One Hundred and Fifty Years

The year 1856 in the human world, and likewise 1856 in Soul Society. One hundred and fifty years had passed since Diezuka Hiroe and Yoruichi graduated from Shino Academy.

A century or more of time rarely leaves a mark on Soul Society, but when historians of the Seireitei look back on this period centuries later, they will surely feel a sense of fairy-tale absurdity.

The first to bear the brunt of this was the Seireitei, the gathering place of Soul Reapers and the center of power in Soul Society.

Back then, Kuruyashiki Kenpachi, captain of Squad 11, was ordered to bring Diezuka Hiroe—suspected of harming two members of his own squad—back to the Seireitei for investigation.

It was assumed that deploying a captain, and one of the most formidable contemporary Kenpachis at that, along with a third seat, would be more than enough. No matter how much of a genius the young Diezuka Hiroe might be, he wouldn't be able to stir up any trouble; returning to the Seireitei to accept his punishment was his only choice.

But no one expected that not only would Hiroe escape, but he would also leave them with a "gift" to remember.

Kotetsu Isane of the 4th Division, Kamisawa Shirutama and Yamagata Jinnai of Squad 11, Tsukikage Shunyi, the 5th seat of the 5th Division, and three others—seven in total—were slaughtered on the spot by Hiroe in front of dozens of Soul Reapers!

There was no longer any talk of bringing him back for questioning; the Seireitei was furious! Central 46 immediately changed the order from "capture alive" to "dead or alive."

One must understand that to prevent Diezuka Hiroe from fleeing, Central 46 had strictly forbidden members of other divisions from acting on their own, leaving the arrest to be carried out by Kuruyashiki Kenpachi himself. Excluding the possibility of a leak from their own side, Hiroe's retaliatory actions forced one to suspect that there was an informant within the Seireitei!

With Central 46 having already issued an arrest warrant, this individual—regardless of their motives—was effectively a traitor to the Seireitei, something Central 46 could not accept.

Yamamoto was naturally the prime suspect, but lacking substantive evidence and fearing his immense power, the Seireitei did not want to push such a figure into opposition unless absolutely necessary.

Given this, Central 46 had no choice but to issue an additional order, commanding the Kido Corps to monitor Yamamoto's residence day and night. Not even a Hell Butterfly, let alone a mosquito, was allowed in or out!

Likewise, the Shihoin and Urahara families, who were on good terms with Hiroe, were also under suspicion. From the heads of the houses down to the servants, all suffered the same fate as Yamamoto.

Because of this, Urahara and Yoruichi, who had already returned to the Seireitei, could do nothing. On one hand, they worried about the day news might arrive that the criminal Diezuka Hiroe had been captured or killed; on the other, they were itching to rush out and find that wretch, even though they had no idea where he was!

Where exactly was Diezuka Hiroe? This was a question not only Urahara and Yoruichi wanted answered, but the entire Seireitei as well. Especially those who had orchestrated this entire affair and stood to reap the benefits.

These one hundred and fifty years—or, strictly speaking, one hundred and forty-three years.

On the surface, the Seireitei had dispatched a luxurious lineup of up to four captains, six lieutenants, and hundreds of members to find Hiroe, but the man seemed to have evaporated into thin air, leaving no trace.

In the shadows, numerous noble families, led by six major houses, also sent their own forces to hunt him down. In truth, five of these six families felt it was no longer worth the effort. Slaughtering seven Soul Reapers in broad daylight was not something they had fabricated; it was Hiroe's own undeniable act, a crime that could never be washed away.

Perhaps the origin was their framing, but long history had proven that Central 46 might admit its mistakes and clear one's name, providing compensation, but it would never tolerate fighting wrong with wrong—even if they were the ones who caused it!

Therefore, whether Diezuka Hiroe was dead or alive had become irrelevant. Even if he returned alive, Central 46 would not listen to a single word of his defense; death was his only destination, the only difference being where he would die.

Only the leader of those families disagreed; he would not rest easy without seeing Hiroe's corpse. Forced by his influence, the other five families had no choice but to continue this meaningless hunt for over a century.

Sometimes they wondered if the little guy was already dead. After all, they knew Hiroe's final destination was the Plain of Slaughter. At the same time, the Rukongai had undergone over ten thorough searches in these years, and it was impossible for the little thing to have returned there.

Without supplies, forced to venture deep into the Plain of Slaughter to avoid capture for over a century, it was perfectly normal for him to have died there.

In the 80th District of North Rukongai, the Zaraki District, dark clouds completely obscured the crescent moon. From the air, the vast plain looked like the bottomless maw of some unknown giant beast.

Beside a lake, a man wearing tattered white clothes with long, messy black hair hung his head, looking left and right as if searching for something.

