[Memories of Nobody Arc] Part 131: From Soul to Soul

Three days had passed since the final confrontation with the Bounts. In the aftermath, the city of Karakura Town slowly began to return to a semblance of normalcy. With the assistance of Hitsugaya, Matsumoto, and Renji, the Shinigami worked tirelessly to clean up the remnants of the battle. The Bitto, the grotesque dolls used by the Bounts to drain the souls of the living, had been dealt with one by one. Yet, despite their efforts, some humans had still lost their lives to the Dolls, their souls consumed or irreparably damaged. For the Shinigami, this meant countless hours of hard work, restoring what they could and replacing memories to prevent the trauma of the supernatural from spreading further.

During this period, Nemu had time to recover. By the time her healing was complete, she had returned to her original form, her childlike appearance replaced with the composed and stoic demeanor she was known for. As soon as she was well enough, she and the other three shinigami had returned to the Soul Society to report on the situation and begin their debriefing process.

Back in Karakura Town, Yato sat alone near the Onose river, staring at the water's gentle flow. The sounds of the city, so vibrant and full of life, seemed muted, almost distant. The weight of everything that had transpired hung over him like a shroud. The revelation about the Bounts, Kariya's final words, and the truth of their existence had left a lasting impact on him.

He couldn't shake the image of Kariya's serene face as he vanished into the wind, his last words still echoing in Yato's mind: "Young ones... be strong." It was a message that resonated deeply with him, urging him to find strength amidst the pain and confusion. Yato closed his eyes, his thoughts swirling. 

His friends had tried to reach out to him, but Yato had withdrawn, needing time to process everything. Tatsuki, Ichigo, Chad, Inoue and even Uryū had all expressed their concern, but he had simply nodded, offering half-hearted reassurances that he was fine. In truth, he wasn't fine. The conflict had opened wounds within him, both old and new, and he was struggling to find his footing.

He opened his eyes again, his gaze fixed on the water's surface but his mind far from the present. Four months. It had been four months since he had been inexplicably transported to this world. What had once been a dream come true now felt like a never-ending test of his resolve and his identity.

He thought of his mother back in his original world. How was she holding up without him? The thought brought a pang of guilt and sadness. The bond he shared with her was the strongest connection to his past life, yet it was slipping away. It was as if the longer he stayed in this world, the more distant those memories became. He could hardly remember his own name now, the name his mother had given him. Instead, he was becoming more accustomed to being called Yato Yasakani. The name had become a shield, a new identity that allowed him to cope with the strange reality he now faced. It felt easier, in a way, to embrace this new persona rather than fight to hold onto a life that seemed more like a fading dream.

But this new identity came with its own complications. From the moment he had arrived, he had approached this world like a story... one he knew well, one where he could predict outcomes and understand motivations. The characters were not real people to him; they were scripted beings playing out their roles. He had treated them as such, which made it easier to make hard decisions, like when he had considered eliminating the Bounts without a second thought. In his mind, they were villains; their fate was already written. Yet, the encounters with Kariya and the others had shattered that simplistic view. The Bounts he had met were not the same as the ones on the screen. They were more complex, more human than he had ever imagined. And now, with Kariya's words still lingering in his mind, Yato couldn't help but feel a deep sense of discomfort, a gnawing guilt that he had misjudged them, that he had treated their lives too lightly.

The discomfort of this realization gnawed at him. He had been ready to destroy them, to erase them like they were nothing more than obstacles in a game. But now, he was confronted with the truth that these "characters" were capable of suffering, of making profound choices, and of seeking redemption in their own tragic way. They were real. More real, perhaps, than he had ever given them credit for. And that realization forced him to confront something uncomfortable about himself. Was he still treating his friends the same way? Did he see Rukia, Ichigo, Tatsuki, Chad, Inoue, Ishida and the others as people or merely as players in a narrative he once watched unfold from the safety of his couch?

He sighed deeply, his breath shuddering as he released it. What did it mean to be here? To live in this world? Could he continue to act as if it was all just a game, just a story he knew the ending to? Or did he need to start accepting the weight of his actions, the reality of the lives around him? He recalled the poems that existed in the anime.

{ True, we don't have anything such as 'fate'.

