Isshin Shiba's face was plastered with white medicated patches from forehead to jaw. The graze Byakurai had left on his left cheekbone still throbbed with faint heat, bandages wrapped his right shoulder, and ointment seeped past the edges where the wrapping disappeared beneath his shihakushō collar. He had his haori slung over one shoulder as he walked the stone path from the Squad 10 barracks toward the hot springs. An evening breeze caught the corner of a patch and peeled it up. He pressed it back down. It curled up again. He stopped bothering.

"Didn't we agree to let the two of us have a proper showdown? What were you doing cutting in! How am I supposed to show my face now!" His voice boomed down the quiet night path and kept going.

Tōshirō Hitsugaya walked to his left, short white hair swaying slightly in the wind, brow furrowed tight enough to crush a fly. "Our mission was to apprehend the criminal as quickly as possible. The warrant from Central 46 clearly stated: immediate arrest. Not 'let the Captain duel the suspect one-on-one.'"

Rangiku Matsumoto walked on Hitsugaya's other side, half a dried persimmon dangling from her lips. "His name's already been cleared now, you know," she said, muffled around the persimmon. "Even Central 46 dropped the charges." She swallowed it and dusted the powder off her hands. "That said, Captain really did go on too long. We went there to make an arrest and you ended up fighting him for nearly half an hour."

Isshin paused mid-step and turned around, pointing at the patches on his face. "I was not playing around. At the start, before I used Shikai, sure — I wanted to feel him out. I'd never had a real fight with him before, so I wanted to see what he was hiding. But the longer it went, the more it got under my skin!"

He yanked the haori off his shoulder and snapped it through the air, nearly smacking a crooked tree by the roadside. "Every Kidō master I've ever fought — you've seen the type — they stand completely still. Hadō, Bakudō, Hadō, Bakudō, and if they take two steps back it's only to open distance. I charge in, knock the guards aside, bring the blade down, fight over. But today? Today, this Kidō master, his feet never stopped moving. Red Fire Cannon was going off right beside him and he was still repositioning. Bakudō to cut off my footwork, Hadō to set the rhythm, every single step I took landed in a hole he'd already dug. I can't describe how maddening it was. You'll understand once you get the chance to fight him yourselves."

Hitsugaya was quiet for a moment. He was thinking of the abandoned node in Inuzuri, of how, when Seijūrō had faced the flames of Isshin's Engetsu, his movement across the ground had been almost perfectly synchronized with the spread of the fire. Not retreat. Anticipation. "I don't need to fight him," Hitsugaya said. "I watched."

Isshin tossed the haori back over his shoulder and turned around. "Forget it, forget it. Bath time. Tonight I'm soaking every last bit of this misery out of my bones." His footsteps stopped at the entrance of a hot spring shop. The noren curtain had a circular family crest embroidered on it, warm yellow light bleeding through from behind, the air thick with sulfur and steam. Two characters on the signboard read: Nekonoyu. Isshin lifted the curtain. "Kūkaku!"

Kūkaku Shiba was sitting behind the counter, one hand resting on the surface, the other holding a kiseru pipe. She looked up at Isshin and exhaled a slow puff of smoke. "You're so loud. Your voice is worse than the wild dogs outside."

Isshin strode up to the counter, dropped his haori on a nearby chair, and planted both hands on the surface. "Let me tell you, your uncle here almost got beaten into scrap today, " Kūkaku ignored him. She tilted her chin toward the space behind him. "You're blocking my distinguished guest."

Isshin turned around. Seijūrō stood two paces behind him, the cuffs of his plain gray clothes still carrying scorch marks, the cut on his temple already scabbed over. The two of them looked at each other in silence for a moment. Isshin stepped back, snapped his gaze to Kūkaku, and pointed at Seijūrō. "Why is this guy here! He's a criminal — no wait, he's not a criminal anymore, but — why is he here?"

Kūkaku set the pipe beside the ashtray, pulled a key from the drawer, placed it on the counter, and slid it across to Seijūrō. "He's my VIP member," she said. Seijūrō took the key, gave Isshin a nod, and walked inside.

"Hold on, what do you mean VIP member? I've never heard of any such thing. Does he actually get his own private bath!" Isshin's questions chased Kūkaku across the counter, his voice loud enough to set the noren trembling throughout the entire shop. Kūkaku picked up the pipe again, took a long drag, and let the smoke out slowly. "You're so exhausting. Are you bathing or not?"

