Let It All Be Destroyed, and Hurry Up

Even the wind felt sorrowful at that moment.

Dōsan's voice was hysterical. It wasn't his opponent's death that angered him.

It was that a departed soul had been mercilessly killed by someone she trusted.

Only the last shred of his composure kept Dōsan from continuing to direct his impotent roars of anger at a captain.

But once Dōsan calmed down, he suddenly sensed something was wrong. His white brows drew together as he felt a familiar Spiritual Pressure inexplicably appear behind him. He whipped around to look at Nemu's "corpse."

Nemu, who had been lying there like a corpse, opened her eyes and sat bolt upright. She bent her legs, then performed eighteen consecutive backflips in a difficult pose. Her wooden sandals creaked as she took three steps and came to a stop behind Mayuri Kurotsuchi.

"Wh-what's going on?"

The spot Mayuri had just kicked was where a human's heart lay. It should have been a vital point for a departed soul too.

Dōsan had seen it clearly. That penetrating wound had been fatal!

"Another fellow who doesn't know how to think with his cerebellum."

When Mayuri spoke, not only was his tone strange, but his head also turned in exaggerated, bizarre movements. Though his words should have been a taunt aimed at Dōsan, his gaze was fixed on Isshin.

Standing nearby, Isshin inexplicably swayed his head from side to side, feeling guilty. You're insulting Dōsan, so why are you looking at me?

"Nemu is my greatest masterpiece. As long as more than 0.8 percent of her living tissue remains, she won't die. Don't try to fathom her with your mortal mind.

"Speaking of which, Nemu, the body I made for you shouldn't have taken this long to wake up."

"Haiii, I just thought the way Mr. Jūsaburō looked when he was serious..." Nemu turned her head and glanced at Dōsan without a trace of emotion. "Was interesting."

Inter. Esting.

Dōsan felt as though he had been stabbed in the chest. His lips trembled, and when he looked at the spectators around him again, most of them were struggling to suppress their smiles.

The captains, at least, were more restrained.

Except for Uncle Isshin, who was clutching his stomach and laughing until tears streamed down his face.

Besides him, quite a few high-ranking members of the Thirteenth Division were also watching.

When Dōsan thought of everything he had just said,

especially "Don't you have a heart?" all he could do now was pray that he would hurry up and faint.

And then there was Rangiku. She was already laughing so hard that she was rocking back and forth.

Then he thought again of all the unbearably embarrassing things he had said before.

His lifelong reputation, ruined in an instant!

"Hey, Nemu, you should have learned how to express emotions by now, haven't you?" Kurotsuchi glanced at the little girl beside him.

"Haiii." Nemu turned to look at Dōsan. "Arigato, Mr. Jūsaburō." Then she covered her mouth. "Don't you have a heart?"

"Pfft." Another stab.

"Y-you, a person like you, can you even call yourself a Soul Reaper?"

Nemu tilted her head, looking somewhat puzzled. "Hmm... why couldn't I?"

Blood rushed to Dōsan's head, and his face flushed red with anger. Exhaustion overwhelmed him all at once.

"Oh no."

With a soft sigh, Dōsan fell backward.

The expected impact against the back of his head never came. His shoulders were gently caught, and the faint scent of plum wine reached his nose. Even without looking back, Dōsan knew who it was.

"Sister Rangiku," Dōsan called weakly. When it really mattered, he could still count on his own people.

Behind him, Rangiku gave a soft "Mm" and ran her slender fingers through his hair. "Thank you for your efforts. You've worked hard."

Dōsan couldn't see her expression. He merely said to himself, I should be the one thanking you for changing my fate, Auntie Rangiku!

"Oh, right, Dōsan, there's one more thing. Please stand in front of me."

Was it that serious?

Though he was so exhausted he could faint at any moment, Dōsan stepped out of Rangiku's arms at her words and stood before her, bewildered but attentive.

Rangiku wore a serious expression, all traces of her earlier playful smile gone. She even tugged at her collar almost unconsciously, covering up that glimpse of snow-white skin.

The oppressive atmosphere startled Dōsan into swallowing.

"You must listen carefully to every word I'm about to say."

"Don't worry, Sister Rangiku. Please, go ahead." Dōsan swallowed. Even before such an important battle, Rangiku hadn't been this serious.

Rangiku even cleared her throat twice. Then she opened her mouth wide and practically shouted in Dōsan's ear, "You, don't you have a heart?"

As Dōsan's face visibly twisted, Rangiku delivered another devastating blow. "You've got to have a heart! Where's your heart? Pfft, hahahaha..."

Rangiku's blow was a killing stroke!

Damn it!

This damned world.

Let it all be destroyed, and hurry up!

And you, Nemu Kurotsuchi.

I'll never let you off!

Some people were still alive, but they were already dead.

Staring at Nemu Kurotsuchi's retreating figure, Dōsan hated her so much he nearly ground his teeth to pieces.

His lifelong enemy.

From this day on, he would hate the Twelfth Division for life.

"If there are no objections, then I shall announce the result of the battle." Chōjirō Sasakibe, the First Division's lieutenant and the referee, returned to the arena.

As for the result, there was no question.

Whatever the reason, Nemu had ultimately failed to land the final blow, and Mayuri Kurotsuchi had also entered the arena in violation of their agreement.

The outcome was already clear. They just needed to go through the formalities.

But before Chōjirō Sasakibe could announce it, an angry voice interrupted the proceedings.

"You owe me an explanation, Kurotsuchi!"

A tall, thin young man wearing a black Kenseikan on his head and a red Ginpakukazahana no Uzuginu around his neck walked up to Mayuri Kurotsuchi.

Who dared treat a captain with such an attitude?

Dōsan watched in surprise. Rangiku, enjoying the spectacle, leaned close and whispered, "Ichimonji Tokinada, head of a branch family of the Tokinada clan, one of the Five Great Noble Clans, and the Sixth Division's first lieutenant."

Dōsan nodded. He did know about the Five Great Noble Clans. After all, he ate and drank with them every day.

Sensing that Dōsan hadn't realized how serious this was, Rangiku added quietly, "See that scarf of his?"

Dōsan hurriedly lifted his foot and glanced over. It was gaudy and tacky, much like a scarf an old scavenger woman might wear. "What about it?"

"It's worth a fortune. You could probably buy an entire street with it."

"Hiss..." Dōsan's white brows shot up. His eyes widened, and he drew a deep breath until he couldn't breathe in anymore.

To spend one second less inhaling would have been disrespectful to capital.

Before Mayuri Kurotsuchi could answer, Ichimonji Tokinada glanced at Nemu, then shifted his gaze straight to Mayuri and berated him. "Have you forgotten our agreement, Kurotsuchi?"

"My deepest apologies, Lord Kurotsuchi, Lord Tsunayashiro. I have an urgent matter to report."

Before Mayuri Kurotsuchi could answer, a voice came from among the division members.

Determined to be the first to hear the gossip, Rangiku pressed down on Dōsan's shoulders and craned her neck toward the crowd. She shifted from side to side twice, sucked in a breath, and nervously lowered her head.

"This is bad, this is bad."

Dōsan saw the newcomer too. The first thing he did was check whether the man was wearing a scarf. He wasn't.

Dōsan asked his auntie curiously, "What's wrong with this Soul Reaper?"

"Have you forgotten?" Rangiku sounded a little guilty. "Look at what he's wearing."

Dōsan looked again, and a memory came flooding back.

Holy shit, isn't that the guy in the white coat who tried to arrest me earlier?

It's fine. With the face I have now, there's no way he'll recognize me.