XX-level Hokage

Now, he could only be an outsider, vaguely sensing the faint spiritual pressure in the air, but not even having the right to reach out and touch it. That evening, the setting sun dyed the sky molten gold, and Ichigo rode his bicycle home.

The bicycle bell rang crisply. He was thinking about bringing Xia Li her favorite strawberry daifuku tonight when a familiar, blood-red spiritual pressure suddenly surged out from the street corner—it was the aura of a ghost!

Ichigo's body froze instantly, and he slammed on the brakes.

The bicycle tires screeched against the ground. He looked up and, in the spiritual vision invisible to ordinary people, saw a huge, hunched back with sharp claws gleaming coldly, silently pouncing on an office worker who was looking down at his phone.

"Danger!" Ichigo screamed instinctively, but his voice was drowned out by the traffic. The office worker was completely unaware. He tried to rush over, but found that he couldn't even muster a trace of spiritual pressure. He could only watch helplessly as the Hollow's claws drew closer and closer.

At this critical moment, a beam of icy blue light suddenly pierced the air, like a precise arrow, and went straight into the chest of the Void. In the dim light of the exploding spiritual particles, the Void let out a silent lament, and its body turned into specks of fluorescent light and dissipated in the wind.

In the shadows of the street corner, Ishida Uryu pushed up his glasses, put away his spirit bow, and looked over the crowd to meet Ichigo's gaze. He didn't speak, but simply nodded slightly before turning and blending into the bustling crowd.

Ichigo watched his retreating figure, then glanced at the passersby who were still chatting and laughing, and a wave of bitterness washed over him.

Once upon a time, he was the one standing there protecting this city, but now, he can only wipe that cold wooden sign and be a powerless bystander.

"Kurosaki! What are you daydreaming about? Is the eel rice for table number three ready yet?!" Ikumi Unaya's voice interrupted his thoughts. Ichigo snapped out of his reverie and quickly picked up the tray to the customer, the coolness of the wooden sign still lingering on his fingertips.

Just then, the wind chimes at the shop entrance jingled, and a tall man walked in. He had shoulder-length black hair, with wisps of hair covering part of his eyebrows and eyes. His black trench coat was dusty, and he exuded a nonchalant yet undeniably imposing aura.

What's even stranger is that he was carrying a steaming bowl of ramen and walked straight to the empty seat next to Ichigo and sat down. "Excuse me, sir, we don't allow outside food..." Ichigo put down the tray and reminded him somewhat helplessly.

The man seemed not to hear him, pushing the ramen towards Ichigo, a meaningful smile playing on his lips: "Kurosaki Ichigo, right?" His voice was deep and magnetic, like sandpaper gently gliding across wood, "Someone asked me to bring you something."

As he spoke, he took a business card out of his trench coat pocket and placed it on the table.

When Ichigo's self-sight fell on the business card, his pupils suddenly contracted—it had a comical head logo printed on it, with the words "Kurosaki Hospital" clearly written below.

This is his father, Isshin Kurosaki's, business card!

"Who are you?" Ichigo unconsciously rubbed his hands together, his eyes instantly becoming alert. He could sense that this man possessed a familiar yet unfamiliar spiritual pressure, unlike any Shinigami or Hollow he had ever encountered.

“My name is Ginjou Kūgo.” The man introduced himself with a smile, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. “Someone who can help you regain your power.” “Power?” Ichigo’s heart skipped a beat, and his breathing became rapid.

"That's right, the power of the Shinigami." Ginjo's gaze was like a piercing searchlight, seemingly able to see through all his resentment and longing. "I've been observing you for a long time, Kurosaki Ichigo. I know the pain you felt after losing your powers, I know the feeling of watching your comrades fight helplessly, and I know your weariness of this ordinary life."

He leaned forward slightly, lowered his voice, and said with a hint of seduction, "I can help you return to the world you know, and pick up your knife again."

"What are you talking about?" Ichigo suppressed his inner turmoil and tried to remain calm.

Yincheng pointed to his chest, his eyes turning serious: "We are the same kind of people. Our relatives have all been attacked by Hollows, and the Hollow power remains in our bodies, forming special marks. It's just that your power has awakened in a more direct way."

He paused, then said, word by word, "This power is called Fullbring."

