Three days later, in the afternoon, beside a small river about ten miles outside the Hanagare District, Fūjin Taichi lay alone on the roof of a dilapidated old wooden house. A blade of foxtail grass hung from the corner of his mouth as he hummed a little tune.
This wooden house once belonged to Ichimaru Gin.
About twenty years ago, after his mother died of illness, he had lived here alone, struggling to survive.
More than ten years later, one evening while searching for food, Ichimaru Gin encountered Matsumoto Rangiku, who had collapsed by the roadside.
From then on, the two relied on each other for survival and grew up together as childhood companions.
After that, many years passed.
Time flew like a white horse flashing past a gap. In the blink of an eye, more than fifty years had gone by.
At that moment, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, though the afterglow had yet to fade. The last sliver of sunset spread across East Rukongai, District 63 — Yone.
The houses here were densely packed, mostly built from thin wooden boards. The streets crisscrossed in all directions, resembling an old village from the Human World.
Village matters were decided by the eldest resident, Ichirō Eizawa.
That evening, before the sun had fully set, Ichirō Eizawa, supported by neighbors and leaning on his cane, slowly approached a brand-new black rickshaw.
"Fifty years… it's been fifty years!"
Stretching out his veiny right hand, Ichirō Eizawa gently stroked the rickshaw, tears streaming down his wrinkled face.
"Yone District has finally waited for this day!"
The surrounding villagers chimed in excitedly.
"Yeah! It's been so many years since we've seen such a beautiful rickshaw!"
"Wow! You can even see your reflection on it!"
"Who would've thought? That rascal Fūjin Taichi actually became a Shinigami!"
"Right! That brat used to make me so angry when he was little! But now… he's become the pride of Yone District!"
"Oh! Look! That kid Taichi is coming out!"
Under the burning gazes of the villagers, the young and handsome Fūjin Taichi stepped out of the house slowly.
He wore a black Shinigami robe (Shihakushō). A sealed Zanpakutō (Asauchi) hung at his waist, and a travel pack was slung across his back.
"Taichi… you…" Ichirō Eizawa tightly grasped his hands, his eyes full of expectation.
"When you get to the place of the Shinigami lords, you must work hard! Don't disappoint the villagers!!"
"I understand, Elder," Fūjin Taichi replied seriously with a nod.
Then he walked straight to the rickshaw and climbed in.
"Good luck!"
"Do your best!"
"Good luck!"
The villagers shouted their encouragement once again.
With a smile, Fūjin Taichi waved farewell to the crowd while quietly urging the driver, Mōri Gorō.
"Let's go."
"Yes, Shinigami-sama! Please sit tight!"
Mōri Gorō answered respectfully. He lifted the rickshaw handles and began running toward Seireitei.
...
Meanwhile…
In East Rukongai District 61, outside an unnamed neighborhood, two burly men holding torches were pushing Fūma Kamano back while shouting harshly:
"Cut the nonsense! Without a registration pass issued by the Shinigami, you're not allowed to go through here!! Get lost!"
Fūma Kamano had never expected that the Soul Society would also check something like an ID card.
But he didn't even know how he had arrived here in the first place—how could he possibly have a registration pass?
"Big brothers! I rushed out today and forgot to bring my pass! Look, it's already getting late. It's not safe to head back now!
Please be lenient just this once and let me through. Next time I'll treat you guys to a nyotaimori feast, alright?!"
The two rustic strongmen had no idea what nyotaimori even meant.
Seeing that Fūma Kamano had no registration pass and kept trying to force his way through, they were already furious.
"Get lost!"
"Alright, alright!" Fūma Kamano knew better than to fight when he was outmatched. Seeing the unfriendly looks on the guards' faces, he immediately gave up the idea of pushing through and turned back.
But with the vast world around him…
Where could he go?
Without a registration pass issued by the Shinigami, Fūma Kamano was essentially considered a Ryoka (illegal intruder) in the Soul Society.
Not only would he be unable to move freely, but he could even be hunted down by Shinigami.
Helpless, Fūma Kamano crossed his arms and sat down under a nearby tree, gazing at the bright moon rising in the distance while lamenting inwardly.
