The Ability Known as One-Hit Kill

Seeing that Captain Soi Fon had subdued the criminal, the reporter lost interest in watching any longer and took off running for the Seireitei.

"Breaking news, breaking news! In District 1 of West Rukongai, Captain Soi Fon was just attacked by an assassin and even briefly overpowered!"

Nonsense. Captain Soi Fon, overpowered?

The Soul Reapers of the Seireitei shook their heads in disbelief.

But after buying a copy of Seireitei Communication, they had photographic proof before their eyes, leaving them no choice but to believe it.

Especially this picture: a white-clad youth wearing a haori. Though his face wasn't visible, those clothes weren't cheap. Were they sure he was a criminal and not a noble?

"What? What? Captain Soi Fon was overpowered by an assassin!"

"Pass it on! Captain Soi Fon was pinned down!"

"Pass it on! Captain Soi Fon was pushed down by her boyfriend out in public!"

"Pass it on! ****"

A high-definition, uncensored photo processed by the Twelfth Division spread among the Soul Reapers.

In the photo, Captain Soi Fon's face was flushed and her expression was one of embarrassed indignation as a man whose face hadn't been captured pinned her down.

Silence.

Some especially detail-oriented people noticed the falling-heaven, collapsing-vortex pattern embroidered on the man's shoulder.

The Soul Reapers fell even more silent.

Everyone hated nobles, but everyone wanted to become one.

As the sun dipped westward, the sushi had been eaten clean, and Dōsan returned to the Shiba residence.

His luxurious clothes were in tatters, and his face was covered in bruises. Come to think of it, he looked much like he had the last time he fell after drinking.

After sobering up, Dōsan had worked up the courage to ask the young captain about it, only for her to roll her eyes and reply with three words: "You fell down."

See?

There's no way Aunt Rangiku and the young captain are both lying to me.

So that's the truth. I just like falling down after I drink.

Fortunately, the scarf and hair clip, worth several streets, were unharmed.

Otherwise, Dōsan would really have felt like running away.

At the Shiba residence, the two pig farmers, Kūkaku and Ganju, had already been waiting a long time.

Big Brother Kaien had once said: Don't place too many restrictions on a man in love.

So the pig farmers could only wait quietly at home, looking forward to his return. When they had nothing to do, they could only imagine what Dōsan was experiencing.

But no matter how vivid their imaginations, they would never have guessed this outcome, even if they thought until their legs broke.

When Dōsan Hanyū came back this time, his face was black and blue, and even his clothes were in tatters.

Sitting off to the side, Ganju dropped the sushi from his mouth straight onto the floor.

Kūkaku was holding a pipe in her mouth. At the sight, she accidentally took a sharp breath and choked, coughing twice and squeezing tears from the corners of her eyes.

Because Kaien had set such a fine example, Kūkaku and her brother had been lectured several times.

This time, they had stayed home with sushi in their mouths, so impatient they were scratching at the walls. They hadn't expected Little Brother Dōsan to have been beaten up so badly.

Looking at Dōsan's battered face and the tattered Shiba Clan clothes he wore, Kūkaku couldn't help sucking in a sharp breath.

Has my Shiba Clan lost that much standing?

Ganju grunted a couple of times, his cheeks twitching. "Dōsan-chan, what happened to your face?"

Dōsan touched his swollen face and recalled the young captain's explanation. "I accidentally walked into a table."

How do you walk into a table and end up like that?

Both your eyes are black, and your head's swollen a size bigger. Did you walk into an iron ball?

Getting rejected is one thing, but why did she have to hit you too?

"That, um, girl. Does she know you're staying with the Shiba Clan?"

Dōsan thought about it. The young captain should know he lived with Uncle Isshin and Big Sister Kūkaku.

Dōsan nodded silently.

"Hiss..."

Well, well.

Ganju's eyes blazed with anger.

So you really don't take my Shiba Clan seriously, huh? What's wrong with Little Brother Dōsan? Even if he isn't as handsome as the great Ganju, there's no need to beat him up like this.

He told you the Shiba Clan's name, and you still hit him this hard?

You don't take the Crimson Bullet of West Rukongai seriously?

Who is this person Little Brother Dōsan has taken a fancy to, acting so arrogantly?

The Soul King's wife?

Like a mother worried about her son's marriage, Kūkaku frowned and puffed clouds of smoke from her pipe.

"Dōsan-chan, what's this girl's name?" Kūkaku took the pipe from her mouth and asked. She was still a little curious. Could such an arrogant girl be the daughter of some noble family she knew?

What's the young captain's name?

She never said.

Dōsan considered asking them. After all, Big Sister Kūkaku should know the name of the Soul Reapers' Second Division Captain.

But on second thought, the young captain's intentions were unclear. Dōsan was a little uncertain whether she was good or evil, and he didn't want to get Sister Kūkaku and Ganju too deeply involved.

"Um... I don't know her name yet."

