A Name That Feels Important
After Yuzu left, Harry sat at his table, absentmindedly poking at the remains of his pie. His mind wasn’t on the food, though—it was on a single name.
Ichigo Kurosaki.
Why did that name feel familiar? It nagged at him, like a half-remembered dream just out of reach. He had spent years in battle, meeting allies and enemies alike, but he was certain he had never encountered an Ichigo Kurosaki before.
And yet… something about it stirred a strange sense of importance.
Shaking his head, he stood up and stretched. It’s probably nothing, he told himself. Just the paranoia of a man who had spent too many years expecting trouble around every corner.
Still, old habits died hard.
Later that evening, as he settled into his futon with a book, his mind kept drifting. Maybe he should do a bit of research, see if the name turned up anywhere. It wasn’t snooping—just satisfying his own curiosity.
But before he could decide, that strange feeling from earlier in the day returned.
That cold, unsettling sensation.
Slowly, he turned his head toward the window.
Standing outside, barely visible in the dim glow of the streetlights, was a figure.
A man—or something that looked like a man—dressed in tattered robes, his face gaunt and eyes hollow. But it wasn’t his appearance that made Harry’s stomach tighten.
It was the broken chain hanging from his chest, its edges jagged as if it had been violently severed.
A lost soul.
Harry’s grip tightened on his wand, instincts kicking in. But before he could react, the spirit twitched, as if sensing something—then suddenly turned and ran.
Harry rushed to the door, stepping onto his porch just in time to see the figure disappear down the street.
His pulse pounded. He had seen spirits before, back in London—wandering ghosts who lingered too long. But this was different. There was something wrong with that soul. Something unnatural.
And, deep down, Harry knew—
Karakura Town wasn’t as peaceful as he had hoped.