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Tokyo was loud. Not just in the normal, bustling way, but in the way Ichigo Kurosaki had never quite experienced before. It wasn't the cars honking, the chatter of pedestrians, or the occasional sirens blaring in the distance. It was something else—something beneath the surface, thrumming through the air like an offbeat pulse.
He frowned. This wasn't the spiritual pressure of Hollows, Shinigami, or even Quincy energy. It was something entirely different. And whatever it was, i ...
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