These three words were like a key, suddenly unlocking the long-sealed door in Ichigo's heart. He remembered the Hollows he saw when he was a child, remembered the death of his mother, Kurosaki Shin, and remembered the power within him that had never completely disappeared, a power that belonged neither to a Shinigami nor a Hollow—so that was Fullbring.

Chapter 275: XCUTION (Part 1)

Meanwhile, in the private garden of the First Division of Seireitei, the air was filled with the aroma of tea.

Mashiro sat on the cushioned tatami mat, a faint steam rising from the teacup in front of her. Retsu Tamagohana sat opposite her, her fingertips lightly brushing the rim of the teacup.

Harribel, dressed in a black maid outfit, stood to the side, skillfully serving tea to the two of them. The sharp edge she once possessed as one of the Hueco Mundo Espada had long been replaced by gentleness.

"In the real world, a new actor has taken the stage." Mashiro put down her teacup, a hint of a smile flashing in her deep eyes, as if she could see Ginjo Kūgo far away in Karakura Town through the barriers of space. "A Fullbringer, quite an interesting existence."

"Just a group of pitiful people toyed with by fate." Retsu Unohana responded gently, a hint of sorrow in her voice. "The power within them originates from pain, yet they are bound by this power, never finding peace in their lives."

“Pitiful?” Mashiro chuckled, picking up her tea and stirring it. “I find them quite interesting. Ginjo Kūgo, the first substitute Shinigami, a failed product abandoned by the Tokishōkai, now wants to gather his companions to take revenge on the Tokishōkai—what a great script, full of tragic elements.”

"You're not going to get involved?" Unohana Retsu looked up at her.

"Why interfere?" Mashiro put down her tea basket, her gaze falling on the cherry blossoms swaying in the wind in the courtyard. "Ichigo-kun's growth has reached a bottleneck. The power of a mere Shinigami can no longer support his 'human, Shinigami, Hollow, Quincy' fusion soul. He needs a new catalyst, and these Fullbringers are the best choice."

A knowing smile played on her lips, her eyes like those of a god surveying a chessboard: "I'd like to see what possibilities will arise when the power of 'humanity' intertwines with the other powers within him."

Cherry blossom petals fell into the teacup, and Mashiro picked up the teacup and took a small sip.

A new piece has been placed on the board, and all she has to do is quietly observe the grand drama that is about to unfold. Late at night at the Kurosaki residence, Ichigo locks himself in his room.

On the desk lay Ginjou Kūgo's business card and his Substitute Shinigami license, the moonlight streaming through the window and casting a cold glow upon them.

The words "reclaim your power" echoed in his mind like a curse. He remembered the scene when Rukia was taken away, Chad's injured appearance while protecting him, Ishida's back on the battlefield, and the damned sense of powerlessness he felt when facing Aizen and Ulquiorra.

Was he truly content to remain an ordinary person, watching his comrades fight in danger while he could only pray from the rear? No!

Ichigo clenched his fists, a fire rekindling in his brown eyes. He picked up his phone, his fingertips trembling slightly as he dialed the number on the business card. The moment the call connected, Ginjo Kūgo's deep voice came through: "Have you thought it through?"

"I've made up my mind." Ichigo's voice was hoarse but firm, filled with an undeniable determination. "Tell me what to do."

On the other end of the phone, Ginjo's laughter came through, tinged with a hint of smugness: "Meet me at the back gate of Karakura Town Park at 10 a.m. tomorrow. Remember, don't tell anyone."

After hanging up the phone, Ichigo picked up the Substitute Shinigami License and gently traced the design on it with his fingertips.

Under the moonlight, his eyes became incredibly determined—this time, he would reclaim his world through his own strength. A new story begins from this moment.

At 10 a.m. the following morning in Karakura Town, the sun was shining through the clouds, casting a gentle warmth upon the earth.

On the tree-lined path behind the park, sparse sycamore leaves layer upon layer cut the sunlight into tiny dappled spots that swayed on the bluestone pavement like a swarm of lazy fireflies.

Kurosaki Ichigo stood under the old locust tree where they had agreed to meet, a full ten minutes earlier than the appointed time. He was wearing a slightly faded black hoodie, the hood pulled down low to cover the stray hairs on his forehead, his hands in his pockets, his fingertips able to feel the coolness of the fabric's folds.

His expression appeared calm as a deep pool, but a closer look at his brown eyes revealed two distinct emotions surging within them—longing and unease, like two intertwined flames that made his heart clench.

