Tomorrow, I'll Turn You Into a Dead Dog in Rukongai

He had overlooked it.

He had worked at the tavern for nearly three months, and the start and end of his roommates' nightmares had coincided so neatly with that time. How could no one have noticed?

The boss's bald head shone, and scars of varying depths covered his face. Now, though, he looked a little awkward, rubbing his head sheepishly. "We're all rough fellows. A few nightmares are nothing."

"Ah, yeah, exactly," the others behind him chimed in.

"I didn't get a good night's sleep just now. I didn't even run tens of thousands of miles through that white world."

"Now, if I don't have a nightmare, I feel uncomfortable when I wake up."

"I actually thought my dreams weren't scary enough. I kept wondering if they could get scarier, to give me a little boost."

His roommates all spoke up at once. It was the most "united" Dōsan Hanyū had ever seen them; normally, they would have started bickering by now.

Dōsan Hanyū slowly let out a breath, and ripples stirred in his heart again. No matter where you stopped, as long as you were willing to look up, life was full of scenery.

After a few awkward words, the boss seemed to remember something. He edged nervously closer to Dōsan and lowered his voice. "Dōsan, the manager found out you missed work this morning. That old fellow's furious and looking for you."

Dōsan Hanyū shook his head gently. "I'm leaving this place." Then, seeing the concerned looks on the faces of these familiar strangers, he couldn't help telling them the truth. "I met a Soul Reaper yesterday. I should be going to the Soul Reaper school soon."

The whole room fell silent. Everyone stared in surprise at the composed Dōsan.

After a brief silence, the dormitory erupted in thunderous cries.

"Really?"

"Someone I, Saburō, know is going to become a Soul Reaper too?"

"Dōsan is the best!"

The group jumped for joy. In truth, he wasn't particularly close to most of them. There were even a few he had known for three months without exchanging a single word.

But seeing someone around them get a chance to change his fate, they still rejoiced and offered Dōsan Hanyū their most heartfelt words of advice.

"What's all this noise? Don't any of you have work to do?" the owner squawked in his rasping voice. The moment he saw Dōsan Hanyū, he craned his neck so far that his Adam's apple, the size of a baby's fist, bobbed up and down like a tumor.

"Dōsan Hanyū, you actually skipped the whole morning! With that attitude toward work, I'm telling you, you can forget about a residence permit!"

The manager couldn't help but applaud his own ingenuity. Three thousand kan, saved just like that.

Some of the workers watched the manager, covering their mouths to stifle their laughter. More of them looked at Dōsan Hanyū, hoping he would give the old fellow a thorough lesson.

To everyone's disappointment, Dōsan merely spoke in an indifferent tone, his eyes betraying no other emotion. "There's no need, Mr. Manager. I came to collect the last of my things. I'm leaving."

Ignoring the manager, Dōsan retrieved two iron sake flasks from beneath his bed.

They were the only things he had managed to save up in Junrinan.

He had just taken a simple walk along the route he had traveled for three months, and Dōsan Hanyū had seen through much and come to care less about much.

As for the manager, that thoroughly evil capitalist.

Strangely enough.

Now that he was about to become a Soul Reaper, Dōsan Hanyū didn't hate him as much as he had imagined. Even when Dōsan consciously reminded himself to take revenge on the despicable fellow, he couldn't muster any interest.

Faced with Dōsan Hanyū's indifference, it was the manager's turn to panic.

Dōsan Hanyū's plum wine brought the tavern at least an extra thousand kan in revenue each month.

More importantly, though it was priced cheaply, it attracted no shortage of customers.

He was afraid of Dōsan Hanyū suddenly quitting, and even more afraid that Dōsan Hanyū would go to his competitor.

At the thought, tiny beads of sweat crowded the manager's forehead. "Dōsan, is it because of the residence permit? It's all right, I was only joking with you. The permit's already been taken care of. I can give it to you right away."

When Dōsan Hanyū still shook his head, the manager grew so anxious that sweat poured down his face. "I'll pay you another hundred—no, five hundred kan a month."

Dōsan raised a white eyebrow and glanced at the manager.

Before, he had no idea how much effort it would have taken to squeeze a single kan out of this tavern.

Dōsan still shook his head. He couldn't be bothered to discuss it with the manager anymore.

Seeing that the soft approach wasn't working, the manager grew angry too.

I, a superior person of Junrinan, have already apologized to you, and you dare show no reaction at all?

The manager also felt some regret. He had relied too heavily on Dōsan Hanyū's "free" labor. If he had learned Dōsan Hanyū's brewing technique earlier, how would he have ended up in this situation?

Seeing Dōsan go so far, the manager's tone hardened.

"That's already quite a lot of money." Seeing that Dōsan still wouldn't budge, the manager's voice grew colder. "I'm telling you, my neighbor's nephew's nephew's son's wife's younger sister is a Soul Reaper. If you dare leave, I guarantee you won't survive in Junrinan!"

