Ichigo Kurosaki
For a moment, all Harry could do was stare.
The name that had been nagging at him, the strange sense of familiarity—it all clicked into place the second he saw Ichigo standing before him, clad in black robes with a massive sword resting on his shoulder.
The Shinigami Yuzu had mentioned.
The monster—whatever it was—let out a furious shriek, clutching at the wound Ichigo had just carved into its side. It thrashed, its towering form casting long shadows across the broken pavement.
Ichigo barely spared it a glance. His gaze flickered toward Harry, brow furrowing in confusion. “Oi… you can see this thing?”
Harry’s grip tightened on his wand. “You mean the giant masked creature trying to kill me? Yeah, kind of hard to miss.”
Ichigo’s expression darkened. “Damn it. This isn’t good.”
Harry wasn’t sure if this referred to the monster or the fact that he could see it, but he didn’t get the chance to ask.
The creature let out another piercing shriek and lunged again—this time at Ichigo.
But unlike Harry, Ichigo didn’t dodge.
Instead, he moved faster than Harry thought humanly possible. One second he was standing still, the next he was gone—a black blur flashing upward before reappearing above the monster.
With a single powerful swing of his sword, Ichigo brought the blade down in a clean arc.
The creature let out a final, gurgling howl as its body split apart. A strange, eerie light flickered from within its form before it dissolved into nothing, disappearing into the wind.
Silence fell over the street.
Harry exhaled slowly, lowering his wand. “That was…” He searched for the right word. “Efficient.”
Ichigo landed smoothly, adjusting the grip on his sword. He turned back to Harry, looking him up and down as if reevaluating something. “Who the hell are you?”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “I could ask you the same thing.”
Ichigo scowled. “Tch. You’re the new guy Yuzu was talking about, right? The foreigner who moved in next door?”
Harry nodded. “Harry Potter.”
Ichigo’s expression didn’t change—no recognition, no flicker of surprise at his name, and Harry felt the strangest sense of relief at that. It had been a long time since he met someone who didn’t know who he was.
Instead, Ichigo just frowned. “Alright, Potter. You need to start talking. Normal people can’t see Hollows.” He gestured toward the now-empty space where the monster had been. “But you? You saw it, and you didn’t just see it—you fought back.”
Harry slipped his wand back into his sleeve. “Yeah, about that… what was that thing?”
Ichigo studied him for a long moment, as if debating how much to say. Finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It was a Hollow. A corrupted soul. And if you can see them, that means you’re involved in all this—whether you like it or not.”
Harry huffed out a quiet laugh. “Story of my life.”
Ichigo didn’t smile. He just stared at Harry for a moment longer before shaking his head.
“Come on,” he said. “You’ve got a lot to learn.”