Seventeen months.

The seventeen months of "peace" felt like a soft, warm film wrapped around my body.

This thin film contains the warmth of the real world, the warm bento box handed to him by Orihime Naiue, the silent companionship of Chad, and the occasional witty remarks of Yuuryu Ishi. But it is also like an invisible wall, completely separating him from that world full of the cold light of soul swords and the collision of spiritual pressure.

He had tried to convince himself that this kind of "ordinary" life was good too, that he no longer had to watch his comrades get hurt, and no longer had to risk his life to fight. But the scene from last night was like a sharp key, forcefully prying open the dusty door in his heart.

The blue arrow shot by Ishida Uryu, carrying the unique chill of a Quincy, still echoed in his ears as it pierced the night sky; Ginjo Kūgo's whisper of "take back your power" was like a needle, piercing through the calm he had deliberately maintained—it turned out that he had never truly gotten used to "powerlessness," and had never let go of the self that could wield a sword to protect others.

"You've arrived."

A deep voice came from behind, carrying a familiar nonchalance, interrupting Ichigo's thoughts. He turned around abruptly and saw Ginjo Kūgo leaning against a sycamore tree not far away, the hem of his black trench coat lifted by a corner in the breeze, a half-smile on his face, as if he had been waiting there for a long time, even the angle at which the sunlight fell on his shoulders seemed exceptionally relaxed.

"Follow me." Ginjo didn't offer any pleasantries, simply gesturing with his chin towards a secluded path deeper in the park, his tone unwavering and resolute. Ichigo didn't hesitate, his steps instinctively following. He could sense that Ginjo's spiritual pressure was peculiar—unlike the pure aura of a Shinigami, and also...

It was like a murky void, or more like something between the two, carrying a vaguely familiar "temperature" that reminded him of the uncontrollable void power within his body.

The two walked one after the other through several narrow alleys. The stone slabs under their feet gradually became mottled, and the houses on both sides changed from neat residential buildings to old buildings covered with graffiti.

Finally, Silver City stopped in front of an abandoned arcade.

This arcade had clearly been forgotten for a long time; the colorful signboard had long since faded and peeled off, and the red "GAME" lettering was now just a blurry outline. The glass door was covered with a thick layer of dust, preventing even sunlight from getting in, and only revealing a dim shadow behind the door.

Yincheng reached out and pushed open the door. The creaking sound was particularly jarring in the quiet alley, like the sigh of an old object.

Ichigo followed closely behind, and a stench of dust, mold, and old circuit boards hit him, making him instinctively wince. The arcade was darker than he had imagined, with only a few rays of sunlight filtering through the stained window cracks, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.

Chapter 276: XCUTION (Part 2)

Rows of old arcade machines stand silently in place, their screens long since blacked out and the paint on the buttons peeling off, like a row of silent tombstones guarding this corner forgotten by time.

But deep within this "ruins" lies a completely different scene.

Several dark gray fabric sofas were casually placed, and a half-finished cup of coffee sat on the coffee table, steaming faintly. An old-fashioned radio sat on a low cabinet next to it, playing soft jazz music. These neat objects were out of place with the dilapidated surroundings. What was even more striking was that several people were sitting on the sofas.

A petite girl with dark twin ponytails, wearing a white dress adorned with lace, and holding a plush bear that was half her size, frowned immediately when she saw Ichigo enter. She glared at him unhappily, her eyes looking at him as if he were a stranger entering her territory, as if to say, "Another troublesome guy."

Not far away, on a single sofa, sat a middle-aged man wearing an eye patch. His well-tailored black tailcoat accentuated his upright posture, making him look like a butler in an old-fashioned aristocratic household.

He was wiping the gold pocket watch in his hand with a clean white cotton cloth, his movements as elegant as if he were handling a rare treasure. He didn't even lift his eyelids, as if Ichigo's appearance had nothing to do with him.

A boy wearing black headphones sat in the corner against the wall, his head buried in front of the handheld game screen, his fingers flying across the buttons. The light from the screen reflected on his face, and he was so engrossed that even the sound of Ichigo's footsteps as he walked in didn't distract him. It was as if the whole world consisted only of the game in his hands.

There was also a hot black woman leaning against the opposite wall, wearing a tight black leather jacket that accentuated her smooth figure.