It's only those who drink in ignorance and fear

and stumble over their own feet

that fall and disappear within the muddy river

known as 'fate'. }

These words struck him with a strange sense of clarity. The idea that fate was not an inescapable force, but rather a creation of one's own fears and mistakes, challenged everything he had ever believed. It suggested that people were not bound by fate but rather by their own choices, their own fears that led them to stumble and fall. And yet, here he was, a person from another world, seemingly thrust into a role by forces beyond his control. Was it fate that brought him here, or had he stumbled into this situation because of his own desires, his own ignorance?

Then there was the other poem, darker and more resigned...

{ If fate is a millstone, we are the grist.

There is nothing we can do.

So I wish for strength.

If I cannot protect them from the wheel,

then give me a strong blade,

and enough strength, to shatter fate. }

This one resonated with his current turmoil. The image of being crushed by the wheel of fate, powerless to resist, was something he had felt ever since arriving in this world. The desire for strength, for the ability to protect those he cared about, was a feeling he knew all too well. He had wished for that strength countless times, both in his previous life and in this one. But what was the price of that strength? Was it the acceptance that fate was unchangeable, that all he could do was resist the inevitable for as long as possible?

As he reflected on these words, Yato couldn't help but find a bitter irony in his situation. He had been brought to this world with a power that was intimately tied to fate. The very name of his power seemed to mock the ideas expressed in the poems. If fate was something to be resisted, something that people stumbled into out of fear, then what did it mean for him to wield a power that could manipulate it? Did that make him a villain, the embodiment of the very force that sought to bind others to a predestined path?

As Yato stared at the river, lost in thought, he felt a presence behind him. He turned to see Rukia standing there, her eyes calm but filled with concern. She had been watching him from a distance, unsure of how to approach him after everything that had happened. Seeing him alone now, she decided it was time.

Rukia took a few steps closer, her gaze never leaving Yato's face. Her expression was gentle, but there was a firmness in her eyes that told him she wasn't going to leave without getting some answers.

"Yato," she began, her voice soft but steady, "can we talk?"

Yato didn't respond immediately. He kept his eyes on the river, as if the gentle flow of water could somehow drown out the turmoil in his mind. He knew Rukia could see through him, that she could feel the storm of emotions he was trying so hard to suppress. But he couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze, to let her see the vulnerability he was struggling to keep hidden. He kept his face blank, trying to appear calm, but inside, he was anything but.

But Rukia could see right through him. She always could. Even without looking directly into his eyes, she could sense the turmoil roiling within him. Their connection ran deeper than mere friendship; their souls were intertwined in a way that, for her, defied explanation. She could feel his anguish, his guilt, his uncertainty. And she knew he could feel her concern, her frustration, her unwavering determination to reach him.

For a long moment, there was only silence between them, the sound of the water flowing softly in the background. Yato could feel her presence like a steadying force, something solid and real amidst the chaos of his thoughts. He wanted to push her away, to tell her to leave him alone.

"What's the point, Rukia?" he muttered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the river. "What difference does it make if we talk about it?"

Rukia remained silent for a moment, her gaze unwavering. She stepped closer, her feet barely making a sound against the gravel. "It makes a difference because you're not alone in this, Yato," she said softly. "We all went through it. We all have questions and doubts, but shutting yourself away won't make them disappear."

Yato clenched his jaw, his eyes fixed on the water. "You don't understand," he whispered. "You can't understand."

"Then help me understand," Rukia pressed. "I know something's been eating at you since we returned from Soul Society. You've been different, Yato. Distant. It's not just about the battle against the Bounts, is it?"

Yato flinched at her words, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to tell her everything, to let her in on the secrets he'd been hiding since he arrived in this world. But how could he? How could he explain that he wasn't even supposed to be here, that he was playing a role in a story he thought he knew, only to realize it was far more real and complex than he ever imagined?

He shook his head, trying to dispel the overwhelming urge to spill everything. "It's… complicated," he said finally, his voice strained. "There are things I can't—things I shouldn't talk about."

Rukia could see the hesitation in his eyes, the doubt that still lingered. She took a deep breath, steeling herself before she spoke again.

"Come with me," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. She tugged on his wrist, pulling him away from the riverbank.

Yato stumbled slightly, caught off guard by her sudden determination. "W-where are we going?" he asked, trying to keep up with her as she led him away.

Rukia didn't answer right away, her grip on his wrist firm as she navigated through the streets of Karakura Town. Yato followed her in silence, his mind racing with questions and uncertainties. He had no idea where she was taking him, but a part of him didn't care. He was too tired to resist, too drained to fight back.

