Training was an odd mix of stressful and rewarding, all in one.

I understood, logically, that there wasn’t necessarily any deadline I was abiding by. That I technically had all the time in the world. But it certainly didn’t feel like that was the truth. No matter the improvements I made in a day, I never found myself satisfied. I’d always be left with a feeling of disappointment, as if I could have completed just one more thing or made one last improvement before I had to cut myself from training to go to sleep.

It wasn’t addicting, not in the classical way. Sure, it felt good to know that I was getting quantifiably better, that I could move faster and punch harder—even the more abstract improvements to my mental state had felt impactful. But it was something that left me with an ever-hungering void sitting in my chest.

So I did everything I could to fill it, even if I knew the hole was endless.

It was yet another month of endless training and Hollow hunting. It was seriously astounding just how many Hollows were in Karakura town. Kisuke had explained that much of the region’s Hollows lived in Karakura because of the spiritual energy density here, including the plethora of powerful people that lived within.

Apparently Karakura was one of, if not the most dangerous assignments as a low-ranking Soul Reaper. I myself hadn’t seen any particularly powerful Hollows yet, aside from Phantom, but I could believe that they’d be hanging around the more dangerous areas of Karakura.

I felt stuck in an endless loop of training, fighting Hollows that had long since stopped being a challenge, and then training more before the anxiety of the idea of training any more sent me to bed. Just on repeat day after day.

“Grayson, you need to slow down.” Suzumi had told me, and I tried—I really did—but I couldn’t. I would train for a few less hours that day, then the next another hour would be added, increasing back to where I started. The anxiety of not doing enough taking me by the throat.

So now I sat in bed, knowing full well that as soon as I got up the whirlwind started and wouldn’t be able to stop until I couldn’t possibly do anything more. I looked to my side, finding Suzumi awake and already staring at me.

“No.” She said sternly.

“What? I–” I began, but she cut me off mercilessly, her expression thoroughly unimpressed.

“You’re torturing yourself, Grayson. The only reason you’re even sleeping is because I make you. Why?” She asked, just like she had many times before. And, like many times before, I had no answer.

“I’m not going to let you sit alone and train for ten hours today, it’s just not happening.” She said firmly. A flash on anger ran through me, but it was underpinned by a relief I didn’t expect. It was the same relief that came when you got sick, forcing you to take the day off school—and even though it sucked, that relief was tangible.

“Okay.” I said quietly, letting Suzumi entangle her arm with mine. We were slow to get out of bed, slow to eat, slow to everything. Even when we finally managed to say good morning to the pair of shopkeepers, it was already midday.

I let myself tag along with whatever Suzumi was doing. We didn’t talk, really, no explicit plans were made or spoken about. Though Suzumi clearly had a plan for the day. We were going out but didn’t dress in out training uniforms—the only piece of clothing I had worn for weeks, other than underwear. While I was going through the drawers I even managed to find my missing glasses, the same ones I had barely thought about since loosing them. I tried putting them on over my blue eyes, but they almost hurt to look through, so I simple left them on top of the drawer set—never to be used again.

We set out dressed in casual clothing—jeans and a hoodie for me and the same but a blouse for Suzumi. We didn’t run atop the roofs of Karakura, instead using a car and committing to the lack of training for the day.

I’m not sure how long the drive was, too mystified by being able to look out the side windows of the car and seeing people walking on the side streets. Seeing other people was strange, the disconnect between our lives even more drastic than they could possibly know. Who could ever expect the two halfs sitting in a car next to them on the street to be involved with other spiritual dimensions, possibly even multiple?

I realised where we were going, even before we got there. Kurosaki Clinic. It had been a whole month since we had interacted with Orihime Inoue, or anyone outside of Urahara Sweets’ main circle. I was practically pulled into the home by the sleeve of my jumper, entering without even ringing the doorbell.

“Sorry I’m late!” Suzumi called as she entered, eliciting a muffled greeting from the living room once again. Being pulled through the corresponding door by Suzumi’s firm hand. Immediately I was confronted with the joyful smile of Inoue and a strange man’s gaze of interest.

“Good afternoon you two, I hope you’re having a fine little day!” Inoue said happily, but my attention was grabbed by the other, unknown man sitting in the room. The man was odd looking, his face too long, and his features stuck somewhere between a teenager’s and thirty. His chin length blonde hair was cut with an exact straightness around his head, his fringe bucking the trend and putting itself at a slant descending towards his brow from left to right. He was dressed in a black robe and white haori not too dissimilar to Kisuke’s own dress, though minus the wooden sandals and the hat—replaced with a something close to a white cravat around his neck. The man’s odd teeth and smile would be serial killer scary if it didn’t match him so well somehow.

Though, of course, the physical components too his oddness were well and truly usurped by his crimson red ribbon—flicking and swaying back to and fro like a cat’s tail, though the ribbon seemed off ever so slightly. The man must’ve felt the scrutiny in my eyes as he raised his hands in surrender, his slender fingers wiggling playfully all the while.

“Woah there, cowboy! No need for the scary eyes. I’m just your friendly neighbourhood Vizard and Captain of the 5th Division in the Thirteen Court Guards.” He extended a lanky hand in greeting and I took it and shook it gently. A Captain class Soul Reaper, right in front of me. Sure, I think both Tessai and Kisuke are Captain Class—but they were just different somehow.

“Nice to meet you…” I trailed off, just weirded out by the situation. I feel like I’ve had a surprise birthday sprung on me and they got the day wrong. “I’m Grayson Carter.” The man’s toothy smile extended widely, like a half moon across his face.