Rangiku had already hooked Hitsugaya by the arm and was steering him toward the women's and men's baths. He let himself be pulled forward a few steps, then glanced back at the direction where Seijūrō's retreating figure had vanished. That figure moved slowly, footsteps dragging, but not with exhaustion. It was the kind of slowness that belongs to someone who finally doesn't have anywhere to be. He looked fine, Hitsugaya thought.

At the second trial, Soi Fon, Mayuri Kurotsuchi, and Ginrei Kuchiki had taken turns stepping up, dismantling Central 46's arguments until there was nothing left to say. The final verdict was never made public. Central 46 probably didn't want anyone knowing they had nearly turned a case against a Grand Kidō Chief conspiring with a Sage into a wrongful conviction. So they classified it. Hitsugaya thought about that. If it ever got out, they'd have nowhere left to stand. He turned back, pushed open the door to the men's bath, and decided he was done thinking about it.

The private bath was tucked into the deepest part of Nekonoyu, not an open-air pool, but a small indoor one enclosed by bamboo walls. Hot spring water came up straight from underground, a thin veil of steam drifting across the surface. Warm yellow reishi lamps sat embedded in the stone walls, their light squeezed soft by the mist into blurred, glowing smears. The air held nothing but sulfur and the quiet sound of water. Seijūrō stepped in. The heat washed over his aching knees and the bruising along his ribs with a faint, immediate sting. He closed his eyes, pressed the back of his head against the smooth stone at the pool's edge, and let his shoulders sink beneath the surface.

Before long, he heard someone step into the water and settle beside him. Not footsteps, this person never made a sound entering a bath. Only the surface shifted, a gentle roll of water that pushed to his collarbone in a soft ripple, then broke apart.

"Congratulations, Grand Kidō Chief." Yoruichi's voice carried that unhurried ease of hers, the tail of it curving upward slightly, like a cat dragging the tip of its tail across the back of your hand. Seijūrō opened his eyes slowly. Yoruichi leaned against the pool wall beside him, her long purple hair dampened by the steam, the ends sticking to her brown shoulders. She reached out and pinched his left cheek, pulling it outward. "You handled the soul disappearance incident and you're about to become the Grand Kidō Chief. Why are you still making that face?"

"The Grand Kidō Chief wasn't the mastermind." Seijūrō's voice came out muffled in the steam. Yoruichi's fingers stilled against his cheek. He stared at the hazy surface of the water, as if talking to no one in particular.

"Soi Fon obtained proof of bribery involving the Sages of Central 46. Mayuri Kurotsuchi obtained the informant's brain. All of it pointed to Mahiru Tokito, she manipulated the barrier loopholes for decades, siphoning the reishi of countless souls for herself. But several decades ago, when Kisuke Urahara and the others underwent Hollowfication, Mahiru Tokito had only just taken over as Grand Kidō Chief. That timeline doesn't fall within her operational cycle. The Hollowfication experiment wasn't hers. She wasn't capable of it. Whoever turned Captain Hirako and Captain Kensei into Hollows, it wasn't her."

Yoruichi listened. Then she released his cheek and lightly patted the reddened skin where she'd pinched it. "You've already done well enough." She reached out and pulled the back of his head against her chest. Whatever he had left to say was swallowed completely, his face pressed into the softness below her collarbone, his nose filled with sulfur and the warmth of her skin. Her long purple hair slid off her shoulder and draped over the back of his neck, wrapping them both in the same soft shadow. Then she lowered her head and pressed her lips to his temple, where the scent of burn ointment still lingered. "Leave the rest for after you become the Grand Kidō Chief. Right now, first, let me reward you."

Inside the Squad 5 Captain's office, the lights were turned to their lowest setting. Aizen sat at the desk, a long-cold cup of tea and a spread of open documents at his elbow. Kaname Tōsen pushed the door open and stepped inside, his deep purple, naturally curly hair looking in the dim light like a mass of congealed ink. He stopped before Aizen. "Lord Aizen, the final outcome has been confirmed. Seijūrō Kidōin will formally succeed as Grand Kidō Chief in the coming days. Squad 2 and Squad 12 rendered cooperative assistance in this incident, and Mayuri Kurotsuchi and Soi Fon have been granted corresponding substantive authority, framed publicly as additional recognition of their innocence and contributions." Aizen gave a nod. Tōsen did not withdraw. His fingers curled slightly at his side. "That night on the outskirts of Inuzuri, I retrieved the items Mahiru Tokito dropped, the communicator and a few other things she lost while Byakuya was pursuing her. In the process, I briefly used Shikai on her. She didn't notice."

