150 Years

In 1856 in the World of the Living, it was also 1856 in Soul Society. One hundred and fifty years had passed since Hongjiang, Yoruichi, and the others had graduated from Shino Academy.

A century or so left little trace on Soul Society. But a thousand years from now, when the historians of Seireitei looked back on this period, they would all feel as if they were reading a fantastical fairy tale.

The first place that came to mind was Seireitei itself, the gathering place of the Soul Reapers and the center of power in Soul Society.

Back then, Kuruyashiki Kenpachi, captain of Squad 11, had been ordered to bring Diezuka Hongjiang back to Seireitei for questioning over the suspected attacks on two members of his squad.

They had assumed that sending a captain—one of Seireitei's most renowned Kenpachis of the era—along with a Third Seat would be more than enough. No matter how talented the still-young Diezuka Hongjiang was, he wouldn't be able to make a ripple. Returning to Seireitei obediently to face punishment was his only option.

But no one had expected Hongjiang not only to escape, but to give them a real shock.

Kotetsu Isane of the 4th Division, Kamisawa Shirutama and Yamagata Jinnai of Squad 11, Tsukikage Shunyi, Fifth Seat of the 5th Division, and three others had been blasted to death in front of dozens of Soul Reapers!

There was no longer any talk of bringing him back for questioning. Seireitei was furious! Central 46 immediately changed the order to capture him to one that allowed him to be killed.

After all, Central 46 had already strictly forbidden members of other squads from acting on their own, to prevent Diezuka Hongjiang from escaping. The arrest was to be carried out personally by Kuruyashiki Kenpachi. Unless someone on their side had leaked information, Hongjiang's retaliatory actions couldn't help but make people suspect that someone in Seireitei had tipped him off!

With Central 46's arrest order already issued, anyone who did so, whatever their reasons, was tantamount to betraying Seireitei. Central 46 would never accept that.

Yamamoto was naturally the prime suspect. But without concrete evidence, and given his formidable strength, Seireitei didn't want to drive someone like him into opposition unless absolutely necessary.

In view of this, Central 46 could only issue another order, commanding the Kido Corps to monitor Yamamoto's residence day and night. Not even a Hell Butterfly, let alone a mosquito, was allowed to go in or out!

Likewise, the Shihoin and Urahara families, both close to Hongjiang, were also under suspicion. Everyone from their heads of household to their servants met the same fate as Yamamoto.

As a result, Urahara and Yoruichi, who had already returned to Seireitei, couldn't do a thing. They worried that one day they might hear that the fugitive Diezuka Hongjiang had been arrested or killed, while at the same time they were itching to rush out and find that bastard—even though they had no idea where he was!

Where in the world was Diezuka Hongjiang? Urahara and Yoruichi wanted to know, and so did everyone in Seireitei. Especially those who had orchestrated all this and reaped considerable benefits from it.

Strictly speaking, it had been one hundred and forty-three years, not one hundred and fifty.

On the surface, Seireitei had sent out an impressive force to find Hongjiang: as many as four captains, six lieutenants, and over a hundred squad members at a time. But the man seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth, leaving no trace.

In secret, nobles led by six families had also sent out their own forces to hunt him down. In truth, five of the six families thought there was no point in wasting their effort. They hadn't made him kill seven Soul Reapers in broad daylight; Hongjiang had done that himself. There was no washing away a crime like that.

Perhaps it had started with their false accusations, but history had shown time and again that Central 46 could admit its mistakes, clear your name, and compensate you accordingly. But there was one thing it would never permit: answering one wrong with another, even if it had caused the whole mess itself!

So whether Diezuka Hongjiang was alive or dead no longer mattered. Even if he came back alive, Central 46 wouldn't listen to a single word of his defense. His death was the only thing that mattered. The only question was where he would die.

But the leading lord was the one exception. He wouldn't be satisfied until he saw Hongjiang's corpse. Under pressure, the other five families had no choice but to continue the pointless hunt for more than a century.

Sometimes they wondered if that little fellow might already be dead. After all, they knew Hongjiang's final destination had been the Plain of Slaughter. Meanwhile, Rukongai had been searched thoroughly more than ten times over the years. There was no way the little thing could have returned here.

With no supplies, forced to venture deeper into the Plain of Slaughter to avoid the search, and gone for more than a century, it would be perfectly natural for him to have died there.

Zaraki District, District 80 of North Rukongai. Thick clouds completely hid the crescent moon, and the vast plain looked from above like the gaping, bottomless maw of some unknown giant beast.

Beside a lake, a man in tattered white clothes stood with his head lowered, looking this way and that. His long black hair hung in a messy tangle as if he were searching for something.

"This is the place." The man looked at the glowing rune on his left hand and said something cryptic. "I'm relieved you're all still alive and well."

There was nothing here but weeds. Who was the man talking to?

