The Wolf and the Exile
Harry’s rise through the ranks of Squad 11 was unlike anything the Soul Society had seen before. In just a few years, he had gone from an unknown recruit to 5th Seat, then 3rd, and now, he stood just one step below Kenpachi himself.
The Battle for Lieutenant
Squad 11 didn’t appoint Lieutenants the way other squads did. There was no selection process, no paperwork—only combat decided who was worthy. And if Harry wanted the title, he had to take it.
His opponent: Igarashi Hideo, a veteran warrior who had served under Kenpachi for decades.
The two warriors stood in the center of the barracks training ground, surrounded by their squadmates, who roared with excitement. Even Kenpachi was watching from the sidelines, his grin wide with anticipation.
“I gotta admit, Potter,” Hideo said, rolling his shoulders. “You’re fast, but power wins fights.”
Harry smirked, rolling his neck. “Then show me.”
The whistle blew.
Hideo charged, his massive cleaver-like zanpakutō cleaving through the air. But Harry vanished, moving with lightning speed. His Bankai had sharpened his reflexes, making him faster than almost any warrior in Squad 11.
In a blur, he reappeared behind Hideo, his twin black blades whistling through the air.
CLASH!
Hideo barely turned in time to block, but the sheer force sent him skidding backward.
Harry pressed forward, his swords moving like fangs, attacking from every angle. His Bankai wasn’t just about strength—it was about overwhelming the enemy like a pack of wolves.
Hideo fought hard, but he was too slow.
In a final burst of speed, Harry shunpo’d behind him and slammed his blade into Hideo’s shoulder, stopping just short of a lethal strike.
Silence.
Then, Hideo dropped his sword.
“…Damn,” he muttered, panting. “You win.”
The squad erupted in cheers, and from the sidelines, Kenpachi let out a loud, booming laugh.
“You’re one hell of a fighter, Potter!” he grinned. “Lieutenant title’s yours. Just don’t get boring on me.”
Harry sheathed his blades, exhaling slowly.
He had done it.
He was now Lieutenant of Squad 11.
Meeting the Exile
Despite his victory, something troubled Harry.
Ever since unlocking his Bankai, his Hollow side had been stirring more aggressively. During battle, he could hear that same dark voice whispering, pushing him to let go.
He needed answers.
And so, one night, he found himself on the outskirts of the Soul Society, near an abandoned district of Rukongai.
That’s when he felt it—a powerful presence nearby, unlike any Shinigami he had encountered.
“Oi, you lost or somethin’?”
Harry turned sharply, his hand on his sword. Standing on a rooftop above him was a man with golden-blond hair and a cocky smirk, dressed in casual clothes rather than a Shinigami uniform. His eyes held a sharp intelligence, but more importantly—his reiatsu felt… different.
Like Harry’s own.
“…Who are you?” Harry asked warily.
The man leapt down effortlessly, hands in his pockets.
“Hirako Shinji, former Captain of Squad 5.” He tilted his head. “And you… you’re like us, aren’t ya?”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “Like you?”
Shinji smirked. “A Visored.”
At that moment, the dark voice inside Harry surged forward. His fingers twitched, and for a split second, he felt his Hollow mask trying to form on his face.
He clenched his fists, forcing it down.
Shinji watched him carefully, his smirk fading slightly. “You don’t got much time left, kid. That thing inside you? If you don’t master it… it’ll take over.”
Harry swallowed hard. He had suspected it for a long time. But hearing it confirmed sent a chill down his spine.
“How do I stop it?” he asked.
Shinji grinned. “You don’t stop it. You tame it.”
Mastering the Mask
Harry followed Shinji to an underground hideout, where a group of rogue Shinigami were waiting—the Visoreds. Each of them had Hollow masks and reiatsu that felt eerily similar to his own.
They explained everything.
They had once been Captains and Lieutenants—until Aizen had experimented on them, forcing them to undergo Hollowfication. Instead of becoming monsters, they had learned to control their masks, unlocking a power that rivaled even the strongest Shinigami.
And now, Harry had to do the same.
His training was brutal.
The only way to control his Hollow side was to fight it directly in his inner world. If he lost, he would become a Hollow permanently.
So, Harry faced himself.
Inside his mind, he stood before his Hollow reflection—a twisted version of himself with glowing golden eyes and a wide, eerie grin.
"You think you can control me?" the Hollow sneered, tilting its head. "I am you."
Harry’s grip tightened on his blade. “No. You’re just the part of me that I haven’t mastered yet.”
The battle that followed was like nothing he had ever faced. His Hollow self fought with his own skills, but faster, more ruthless. Every attack was meant to kill, not disable.
But Harry refused to give in.
With a final strike, he drove his sword through his Hollow’s chest, subduing it. The dark energy around him stabilized.
When he opened his eyes in the real world, he was wearing his Hollow mask.
The Visoreds watched as he stood, his reiatsu controlled, his mask fully formed.
Shinji whistled. “Damn. That was fast.”
Harry removed his mask, staring at it in his hand.
He had done it. He had tamed the Hollow within.
And now… his true rise was about to begin.
To be continued…