With an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth, arms crossed, and sharp eyes coldly scrutinizing Ichigo, he exuded a dangerous aura, like a cheetah ready to pounce at any moment.

Welcome to XCUTION.

Kūgo Ginjō spread his arms wide, his tone tinged with pride, as if introducing his kingdom: "We are comrades—comrades chosen by power, and also abandoned by the world."

Just then, footsteps came from the shadows in the corner, and a tall figure slowly walked out.

The familiar silhouette, the broad shoulders, and the signature dark vest made Ichigo's pupils shrink sharply. "Chad?"

He blurted it out almost without thinking, his voice filled with disbelief and shock.

Chad Yasutora before him was no different from the one he remembered, but he could clearly feel a steady and powerful spiritual pressure swirling around Chad's right arm—more intense than ever before, like a bottomless ocean concealing astonishing power.

“Ichigo.” Chad looked at him, a rare look of determination appearing on his usually taciturn face, his voice deeper than usual, “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”

"What on earth is going on?" Ichigo's mind was a jumble of questions, with countless doubts flooding in—why was Chad here?

Where did he get his power? And what is XCUTION?

“It’s very simple.” Yincheng stepped forward, put his hand on Chad’s shoulder, and turned his gaze to Ichigo. “Chad is a Fullbringer, just like you. To be precise, his power awakened earlier and is purer than yours.”

“Fullbring.” Ichigo repeated the unfamiliar word in a low voice, a vague premonition in his heart that this word would change his life from then on.

"Fullbringer is the power to draw out and manipulate the 'soul of matter.'" Yincheng's voice softened slightly, taking a guiding tone as his gaze swept over the people on the sofa. "Our power originates from a deep-seated pride and obsession with something."

Like Chad, who had absolute confidence in the toughness of his arms, that obsession awakened the soul within the skin of his arms; Liluka (the girl hugging and looking at the doll) had an extreme love for her teddy bear, that love making the doll a vessel for her power—as long as that feeling is deep enough, it can awaken the dormant soul within matter and transform it into one's own power.

Yincheng paused, his eyes deepening slightly, and his voice lowering a bit, "And the source of this power is the trace of Hollows left in our souls after our loved ones were attacked by Hollows."

A trace of emptiness?

Ichigo's heart jolted, as if being squeezed by an invisible hand.

His mother's smiling face flashed through his mind, as did the Hollow named "Grand Fisher" that killed his mother on that rainy day—the masked Hollow with its cold eyes, and the image of his mother falling down. Like a sharp knife, it pierced his memory once again.

"Your mother was also attacked by a Hollow, wasn't she?" Silver City seemed to read his mind, her tone calm yet penetrating. "That Hollow power has long been integrated into your bloodline, sleeping deep within your soul along with your pride as a human. And what you must do is find that pride, and then...awaken it."

"My pride?" Ichigo subconsciously reached into his pocket, his fingertips touching a cold wooden object—it was his Substitute Shinigami License, proof that he had once served as a Substitute Shinigami, and a symbol of his sword-wielding battle.

For seventeen months, he carried it with him, as if holding it would bring him closer to that world.

“That’s right.” Yincheng saw his action and a knowing smile appeared on his lips. “It seems you’ve found the answer.”

He took a step forward, his gaze fixed on Ichigo's pocket, his voice clear and firm: "Kurosaki Ichigo, your pride as a substitute Shinigami, your will to protect others at all costs, is the key to your Fullbring."

"As long as you can draw out the fragment of your own soul contained within the license, you can use it as a basis to rebuild the power of death that you have lost!"

The words "reclaim the power of a Shinigami" exploded in Ichigo's mind like a thunderbolt. He abruptly looked up at Ginjo, his eyes instantly igniting with longing—could he really pick up his Zanpakuto again? Could he truly become the Shinigami who could protect his comrades once more?

"Alright, enough chit-chat." Ginjo clapped his hands, interrupting Ichigo's thoughts, and turned to look at the girl hugging the teddy bear. "Liruka, it's your turn to appear."

"Ugh, what a pain." Liluka wrinkled her nose and reluctantly jumped off the sofa, hugging her teddy bear even tighter.

Chapter 277: Liluka's Training (Part 1)

Walking up to Ichigo, Liluka tilted her chin up and looked him up and down as if assessing an item. Then she took out a delicate pink dollhouse from her pocket—about the size of a palm, with lace trim and small floral stickers on the windows, making it look like a toy.