West District Ten, Rice Village.
Taro strongly suspected there was nothing wrong with the path by the big white poplar tree. He had simply run into a curse this year.
He had been playing when he ran into Shinigami-not just one, but a whole group of fierce-looking Shinigami.
There were at least ten of them.
The exact number was beyond his prenatal-graduate level of math.
The Shinigami leading them was fierce, his body as thin as a bamboo pole and scars covering him from face to chest, dense as a beehive. "Drive everyone out."
At his command, the other Shinigami scattered and began calling people out from house to house. The residents were herded outside like cattle and sheep.
More than ten thousand people gathered, utterly bewildered. It was their first time seeing so many Shinigami together, and it made them realize something big had happened.
"Quiet!" the scarred man roared. The seventh seat unleashed his Reiatsu, leaving the residents at the front unable to speak. Silence spread from front to back until all ten thousand were quiet.
"Who's the elder?"
"I am." Leaning on his cane, the elder stepped forward unsteadily. "May I ask what orders you have for gathering us here, sir?"
"My name is Mura Takahito, seventh seat of the 11th Division. On orders from above, I'm hunting the vicious criminal Shiraishi. He should have appeared in this area. He's a silver-haired man in outlandish clothes."
Mura Takahito bent down, bringing his eyes close to the elder's, his hot breath reaching the elder's face. "You know where he is, don't you?"
"I don't know. We've never seen this man."
The elder lied without changing expression. Shiraishi usually came and went unpredictably, and he had no idea where the man was. If he admitted he knew him, he would certainly be pressed for his whereabouts. It was better to say he didn't know him.
"Tch." Mura Takahito shoved the elder's shoulder with his left hand and drew his sword with his right, slashing across the elder's chest. Blood sprayed.
"Elder!" The residents in front tried to rush forward.
"Are you trying to rebel?!"
Mura Takahito roared, his Reiatsu pricking the residents in front like sharp needles and keeping them from advancing. They could only glare at him in anger. "I know what you lowlifes are like. You won't tell the truth until I kill a few of you."
His fierce gaze swept over them. He had rushed from Seireitei to West District Ten and searched without result. A savage killing intent boiled in his chest, and he urgently needed an outlet.
These Rukongai residents were perfect targets.
Mura Takahito was a warlike, bloodthirsty man from Outer Rukongai. He had once slaughtered a village because he was in a good mood, and another time, out of boredom, he had tied up a group of people, driven them into the mountains and woods, and burned them.
When he left District 80, he had even deliberately dumped corpses into every water source and well in the area to contaminate them.
After joining the 11th Division, his disposition had become less vicious than before. Even the fiercest beast would submit to a true predator.
Without question, Kenpachi Zaraki was a predator capable of making every beast submit.
Under his influence, Mura Takahito had changed a great deal. Rather than killing the weak, he preferred to swing his sword at the strong.
That was precisely why he had chosen to kill a few people here instead of slaughtering them all.
Mura Takahito swept his gaze over the crowd and fixed on a child, a cruel smile curling his lips.
In Outer Rukongai, children like this had a hard time surviving.
The lower-numbered districts were different. People often regarded children as more important than adults.
"If you don't tell the truth, I'll cut this brat's head off."
With that, he strode toward Taro. His Reiatsu forced people to keep moving aside. It had nothing to do with willpower; it was simply a difference between their souls.
Taro's legs trembled, and he wet his pants again. He wanted to cry. Why did bad things always happen to him?
Mura Takahito reached out, and his hand was gone.
Part of his arm fell to the ground, staining the earth red with blood. He froze, unable to comprehend what had happened.
A man stood in front of him, holding a sword with a golden blade streaked with blood.
"It's you!" A deranged smile appeared on Mura Takahito's face as he reached for his Zanpakuto with his other hand.
Shiraishi kicked off the ground. He used no skills, just a simple charge and a basic attack, too fast for anyone to see clearly.
A chill swept across Mura Takahito's neck. His head flew off, blood gushed out, and his headless body fell backward.
Seeing this, the other Shinigami drew their swords. None of them thought of running.
Shiraishi would not have let them escape, either. His blade gave a faint hum in the air, like the whisper of the wind.
The blade sliced open throats, the sound of flesh and bone tearing almost too faint to hear. Heads flew one after another, forming dazzling crimson fountains.
"Sorry." Shiraishi sheathed his sword and spoke softly to the elder on the ground. "I'll make those Shinigami understand what it means to court death."
His words were filled with killing intent.
He had planned to hide underground and let the Shinigami waste their efforts, but he had overestimated the character of most Shinigami.
When he first sensed Shinigami Reiatsu in Rice Village, he had paid it little mind. Only when a Shinigami deliberately released his Reiatsu did he realize something was wrong and hurry over from the exit. He was still a step too late.
Seeing the injured elder and Taro in danger, he would not choose to endure it.
Shiraishi's unwillingness to be enemies with the Shinigami did not mean he feared them. He simply felt there was nothing to gain from fighting them, that it was troublesome, and he couldn't be bothered.
Once he decided a fight was necessary, he would show no mercy.
"Shiraishi." The elder reached out, intending to urge him not to act rashly, but he had already vanished. The elder's hand froze in midair.
"Amazing." Taro's eyes shone. Those lofty Shinigami had become corpses in the blink of an eye.
Big brother is so strong!
Taro clenched his little fists, his face red with excitement.
Whoosh.
A Shinigami wearing a straw hat and a flower-patterned coat appeared beside the elder and asked, "Are you this village's elder?"
The elder saw the pure white Captain's Haori and black shihakusho beneath the flowered coat, and his heart nearly stopped. A captain?!
"Yes," he answered with difficulty.
Shunsui Kyōraku crouched down, looked at his wound, then at the dead 11th Division members, and roughly guessed what had happened.
Since the death of his friend Kuruyashiki, the 11th Division had strayed further and further from its title as a band of flower warriors. By the era of the tenth Kenpachi, Kiganjō, the unit had plunged headlong down a path as crude as that of bandits.
Even now, the number of 11th Division members who could reason with people could be counted on one hand.
"Sorry about this." Shunsui Kyōraku stood up again. "Can you track the lingering Reiatsu, Nanao-chan?"
"No, I can't track it," replied the intellectual-looking woman wearing glasses. "The situation is very bad."
"That's right. The 11th Division's recklessness has provoked our opponent."
Shunsui Kyōraku sighed. The division members' Reiatsu was disappearing. The enemy was using incredible speed and stealth to kill them in different directions at will.
The Seated Officers below captain level were no match at all. They couldn't even buy enough time for Shunsui and Nanao to arrive.
They had to change their strategy.
Shunsui Kyōraku thought for a moment and came up with a solution. "Nanao-chan, deploy Tenteikūra. Target the entire West District Ten."