webAppInput

SceneIdQuery

myProfile

scene

query SceneIdQuery(
  $id: ID!
  $webAppInput: WebAppInput
) {
  myProfile(webAppInput: $webAppInput) {
    ...MyProfile_myProfile
    id
  }
  scene(id: $id) {
    ...Scene_scene
    ...SceneMedias_scene_16LRdq
    id
    order
    rating
    title
    seoTitle
    seoDescription
    isPublished
    isScheduled
    publishedAt
    content
    story {
      ...Story_story
      id
      isMine
      commentsAccess
    }
    prevScene {
      id
    }
    nextScene {
      id
    }
  }
}

fragment JobInfo_job on AiGenerationJob {
  id
  type
  status
  currentStage
  attemptCount
  maxAttempts
  lastErrorCode
  scheduledAt
}

fragment MediaStatusFields_media on Media {
  id
  status
  generationError
  activeGenerationJob {
    ...JobInfo_job
    currentStage
    id
  }
}

fragment MyProfile_myProfile on User {
  id
  name
  email
  isAdmin
  hasEverPaid
  isEmailConfirmed
  isEmailNotificationEnabled
  isTelegramNotificationEnabled
  isTempPassword
  avatar
  cover
  about
  contacts
  support
  telegramId
  vkId
  availableLimits
  frozenLimits
  urlSlug
  topUpPackages {
    id
    price
    currency
    toBalanceLimits
    bonusLimits
    totalCreditedLimits
    USD
  }
  availablePaymentProviders
  aiGenerationCosts {
    plan {
      size
      cost
    }
    characterSuggest
    ideaExpand
    sceneWrite {
      length
      cost
    }
    mediaGenerate
    videoGenerate
  }
  activeGenerationJobs {
    id
    type
    status
    story {
      id
      authorTitle
    }
  }
}

fragment SceneMedias_scene_16LRdq on Scene {
  id
  story {
    id
  }
  mediaAttachments(viewMode: READ) {
    id
    media {
      ...MediaStatusFields_media
      id
      type
      origin
      previewSrc
      mediaSrc512: mediaSrc(size: 512)
      mediaSrc1024: mediaSrc(size: 1024)
      videoPosterSrc(size: 1024)
      userPrompt
      finalPrompt
      rawPrompt
      mediaAttachments {
        id
        story {
          id
        }
        scene {
          id
        }
        character {
          id
        }
      }
      embeddedInScenes {
        id
      }
    }
  }
  sceneCharacterStates {
    id
    character {
      id
      name
    }
  }
}

fragment Scene_scene on Scene {
  id
  order
  displayOrder
  title
  rating
  isPublished
  isScheduled
  publishedAt
  minWaitersToPublish
  waitersCount
  readCount
  content
  story {
    id
    isMine
  }
}

fragment Story_story on Story {
  id
  title
  publicDescription
  type
  size
  narrativeType
  rating
  hasCharacters
  status
  isPublished
  isMine
  publishedAt
  likesCount
  favoritesCount
  displayDirection
  plotGenres
  settingGenres
  moods
  tropes
  displayContentWarnings
  sceneAtmospheres
  publishedStats {
    scenesCount
    wordsCount
  }
  author {
    id
    name
    urlSlug
    avatar
  }
  characters {
    id
    name
  }
  fandoms {
    id
    urlSlug
    translation {
      canonicalName
      id
    }
  }
  myState {
    isLiked
    isFavorited
    isWaiting
    id
  }
  lastPublishedScene {
    id
  }
}


A few days had passed since the incident in the park, and the transition from the familiar, quiet streets of the human world to the stark, unforgiving expanse of the soul society training grounds felt like waking up from a dream into a cold, stone reality. Orihime Inoue stood on the white-sanded floor of the vast, open-air training arena, the surface beneath her sandaled feet crunching softly with every slight tremor of her nervous shifting.

