The concrete beneath your feet is cracked from the last sparring match. Dust still hangs in the air, lit by the flickering overhead lights. Ichigo stands across from you, panting, shoulders slumped, his sword arm trembling…

He’s trying to hide it. The exhaustion. The weight.

But you see it. Ginjo’s voice echoes from the shadows. “Again, Kurosaki. You’re not done yet.”

Ichigo doesn’t argue. He lifts his blade. But you step forward first.

“He is,” you say. “He’s done.”

Ginjo raises an eyebrow. “You think you know what he needs?”

“I do,” you reply.

And before anyone can stop you, you grab Ichigo’s wrist and flash-step out of the warehouse. The wind rushes past. The city blurs.

You land on the rooftop of your apartment, breathless, heart pounding. Ichigo stares at you, stunned.

“What the hell was that?”