As the last lingering traces of Yhwach faded away, Kaito breathed a sigh of relief and let his stance relax. They had done it. They had won. Yhwach was defeated and maybe they could all finally relax.

Across from him, Kurosaki settled his ridiculously large dual blades across his back and let his shoulders slump in exhaustion. Ishida allowed his bow to fade back to reishi, and carefully crossed the destroyed ground to stand at Kurosaki’s side.

“Well. This is a right mess,” a calm voice broke the silence that had fallen, and a stranger stepped from the distorted edges of the room, stride confident and unhurried. “Gin will never allow me to live this one down.”

Kaito swallowed back a curse as he stared at the man and his familiar zanpakutou: a long black daito and a pure white hook sword. He shifted his stance, flexed his hands around the hilts of his own weapons, and quietly resigned himself to peace and quiet continuing to remain beyond his grasp.

The man’s sharp gaze switched to Kaito, visibly examining him for a moment before the other’s lips quirked upwards into an amused smile.

“An alternate reality. How… exciting,” he said drolly. He considered Kaito for a moment longer, looked over at Kurosaki and Ishida, then shrugged and released his bankai in a whisper-quiet subsidence of power.

The familiar bankai outfit faded away, to be replaced with a rather traditional Shinigami outfit, including a white haori, but it was the man’s weapons that kept Kaito’s attention. Barely the length of traditional katana, the twin dao looked tiny in the man’s grip, especially when he transferred them into one hand and slid the paired blades into a single sheath at his waist.

“Who the hell are you?” Kurosaki demanded, pulling his blades from his back once more and taking a defensive stance.

“Him,” the man said with a casual gesture towards Kaito. “Though how in the world you ended up with blond hair… You remind me of Urahara Kisuke, actually.”

“I’m his son,” Kaito replied.

That seemed to startle the stranger briefly, and he reached up to fiddle with his glasses as he processed that. “I would have never expected that. So, kido then?” At Kaito’s nod, the man made an agreeable noise, glanced around at the shattered room, then shrugged. “Well, there goes my hope of a quick retrieval. Alright gakis, let’s be on our way. We’re achieving nothing standing around here and chatting.”

“Hey, wait a minute!” Kurosaki shouted as the stranger turned to go, before falling silent when the man’s long, braided hair swayed aside and gave them all a glimpse of the kanji for ‘third’ set in the center of a distinctive rhombus.

(*What. The fuck.*) Ichigo radiated shock and disbelief. The man was wearing a white haori, but the meaning hadn’t… quite registered. (*A Captain? He’s a fucking Captain?!*)

The man paused and looked over his shoulder, arching an eyebrow at Kurosaki, seemingly unaware of the shock directed at him. “Yes?”

Kurosaki coughed, glanced at Ishida and Kaito for a moment, then drew himself up despite his exhaustion. “What did you mean ‘quick retrieval’? And why are you wearing that?”

“A name would also be nice,” Ishida added.

“Sasaki Uryuu, Captain of the Third. Which is why I’m wearing ‘that’,” Sasaki told Kurosaki with amusement, as he tugged at one edge of his haori to make his point clear. “And since my being here is at least three-quarters Gin and Rangiku’s fault, I was mildly hopeful that the gakis would just undo… whatever they were toying with. But since that hasn’t happened yet, I doubt it will until Rangiku finally badgers Gin into playing nice with Urahara-san.”

(*Gin and Rangiku? He’s calling them gakis?*) Ichigo made a noise of disbelief. (*Gin’s been trying to kill Aizen for decades!*)

(*I guess… he was sent back much further than we were,*) Kaito said, warily eying the Captain. How much further was the question, along with what that amount of time had done to the other.

(And a small, terrified part of himself was staring at the other man and realizing exactly what being a powerful soul meant. His alternate looked barely thirty, and yet Kaito had no idea how old he actually was.)

“Do you… not get along with Urahara-san?” Ishida asked awkwardly, glancing once at Kaito and then back to Sasaki.

Sasaki shrugged and turned back to the exit, gesturing for them to follow as he answered the question. “He and I don’t always see eye to eye.” He tapped the combined hilt of his blades absently. “I’m a bit tired of mad scientists, truth be told, and Urahara-san has been… unduly fascinated with my nature from the moment he understood that I was a hybrid.”

“Father’s not like that,” Kaito finally spoke up, narrowing his eyes in annoyance. Whatever the Urahara of Sasaki’s world was like, Kaito knew that his own was much different.

The man turned his head a bit to give Kaito a considering look, then gave another wry smile and looked forward once more. “Perhaps not. I don’t recall the Urahara of my childhood very clearly these days, and never interacted with him all that much even then. Perhaps exile and Aizen’s games humbled him. Perhaps the man I know is lesser for never experiencing that fall from grace. But Aizen’s death, long before so many of his plans came to fruition… I cannot regret that decision.”