They walked through the streets in silence, the tension between them growing with each step. The sky above had taken on the dusky hues of twilight, and the air was filled with the soft murmurs of the town settling down for the evening. Yato couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him. Rukia was determined, focused on a goal she had yet to share with him, and that made him all the more anxious. 

Finally, they stopped in front of a modest house tucked away on a quiet street. Yato recognized it immediately. It was his house, or at least the place that had become his home in this world. He looked at Rukia in confusion.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of suspicion and curiosity.

Rukia didn't answer right away. She simply looked at him, her eyes searching his for something he couldn't quite understand. Then, without a word, she opened the door and gently pushed him inside.

Once inside, Yato hesitated, glancing around the familiar space that had offered him solace during his time in this world. Rukia closed the door behind them and walked further into the room, her movements deliberate and calm. She gestured for him to follow her, and he did, albeit with a growing sense of unease.

They stopped in the middle of the living room, and Rukia sat down on the floor, crossing her legs in a meditative posture. Yato blinked, momentarily thrown off by the sudden shift in the atmosphere.

"Rukia… what are you doing?" he asked, still standing.

She didn't respond immediately. Instead, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them again, fixing him with a gaze that was both intense and serene. "Sit down, Yato," she instructed softly.

Yato hesitated, unsure of what to make of this. He had seen Rukia in many different moods...stern, angry, determined...but this was different. There was a calmness to her that unsettled him, as if she had come to a decision that he wasn't yet privy to. Reluctantly, he sat down across from her, mimicking her meditative pose. He couldn't help but feel a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. He had no idea what Rukia intended, but there was a seriousness to her that made his heart race.

Rukia closed her eyes again, taking several deep, measured breaths. Yato also closed his eyes, his mind racing with questions. Why had she brought him here? What did she want to accomplish?

The air around them seemed to shift, growing thicker, more tangible. Yato could feel his consciousness beginning to drift, the familiar weight of the world lifting away as he sank deeper into his own mind. It was a sensation he had felt before, whenever he connected with Ōkagetsu, but this time it was different. This time, it felt like he was being guided, drawn into a place that was both familiar and foreign.

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself standing in a vast, endless expanse of sky, bathed in the warm, golden hues of an eternal sunset. The world around him was still and quiet, save for a faint, static-like noise that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

It was his inner world, the realm within his soul where he could connect with his zanpakutō, Ōkagetsu. But something was off. The music that usually filled the air was gone, replaced by a strange, dissonant static that grated against his senses.

He looked around, searching for any sign of Ōkagetsu. It didn't take long to find her. She was standing a short distance away, her back turned to him. Her long black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall. Her hands were pressed against her ears, her eyes tightly shut as if she was trying to block out the static that filled the air.

Yato's heart clenched at the sight of her in such distress. He took a step forward, wanting to reach out and comfort her, but something stopped him. It was then that he noticed another presence, a figure standing beside Ōkagetsu, embracing her gently.

It was Sode no Shirayuki, the spirit of Rukia's zanpakutō. Her pale, snow-white kimono flowed like water, and her long hair, as white as fresh snow, contrasted sharply against the warm colors of the sunset. She held Ōkagetsu close, her expression calm and soothing as she whispered words of comfort into her ear.

Rukia stepped forward, breaking the silence. She wore her usual black shinigami kimono, her sword hanging at her side. Her eyes were focused and determined, but there was a softness in her gaze as she looked at Yato.

"This is the safest place for us to be honest with each other," she said quietly, her voice carrying an unusual gentleness. "Here, in our inner worlds, where our souls are laid bare, we can speak freely. No masks, no pretenses."

Yato swallowed hard, his gaze shifting between Rukia and the two zanpakutō spirits. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a mixture of fear and anticipation coursing through him. He wasn't sure he was ready for this kind of confrontation, but he knew there was no turning back now.

Rukia drew her zanpakutō slowly, the blade glinting in the warm light of the sunset. She held it in front of her, her stance firm but non-threatening. "If words aren't enough," she said softly, "then let our souls speak for us. Draw your blade, Yato."

