The Unforgiven from Shinigami
Where is Tsukikage Yagyū?
With a roar, several people smashed through the window and fell to the ground outside, wailing in pain.
A tall, burly man stepped out of the house, his black hair cascading over his shoulders. He carried a blue bundle on his back, his face rugged, and he wore coarse linen clothes, resembling a lion in its prime.
His gaze swept over the people on the ground, and he said fiercely, "I'll ask you one more time, where is Tsukikage Yagyū?"
One of them, clutching his stomach and looking pained, said, "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. We don't know anyone named Yagyū at all."
"That's right, there's no one with the surname Yagyū in our Nanaseki Gang."
The other person spoke.
"You little brat, were you sent by the Sanjō Gang next door to deliberately cause trouble?"
Hearing their words, the man's eyes showed a hint of doubt. He had indeed received the news from the Sanjō Gang that the Nanaseki Gang had recently gotten involved with a very important figure.
Was it just fake news?
The dark-haired man let out a heavy sigh. This wasn't the first time he'd received fake news, and there hadn't been an apology. These so-called gangsters were nothing but a bunch of scoundrels.
So what if they fought?
He strode out of the village.
The members of the Nanaseki Gang didn't dare to stop him. They stared at the man's back, hoping that this ghostly, powerful man would never come to Seven Stones Village again.
The man left Seven Stones Village and continued on his way to his next destination.
Soon after, the sky turned crimson, which was gradually swallowed up by the dark blue night.
He didn't continue walking. Instead, he started a fire on the spot, untied the blue bundle on his back, took out a frying pan, put it on the stove, poured in some oil, heated it, and cracked two eggs into the pan.
Sizzle, the egg quickly turned into a poached egg. He then added a pork chop, sprinkled some chopped green onions, flipped it with chopsticks, and sprinkled a little salt on top.
The aroma of meat filled the air. He placed the pork chop on a poached egg, then covered it with another poached egg, sandwiching the pork chop between the egg and the egg. He then took a bite, accompanied by bright green scallions.
The man, unfazed by the heat, quickly finished the egg and pork chop, picked up the pot with one hand, stomped out the burning firewood with the other, looked around, and said, "Perfect for a little exercise after dinner. Don't hide there; you're giving off a menacing vibe."
"Is that so? I'm so sorry."
A hoarse voice came from behind the tree. The newcomer wore a straw hat and light black clothing, with a long and a short katana at his waist. "I originally wanted you to die peacefully, but the thought of your head, worth 300,000 rings, has made me a little excited."
"Only 300,000 rings? That's really low."
The man sighed.
The Soul Society is not the paradise that people know. Nobles gather in the Seireitei, and their struggles often extend to their own properties in Rukongai.
The retainers charged ahead for their lord, which led to the development of the idea that if they couldn't resolve the conflict themselves, they should deal with the person who created it.
Where there is a need to kill, there will naturally be killers.
"That's not low; a deal worth 300,000 rings is a rare big transaction."
The assassin in the straw hat replied, gripping the hilt of his sword, his eyes cold, "For the sake of my adorable cats, Mr. Ichirō Yagyū, I have no choice but to ask you to die."
Ichirō Yagyū carefully placed the frying pan down; this was his livelihood, and he couldn't let it be harmed in the battle.
The act of bending over was incredibly tempting to the assassin, like a beautiful woman wearing only an apron bending over in front of him.
The assassin couldn't resist and rushed forward with incredible speed, like lightning piercing through the clouds, his blade aimed straight for the head.
In an instant, Ichirō Yagyū plunged one hand into the ground, splashing a large handful of mud to obscure his vision.
Then, instead of dodging the blade, the other person crouched down and deliberately ran into his arms.
Thinking of the frying pan, the assassin knew that the blade might not be able to cut through the opponent's body. He turned his foot to avoid the collision, and with his left hand, he drew a short katana and plunged it straight into the heart.
Without pausing his attack, the long katana in his right hand slashed downwards.
This dual-wielding technique was learned by an assassin who encountered a man named Miyamoto Musashi in the Outer Rukongai.
Of course, he didn't become an apprentice, and the other party didn't take on any disciples either. They made it very clear that they only wanted to find a test subject to verify the Niten Ichi-ryū.
Those ten days and ten nights of instruction greatly benefited the assassin, transforming him from an unknown nobody into a renowned killer.
He couldn't attack with both hands simultaneously like Miyamoto Musashi, but he could shorten the time so that people would mistakenly think they were attacking at the same time.
Faced with the crisis, Ichirō Yagyū pushed off to the side with his toes, his body leaping into the air, his hands gripping the back of the tree trunk, as nimbly as a monkey climbing a tree.
The assassin followed closely behind.
"Take this!" Ichirō Yagyū shouted, swinging his Riot Games, as big as a sandbag, and slamming it hard into the tree trunk.
With a bang, half of the tree exploded, sending countless wood chips raining down on the assassins below.
For a moment, the assassin was unable to continue his attack. He swung his twin blades, creating a curtain of light that shredded all the wood chips on the ground.
It also blocks one's own view.
Ichirō Yagyū didn't let this opportunity slip by. He leaped down from the tree, gathering Reiatsu in his fists, trying to forcefully blast open the sword barrier.
Innocent.
The assassin sneered inwardly, preparing to unleash his ultimate move, when suddenly, "Huh?"
His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Where was his knife?
"Who are you?!"
Ichirō Yagyū's shout brought him back to his senses.
A petite woman stood on Ichirō Yagyū's spine, her face as delicate as a porcelain doll. But that wasn't the key point; the focus was her outfit: a white haori paired with black.
The assassin's face paled as he thought of the captain of the Seireitei. He heard a clanging sound and turned his head to look. There, too, was a man with a fair complexion and dark skin, tossing two knives around.
There's no mistake, it's the captain...
The assassin felt he must have chosen the wrong day to go out; he'd never encountered two important figures before, yet today he'd run into one.
"You woman, get out of my way!"
Ichirō Yagyū was still yelling there.
Soi Fon increased the pressure of her feet.
quack.
"Ugh! You little brat!"
Ichirō Yagyū braced himself on the ground with both hands, his face turning red, but he still refused to be trampled under the woman's feet.
Shiraishi admired this kind of tough guy and said, " Soi Fon, that's enough. I don't think he's a bad person."
"Hmph," Soi Fon leaped to the side.
Ichirō Yagyū suddenly stood up, dusted himself off, and said, " Soi Fon, if I remember correctly, that's the name of the captain of the Second Division. So she's such a little one."
Soi Fon retorted sarcastically, "I'm a little one, so what are you, someone I trample under my feet?"
You attacked me from behind!
Ichirō Yagyū shouted defiantly.
Soi Fon scoffed, "To deal with you, even one hand wouldn't be enough; this middle finger will suffice."
"Okay, you two don't need to argue."
Shiraishi interrupted their conversation, smiling as he asked, "Why are two law-abiding citizens of Rukongai fighting in the middle of nowhere at dusk instead of sleeping at home?"
The assassin pursed his lips, offering no reply.
Ichirō Yagyū shouted, "It's none of your business!"
Shiraishi nodded and said, "Take this guy in the straw hat into the grove and ask him."
The assassin exclaimed in shock, "I didn't say anything!"
"The problem is that you're not saying anything. The way you are makes me think you're not a law-abiding citizen."