“Oh, I know all that. Your partner here,” he motioned towards Suzumi, “has told me a lot about you. Of course, Orihime has called upon a favour or two to get me down here.” He looked around the house, eyes catching on the small gizmos that make up modern living.

“Been a while?” I asked as Orihime and Suzumi made a prompt exit at stage left, sneaking away to leave me with the unnerving man.

“Oh yes, somewhere in the realm of half a century I think.” He said his grin even wider now.

“So, why are you here to talk to me? I’m sure an actual Captain has better things to do?”

“Of course I do, but I’m slacking.” I snorted unbidden, only encouraging the Court Guard Captain. “No, the real reason I am here is because I am a being with a very… confusing soul. One of only a few.” I raised an eyebrow at that.

“A Vizard?” I questioned, recalling the odd self-descriptor. He is smile deepened, giving the distinct impression that his full smile would almost be monstrous.

“Or a Visored, yes. I was a normal Soul Reaper Captain before I became one—though I ended up doing quite a fair amount of my own hiding from Soul Society, something Kisuke Urahara is likely trying to replicate with you.” He tilted his head to the side, his almost straw-like hair falling to cover his face ever so slightly. I was struck with a slight paranoia, realising that I was sitting in front of a high authority within Soul Society. All it would take was one word from him and all of Soul Society would know about me.

“I’m assuming that you won’t go around spreading the good word?” I asked with enough sarcasm to hide the doubt. Though it seemed like the man could see.

“I won’t, no. Everyone deserves their secrets from Soul Society—try as they might to know all of yours and have their own.” He snorted in faint derision, “Regardless. My name is Shinji Hirako, and I’m…” All in one smooth motion, Shinji’s hand glided over his features—obscuring his face just long enough for a severe looking, bone white mask to form.

“Part Hollow.”

To my sensitive senses the room was suddenly a mire of oppressive power, the air quaking with the sheer density of spiritual energy it was laden with. Now that Shinji had that Hollow mask adourning his features, the ribbon that had only seemed slightly off was now a deep, blood red—its end cut with a half moon rimmed with black, a partial hollow hole.

Instinctively, my hand reached out, breaking through the invisible barrier that stopped me from grasping a ribbon. My hand clasped solidly around the ribbon and I pulled with all my might, but it simply ripped itself from my grip. Shinji took the mask off from his face, pulling it to the side and looking at me with a conniving smile.

“None of that, please. I’d rather not have to beat you into the ground like I did the last time I tried to help someone.” I restrained myself from trying to do it once again, just to spite the man. He was a little too close to Urahara’s flippancy for my tastes.

“I may not be the man you were looking for, and I personally think that Orihime would suffice just fine, but she asked me to help.” He shrugged nonchalantly, letting the mask evaporate into particles of spiritual energy so pronounced that I could see them without even using spiritual sense. I grudgingly accepted the situation, letting myself relax into the nearby couch with a thump.

“How did that whole Hollow thing happen?” I asked bluntly. Shinji grinned, knowing that he’d got my curiosity.

“Ah, a little weasel was testing out a new toy, getting rid of a few dangerous elements along the way. I really wouldn’t recommend it.“ He grinned grimly, and I nodded, letting the man have his own privacy.

“So you were pushed out of Soul Society for it? I haven’t heard much about them being inclusive.”

“We left before they could exile us, but yes—they would have executed us for being abominations. Rightly so, from a certain point of view. However, we survived to control the Hollow within—becoming out own uniquely powerful beings in the process.” I nodded slowly.

“And now?” Shinji tilted his head again, widening his arms and showing off the gratuitous sleeves of his Captain’s haori.

“And now I’m back, and have been for forty odd years under Shunsui’s command. They are even letting Arrancar into Soul Society now, which had been… interesting.” The man grinned, clearly living for the drama between the others.

“This Shunsui guy, is he trustworthy?” I put forth curiously. Kisuke and Tessai almost never talked about Soul Society or their involvement with them. In fact, Kisuke told me the bare minimum about Soul Reapers and Hollows that he could get away with. But I had always hungered for more than just that.

“As trustworthy as a Captain-Commander can be, especially when he has to answer to Central 46.” Shinji shrugged, the haori bobbing and flowing as his lanky body moved underneath.

“So the political leader, basically.” Shinji snorted.

“If you want to think of him like that, then it’s your funeral. The man could wipe the floor with half the Court Guard Captains. Even I’d give myself a fifty-fifty at best.” I stopped myself from trying to put an order on the strength of those that I had met, knowing that it’d only result in me meandering away from the questions I really want to ask.

“Do you…” I paused to rethink my questions, but went ahead anyway, “Do you think I would be able to go to Soul Society? Without them ripping me limb from limb, of course.” Shinji barked out a laugh.

“No. Even under Shunsui’s order you wouldn’t be safe. The political landscape of Soul Society is evolving so fast in recent decades. A strange specimen like yourself going missing wouldn’t even make it into the Soul Society Communications.” I gave him a bitter smile, trying not to show my disappointment. I had known that would be the case, even if the same message had come from the overly paranoid Kisuke.

“So, the only other place where I can learn about my soul and really get stronger would kill me. Great.” The bitterness in my voice only increasing causing the odd-looking Soul Reaper to give me a wide smile, amusement spilling from the man.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, Grayson. How long have you been in Karakura Town—if you don’t mind me asking?” I hadn’t expected that question, but I answered anyways.

“Two and a half months, I think. Thereabouts.” Shinji’s grin widened to truly manic proportions.

“Oh! Then you are overdue for a chance encounter. That’ll set you right.” The smiling man cackled evilly before shacking his head ruefully, “Only in Karakura Town, kid.”