Yato hesitated, his hand trembling as it hovered over the hilt of his zanpakutō. His heart pounded in his chest, every instinct telling him to turn away, to refuse this confrontation. The dissonant static in his inner world gnawed at his senses, amplifying his internal conflict. He knew that Ōkagetsu's distress was a reflection of his own turmoil, a manifestation of the doubts and fears that had taken root deep within him. The longer he delayed, the more pronounced the discomfort became, as if the very fabric of his soul was fraying at the edges.

But when he looked up, he saw Rukia's steady gaze, her eyes filled with an unwavering determination that seemed to pierce through the fog of his doubts. She stood before him, her own zanpakutō drawn, her stance calm but resolute. She wasn't challenging him out of anger or aggression; it was something deeper, a call for him to face the truth he had been avoiding. The two spirits beside them were silent witnesses to the moment, their presence a reminder of the bond that connected them all

With a deep breath, Yato finally grasped the hilt of his zanpakutō and draw the blade from its sheath. The sound of the sword being unsheathed echoed through the quiet expanse, a sharp, clear note that cut through the tension in the air.

A wave of dark reiatsu flowed around Yato, mingling with hints of red. It felt hot and chaotic, a stark contrast to the cold, soothing reiatsu that emanated from Rukia. The two energies swirled in the air, mixing but never fully merging, creating a strange, tense balance between them.

Neither spoke as they released their shikai. With a silent command, Yato's zanpakutō transformed, the sword darkening to a deep black with glowing red flames running along its blade. At the same moment, Rukia's zanpakutō took on its shikai form, the blade turning pure white, radiating a cold, ethereal light.

Yato's reiatsu began to rise, responding to the release of the zanpakutō. It was a dark, swirling energy that enveloped him, tinged with red like embers glowing in the depths of a shadowy night. The air around him grew warmer, almost stifling, as the energy pulsated in sync with his heartbeat.

At the same time, Rukia's reiatsu flared to life, a sharp contrast to Yato's. Her aura was cold and pure, a white-blue light that shimmered like the surface of a frozen lake under moonlight. The temperature in the air dropped significantly, and Yato could see his breath as the cold aura began to spread, mingling with his own fiery energy. The two opposing forces clashed, creating a delicate balance between heat and cold, darkness and light.

Without another word, they both moved simultaneously, their swords slicing through the air in a synchronized motion. The clash of their blades sent a shockwave through the air, and their reiatsu surged, pushing against each other in a fierce yet controlled display of power. The world around them reacted to the force of their combined energies, the golden hues of the sunset intensifying, the dissonant static in the air beginning to fade.

---

Meanwhile, in a quiet corner of Karakura Town, the atmosphere was far more subdued. The cozy living room of Tatsuki's home was a sharp contrast to the tension that had filled Yato's inner world.

Tatsuki and Orihime sat across from each other at the low table in the center of the room. The table was small, made of dark polished wood, and bore the weight of a simple tea set. Tatsuki's hands were wrapped around a delicate porcelain cup, the steam from the hot tea rising in slow, languid tendrils that seemed to dance in the afternoon light. Her fingers gripped the cup tightly, her knuckles white, betraying the tension that simmered just below the surface.

Tatsuki's face was a mix of frustration and sadness, her eyes downcast, staring intently at the tea as if it held all the answers she was searching for. Her usually strong and confident demeanor was replaced with one of vulnerability. The once lively and spirited fighter now seemed small and unsure, burdened by a weight she was struggling to carry.

She took a deep breath and finally broke the silence, her voice low and filled with an uncharacteristic hesitance. "I'm sorry for not telling you sooner about my powers being… a bit out of control," she said softly, her words barely louder than a whisper. Her gaze remained fixed on the tea, her expression taut with a mixture of shame and uncertainty. "I didn't want to worry you… or scare you."

Tatsuki's admission hung in the air between them, a heavy truth that she had been holding back for far too long. It was clear from the look in her eyes that this was not an easy confession for her to make. Her usually confident exterior had cracked, revealing the fear and confusion she had been hiding.

Inoue, sitting opposite her, offered a gentle smile, her eyes soft and understanding. She reached out across the table, her hand hovering just above Tatsuki's, hesitant but comforting. "It's okay, Tatsuki-chan," she reassured, her voice warm and soothing, though there was a hint of unease in her own eyes. She too had been through her share of traumatic experiences lately. Seeing Tatsuki's powers spiral out of control had been alarming, but even more so had been witnessing Ichigo's terrifying struggle with his inner Hollow and the nightmarish moment when Yato's face had cracked, threatening to shatter like fragile porcelain.