Gin Ichimaru, leaning against the wall in the corner, laughed softly. His short silver hair shifted in the shadows, pale blue eyes showing just a sliver through those half-closed lids. "How rare. You actually went yourself."

Tōsen turned toward him. There was no light in those white eyes, but his brow dropped, and his voice carried undisguised contempt. "I couldn't stand Mahiru Tokito. Everything she stood for ran contrary to the justice I believe in. Sharing a goal doesn't make someone worthy of sharing the same path. What she did was revolting."

Gin tilted his head and said nothing more. He let his gaze drift from Tōsen to Aizen, that smile of his still sitting at the corner of his mouth, the one no one had ever managed to read.

"As expected of Captain Aizen. Even I got fooled by Sensei's trick, not a body double device, but a camouflage device? The whole reversal was played beautifully. I genuinely didn't see that coming."

He drew his hands out from his sleeves and rested them on his knees, leaning forward slightly. "But Captain Aizen, you saw through all of his plans, didn't you? So why didn't you stop him? The body double, the business with Kurotsuchi, if you'd really wanted to block it, you could've. Suppressed Soi Fon's evidence, taken that brain out of Kurotsuchi's hands before it got anywhere. Any of that would've been enough to make Sensei's reversal fall apart. So why?"

Aizen lifted the cold cup of tea. He didn't drink it. He looked at the few leaves settled at the bottom. "Souls are no longer necessary." He set the cup back down. "The reishi Mahiru Tokito had been siphoning was always intended as material for the early stages of the Hollowfication experiments. Those experiments no longer require an external supply of souls. It's time to move to the next step."

He rose from the desk and walked to the window. "Deploy the products of Hollowfication into the World of the Living. Use that environment for the next phase. And conveniently, he also helped me dispose of a piece that had already outlived its usefulness."

Gin leaned against the wall and watched Aizen's back cut a dark silhouette in the faint light from the window. He didn't speak for a long time. Tōsen had already withdrawn to the door. His white eyes rested on Aizen's back one last moment, then he pushed the door open and left. Quiet settled back over the office.

Outside, in the sky where neither sun nor moon ever hung, a few sparse stars flickered faintly between the gaps in the clouds.

➤ Next: Emiri Tsunayashiro

Chapter 41 - Emiri Tsunayashiro

The Grand Kidō Chief's inauguration ceremony was held in the Sealing Hall, at the deepest reaches of Kidō Corps headquarters.

Nothing like a Gotei 13 captain's inauguration, no squads assembled in formation, no Captain-Commander conferring the appointment in person.

The Kidō Corps was an internal affairs body. Its Grand Kidō Chief had historically been a reclusive technocrat, and the ceremony reflected that. No attending captains. No Central 46 sages. Just a handful of senior seated officers flanking both sides of the hall, and a single scribe to read the official appointment scroll aloud.

Seijūrō received the scroll from the scribe. It was lighter than he expected. When the Grand Kidō Chief's seal was pressed into place, he heard a faint rustle of paper. He was wearing the new uniform: a purple mantle over black Shihakushō, the reishi crest of the Kidō Corps' supreme authority embroidered along the lapels. When he fastened the clasp, a chill seeped through the lining. Not comfortable, exactly. But it kept him sharp.

Standing beside him was someone he didn't recognize. The man wore the white mantle of the Vice Kidō Commander. Tall, lean, long greenish-gray hair loosely bound behind his head, a few stray strands hanging across his forehead to cover half his face. His features were almost absurdly delicate, willow-arch brows, soft peach-blossom eyes, thin lips traced in easy curves, skin pale enough to be nearly translucent. He stood with a loose, unhurried ease, a folding fan held between his fingers. The ribs were some dark spirit wood; the paper face was painted with an ink-wash landscape. A faint curve rested at the corners of his lips.

It reminded Seijūrō immediately of Gin Ichimaru. Not just the features, the smile itself. The kind that made you uneasy the moment you saw it.

Though Gin's version came with narrowed eyes, like he was hiding something behind those two slits. This man's eyes weren't narrowed at all. They were striking, almost distractingly so, which was its own kind of problem. Like a brilliantly colored serpent. Beautiful. And you already knew it was venomous.

Emiri Tsunayashiro.

Fifth-generation branch member of the Tsunayashiro Clan, carrier of one of the great noble bloodlines, parachuted directly into the Kidō Corps as its new Vice Kidō Commander.

