Bleach: Kishou Arima

Been busy for some time..

Also i am going to start a Fanfic idea pile since my mind is like a workshop of devil it has too many ideas and it sometimes leads me to abandon my works..

Like what would happen if someome reincarnated as Rize in tokyo ghoul..

Or Vegapunk like intelligence in Tensura.

Etc etc.

You can mention me there if you want a

---

A rift tore open in the skies above the Seireitei, shimmering with dark energy as Arima stepped through, his obsidian wings folding in and vanishing the moment he emerged.

His gaze remained calm as he descended, the air around him rippling from the force of his reiatsu.

Following closely behind him was his Zanpakutō spirit, now manifest in her humanoid form—a tall, armored girl.

Her molten red eye glowed faintly, her tone surprisingly casual as she said, "You know, Master, you've been neglecting me for far too long. I deserve compensation."

Arima glanced back mid-descent, raising an eyebrow. "Compensation?"

"Yes! I want sweets," she replied, her voice carrying a playful lilt. "The kind of sweets you promised me last time but conveniently forgot about."

As they plummeted through the air, their casual conversation seemed out of place against the backdrop of their dramatic entrance.

The wind whipped around them, and the ground rushed closer.

With a deafening boom, they landed in the courtyard of some poor fellow, cracks spidering across the stone where Arima's boots hit the ground.

Dust swirled around them, and as the debris settled, Arima stood tall, holding his Zanpakutō spirit in a cradle as though she weighed nothing.

She crossed her arms and huffed, pretending to be annoyed. "Master You're late on the sweets, but..... I'll forgive you this time."

Arima smirked faintly and replied, "Since I can't go around calling you by your true name, I'll call you 'Eto' from now on. Short, simple, and fitting."

Eto's singular eye softened, and she nodded, letting out a satisfied hum. "Eto it is, then."

As Arima gently set her down, Eto's mood shifted abruptly to excitement.

Her armored fingers curled into fists as she practically bounced on her toes.

"So! How's that forest girl doing? The one with the sweet bloodlust. Yachiru, was it? Fighting her last time was so fun! Is she still around?"

Arima's expression shifted, a rare flicker of warmth softening his features. "She's doing well. More than that, she's having my child."

Eto froze for a moment, blinking in surprise before leaning in dramatically. "Wait, what? Your child?"

Arima nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Yes. But I'll talk to her about manifesting her Zanpakutō spirit. I imagine it'll keep you entertained while I'm busy."

Eto hummed thoughtfully, tapping a clawed finger against her chin. "Hmph, I suppose that'll do. Though I wonder if her spirit is ... still too reserved like back then or is it now as wild as her?"

Arima didn't reply immediately but began walking toward their quarters.

Eto followed closely, her curiosity brimming as she imagined the possibilities.

---

Arima strolled through the Seireitei, Eto trailing behind him, her armored form clinking softly with each step.

Her hollow-like visage drew stares, whispers, and even a few panicked reactions, but Arima paid none of it any mind.

His stride was steady, his expression unreadable, and his posture exuded the kind of confidence that came from knowing no one could touch him.

Whispers grew louder as people recognized him, and some braver souls craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the mysterious figure by his side.

Despite the growing commotion, Arima's demeanor remained unchanged, indifferent to the spectacle around him.

His calm presence was a stark contrast to Eto's cheerful energy as she pointed at gawking Shinigami, making comments about their shocked expressions.

"You're really popular, huh?" she teased, tapping her clawed fingers together.

"Think they'll give us sweets if I scare them a little?"

"They won't," Arima replied flatly, his tone as detached as ever.

Eto pouted but continued to follow, occasionally mock poking at the gawkers with her sharp claws just to see them flinch.

As they turned a corner, they came face to face with Ukitake.

The pale-haired captain froze mid-step, his usual calm demeanor replaced with visible tension.

But it wasn't Eto's unsettling presence that caused him to stiffen, nor was it Arima himself.

It was the object in Arima's hand.

Arima carried it with casual ease, as though it were an ordinary item.

But Ukitake's keen senses recognized it immediately.

There was something unmistakable about the presence emanating from the object—it was a fragment of the Soul King.

For a moment, Ukitake said nothing, his gaze fixed on the object. His thoughts raced alomg with the resonance from Mimihagi.

Arima's sharp eyes swept over Ukitake, assessing him briefly. He paused, letting the tension build before stepping forward, closing the distance between them.

Then, without warning, Arima's hand shot out, grabbing Ukitake by the ear and twisting it firmly.

"Ow!" Ukitake yelped, startled. "What are you—"

"Neglectful as always," Arima said, his tone as monotone as ever, though there was a distinct edge of reprimand. "How many times have I told you to train properly? A hundred? More? You're even weaker than the last time.."

Ukitake flailed slightly, trying to free himself, but Arima's grip was merciless.