She looked down at her training gi, feeling the fabric stiffen against her skin. It was heavier than her usual school uniform, a constant, abrasive reminder of duty and the life-or-death stakes that now defined her new, strange existence. The silence of the training ground was heavy, broken only by the distant, rhythmic whistling of wind against the massive stone pillars that rose like silent sentinels around the perimeter of the field.

Renji Abarai stood twenty paces ahead of her, his tall, muscular frame casting a long, sharp shadow that stretched toward her across the white sand. He rested a hand on the hilt of his weapon, his expression a mixture of impatience and professional gravity. The atmosphere was neutral, heavy with the weight of expectation that Orihime felt pressing against her chest.

Byakuya Kuchiki remained off to the side, a motionless pillar of authority. She could not see his face clearly in the peripheral blur of her vision, but his presence was an anchor of freezing temperature in the room. His cold, dark eyes seemed to follow every microscopic movement she made, measuring her failures before they had even occurred.

Renji shifted his stance, his joints cracking audibly in the quiet arena. He drew a sharp breath, his gaze locking onto hers with a sudden, intense focus. He moved with the fluid, calculated laziness of a predator beginning a hunt.

Initiate the drill, he commanded, his voice echoing off the stone pillars with a metallic edge. You are to manifest the shield before I make contact. Do not hesitate, Inoue. If you fail, the strike will land, and you will learn the weight of your own incompetence.

Orihime felt her heart hammering against her ribs, a frantic, trapped bird seeking escape. She raised her hands, her palms trembling as she forced herself to breathe deeply, attempting to summon the familiar, warm resonance of her internal power. She reached for the sensation of the shield, but it felt distant, obscured by a dense fog of fatigue and swirling self-doubt.

Come on, she whispered to herself, her voice barely a thread in the vast space. Just focus. Think of the safety of those you protect.

She gathered the spiritual energy, pulling at threads of light that felt frayed and brittle. She could feel the subtle pressure building in the air as Renji pushed off from his heel, the sand exploding outward from his sudden acceleration. He moved faster than she had anticipated, a blur of crimson hair and dark fabric closing the distance between them in a heartbeat.

Orihime threw her hands forward, eyes wide and fixed on the coming strike. I reject, she gasped, the words catching in her dry throat.

A shimmer of golden light flickered into existence for a split second, a fragile, translucent barrier that crackled with instability. Before it could solidify, Renji’s weapon swung in a controlled, punishing arc. The blade didn’t cut, but the sheer kinetic force behind it slammed against the wavering field she had managed to weave. The impact vibrated through her teeth and bones, throwing her off balance.

She skidded backward across the sand, her heels digging deep trenches into the white floor. She stumbled to one knee, her hands scraped and burning from the friction of the energy release, and the shield shattered like dropped glass. The sudden stillness of the arena returned, save for her ragged, uneven breathing.

Byakuya did not move, but his voice cut through the air like a razor. Your focus is fragmented and your intent is shallow. If you cannot stabilize your own spirit, you are nothing more than a liability to yourself and those around you. You are playing with power you do not respect.

Orihime flinched, the words sharper than any blade. She looked up, her fingers clawing into the sand, feeling the grit under her fingernails. She felt small, exposed, and utterly inadequate under his scrutinizing gaze.

I... I can do it, she stammered, standing up despite the tremors in her legs. I just need to find the rhythm again. Please, let me try once more.

Renji sighed, though there was a flicker of something close to approval in the way he adjusted his grip. He didn't seem satisfied, but he was prepared to move forward. He readied his stance again, his muscles bunching as he prepared to test her resolve once more.

Again, he signaled, his posture aggressive and demanding. Show me you have the fire for this, or stay in the dust where you are.

Orihime closed her eyes, shutting out the sight of the stoic captain and the imposing lieutenant. She concentrated on the sensation of her own heartbeat, letting the rhythm dictate the flow of her energy. It was a slow, difficult process, a grueling struggle to find balance in a world that felt fundamentally tilted against her.

