No Cheat in Bleach ? Watch me help Aizen then.

The night in Seireitei was deep. Boundless.

Higashi Shuuichi sat cross-legged in his residence at Flowing Cherry Street, 14th district. Eyes closed, his consciousness sank into the void.

Reaching Kisaragi Shūsuke and the others—

—was absurdly simple. So simple, in fact, that it had never occurred to him before.

The key?

The Hell-linked sigils of the Tōma Clan.

He'd always assumed those markings could only connect to Hell. But that was flawed thinking. If Hell Butterflies could freely traverse the Three Realms—Soul Society, Hueco Mundo, and the Human World—even crossing the Dangai unimpeded—why would these sacred sigils be limited to just Hell?

They could guide souls from Hell. Why wouldn't they work between points in Soul Society?

Of course, the sigils weren't telephones. The ones marked couldn't speak directly to Tōma Sayako. But with her clan's sacred relic—Yomi Basara—Sayako could summon the marked individual directly.

Summoning from Hell was restricted to spiritual projections. But summoning from Soul Society? No such limits.

Still, Shuuichi couldn't afford to be dragged away right now. There was too much happening.

So the best option was—

—

"Waaahhhh..."

A baby's wail.

In the Human World, inside a modest wooden house, a middle-aged man scrambled to rock a crying infant in his arms.

Kurosaki Yumuki.

Shuuichi mentally sighed.

There had been too much going on in Soul Society. Between the Quincy body lacking energy replenishment, and Yhwach's silence, and Aizen's inaction… this vessel—his Quincy avatar—had been long forgotten.

It had simply followed the embedded orders: strengthen Quincy power, refine Schrift abilities, survive.

And survive it had.

Once Shuuichi fully reviewed everything this body had done in his absence, he could only marvel at fate's twisted paths.

Yumuki and his wife, Kurosaki Mai, had never planned on having children. Yet in their twilight years—both nearly fifty—this baby had arrived.

Their wandering life came to a halt. They settled in Tokyo Prefecture.

Naturally, their "disciple," Tōno Takuya—Shuuichi's Quincy body—stayed with them.

But over time, Yumuki began noticing oddities.

Seven years passed. Their hair grayed. But Takuya… hadn't changed at all.

Because he wasn't truly human. Not completely.

Takuya was a puppet—programmed with spiritual logic, created from reishi and Schrift techniques. He didn't age.

Still, Yumuki never brought it up.

Shuuichi inferred all this from the diary the Quincy body kept.

Probably due to age, Yumuki and Mai had grown risk-averse, uninterested in digging into truths better left buried.

"Lively little one, huh? Still causing trouble at this hour?"

Shuuichi stretched as Takuya, rubbing sleep from his eyes, leaned against the doorway.

"Tell me about it," Yumuki chuckled, lovingly looking down. "The missus is losing sleep, so I brought him out here so she could rest."

"Got a name yet?"

"Of course. Kurosaki Sawa. What do you think?"

"Nice. Has a weight to it."

Then Shuuichi got to the point.

"Yumuki-sensei… I'll be gone for a while. I don't know if I'll return."

He could've just vanished. But despite the short time he'd spent with them, this body had shared years.

And it was thanks to the Kurosakis that this Quincy vessel had stabilized, adapted, and gained strength.

He owed them a goodbye.

He thought Yumuki might question him—ask where or why.

But Yumuki simply looked at him deeply.

"Do your best."

Two words. But they carried everything.

Because he remembered those eyes—once before, seven years ago, when he and Mai were attacked by a Hollow far beyond their ability to resist.

That was when Takuya's eyes turned bright with wisdom and strength. Just like now.

He didn't know what possession was. But he knew—this was the real Takuya.

So he said no more.

Once, in youth, he might've tried to repay the debt. Thank him for saving them, for silently helping all these years.

But now? He glanced at the child in his arms.

He had ties. He couldn't chase ghosts.

"...Heh."

Shuuichi chuckled softly.

"I will."

Three words in return. A full conversation passed between men without saying anything else.

Then, without further delay, Shuuichi turned and walked away.

He would not return.

The Kurosaki couple would fade into the endless march of his long life.

But at least… with most of Hueco Mundo's major threats gone in the war seven years ago, it was likely the two of them would live out their lives in peace.

Back in Seireitei, Shuuichi traced the sigils of the Hell-Linked Pattern across his skin.

His reiatsu surged. Ancient glyphs glowed.

Far away, in London, aboard a luxury cruise ship drifting down the Thames, Tōma Sayako was enjoying tea under soft sunlight, chatting with Matsumoto Rangiku, who leaned lazily on the railing.

"I heard Count Rock Martin invited you to the opera again?"

"Don't bring him up, Sayako-san. Just thinking about that guy's face makes me want to puke."

Sayako smirked.

"Really? But he bought you, what, three vineyards? You could drink forever~"

From the deck, Nagazawa Satomi chimed in, fanning herself in the breeze.

She had long since become part of their squad's strange camaraderie.

"Like hell it's a gift!" Rangiku snapped. "You told him I liked drinking, didn't you?"

"Please. With the amount you drink, even random passersby know your bar habits."

"Fine, fine, it's my fault," Rangiku pouted, arms crossed.

Satomi cackled.

"Can't help it. The Count's got a type—and you're exactly it. If he liked women like me, I'd take a shot too~"

Rangiku scowled. "Just wait. Next time it's your turn, I'm setting you up good."

Sayako chuckled softly, watching them bicker, eyes drifting toward the skyline.

"Should be about time, right? Shūsuke-kun's return?"

"I sure hope he gets something useful this time," Rangiku sighed. "Maybe he can finally distract the Count from me..."

She pressed her hands together in mock prayer. A habit she picked up from a nearby London chapel.

But behind the joke, another hope lingered.

That the deal struck with Captain Kyoraku—investigating the missing Asauchi case—would finally come to fruition.

That they, and their lord Shuuichi, could stop hiding in the Human World like fugitives.

For Rangiku, who belonged to Soul Society heart and soul, this foreign realm never quite felt like home.

Even seven years ago, when they sensed Shuuichi's return—they stayed.

Because they wanted to earn his pride.

Now, all signs pointed to one man: Count Rock Martin.

They thought he'd be hard to manipulate.

But unlike the typical greedy nobles, the Count wasn't after money.

He adored beauty. Especially Rangiku's kind of beauty.

So it was inevitable: Rangiku became the bait.

Shūsuke entered the Count's household under the guise of a distant cousin.

And now, half a year had passed.

Rangiku prayed out loud, but privately doubted.

Shūsuke, as strong as he was, just wasn't made for espionage.

Had it been Shuuichi… one year, maybe two at most.

He would've solved it all by now.

Sayako opened her mouth to tease, but suddenly—

Her Zanpakutō pulsed.

A familiar ripple.

Someone had just drawn a new Hell Sigil.

Only two people knew how to carve it: Higashi Shuuichi and Shihōin Yoruichi.

But this sigil came from East Seireitei.

Yoruichi was still here in the West.

So—

"Is that you, Shuuichi-kun?" Sayako smiled gently.

She knew. That one line she'd left with Kyoraku… he'd passed it on.

And Shuuichi had figured it out. Probably with that dumbfounded look of his.

So cute~

Sayako cupped her cheek. "Adorable..."

She drew her Zanpakutō.

"Cross the mortal shore—Yomi Basara."

Silver butterflies danced.

The void split.

And a stranger stepped out.

"Eh? Mister… who even are you?"

Nagazawa Satomi asked with a raised brow.