, was the perfect laboratory.
But why now? And was this a general experiment, or was it aimed at someone specific? The pieces weren't all there, but the pattern on the map was undeniable. A threat was being manufactured.
He compiled the data into a concise report, highlighting the statistical impossibility and the clear "wave" pattern. He didn't mention Aizen—that was a card he couldn't reveal—but he explicitly stated his conclusion: "The data strongly suggests an artificial lure, a 'Hollow Bait' scenario, is active in Karakura Town, creating a coordinated Hollow migration that poses a severe and escalating threat to the human population."
Without hesitation, he left the records room and marched directly to Captain Isshin's office.
He entered after a perfunctory knock. Isshin was, for once, not lounging but studying a map of the Rukongai. He looked up as Akio entered, his expression shifting from concentration to curiosity.
"Kurozume. You have your 'something's wrong' face on. What is it?"
"Captain," Akio said, placing the report on the desk. "I've identified a critical anomaly in the Karakura Town data."
Isshin picked up the report, his eyes scanning the pages. The casual demeanor evaporated, replaced by the sharp focus of a veteran captain. He saw the maps, the graphs, the statistical analysis. He grunted, a low, serious sound.
"This pattern… it's too clean. This isn't a feeding frenzy. This is a drill. Or a culling." He looked at Akio, his gaze piercing. "Your assessment? Hollow Bait?"
"Yes, sir. The timing, the coordination, the statistical model… it all points to an artificial source. A deliberate concentration of Hollows far beyond natural limits."
Isshin leaned back, stroking his chin. "This is big, Kurozume. If you're right, this is a direct violation of the balance. Someone is playing a very dangerous game." He studied Akio for a long moment, a slow grin spreading across his face. "You know, in the three years since your promotion, you've not once brought me a problem without also having a solution brewing in that sharp mind of yours. You've turned your team into one of the most effective units in the squad. You've handled everything from paperwork rebellions to minor noble disputes with a cool head. You've become a damn fine officer."
Akio remained silent, accepting the praise without reaction, waiting for the point.
"The truth is," Isshin continued, his tone turning businesslike, "your performance has warranted a promotion for some time now. The Fifth Seat position has been vacant since old man Hirako transferred to the Kido Corps. I was just waiting for the right moment, the right mission, to make it official."
He tapped the report on his desk. "This is that mission. I'm putting you in command of the Karakura Town response. Take your team, plus any additional unseated officers you deem necessary. Go to the Human World, confirm your theory, locate the source of this Bait, and neutralize it. Secure the town."
Isshin's eyes held a glint of fierce pride. "You do this, Ninth Seat—you handle this crisis successfully, and you come back here as my new Fifth Seat. So what do you say can u d it? Can you handle it?"
Akio met his Captain's gaze, the analytical part of his mind already running through logistics, team composition, and engagement protocols. The shadow of Aizen loomed over the mission, but this was his duty. This was his path.
He gave a sharp, definitive nod. "Yes, Captain. The threat will be neutralized."