Dōsan had lost count of how many times he had heard the manager mention this "close relative."

Here it comes, here it comes.

The roommates behind him could barely hold back their laughter. In the end, the bald boss couldn't "stand by and watch" any longer. Struggling to suppress his laughter, he tried to mediate. "Mr. Manager, everyone has their own ambitions..."

The manager glanced at the bald man. Who was this again?

Oh, right. He had seen that the man had some strength and tricked him into working for free with the promise of a residence permit.

It was a pity he seemed to have only strung him along for two months. Maybe three.

And he was worth far less than that fool Dōsan!

"Shut up! Who said you could speak?" the manager snapped.

"Ah, yes, yes." The boss rubbed his bald head, actually laughing aloud at being scolded this time.

He really wondered what expression that old dog would make when he learned Dōsan was going to become a Soul Reaper.

"Choose. Keep working at the tavern, and I can pay you a hundred kan a month. Otherwise, tomorrow I'll turn you into a dead dog here in Rukongai."

For the first time that day, Dōsan felt anger toward the manager.

But this time, he no longer needed to explain. A middle-aged man's lazy voice came from outside at just the right moment.

"Excuse me, is there a Mr. Dōsan Hanyū here?"

It wasn't Auntie Rangiku's voice.

He had short black hair and upturned eyebrows, and his eyes were half-open as though he were tired. His shoulders hung in complete relaxation. With every step, his straw sandals dragged against the ground with a faint scraping sound.

Most of all, Dōsan Hanyū was very familiar with that air about him.

The Eleventh District, where he later settled, was safe and had plenty of food.

The middle-aged men who owned houses in the Eleventh District had the same posture when they had nothing to do all day and lounged in the sun after drinking.

But unlike those layabouts, he wore a shihakusho at his waist, and over his shihakusho he wore a white haori.

Dōsan Hanyū didn't recognize the outfit, but the manager did.

This was, after all, the First District of Rukongai, next to Seireitei's west gate. In fact, only a few months ago, the Fifth Division Captain had been a regular at their tavern.

The manager's heart shook violently, and he immediately knelt in greeting. "Welcome, Captain."

Isshin Shiba waved it off, turned a finger around in his nostril three times, and flicked it away. Then he nodded and walked toward Dōsan Hanyū, the smallest and thinnest person in the crowd.

This is a Soul Reaper captain?

Dōsan Hanyū looked at the man, who was still picking his nose, and compared him to Auntie Rangiku, who had taught him how to control his spiritual pressure with utmost seriousness yesterday.

They were completely different.

His surprise lasted only an instant. Dōsan Hanyū stepped forward, identified himself, and showed his respect.

With the hand he had just used to pick his nose, Isshin Shiba casually and familiarly slung an arm around Dōsan Hanyū's shoulders. "No need for formalities. You're impressive, kid."

Some things meant something entirely different to a captain than they did to a lieutenant.

Sensing Dōsan Hanyū's spiritual pressure, concentrated without dispersing and possessing a special attribute, Isshin Shiba's eyes lifted at the corners.

Spiritual pressure with a special attribute before awakening a Zanpakuto.

He had only heard of it in one person.

Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto!

Founder of the Gotei 13, captain-commander of the First Division, and the strongest Soul Reaper of the present age. His sword was named Ryūjin Jakka, known as the strongest fire-type Zanpakuto.

And there was another secret about Ryūjin Jakka, one that might only be passed down among the Five Great Noble Clans.

Before Captain-Commander Yamamoto had even obtained an Asauchi, his spiritual power had possessed the power of scorching flames.

When he was still a boy and didn't know how to control his spiritual pressure, he had once even burned someone to death without realizing it.

Isshin Shiba had previously believed that this ancient legend existed only to make a myth of Captain-Commander Yamamoto.

Only today did he learn that the rumor might be true.

The kid's spiritual pressure wasn't as scorching as Captain Yamamoto's, but it carried a peculiar, uncanny feeling.

"I'm here in Rangiku-chan's place to take you to become a Soul Reaper. Dōsan, is there anything else you need to take care of?"

"What? Become a Soul Reaper?" The manager felt as though the world before him had gone dark. His eyelids trembled wildly, and his bulging eyes were covered in dense red veins.

I'm going to die. I'm definitely going to die.

The manager dropped to his knees with a thud. Thinking of everything he had done, he knew that if he were Dōsan, he would even want to confiscate all his property.

What do I do? What do I do?

The manager wiped away his tears and looked up, only to see Isshin Shiba and Dōsan Hanyū standing in the doorway.

"Do your best, Dōsan-chan!"

"Dōsan-chan, you have to become someone like the captain!"

"You can do it!"

Dōsan Hanyū stepped one foot over the threshold and looked at the terrified manager. In a calm voice, as though bidding a final farewell to family and friends, he said, "Mr. Manager, you never intended to give me a residence permit, did you?"