The Unforgiven from Shinigami
Blut Arterie!
A technique that can only be performed by those with Pure-Blood Quincy bloodlines.
This was the first time Masaki Kurosaki had used this technique on a human; she used her Hirenkyaku to approach Morishita the train.
With a yank of his right hand, the immense force sent Morishita tumbling out of the hole. The child's eyes widened, leaving him no time to pull the trigger.
Bang.
Following the example of a movie, Masaki Kurosaki delivered a karate chop to the Morishita's head, causing the indiscriminately firing criminal to roll his eyes back and fall straight down.
Then, she quickly left the scene, went to a nearby alley, removed her Blut Arterie, and her heart was pounding wildly.
The first time an armed assailant was stopped.
Masaki Kurosaki felt it was exciting and thrilling, as if she were personally participating in the filming of a police and gangster movie.
"Phew, calm down," she took a few deep breaths, walked to a public phone booth, and dialed the Karakura Town Police Station. "Hello, I just subdued the thug who was randomly firing shots at the Kasaki Dessert Shop. The location was in the parking lot of the First Department Store Building."
"What? Who am I? I'm a yakuza who does good deeds anonymously, known as Tokyo Gabe ~"
Masaki Kurosaki named the main character of a Hollywood blockbuster she had watched in May, hung up the phone, and grinned.
She didn't leave; instead, she returned to the parking lot, whistling and pretending to be a bystander, glancing inside.
The prisoner is sleeping soundly and shouldn't wake up easily.
People around were talking about what was going on with this person.
The driver who brought the passengers left early.
Masaki Kurosaki didn't continue watching, and left with a sense of satisfaction from her chivalrous act.
The rest is up to the police.
She's more concerned about what's Isshin over there.
Kaoru was a student at the same school, although they were in different classes. But if he died, the tranquility of the campus would be shrouded in a shadow.
The delinquent gang leader Ikumi, will definitely be more irritable than usual.
A few minutes later, a police car arrived at the scene.
Armed crime is different from petty theft, so the police station dared not be negligent. Adhering to the principle of err on the side of caution, they immediately sent two people to investigate.
"Don't crowd around here."
The middle-aged policeman stepped forward and shouted to drive away the people in the vicinity.
The crowd of onlookers had changed, but since they hadn't finished munching on the gossip, they naturally wouldn't leave easily.
They only made way for one person and then continued their discussion there, wondering if it was a robbery or a sign of illness.
Another person crouched down to examine Morishita, whose attire—a high-necked black trench coat, briefcase, sunglasses, and hat—was identical to that of the prisoner at the Kasaki Dessert Shop.
He put on gloves, searched himself, pulled out a Pistol, and put it into the evidence bag.
"Senior, it's highly likely that this guy fired the shot."
"Don't be so sure. Cuff him, take him back to the police station, and let the store clerks who were there see him."
After the veteran officer finished speaking, he saw a man carrying a knife walking towards them. He quickly drew his gun and warned, "Stop! That knife you're holding isn't a prop, is it?"
The blade reflected the sunlight, exuding a cold, metallic aura. Judging from the edge, it didn't look like a dull, unsharpened knife; it appeared incredibly sharp.
Demon-Suppressing Museum
You don't need to be so nervous.
The man spread his hands; he was handsome and refined, with shoulder-length black hair, wearing a white shirt and black overalls, looking like a university professor. "Whether I pass or not, your fate will remain the same."
"Put down the knife!" the veteran officer shouted, directing his junior colleague, " Yamada, go and handcuff that man!"
"Oh."
Yamada got up, intending to go over there.
The man smiled and planted the knife in the ground.
Boom!
Suddenly, a thick, high wall rose from the ground, completely surrounding the area. Several cars parked nearby overturned and crashed outside with a loud bang.
Dimness enveloped the ground.
"What happened?" "The wall suddenly rose up?" "Are you kidding me?!" "Is someone filming a movie here?"
The people trapped inside reacted differently; some optimistic ones even thought they had stumbled upon a movie set.
The rising walls are all props.
The veteran officer, sensing this wasn't a movie scene, pointed his gun at the man in front of him and roared, "Tell me, did you do it? Who are you? What do you want?"
"What I want to do? That's a question for you to ask. What cruel experiments have you done to our comrades?"
If being different means we should be treated differently, then we shouldn't even exist as human beings.
Shūkurō Tsukishima lowered his eyes and calmly stated, "I am Fullbringer, the monster you speak of."
As he spoke, he took a step forward. The structure here had been altered by inserting elements from the past, turning it into a place full of deadly traps.
He only needs to step on it to activate the trap.
Suddenly, sharp spikes appeared, skewering the bewildered people present like meat skewers.
They deliberately avoided killing the vital organs of the upper body, preventing them from dying quickly, and causing them to emit shrill screams.
The veteran policeman's gun fell to the ground. The pain made his mind go blank, and by the time he realized what had happened, he couldn't pick it up.
Even the slightest movement causes excruciating pain; bending over is out of the question.
Ignoring their cries of agony, Shūkurō Tsukishima flashed to the side of the unconscious Morishita and brought his sword down.
Not a drop of blood was left; the knife seemed illusory, piercing right through Morishita's body.
Only a tragic past woven by Shūkurō Tsukishima remains, inserted into his memory.
"Aaaaaah!"
Morishita's closed eyes snapped open, and as he looked at the man standing before him, he let out a scream even more piercing than the others.
The tactile sensation of a syringe piercing the skin, the pain of injections, and the memory of being naked, like a little mouse in biology class, manipulated by a group of people.
Everything was so clear.
Dignity, spirit, happiness—all the precious things he once possessed were destroyed by the man before him.
He went from being a researcher to being the experimental subject, and it's all this guy's fault!
Even his beloved wife and daughter did not escape this man's clutches.
She was conquered before his eyes, completely forgetting him as her husband and father, becoming like two dogs at his feet.
Morishita was tormented by that fabricated past, and screamed, "Why, why did you do this to me? Weren't we best friends?!"
Shūkurō Tsukishima stared coldly at him and said, " Morishita, remember this well: it was you who was afraid of death and offered to let your wife and daughter accompany me in exchange for your escape from the research institute."
A side effect of inserting a lot of past settings is that some settings are easily forgotten, requiring him to verbally remind them.
Morishita, realizing what had happened, completely broke down. " Tamako, Rika, I'm so sorry."
Shūkurō Tsukishima picked up the briefcase from the ground, opened it, and found it filled with research materials he couldn't understand.
Only the title is understandable: The Cloning Plan of the Fullbringer.
"Foolish," he muttered, the knife striking the ground again, the past that had been inserted now gone.
The walls and spikes disappeared.
At the same time, he concentrated Reishi at the soles of his feet to move at high speed, avoiding being seen by others.