A device for contacting the world outside the Invisible Empire.
Using this method, Seiya could engage in private communication without ever interacting directly with the outside world.
This too was one of the results of Seiya's research over recent days.
Beneath a green fisherman's hat, a half-smiling face appeared onscreen, voice lively with familiar cheer.
"Ah~ it really has been a while, Seiya-kun!"
Kisuke Urahara.
Expelled from the Soul Society, he now lived quite comfortably.
Seiya offered a faint, polite smile and nodded.
Just as he was about to speak—
Urahara's head was shoved down by a sudden hand from offscreen.
"Whoa! Isn't this Seiya Arima?! Long time no see! How's it going in the Invisible Empire?!"
The voice was energetic and grinning.
Yoruichi Shihōin, in her familiar attire, beamed at Seiya from the screen.
"You haven't contacted us in so long—has the pressure there been too much?"
"Honestly, you don't need to push so hard… Once the intel's gathered, it's okay to pull out. If something really happens, that's a big mess."
"Hey, Urahara, don't move, I haven't fini—"
Her voice cut off. She vanished.
Meanwhile, a ruckus broke out offscreen.
"Yoruichi-san, please don't cause trouble right now! This is a delicate operation!"
"You damn hag! Quit screwing around—don't you know—gaghh…"
"Yikes! Sentarō's gonna die!"
"Everyone, calm down already…"
They were offscreen, but just the voices were enough to identify everyone.
The Urahara Shop gang.
After a moment, with his hat knocked askew and hair a mess, Urahara finally returned to frame.
"Ahaha… Sorry about that, Seiya-kun. Pretend none of that happened. Let's get back to business."
Whatever chaos happened offscreen was anyone's guess.
"Everyone got excited hearing your voice. After all, we all lived together once."
Seiya smiled faintly and nodded.
As a created being, a fragment of Arima, his abilities came from Urahara's deliberate guidance and training.
Naturally, as a product of a major Soul Society criminal, Seiya's development had been watched carefully.
Yet the shop's crew had sheltered him—raised him safely.
They might not be his "parents," but they were steadfast mentors.
"How's everyone doing?"
Urahara fanned himself, all smiles.
"Hard to say~ If you're really worried, why not come visit?"
"I see… we should be seeing each other again soon."
A joke at first—but met with a serious reply.
The noise on the other end fell silent for a moment.
Having grown up together, the shop crew knew his burdens best.
Now that things had turned serious, they didn't take it lightly.
Urahara snapped his fan shut and looked up, expression grave.
"You've got specifics, don't you?"
"Yes. Yhwach has confirmed the time of the invasion."
"…Sooner than we thought."
"Plans never keep up with changes. You knew this might happen."
"Ahaha, being called out so bluntly kinda hurts~"
Despite the life-or-death topic, Urahara's breezy tone made one sigh in both admiration and frustration.
"Alright, let's get to it—first, we should trade intel."
War wasn't something arranged on impulse.
Attack vectors, unit strength, battlefield logistics… all required lengthy discussion.
Hence Seiya's choice of a basement—minimizing the chance of exposure.
He held nothing back, relaying everything seen and heard at the strategy meeting, hoping to find insights.
"These are the main routes. I've also simulated two likely split-force variations."
"Since this attack plan was somewhat rushed, I was granted partial say in tactics… I'll do what I can."
"So get this info to the Soul Society, any way you can."
This had been the goal of his long preparations. Urahara understood immediately.
"And compared to that, I think the real problem lies with their equipment…"
He listened carefully, his chin nodding slightly in thought.
Like a delinquent suddenly paying attention in class.
Medallions, Schrift, Yhwach's declarations—each showed thorough preparation.
"A real headache, huh?"
He sighed heavily for emphasis.
They already held the advantage in numbers and strength.
Now, they had medallions that could rip away a Shinigami's Bankai. Just hearing it was enough to chill the blood.
Without a zanpakutō, what power did a Shinigami have?