Under Corps regulations, the Vice Kidō Commander was supposed to be screened and recommended by the Grand Kidō Chief personally.

Seijūrō had just taken the seat. It should have been his call to make. Instead, the Tsunayashiro Clan had pushed the appointment through Central 46 a full week before the ceremony. Not a consultation. Not a recommendation. A notification. It would have irritated anyone. But Seijūrō didn't have the bandwidth to be irritated right now. He took the scroll, fastened the clasp, and turned to face the sparse assembly of seated officers. The ceremony was over.

The division of duties between the Grand Kidō Chief and the Vice Kidō Commander was spelled out clearly in Corps regulations. The Grand Kidō Chief held authority over Soul Society's entire barrier system, core control of Seireitei's protective barriers, opening and closing the Senkaimon, maintaining the dual-pole seals, and oversight of all matters concerning forbidden Kidō. The Vice Kidō Commander assisted with day-to-day affairs, managed barrier maintenance crews across districts, reviewed Senkaimon usage requests, and held limited proxy authority in emergencies. Stated plainly: the Grand Kidō Chief signed off, and the Vice Kidō Commander made it happen.

Back in his office, Seijūrō stood at his desk and looked down at the new Vice Kidō Commander's file. Emiri Tsunayashiro. Age unknown. The résumé listed four words: Tsunayashiro Clan internal cultivation. No record of service in the Gotei 13. No record of service at any level of the Kidō Corps. Seijūrō closed the file and looked up. Emiri stood in the center of the room, greenish-gray hair resting against his shoulder, the folding fan spinning idly between his fingers. That faint smile hadn't moved.

"Why did you come here to serve as Vice Kidō Commander?" Seijūrō's voice was completely level.

Emiri blinked. The fan stilled at his fingertips. "Because I have personal reasons."

Seijūrō's brow furrowed. After everything that had happened recently, the last thing he wanted was someone standing in front of him and openly admitting to personal reasons without a trace of shame.

"The Vice Kidō Commander's position was forced through by the Tsunayashiro Clan using noble privilege. I don't have the authority to send it back." His voice wasn't loud. But each word landed heavier than the one before. "A great deal of dirty business has come out of the Kidō Corps lately, and the previous Grand Kidō Chief died in office. If this is a noble family looking to profit, I'll let it go. Do your job, and good. Do nothing and cause no trouble — also fine." He walked around the desk and stopped directly in front of Emiri. They were nearly the same height, but something in Seijūrō's eyes brought the fan in Emiri's hand to a dead stop. "But if you pull the same things the previous Grand Kidō Chief did — I wouldn't mind trying my hand at the recipe myself."

Emiri's hand began to tremble. The fan wavered, the ink-wash landscape on its surface rippling as the ribs shook. He dropped his gaze. His lashes cast a thin shadow over pale skin. His voice was quiet but clear: "Naturally."

He gave a small bow, turned, and walked out. He pulled the door shut behind him.

Seijūrō stood where he was and looked at the closed door. He had spent decades teaching. He had seen every kind of student. There were the ones like Aizen, forever gentle, perpetually beyond reproach. The ones like Gin, smiling, burying everything underneath. The ones like Byakuya, all sharp edges, everything written plainly in their eyes. He knew how to read fear in a person when they were threatened. The pupils constricting, the fingers curling, the throat tightening. The small, involuntary step back.

Emiri hadn't done any of that.

The trembling wasn't fear. It was excitement. That same barely-contained excitement, identical to what had flashed through Aizen's eyes the moment he once asked, Teacher, what is the battle of a Shinigami?

He had served as Vice Kidō Commander for over 50 years, and had finally taken the seat of Grand Kidō Chief. Seijūrō had no interest in dealing with that kind of person again.

---

Nearly a month had passed since his last nighttime visit by the time Seijūrō stood before the side gate of the Kuchiki manor again. He passed through the dry-landscape rock garden and followed the covered walkway deeper into the estate. The old pines in the courtyard stood as straight as ever. The white gravel had soaked up enough sun to feel faintly warm, and the air carried the scent of wood and tatami.