"This is the place." The man looked at the glowing white rune on his left hand and muttered something inexplicable, "I can rest easy now that you are all still alive."

There was clearly nothing here but weeds; to whom was the man speaking?

The man extended his left hand, the light in his palm intensifying. On the previously flat ground, seven small mounds of earth slowly rose, wisps of white light seeping from the soil to connect with the glow in his hand.

Before long, the mounds stopped growing, and the rune on the man's hand gradually dimmed. Seven human faces with closed eyes and deathly pale complexions flashed by as the light vanished.

The man stooped down, cupped a face in his hands, and pulled a person from the mound as if he were harvesting a radish. Repeating this, the seven mounds became seven deep pits, with seven people lying beside them—people without breath.

They appeared to be seven corpses; to be honest, such things were not uncommon in the Plain of Slaughter. It was unknown which kind soul had buried "them," but now that an unwelcome guest had arrived, "their" peaceful days were over.

The matter was not finished. The man untied the cloth strips wrapped several times around his waist and shook them out. These were no mere strips of cloth, but an absurdly large cloth sack.

Roughly, as if loading cargo, he tossed the seven people inside. The man easily hoisted the sack, which was more than twice his size, and his figure vanished from the spot, leaving behind only seven empty pits.

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

A man in multicolored clothes with his hair tied in a ponytail sat on a park bench, his left and right arms draped around two beautiful, curvaceous women.

Passersby cast looks of disgust or disdain. This was partly due to the man's uninhibited and boisterous behavior, and partly due to the identity of the two women.

The building behind the man was called Huaixiang Pavilion—the largest and most famous pleasure house in the Jingmufeng District. The identity of the two women needed no introduction; they were famous here, and even those who had never been to Huaixiang Pavilion knew they were among the top beauties—Fenying and Xiaodie.

"Master, look, that's the most famous theater troupe in our area. I hear they're performing in all the districts!" Fenying, wearing a kimono with a cherry blossom pattern, shouted happily as a group of people passed by.

Although Fenying was smiling brightly, she didn't feel good inside.

The man beside her looked alright from the side, but the scar running diagonally across his face from his forehead to his chin was terrifying, especially his everted lips. She prayed in her heart that this thing would never touch her face!

"I've seen them in the 70th District!" The man pointed at his temple with a sneer, "A bunch of idiots with broken brains; who would watch a play there!"

"Master is right, isn't it foolish to pass up money?!"

The man laughed loudly, bit into a fruit handed to him by Fenying, and noticing the woman on the other side had been silent for a long time, turned and snapped, "Why is Xiaodie not speaking? Is it so boring to be with me!"

Xiaodie, wearing a purple kimono on the right, was startled, but her professional composure prevented her from showing any cracks. She said shyly, "Not at all! I was just thinking about the experiences you told us about; they were truly fascinating!"

Xiaodie also loathed the man before her—ugly, rude, and now dragging her out to make a fool of herself in public. It was truly irritating.

But he had money! He had rented out the entire Huaixiang Pavilion for the day. There was no helping it; he was the master here today, and he could do whatever he pleased.

"Xiaodie is so good with words!" The man beamed like a child, pleased by the flattery. He stood up, took the red paper lantern from above, and ordered loudly, "Bring me a brush! I'll give Xiaodie a gift; I'll draw a little butterfly on it!"

Under Xiaodie's gaze, a butterfly with gorgeous patterns and spread wings soon appeared vividly on the lantern. Xiaodie pouted, unhappy, "This is clearly just a butterfly, it looks nothing like me!"

"Xiaodie, Xiaodie, isn't a butterfly just a butterfly?"

"Nonsense, I'm much prettier than that!" Xiaodie gently shook the man's arm, acting spoiled. "No, you must redraw it and include me!"

"I don't have that kind of skill." The man shook his head, lifted the lantern in his hand, and said, "Since you don't like it, I'll hang it outside my window. Today is a good day; I'll be sure to light it with the brightest candle tonight!"

There wasn't actually anything special about today; he probably meant that seeing me was the occasion. Thinking this, Xiaodie didn't ask any further. But since he mentioned tonight, she truly wished the night would never come.

Late at night, the lights of Huaixiang Pavilion illuminated half the street. Outside a second-floor window hung a red lantern—the very one the man had said he would hang in front of his room during the day.

In the empty street, six men appeared out of thin air. The bald old man leading them looked up to see the red light burning like a raging fire, with a black Hell Butterfly spreading its wings within, born from the flames!

"One hundred and fifty years, a full one hundred and fifty years!"

Today was not a day worth commemorating in the Soul Society, but for some, it held special significance. One hundred and fifty years ago today, a young Soul Reaper named Diezuka Hiroe left the Seireitei.

Today! It was the day of his return!