The sun never rose in the void between worlds.
Within the secret chamber beneath Seireitei's western cliffs, an eerie calm lingered. Massive pillars of obsidian spiraled into the darkness above, their smooth surfaces etched with countless wards and seals, some old as the Soul King himself. The air was still, heavy with forgotten incantations.
In the center knelt Kurotsuki.
She drew a perfect circle of blood on the floor, her finger glowing faintly with crimson reiryoku. Around her, ten identical silhouettes hovered in place—not clones, not illusions, but echoes, fragments of herself divided through forbidden Kidō.
"Phase three begins," she whispered. "Shadowshift."
The chamber pulsed.
In an instant, each echo scattered, vanishing into the walls like whispers.
Lan Yan stood on the edge of the Fourth Division barracks, arms crossed. Across from him, Unohana Retsu watched the horizon. Her gaze was unreadable, serene as always.
"You're healed. But you need more than that," she said without turning.
He didn't respond immediately. The remnants of the Vasto Lorde duel still echoed in his limbs.
"Power isn't enough anymore," he said finally. "I felt it watching me through that Hollow."
Unohana glanced at him. "You felt correctly."
"Kurotsuki?"
She nodded.
"And someone else," she added. "A force older than you, older than me."
Before Lan Yan could reply, the alarm sounded.
WEEEOOOHHHH!
Division Four lit up with motion. He vanished in a flash of shunpo, reappearing atop the southern wall.
A crater smoked in the distance.
No Hollow.
Just blood.
Lanran stood in the archive library with a single scroll unfurled. Ancient records glowed under the soft blue light of Kidō lamps. He read the glyphs carefully.
"Yōkugan… awakened prematurely," he muttered.
Behind him, Kisuke Urahara emerged from the shadow of a bookcase.
"The eye reacts to soul distortion. Yours and his are too synchronized. You see what he sees."
Lanran didn't turn. "Which means if one of us breaks, the other follows."
Kisuke tapped his cane against the stone. "It's time you learn to use it. All of it."
A soft click echoed.
Lights dimmed. The entire archive flickered.
"She's here," Kisuke said.
"Kurotsuki."
In the Eighth Division courtyard, Captain Shunsui Kyoraku staggered out from his barracks, blood staining his pink haori.
"She struck without killing," he gasped. "Like a scalpel."
Yoruichi appeared beside him. "She's hunting memories, not lives."
"What does she want?"
Yoruichi looked skyward, golden eyes narrowing.
"Not want," she said softly. "She remembers."
At midnight, ten sites across the Gotei experienced sudden reiryoku ruptures. No alarms, no Hollow signatures. Only silence.
And every site was tied to Lan Yan.
Or Lanran.
Or both.
Unohana called an emergency council. Yamamoto was absent.
In his place, a sealed scroll sat at the head of the table.
Lan Yan read its single line aloud.
"From this point on," he said, voice hard as steel, "the twins are not observers."
"They are targets."
Author's Note:
Kurotsuki divides herself. The twins are hunted. And old powers stir.
What is Shadowshift? And who is really pulling the strings?
The storm begins.
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