The man stretched out his left hand, and the light in his palm brightened. Seven small mounds slowly rose from the otherwise flat ground. Thin streams of white light seeped from the soil, joining the glow in his hand.

Before long, the mounds stopped growing, and the rune on the man's hand gradually dimmed. In a flash, seven human faces appeared, eyes closed and complexions deathly pale.

The man bent down, cupped one of the faces in both hands, and pulled a person out of the mound as if yanking up a radish. He did the same with the rest. The seven mounds became seven deep pits, with seven people lying beside them, all without a breath.

They looked like seven corpses. To be honest, things like this weren't often seen in the Plain of Slaughter. Some kind-hearted person must have buried them, but now an unwelcome guest had arrived, and their peaceful rest was over.

But the man wasn't finished. He untied the cloth wrapped several times around his waist and gave it a shake. This was no mere strip of cloth. It was a cloth bag of absurd size.

He tossed the seven people on the ground inside as roughly as if they were cargo, then easily hoisted the bag—more than twice his own size—onto his back. His figure abruptly vanished from the spot, leaving only seven pits behind.

Three days later, in Jingmufeng District, District 1 of North Rukongai.

A man in brightly colored clothes, his hair tied into a single bundle, sat on a long bench by the street, with a voluptuous beauty tucked under each arm.

Most passersby shot the three of them looks of disgust or disdain. Partly because of the man's crude, shameless loudness, and partly because of the two women's identities.

The building behind the man was called Huaixiang Pavilion, the biggest and most famous pleasure house in Jingmufeng District. There was no need to explain who the two women were. They were famous around here, even to those who had never been to Huaixiang Pavilion: Fenying and Xiaodie, two of its most stunning beauties.

"Sir, look! That's the most famous theater troupe around here. I hear they perform in all sorts of districts!" Fenying, wearing a kimono patterned with cherry blossoms, called out excitedly as the troupe passed by.

Though Fenying wore a bright smile, the truth was that she felt miserable inside.

The man beside her looked all right from the side, but the scar running diagonally from his forehead to his chin, slashing across his whole face, was truly terrifying from the front. His twisted, protruding lips were especially awful. She kept praying to herself that those lips wouldn't come anywhere near her face!

"I've seen them in District 70!" The man pointed at his temple, sneering. "They're a bunch of idiots with something wrong in their heads. Who would go watch a play?"

"You're right, sir. Anyone who doesn't take their money must be an idiot!"

The man laughed heartily and bit down on the fruit Fenying held out to him. Then he noticed that the other woman had been silent for a long time. Turning to her, he barked, "Why aren't you saying anything, Xiaodie? Are you bored being with me?"

Xiaodie, in a purple kimono on his right, jumped at the sound. But her exceptional professionalism kept her from betraying herself. With a shy smile, she said, "Not at all! I was just thinking about all the stories you told me. They're so fascinating!"

Xiaodie hated the man before her just as much. He was ugly, crude in his manners, and now he was making her sit outside and embarrass herself. He was truly infuriating.

But unfortunately, he had money! He'd rented out all of Huaixiang Pavilion for the day. There was no helping it. Today, he was the master here, and he could do whatever he wanted.

"Xiaodie, you really know how to flatter a man!" Like a child, the man broke into a delighted grin at a single bit of praise. He stood up, took the red paper lantern from above his head, and called out, "Bring me a brush! I'm giving Xiaodie a gift. I'll paint a little butterfly on this!"

Under Xiaodie's gaze, a beautifully patterned butterfly with its wings spread soon appeared on the lantern, vivid as life. Xiaodie pouted in displeasure. "That's clearly just a butterfly. What does it have to do with me?"

"Xiaodie, Xiaodie. Isn't that the same as a butterfly?"

"No! I'm much prettier than that!" Xiaodie gently shook the man's arm, pouting petulantly. "No, you have to paint it again. Draw me!"

"I can't do that." The man shook his head and lifted the lantern in his hand. "If you don't like it, I'll hang it outside my window. It's a fine day, so tonight I'll light it with the brightest candle!"

Today wasn't special in any way. Maybe he meant that seeing me made it special, Xiaodie thought. She didn't ask any more questions. But he'd said tonight. She wished the night would never come.

Late that night, the lights of Huaixiang Pavilion illuminated half the street. A red lantern hung outside a second-floor window, the very one the man had said he would hang outside his room that afternoon.

On the deserted street, six men appeared out of nowhere. The bald old man at their head looked up. The red light blazed like a roaring fire, and in its midst, a black Hell Butterfly spread its wings and seemed to rise from the flames!

"One hundred and fifty years. A full one hundred and fifty years!"

Today wasn't a date worth commemorating for Soul Society, but for some people, it meant something special. On this day one hundred and fifty years ago, a young Soul Reaper named Diezuka Hongjiang had left Seireitei.

Today! He was coming back!