Kido was inferior to the Quincy's Reishi manipulation.
Hakuda and shunpo had stagnated, their original masters long retired.
Only a few old timers remained—Unohana being the most reliable still on active duty.
As for the mid-generation…
They'd once brimmed with promise, but between prison and Seiya's disruptions, few remained ready.
The new generation?
They'd have to wait until the epilogue.
Some things couldn't be said aloud—but smart people didn't need them spelled out.
They had an understanding. Urahara nodded solemnly.
"I'll get this back to Soul Society."
Good.
Seiya nodded, then held up an object.
"Now, the next issue…"
The Medallion.
A Quincy emblem—and exclusive to the Sternritter.
"I just acquired this yesterday. It's a little different from my expectations, but generally on track."
"It analyzes a target via Reishi… and forcibly 'captures' Bankai, binding it to the medallion."
The Invisible Empire had been watching from the shadows, obsessively observing every battle.
But—
This seemingly "invincible" power had limits.
"Bankai that haven't been revealed are unaffected."
"Oh? That's good news."
Urahara grinned.
"Someone like me won't get caught so easily then~"
"But you're a Special Threat. Plenty of people want your head."
"Hahaha, so I finally get famous—and it's for this? Cut me some slack..."
The mood was light, casual—as if between old friends.
"Anyway, this has little effect on the top-tier fighters. Right now, the most at risk is Yamamoto Genryūsai—wait, something wrong?"
Seiya paused.
Urahara wore a faintly sorrowful look.
"No, nothing... Just sentimental."
Lowering his hat brim, he hid his gaze in shadow.
"You never used to call him 'Yamamoto Genryūsai.'"
Same face, same voice—
But the one who casually said "Old Man Yama" was long gone.
"…?"
"Haha, don't mind me. Just an old man rambling. Let's keep going."
Seiya didn't linger on it.
"The medallion stores Reiryoku and, after Yhwach's modifications, can now forcibly steal Bankai."
To level the playing field, it had to be dealt with.
"Urahara-san, how's the thing I asked you for?"
"Oh! You mean that, right?"
Spoken as if it were obvious.
Which made sense—they'd been collaborating for some time.
Even before obtaining a real medallion, their analysis was deep.
Snap.
Urahara fanned himself, grinning.
"Since it's a Quincy ability, we used Hollow powers to counter—nullifying the control…"
"A wild idea. Very Seiya of you. Probably only you would think of it."
Praise—but Seiya showed no pride.
"Doesn't matter. Just… is it ready? If not, it'll delay things."
"You do say the funniest things sometimes."
Urahara's smile turned subtle.
"I was once Captain of the 12th Division. Head of the R&D Bureau. I don't fall behind."
He held up a small, translucent vial.
About the length of a finger. Narrow-necked, with jet-black capsule-like contents inside.
He pressed it close to the screen.
"This is my prototype."
"Still unnamed—but it's distilled from Hollow blood and power, extracting their corrosive nature into a consumable drug."
"Edible, digestible, low-dose—even a vice-captain could take it without side effects."
"Eat 'em like candy if you want!"
That was a bit much...
But Seiya had no objections if it worked.
"Thanks for your work."
With arrangements made, the conversation seemed near its end.
To avoid detection, each call had to be brief.
Seiya prepared to cut the connection—until Urahara stopped him.
"Wait a moment… Seiya."
"Yes, Shopkeeper?"
"You're really not considering coming back?"
The question came heavy.
Urahara had clearly prepared himself.
His face didn't change, but his voice stiffened.
"Staying there… it's dangerous, isn't it?"
"You've done your job. Wouldn't it be smarter to return to our side?"
"It is enemy territory, after all."
Seiya was quiet for a moment.
Then he smiled.
"No. I still have one last thing to do. If I don't finish it… then I have no reason to exist."
That was—
To join in the final strike against Yhwach.
The moment the invasion began.
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Powerstones?
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