Hisana was sitting beneath the veranda eaves. Light-colored everyday clothes, Byakuya's coat draped over her shoulders, her back against a pillar, both hands wrapped around a cup of hot tea. Her complexion was still pale, and the color in her lips hadn't fully returned, but compared to the woman Seijūrō had half-carried out of an Inuzuri alley weeks ago, barely able to string two breaths together, the difference was enormous. When she saw him step into the courtyard, her eyes lit. She gave a small bow. Byakuya sat beside her, one hand hovering loosely at her back, kenseikan set neatly in his hair, his white Squad 6 captain's haori folded in a tidy pile on the veranda floor.

Seijūrō stopped at the edge of the veranda. He studied her face for a moment, then nodded. "Your color's much better."

Hisana smiled softly. "Captain Unohana has come by several times. She said the reishi leakage has stabilized. It's just that I pushed myself too hard before — it'll take time to recover."

Seijūrō pulled a paper bag from his sleeve and set it on the veranda edge. It was stamped with the Nekonoyu emblem and tied with thin hemp cord, a few pieces of wagashi he'd brought from Kūkaku's place.

Hisana's eyes crinkled the moment she saw it. "Sensei brings something to eat every single time. We finished the last batch already. Byakuya said they were the best wagashi he'd ever had." The tips of Byakuya's ears went faintly red. He shifted his fingers on his knee and said nothing.

From the covered walkway behind came the sound of a cane against the floorboards. Steady, measured, each interval exactly the same as the last.

"Lord Kidōin." Ginrei's voice was aged and unhurried. The cane paused against the wood. "Come have a cup of tea with this old man."

---

The tea room looked exactly as it had the night he'd visited before. Water simmered gently in the iron kettle over the brazier, white steam curling from the spout and dissolving into the room's woody scent. Ginrei whisked the tea himself, the chasen moving against the bowl in slow, even strokes, each movement precise.

"With this affair settled, the disappearance of souls throughout Soul Society has been stopped, and my granddaughter-in-law can sit peacefully beneath the veranda with a cup of tea." Ginrei set down the whisk and slid the tea bowl across to Seijūrō. "Whether for Soul Society or for the Kuchiki Clan — this old man records this debt in the name of Ginrei Kuchiki."

Seijūrō picked up the bowl. Fine green froth covered the surface, still scalding. He watched the bubbles slowly settle. "Without the Kuchiki Clan's guarantee, and without Byakuya moving in Inuzuri, I couldn't have done it. That's not modesty. It's fact."

Ginrei lifted his own bowl without drinking, watching the light shift across the surface of the tea. Those old eyes held the green of it. "The Kuchiki Clan has upheld Seireitei's rules for generations. Some of those rules are good. Some are not. There are few who can tell the difference." He brought the bowl to his lips and drank. "If you ever need the Kuchiki Clan, you need only ask."

Seijūrō lowered his eyes and drank as well. The tea was still very hot. The bitterness spread across his tongue and slowly gave way to something gentler underneath. The tea room was quiet for a long time after that. Neither of them spoke. From outside the window, somewhere under the veranda eaves, Hisana's laughter drifted through, faint, light, like a wind chime catching a small breath of air.

---

South Rukongai, District 78: Inuzuri.

The gravel road was pocked with dry, cracked ruts. Wooden shacks leaned against each other on both sides, some missing doors entirely, tattered cloth hanging in place of panels. The air was dry and dusty with an undercurrent of rot. Emiri Tsunayashiro walked down the middle of the packed-earth path, green hair loosely tied back, his ever-present folding fan in hand. His white Vice Kidō Commander's mantle was conspicuously clean against all that gray and ruin. Behind him, a guard with a hand on his Zanpakutō hilt kept pace, visibly tense.

"Lieutenant Kidō Chief, the barrier patrol can be handled by the subordinates. There's no need to make a special trip out to somewhere this remote." The guard's gaze swept over a few hollow-eyed souls huddled under broken eaves, and he dropped his voice. "This place is completely desolate."

Emiri snapped his fan open. The ink-wash landscape trembled in Inuzuri's dry wind. "Isn't that exactly what the previous Grand Kidō Chief thought?" His tone was light, the kind of voice you'd use to discuss the cafeteria menu. "He ended up finished in a godforsaken place just like this. If I don't come take a look for myself, how do I know I won't end up the same way?"

The guard's step faltered. He had heard the story. Former Grand Kidō Chief Mahiru Tokito, run down near Inuzuri by Byakuya Kuchiki, chopped into mincemeat and sealed in a glass jar. The thought put ice on the back of his neck. He quickened his pace to stay close. They pushed through a stretch of dead scrub, and Emiri stopped abruptly on a small patch of gravel. Several stones had been overturned. The earth still bore faint traces of Reiatsu corrosion. A thin residue of Kidō lingered in the air, almost entirely dissipated, but not quite gone.

