You Wouldn't Believe Me If I Told You

Deep in the 9th Division's dungeon, outside an interrogation room, Hiroe looked at Kotetsu Isane, who had been waiting there for some time, with mixed feelings.

After Mashiro had blackmailed him out of two years' worth of desserts, he'd learned that the rumor calling him a pervert had come from the woman standing before him. What could he say? To some extent, Isane wasn't wrong to call him a pervert.

Back on the Plain of Slaughter, he hadn't recognized her and had bluntly called her a "bitch." At Huaixiang Pavilion, he had known who she was and even offered her some encouragement, but given the circumstances, that attempt at making amends had meant very little.

"Phew." Hiroe let out a long breath. He'd meant to fleece her thoroughly to make up for his losses, but since it was Isane, he'd let it go. Still, he was so annoyed!

"Didn't you say you'd been waiting for me for ages?" Hiroe turned to Mashiro, his voice full of displeasure. "There's still one person missing!"

"I never said you were the last one to arrive. And I really have been waiting for you a long time!" Mashiro stuck out her tongue. She'd been calling him a good big sister just moments ago, and now he was snapping at her. Men!

There were three people who were supposed to come to the 9th Division with Hiroe. Isane had already arrived, and he didn't plan to wait for the other one. They wouldn't be needed for what was coming anyway.

"I'll go in first. I'll come get you when I need you," Hiroe instructed Isane. As he reached the interrogation room, Mashiro came up behind him and handed him a pair of sunglasses. "I set everything up inside the way you wanted. Without these, you'll be seeing stars in no time!"

"Thanks. Mashiro does know how to look after people!" Hiroe put on the sunglasses, gave Mashiro a thumbs-up, then pushed open the door and entered the interrogation room prepared to his specifications.

The room was small, barely five or six square meters. If not for the light shining from every surface, from the ceiling to the floor, it would have been an ordinary room.

The 9th Division had only recently remodeled this interrogation room. First, they had transplanted a large quantity of Firefly Vine—a naturally glowing plant found in the Soul Society—then covered it with a layer of Kido-enhanced glass.

Hiroe's request had been simple: nothing in the entire room could cast a shadow. Judging by how things looked now, the 9th Division had done a fine job.

Besides Hiroe, there was one other person in the room. His entire body was wrapped in white cloth, a white mask covering his mouth. He knelt opposite Hiroe with his eyes closed.

Nodt Futz. If Hiroe had to name the Quincy he knew best, it would undoubtedly be the burly man before him. They had gone from strangers to friends, then become opponents and fought fiercely in the Sternritter Fortress. And now Futz was kneeling before him. It was hard not to feel moved.

Though Hiroe couldn't see Futz's condition, his weak, labored breathing told him the man had suffered plenty during this time. Of course, Futz wasn't the only one. All the Quincy captured during this period were in the same state. Otherwise, why would Mashiro have said the 9th Division had been so busy lately?

Hiroe lightly tapped his index finger. The mask over Futz's mouth came undone on its own and fell to the floor with a clatter. It seemed heavier than it looked.

Futz, who had seemed too weak to do anything but lie unconscious, suddenly lunged and spat straight at Hiroe's face. But it was a cheap trick. Hiroe turned his head and dodged it easily.

"You brats come here to get chewed out again?" Futz sneered with his eyes still shut. "You set up this giant light to wear me down? Not enough! Come scratch an itch for me, or I won't be able to sleep!"

"Scratch an itch? I'll think about it." Hiroe smiled, then raised his hand and sealed the interrogation room with Kido. He sat cross-legged on the spot and continued, "As long as you don't bite your tongue or try to kill yourself. You can't die anyway, so why make yourself suffer for nothing?"

"Hiroe?" Futz tried to open his eyes, but could only make out a silhouette. The sudden glare made him shut them again, so he asked, "Diezuka Hiroe?"

"Yeah, it's me! Though I didn't expect you to still have this much spirit. That's Futz for you! Now that's more like you!"

Hiroe wasn't teasing him. He knew Futz was stubborn, but hadn't expected him to have the nerve to "attack" a Soul Reaper while holding out. He'd underestimated him.

But this was the real Futz—the Nodt Futz who had been the first to charge into battle in the Sternritter Fortress, trying to take Hiroe down with him! Futz deserved Hiroe's praise.

"Heh heh heh. You still haven't learned to hold your tongue. What are you here for? To mock me?" Futz laughed, lowering his head as his hunched body trembled. "Or to flaunt your victory? Fine, you won this time. You'd better pray you can keep winning!"

"Thanks for the well wishes, but I really didn't come here today to do something so pointless." Hiroe rubbed his nose, looking a little embarrassed. "There's just something I need to ask you."

"Hahaha! Have you taken over as the interrogator now? Are you going to appeal to me as a friend and persuade me to betray my people, or promise me some high-ranking position in Seireitei?" Futz laughed until tears streamed down his face.

"Interrogate you? I couldn't do that. But you're right: I did come to persuade you to reveal how your people travel. As for a reward..." Hiroe pursed his lips and sighed helplessly. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. The only thing I can offer is to let you and your people leave with some dignity and suffer a little less."

The room fell silent. Futz slowly raised his head, his eyes bloodshot as he stared at the figure opposite him.

"Don't look at me like that. I admit it sounds a little shameless." Hiroe leaned forward slightly, propping his chin on his right hand and lightly tapping his temple with his left as he continued, "But sometimes, leaving with dignity can be a kind of release. Think about it. Sometimes, death—"

"I truly regret that, out of friendship, I didn't kill you back then!"

Hiroe froze for a moment, his left hand hanging in midair as if Futz's sudden interruption had pinned him in place. Futz, by contrast, was like an erupting volcano, spewing one scathing remark after another. It was hard to tell whether he was mocking Hiroe or himself.

"A thousand years have rotted you Soul Reapers to the core. Just like the name of the Soul Society, your souls are imprisoned in corpses, stumbling step by step toward annihilation!"

"You! Diezuka Hiroe! Even someone as young as you have devoted all your abilities to propping up the Soul Reapers' tottering throne. Glory, life! You treat them all as things to trample underfoot!"

"..."

"Having once called you a friend and discussed my dreams with you is the greatest disgrace of Nodt Futz's life!"

"The greatest disgrace of your life?" Hiroe pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered softly, "Hey, seriously? Why are you making it sound like you mean it?"

"Then let me put it another way!" Hiroe sprang to his feet and walked up to Futz, looking down at him coldly. "Before, I was making you an offer. Now, I'm threatening you! Hand over your people, or we'll do it ourselves—even if the World of the Living is left in ruins!"

"Make your choice, Futz. Let me see what someone who hasn't rotted looks like!"