She wove the power again, more carefully this time. She could feel the heat beginning to pulse in her palms, a tangible, burning sensation that promised a firmer connection to her intent. She opened her eyes, locking them onto Renji’s impending movement as he surged forward once more.

This time, the shield surged to life with a firm, hummed resonance. It expanded, a dome of golden light that felt heavy and substantial between her and the charging blade. Renji struck with even greater force, the wood of his weapon creating a hollow, ringing boom as it met her defense. The shield held, though Orihime felt the strain in every muscle of her arms, her resolve bending but refusing to break under the pressure.

After a few moments of absolute, grinding tension where the only sounds were the friction of the blade against the barrier and her own strained gasps, Renji withdrew his weapon. He backed away, sheathing the blade with a sharp, final snap of metal on wood.

He stood down, looking at her with an expression that had shifted to something begrudgingly satisfied. You’re learning, he muttered, though his voice remained low. The pace of the training was taking its toll on him as well, his chest rising and falling with exertion.

Orihime felt the last of her strength drain away as the barrier faded into invisible particles of light. Her legs finally gave out, and she collapsed to the cold floor, the sand clinging to her sweat-drenched training gi.

She was utterly exhausted, her body aching from the strain, but beneath the physical collapse, there was a steady, immovable core of determination. She looked up and saw Byakuya watching her, his face a mask of cold detachment that gave no hint of whether he deemed her progress sufficient or merely a pause in the inevitable failure. She bowed her head, exhausted but determined, as he continued his silent vigil, his eyes dark and unreadable.

A few days had passed since the incident in the park, and the transition from the familiar, quiet streets of the human world to the stark, unforgiving expanse of the soul society training grounds felt like waking up from a dream into a cold, stone reality. Orihime Inoue stood on the white-sanded floor of the vast, open-air training arena, the surface beneath her sandaled feet crunching softly with every slight tremor of her nervous shifting.

She looked down at her training gi, feeling the fabric stiffen against her skin. It was heavier than her usual school uniform, a constant, abrasive reminder of duty and the life-or-death stakes that now defined her new, strange existence. The silence of the training ground was heavy, broken only by the distant, rhythmic whistling of wind against the massive stone pillars that rose like silent sentinels around the perimeter of the field.

Renji Abarai stood twenty paces ahead of her, his tall, muscular frame casting a long, sharp shadow that stretched toward her across the white sand. He rested a hand on the hilt of his weapon, his expression a mixture of impatience and professional gravity. The atmosphere was neutral, heavy with the weight of expectation that Orihime felt pressing against her chest.

Byakuya Kuchiki remained off to the side, a motionless pillar of authority. She could not see his face clearly in the peripheral blur of her vision, but his presence was an anchor of freezing temperature in the room. His cold, dark eyes seemed to follow every microscopic movement she made, measuring her failures before they had even occurred.

Renji shifted his stance, his joints cracking audibly in the quiet arena. He drew a sharp breath, his gaze locking onto hers with a sudden, intense focus. He moved with the fluid, calculated laziness of a predator beginning a hunt.

Initiate the drill, he commanded, his voice echoing off the stone pillars with a metallic edge. You are to manifest the shield before I make contact. Do not hesitate, Inoue. If you fail, the strike will land, and you will learn the weight of your own incompetence.

Orihime felt her heart hammering against her ribs, a frantic, trapped bird seeking escape. She raised her hands, her palms trembling as she forced herself to breathe deeply, attempting to summon the familiar, warm resonance of her internal power. She reached for the sensation of the shield, but it felt distant, obscured by a dense fog of fatigue and swirling self-doubt.

Come on, she whispered to herself, her voice barely a thread in the vast space. Just focus. Think of the safety of those you protect.

She gathered the spiritual energy, pulling at threads of light that felt frayed and brittle. She could feel the subtle pressure building in the air as Renji pushed off from his heel, the sand exploding outward from his sudden acceleration. He moved faster than she had anticipated, a blur of crimson hair and dark fabric closing the distance between them in a heartbeat.

