East Rukon District, District 32.
Shantei Temple.
The roads were lined with neat, level houses, with the occasional rise in the terrain.
As one of the districts closer to the front, Zenteiji's residents had ruddy complexions and strong bodies. Their clothes were somewhat plain, but neat and orderly.
Compared with the districts farther back, life here was already quite comfortable.
However, every passerby wore a look of fear.
They hunched their shoulders and backs, hurried along, and kept glancing behind them and into the blind spots around them.
The slightest rustle startled them, making them quicken their pace without thinking.
A strange scene was unfolding in the residential area of Zenteiji District.
Two youths in blue-and-white Zhenyang School Uniforms walked down the street.
"The Reishi density in the air is normal."
Aizen's gaze was calm, his hands hanging at his sides. His composed voice made it sound as though he were describing something perfectly ordinary.
"The smell of blood is still lingering. The number of victims should be between twelve and fourteen."
The disorder on the street did nothing to disrupt his thoughts or cause him to misjudge the situation.
As soon as they reached the location Teacher Kaede had given them, Aizen had determined what was going on.
"The buildings are intact. There are no signs of a violent struggle."
He stared expressionlessly at the neat houses before them, peering through a window at the murder scene inside.
"Based on that, the killer's strength..."
"What are you doing?!"
Aizen had been as unruffled as still water, but the moment he noticed what the person beside him was doing, he cracked.
Kisaragi Akira, who had been accompanying him, had somehow changed into a set of Priest Vestments.
White formed the base, with ink-black markings of the One-Eyed Great Deity decorating the collar and hem, lending the outfit an eerie, sacred air.
The only flaw was that the vestments were a little too loose, making them somewhat awkward to move in.
Of course, what unsettled Aizen wasn't that Kisaragi Akira had changed clothes at a murder scene.
It was that, somehow, he had brought over a wooden table and set out incense, candles, and teacups.
"A ritual," Kisaragi Akira replied.
He shot Aizen a sidelong glance, unable to understand why someone so clever would ask such a stupid question.
Wasn't what he was doing obvious?
Aizen felt a sudden pressure between his brows, and his blood pressure shot up.
Of course he knew it was a ritual.
Even if he hadn't known much about it before, how could he not know the process after spending so much time with this guy?
What he couldn't understand was what had gotten into him now.
Could performing a ritual at a murder scene really let them speak with the dead and find the true killer?
"The Nikkotsu Shrine is different from other shrines."
Kisaragi Akira spoke with a cheerful smile. "The simplest difference is that the gods of other shrines—even the ones worshipped by the Ise Clan—are all made up."
"But the One-Eyed Great Deity of the Nikkotsu Shrine truly exists."
"To put it in local terms, those who offer everything but their own 'eyes' to Him will receive His protection."
"Just like this."
As Aizen watched in surprise, Kisaragi Akira snapped his fingers lightly.
The next moment,
the water in the teacup began to tremble. Ripples spread slowly, one after another, until face after face appeared in its reflection.
"There they are."
Kisaragi Akira smiled. "Those who died unjustly today."
Aizen furrowed his brow, more confused than ever.
As far as he knew, those who died in the Soul Society were broken down into basic units of Reishi.
The Spiritual Arts Academy textbooks even stated that death was simply part of the cycle of reincarnation.
Those who died in the Human World were reborn in the Soul Society.
The same was true of the Soul Society's inhabitants.
Reishi cycled back into Reishi, and those who died in the Soul Society were reborn in the Human World.
But what was happening here?
Were the dead, broken down into Reishi, being reborn?
Countless questions surfaced in his mind. Whenever Aizen tried to use his knowledge to answer one, even more sprang up.
While he was struggling to make sense of it, Kisaragi Akira had already dipped his finger into the teacup.
His expression turned slightly serious. Every so often, he murmured things like, "Mm, I see," "So that's how it is," and "What a shame," as if he were truly talking to the dead.
Aizen watched in astonishment, gaining an entirely new appreciation for his troublesome friend.
When Kisaragi Akira pulled his finger out, he turned to Aizen with a grave expression and said:
"We've identified the killer."
"Given our strength, we probably can't beat him."
"Let's go back and report to Teacher Kaede. Once he's informed the Gotei 13, we can leave it to the Shinigami."
A flicker of surprise passed through Aizen's eyes. He nodded gently.
Just as the two of them were packing up the altar table and preparing to leave, the Reishi density in the air suddenly changed.
A crushing pressure descended, and an aura of despair erupted from behind them, seemingly from inside the house.
"Go back?"
A hoarse, doubled voice echoed along the empty street as a figure slowly emerged from the house.
A black Shihakusho, average build, an ugly face crisscrossed with scars, and a Zanpakuto slung at his waist—the signs left no doubt as to his identity.
A Shinigami deserter.
"You two brats haven't even graduated from the Spiritual Arts Academy. Since you've discovered my secret, you're going to die," the scar-faced man snarled.
But to his surprise, the two youths in front of him showed no sign of panic. One of them even wore an amused smile.
As if they were hunters who had caught their prey!
"I once heard a theory: the culprit behind a massacre often returns to the scene to admire his handiwork."
Kisaragi Akira smiled. "And you've just confirmed it for me."
The scar-faced man froze, then realized he'd been fooled by the youth before him.
The dead coming back to life, the killer's identity—it had all been a lie!
He had been hiding in the house and had heard their conversation clearly. He'd thought they were using some new investigative method, but it turned out to be nothing but an outright deception!
In an instant, the scar-faced man flew into a rage and roared:
"Hmph! Then you can forget about escaping. You'll join the fools here in death!"
Kisaragi Akira raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise.
"Escape? Why would we escape?"
At those words, the scar-faced man's heart skipped a beat.
Boom!
Fierce Reiatsu erupted without restraint. Solid-looking light burst from Kisaragi Akira, resonating with the Reishi in the air and turning into a surging current.
The crushing pressure was so powerful that the scar-faced man's pupils contracted. He choked, his face flushing red.
"Let's try this."
On a sudden whim, Kisaragi Akira raised his right hand and mimed a gun with his fingers.
"Hadō #4: Byakurai."
A shrill cry like that of countless birds rang out. Blinding white light burst from his fingertip, becoming a dazzling bolt of lightning that streaked down the empty street.
The next moment, the black-clad figure up ahead had a hole blown through his heart. The heartbeat that had skipped would never resume.
Aizen wasn't particularly interested in such an effortless fight. The killer had been nothing more than an ordinary Shinigami.
Curious, he glanced at Kisaragi Akira, who was still posing like a sharpshooter, and asked:
"Were you really able to get information from the dead, or were you just bluffing to trick the killer?"
Kisaragi Akira glanced sideways at him, the corner of his mouth lifting into a faint, teasing smile.
"Take a guess..."
Before you continue