"You're too soft," Arima continued, his voice unwavering. "Too afraid to push your limits. Do you think your condition gives you an excuse to slack off? No. It's precisely because of it that you need to work harder."

Eto, standing behind them, burst into laughter, clapping her armored hands together in delight. "This is so good! Do it again, Master!"

"Stay out of this," Arima said without turning to her, though his grip didn't loosen in the slightest.

" Arima-san, please!" Ukitake managed to gasp, trying to maintain his composure despite the embarrassment of being scolded like a child. "There are people watching!"

"Let them watch," Arima replied, twisting his ear a little more.

"Maybe they'll learn something about discipline. You, on the other hand, need to stop being lazy and start acting like a proper Shinigami."

Eto cheered again, her hollow voice filled with glee. "He's right, you know!"

"Master should whip you into shape!"

Ukitake groaned, a mixture of pain and humiliation flashing across his face.

But deep down, he couldn't help but feel a faint sense of nostalgia.

Arima's harsh scolding, though relentless, reminded him of their past—the times when he and Kyoraku had become victims of his training when he was sparring with old man Yamamoto.

Finally, Arima released him, stepping back with his usual impassive expression. "Fix yourself, Ukitake. Or I'll fix you myself."

Rubbing his sore ear, Ukitake bowed slightly, more out of habit than anything else. "Understood, Arima-san..."

Eto grinned, bouncing on her heels. "You're too soft on him, Master. Next time, let me scare him into shape!"

Arima didn't respond, already resuming his walk through the Seireitei.

Eto followed, still laughing to herself as Ukitake watched them go, shaking his head in exasperation.

---

The two soom reached a shop at the edge of settlements in soul society.

The shop looked like it hadn't seen a visitor in decades.

Its wooden exterior was weathered, with chipped paint peeling off the walls and a creaky, faded board hanging precariously above the entrance.

The single word etched into it read Sweet with other half finished word being shop.

Eto scrunched up her nose, peering at the dilapidated building. "This? This is where you've brought me? The only sweets I'll get here are probably crawling with maggots!"

Arima, unfazed by her protest, continued walking toward the shop. "This is the best sweet shop in existence across the three realms," he said flatly.

Eto stared at him, incredulous. "You're joking. You have to be joking."

He wasn't.

Pushing open the creaky door, Arima stepped inside without hesitation.

The interior was just as unassuming as the exterior—dimly lit, with a few rickety wooden tables scattered about.

Dust motes danced in the sunlight streaming through the cracks in the walls, and the faint scent of sugar and something earthy lingered in the air.

Arima made his way to one of the tables and sat down, his calm demeanor unshaken.

Eto reluctantly followed, muttering about how this was surely a waste of time.

Moments later, the soft shuffle of footsteps echoed from the back of the shop.

An elderly woman appeared, her wrinkled face lighting up when she saw Arima.

"Well, well,well" she said, her voice warm and familiar. "If it isn't the wandering storm himself. Been quite some time since you've darkened my doorstep."

Arima inclined his head slightly in greeting. "It has been a while. I trust you've been well."

The woman chuckled, wiping her hands on her apron. "As well as an old bag of bones can be. But look at you, still the same stoic face after all these years." Her sharp eyes shifted to Eto.

"And so who's this bundle of energy?"

Eto blinked, staring at the old woman.

At first, there was no recognition in her hollow-like eyes.

But then, a spark of familiarity ignited. She gasped, running forward to embrace the woman.

"It's you!" Eto exclaimed, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

"The kind lady who cooked for everyone during the Quincy war... and the one who always gave me dango!"

The old woman's laughter rang out as she patted Eto's armored back. "Ah, so you remember me, do you? I see my cooking left quite an impression."

Eto nodded fervently, in excitement. "I don't remember your name, but I remember your scent! It's just like back then!"

The old woman smiled, a mix of fondness and amusement in her expression.

"My name, dear, is Akuhari—a bit ominous, I know, but fitting for someone like me who dabbles in both evil and the culinary arts."

Arima leaned back in his chair, his stoic gaze softening ever so slightly. You know her tastes well. I hope we can get everything you have that suits her."

Akuhari let out a hearty laugh, her voice full of life despite her age. "Underestimate my shop, will you? I may be old, but I've still got tricks up my sleeve. You'll have your sweets, and plenty of them."

Eto clapped her hands in delight, her earlier skepticism replaced with unrestrained excitement.

"Dango! Cakes! I want everything!"

Akuhari chuckled, bustling back toward the kitchen. "Sit tight, little one. I'll whip up a feast worthy of your appetite."

As the aroma of sweets began to waft through the air, Eto leaned toward Arima, her voice brimming with childlike wonder. "You were right. This is the best shop across the three realms!"

Arima didn't respond, but the faintest hint of satisfaction flickered in his eyes as he watched the exchange.

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Stones and Reviews please