Orihime threw her hands forward, eyes wide and fixed on the coming strike. I reject, she gasped, the words catching in her dry throat.

A shimmer of golden light flickered into existence for a split second, a fragile, translucent barrier that crackled with instability. Before it could solidify, Renji’s weapon swung in a controlled, punishing arc. The blade didn’t cut, but the sheer kinetic force behind it slammed against the wavering field she had managed to weave. The impact vibrated through her teeth and bones, throwing her off balance.

She skidded backward across the sand, her heels digging deep trenches into the white floor. She stumbled to one knee, her hands scraped and burning from the friction of the energy release, and the shield shattered like dropped glass. The sudden stillness of the arena returned, save for her ragged, uneven breathing.

Byakuya did not move, but his voice cut through the air like a razor. Your focus is fragmented and your intent is shallow. If you cannot stabilize your own spirit, you are nothing more than a liability to yourself and those around you. You are playing with power you do not respect.

Orihime flinched, the words sharper than any blade. She looked up, her fingers clawing into the sand, feeling the grit under her fingernails. She felt small, exposed, and utterly inadequate under his scrutinizing gaze.

I... I can do it, she stammered, standing up despite the tremors in her legs. I just need to find the rhythm again. Please, let me try once more.

Renji sighed, though there was a flicker of something close to approval in the way he adjusted his grip. He didn't seem satisfied, but he was prepared to move forward. He readied his stance again, his muscles bunching as he prepared to test her resolve once more.

Again, he signaled, his posture aggressive and demanding. Show me you have the fire for this, or stay in the dust where you are.

Orihime closed her eyes, shutting out the sight of the stoic captain and the imposing lieutenant. She concentrated on the sensation of her own heartbeat, letting the rhythm dictate the flow of her energy. It was a slow, difficult process, a grueling struggle to find balance in a world that felt fundamentally tilted against her.

She wove the power again, more carefully this time. She could feel the heat beginning to pulse in her palms, a tangible, burning sensation that promised a firmer connection to her intent. She opened her eyes, locking them onto Renji’s impending movement as he surged forward once more.

This time, the shield surged to life with a firm, hummed resonance. It expanded, a dome of golden light that felt heavy and substantial between her and the charging blade. Renji struck with even greater force, the wood of his weapon creating a hollow, ringing boom as it met her defense. The shield held, though Orihime felt the strain in every muscle of her arms, her resolve bending but refusing to break under the pressure.

After a few moments of absolute, grinding tension where the only sounds were the friction of the blade against the barrier and her own strained gasps, Renji withdrew his weapon. He backed away, sheathing the blade with a sharp, final snap of metal on wood.

He stood down, looking at her with an expression that had shifted to something begrudgingly satisfied. You’re learning, he muttered, though his voice remained low. The pace of the training was taking its toll on him as well, his chest rising and falling with exertion.

Orihime felt the last of her strength drain away as the barrier faded into invisible particles of light. Her legs finally gave out, and she collapsed to the cold floor, the sand clinging to her sweat-drenched training gi.

She was utterly exhausted, her body aching from the strain, but beneath the physical collapse, there was a steady, immovable core of determination. She looked up and saw Byakuya watching her, his face a mask of cold detachment that gave no hint of whether he deemed her progress sufficient or merely a pause in the inevitable failure. She bowed her head, exhausted but determined, as he continued his silent vigil, his eyes dark and unreadable. «The Substitute's Burden», part 4. Fanfiction — Bleach.

Secret Training Session. The Substitute's Burden — Bleach fanfiction | Fanfica

Secret Training Session

Soul Society

Awakening her reiatsu after a Hollow attack, Orihime Inoue becomes a substitute Soul Reaper in a world where Rukia never met Ichigo. Training under the reluctant Byakuya Kuchiki, she must hide her new identity from her friends. But a mysterious void threatens to consume both worlds, and Orihime's powers may be the only hope—or the ultimate threat. Can she harness them before it's too late?

The Substitute's Burden — Secret Training Session

Parte 4: Secret Training Session