"Here." Emiri tapped the ground with the rib of his fan. "This must be where the previous Grand Kidō Chief and the previous Vice Kidō Commander settled things." He tapped the fan lightly against his palm. "Failing at your job isn't a death sentence. But if you haven't planned your escape route in advance, you might just—"

"Hey, Shinigami mister!"

A sharp child's voice cut him off.

A hand shot out from behind a broken wooden crate at the side of the road. Then a wild shock of red hair appeared above the crate. The boy attached to it was as skinny as a matchstick, maybe ten years old, face caked in grime, eyes impossibly bright. He thrust his hand out, palm up, directly in front of Emiri. "Got any coin? Food works too! I haven't eaten in days!"

The guard stepped forward and put himself between them, hand on his hilt. "Have you no manners? This is the Lord Vice Kidō Commander of the Kidō Corps. He's not your charity. Get lost."

Emiri raised his fan to stop the guard. He twirled the fan once between his fingers and tucked it into his sash. Then he reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small drawstring pouch, loosened the cord, and started counting copper coins. "I've got money, and food too. Do you live around here? Anyone else at home?" He had just counted out a few coins, and before he could hold them out, the red-haired boy snatched the entire pouch and bolted. Fast as a stray cat. He was in the pile of broken crates at the alley entrance and gone before Emiri could blink.

Emiri's hand stayed suspended in the air, fingers still pinched together from counting. He stood like that for a long moment. Then he blinked. "Hm?"

The guard startled, then broke into a run. "Lieutenant Kidō Chief! I'll get him! That little thief, " Emiri reached out and pressed a hand to the guard's shoulder. The grip wasn't hard, but it stopped him cold. Emiri lowered his suspended hand, pulled the fan from his sash, opened it, and fanned himself at a leisurely pace. That smile was back, somewhere between pity and resignation, impossible to tell which. "Leave it. There wasn't much in there anyway. I was going to give it to him."

The guard turned to stare at him, lips working, clearly unable to accept what he was hearing. "How can you just leave it? That brat robbed the Vice Kidō Commander. He's trampling on the dignity of the Shinigami, trampling on the dignity of the Kidō Corps!"

Emiri's fanning hand paused for just a beat. He snapped the fan shut and turned to face the guard. His voice dropped. "Dignity isn't earned by taking things back from a starving child. A kid who'll rob a Shinigami to his face, he's either an idiot or he has real nerve." He flicked the fan open again and started walking. "People who do great things don't get tangled up in small ones."

---

An unnamed alley, deep in Inuzuri.

The red-haired boy twisted and doubled back through the warren of lanes, ducked behind a half-collapsed stone wall, and crouched there catching his breath. He listened for a long time. When he was sure no one had followed, he stood up, raised the stolen pouch over his head, and shouted toward the cluster of leaning shacks at the alley's end.

"I robbed a Shinigami! Hey — look! I stole a Shinigami's coin—"

A fist came out of one of the shacks and caught him square in the back of the head. His vision went dark. The world rang. He dropped into a crouch, clutching the spot where he'd been hit. "What was that for, Rukia!"

A girl with short black hair stood over him, hands on her hips, half a head shorter and built like a wall. She grabbed him by the ear and hauled him inside, keeping her voice low and sharp. "You absolute idiot, Renji! What if that Shinigami followed you back here? He could have taken all of us at once. If they find this hideout, none of us will have anywhere to go!"

"He didn't follow me! I cut left, cut right, shook him completely, he was just standing there looking stupid, probably hasn't even figured out what happened yet." Renji rubbed his ear. "Shinigami aren't that impressive! Seriously. All the rumors, and he couldn't even chase after me. Maybe he was scared. Scared I'd beat him up!"

"That was luck. There are strong ones among the Shinigami, real ones. Some of them can cut a Hollow in half in a single swing. You just didn't meet one today." Rukia looked at the pouch in Renji's hand. Her lips pressed together. Then the smile broke through anyway, lighting up her eyes. She weighed it in her palm. "This is enough for everyone to eat well for a few meals."

Renji rubbed the back of his head and followed her inside, glancing back toward the mouth of the alley as he went. That green-haired Shinigami was probably still wandering around some corner of Inuzuri right now, didn't even bother to chase him. Must be absolutely furious.

➤ Next: Rukia Kuchiki