To the two of them, Dōsan's response sounded somewhat forced.

He doesn't even know her name?

Ganju's mind went blank, and he staggered back several steps.

Kūkaku's mouth dropped open in shock, cold air rushing in as her right hand gripped her pipe tightly.

This is too much!

Too much! Little Brother Dōsan is so serious about you, and you won't even tell him your name.

Don't let me find out who you are, or I'll kick your head in.

"Oh, right. Sorry." Dōsan bowed apologetically. "I might have to go out again tomorrow. Later, I'll pickle some delicious vegetables for everyone."

He has to go out again tomorrow?

Having said that, Dōsan looked exhausted. With a slight breach of manners, he returned to his room under their astonished gazes.

The pipe fell from Kūkaku's hand and clattered onto the floor.

Bony was licking the floor at Ganju's feet. Ganju kicked him twice, but he wouldn't leave.

Is Bony the one doing the licking?

No, it's Dōsan.

Beside them, Ganju was furious at Dōsan's failure to live up to expectations, stamping his feet in anger. How could he still have room for pickles?

What? A brand-new version I've never eaten before?

I have room.

"Ōmaeda!"

With a thunderous shout, Soi Fon, dressed in the black sleeveless uniform of the Punishment Force, delivered a flying volley in midair.

A closer look showed that what she had kicked was no ball, but the already bruised and battered Third Seat of the Second Division, Marechiyo Ōmaeda.

"Bang!"

Ōmaeda landed face-first, kicked by Soi Fon into a large crater.

A newspaper-like copy of Seireitei Communication, published by Soul Society's Ninth Division, landed on Ōmaeda's face.

Its front-page headline read "The Love Captain Soi Fon Cannot Obtain," accompanied by a picture of the moment Dōsan had briefly pinned Soi Fon down.

"Sting All Enemies to Death..."

"Don't hit me, stop hitting me, Captain! I have a plan, another plan! It'll definitely make Dōsan Hanyū join our Second Division obediently." Ōmaeda's face was so swollen it looked as if he'd had cosmetic surgery, and he waved his arms frantically.

"Suzumebachi."

"Don't hit me, Captain! I won't charge interest on the money the Second Division owes me, and I'll lend the Second Division another hundred thousand—no, two hundred thousand kan!"

Only then did Soi Fon withdraw the golden finger blade on her right hand.

Ōmaeda, who had been covering his face for a long time, sensed the captain's Spiritual Pressure recede like the tide. Only then did he poke his head out and climb from the crater.

There was nothing to be done. Soi Fon was trapped now too.

She had invested so much time and money, and now her good name had been added to the list.

She was like a gambler who had lost everything; Dōsan Hanyū was her only hope of turning things around.

Soi Fon reined in her temper and sheathed her blade. It was as though nothing had happened, her cool, elegant face seeming to compete with the moonlight in both chill and beauty.

The Seireitei, Fifth Division Barracks.

"You're too late, Ichimaru."

Kaname Tōsen rested a hand on the sword at his waist, his voice strong as he expressed his displeasure without concealment.

"My deepest apologies, Captain Aizen, Captain Tōsen." Gin narrowed his eyes.

"No need to apologize, Gin. I'm not angry." Aizen's voice was husky and magnetic.

"Gin, your assignment," Tōsen reminded him immediately after Aizen spoke.

"The assignment is complete, but..." Gin's narrowed eyes curved a little further. "I don't understand. If Soi Fon is the only target, is all this complexity really necessary? Wouldn't it be better just to kill her?"

Although Kaname Tōsen carried out Lord Aizen's orders without objection, he was genuinely interested in this matter.

They had placed such importance on it, and as far back as fifteen years ago, when Lord Aizen was plotting against Urahara, Hirako, and the others.

Was Soi Fon really worth going to such lengths for?

"Fifteen years ago, Kisuke Urahara left behind something very interesting when he fled in a panic—the brain of a Hollow."

"After being cultivated, it has now grown into a complete Hollow. His ability is devouring, devouring the abilities of his victims."

They knew all this.

Infinite devouring was an exception among exceptions in Hueco Mundo, and every such Hollow had limitless potential.

And the Seireitei's attitude toward Hollows like this was equally straightforward: exterminate them.

"But what does that have to do with Soi Fon?" Gin narrowed his eyes.

"One-hit kill. That is Soi Fon's Bankai, but unfortunately, such an ability is a pearl cast away in Soi Fon's hands. If we obtain it, perhaps it will become a grain of sand beneath our throne in the heavens."

Gin's eyes opened slightly, but the smile on his lips did not diminish. "If that's true, then it really is impressive."

Is that really so?

One-hit kill.

Though it sounded intimidating, judging by some of Soi Fon's battle record, Gin felt that an ability of this level bearing the name "one-hit kill" was a joke before the man standing before him.

And would the man before him truly be tempted by an ability of this caliber?