Inoue took a small sip of her tea, her eyes flicking up to study Tatsuki's face. She noticed the way her friend's shoulders were hunched, her body tense, as if she were bracing herself against some unseen force. The tea in Tatsuki's cup had gone cold, untouched since she had poured it.

"Tatsuki-chan?" Inoue asked gently, her voice breaking the silence like a soft breeze stirring leaves.

Tatsuki didn't respond immediately. Her grip on the tea cup tightened, her fingers trembling slightly. She stared down into the dark liquid, her reflection distorted in the ripples caused by her shaking hands. Her brows furrowed, and she bit her lower lip, struggling with her emotions. There was a storm brewing inside her, one that she had been trying to keep at bay for far too long.

"I'm such an idiot," Tatsuki muttered finally, her voice barely audible, thick with frustration and self-reproach. "I went to him for help and didn't even think that he might be going through something serious too…"

Her words were vague, but Inoue knew she was talking about Yato. Inoue's heart ached for her friend. She knew that Tatsuki was hard on herself, always feeling like she needed to be strong, to protect those around her. But in trying to be strong, Tatsuki often forgot to allow herself the same kindness she showed to others. She reached out, placing a comforting hand over Tatsuki's clenched fist, her touch light yet steady.

Orihime's gentle hand rested atop Tatsuki's clenched fist, her warmth seeping through the tension in her friend's body. She could feel the weight of Tatsuki's guilt and self-reproach, but she also knew that Tatsuki was someone who internalized everything, rarely allowing herself the comfort of being vulnerable, even around her closest friends.

"Yasakani-kun seems like the kind of person who prefers helping others rather than asking for help himself. In a way, he reminds me a lot of you… and Kurosaki-kun." She smiled gently, her eyes reflecting the kindness and understanding she was trying to convey. "You're all so alike in that way... always wanting to protect others, even if it means carrying everything on your own shoulders."

Tatsuki's grip on the cup loosened slightly, her tense expression softening as she absorbed Orihime's words. There was a hint of relief in her eyes, a flicker of understanding that perhaps she hadn't failed Yato as much as she thought.

Orihime, sensing the slight shift in Tatsuki's mood, decided to lighten the atmosphere. She leaned in a little closer, her smile turning playful as she asked, "Tatsuki-chan… do you like Yasakani-kun?"

Tatsuki's reaction was immediate and unmistakable. Her eyes widened in surprise, and a flush of red spread across her cheeks. She almost spilled her tea as she quickly set the cup down, sputtering out a quick, "N-no! Of course not!" Her voice was defensive, and she avoided looking at Orihime, instead focusing on the far corner of the room as if it suddenly held the most interesting thing in the world.

Orihime giggled softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "You don't have to be embarrassed, Tatsuki-chan. It's just that… well, you've always been someone who's more focused on karate and taking care of your friends. But lately, I've noticed that you mention Yasakani-kun a lot. And when something happens, you often look for him first."

Tatsuki huffed lightly, crossing her arms over her chest and turning her gaze further away. "It's not like that, Orihime," she grumbled, her tone stubborn. "Whether I like Yato or not wouldn't matter anyway. I'm not exactly lucky when it comes to… stuff like that." Her voice trailed off, a note of melancholy creeping in as she finished her sentence.

---

Meanwhile, High above Karakura Town, on the rooftop of a tall building near the park, a young girl stood on the edge, gazing out over the city with a serene smile. Her large amber eyes sparkled in the night, catching the light from the stars and the glow of the park's lamps below. Her purple hair, tied with a yellow ribbon, fluttered gently in the cool evening breeze. She wore a light brown shirt and a brown skirt with a maroon tie, her outfit simple yet striking against the darkening sky.

The view from the rooftop was breathtaking. The park below was dotted with lights, casting a warm glow over the winding paths and small ponds. The trees, swaying gently in the night air, created a soft rustling sound that blended with the distant hum of the city. Above, the sky was a deep indigo, scattered with stars that twinkled like diamonds against the velvet backdrop.

The girl closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply and letting the crisp night air fill her lungs. She could hear the faint sounds of laughter and chatter from the people below, enjoying a peaceful evening in the park. She opened her eyes again and gazed down at the scene, her smile widening slightly. "This is so nice." she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the soft sounds of the night.