Without a registration pass…
there was no legal identity.
Without a legal identity…
he couldn't pass through Seireitei.
If he couldn't pass through Seireitei…
then he couldn't enroll in the Shin'ō Academy.
And if he couldn't enroll in the academy…
how could he possibly become a Shinigami?
"ROOOAAAR—!"
Just as Fūma Kamano was deep in troubled thoughts, a piercing, monstrous howl suddenly echoed from the wilderness not far away.
"GRAAAAH—!"
"What the hell was that?!"
Startled, Fūma Kamano looked toward the direction of the sound.
But the pitch-black night revealed nothing at all.
Anyone who has watched Bleach would know that such a shrill howl clearly comes from a Hollow.
Hollows are evil spirits different from wandering souls (Pluses). Their defining features are a hole in the chest, symbolizing the emptiness in their hearts, and various masks covering their faces.
They hide within Hueco Mundo, a realm difficult for Shinigami to detect. There, they feed on wandering souls, Shinigami, and even their own kind. The denser a soul's spiritual power, the more easily it attracts their attention.
"A Hollow… a Hollow has appeared again?!"
The two burly men guarding the district entrance turned pale. Staring at the dark wilderness ahead, their bodies trembled uncontrollably.
Recently, the Soul Society had not been peaceful. In the outskirts of Rukongai, strange incidents had been occurring frequently—people's souls would completely disappear, leaving behind only their clothes at the scene.
Fear had spread among the residents.
"Ahhh—!"
Two human screams suddenly rang out again from the wilderness. Most likely someone had been attacked by a Hollow.
Yet strangely, there was no trace of blood in the air.
The two strongmen were already terrified out of their wits. They hurriedly dropped their torches and wooden sticks, turned around, and ran back into the district, slamming the gate shut behind them.
In Fūma Kamano's eyes, their behavior was no different from ostriches burying their heads in the sand when danger appears.
"Cowards!"
Fūma Kamano looked at them with utter contempt.
You guys look big and tough, but your guts are smaller than mine. Go eat shit.
He crouched and walked a few steps back when suddenly a violent palpitation surged through his chest.
He immediately stopped and glanced back toward the district.
The gate was still tightly shut, and there wasn't another person in sight.
So where did this sudden dread come from?
It felt as if a warthog had been frozen by the deadly gaze of a lion.
His breathing stalled. His blood seemed to flow backward. His heart pounded violently against his chest. The hairs on the back of his hands stood up, and goosebumps covered his entire body.
But the strange feeling came quickly—and disappeared just as quickly.
After only a few breaths, it vanished without a trace, as if nothing had happened.
"Haa…"
Fūma Kamano gasped heavily for air. It took quite a while before he finally calmed down.
He listened carefully for a moment. After confirming that he could no longer hear the Hollow's howl, he crouched low again and slowly moved toward the direction where the sound had come from.
He wasn't doing this out of kindness.
He certainly wasn't risking his life to rescue anyone.
He was simply taking a gamble—to see if he might find a registration pass on the body of whoever had been attacked.
"Rustle… rustle…"
Keeping his body low, Fūma Kamano slowly crept toward the scene.
Under the faint moonlight, he saw a black rickshaw parked by the roadside not far ahead.
It was completely empty.
Both the driver and the passenger had disappeared.
"Clack!"
Knowing how cunning and stealthy Hollows could be, Fūma Kamano didn't dare approach rashly. Instead, he picked up a stone from the ground and threw it over.
Then he quickly lay flat on the ground, carefully observing the surroundings.
In the pitch-black night, aside from the occasional wind and the rustling of tree branches, the area was as silent as death.
Was there really no one here?
Fūma Kamano lay motionless on the ground, but his dark eyes constantly scanned the area around the rickshaw.
Where did the Hollow go?
By now, the night had grown deep.
The moon leaned westward in the sky, surrounded by scattered stars. A late-night breeze gently brushed across the sweat on Fūma Kamano's forehead.
Should I keep waiting?
No.
Life and death are determined by fate. Wealth and honor depend on heaven!
Fūma Kamano suddenly sprang to his feet and rushed straight to the rickshaw in one breath.
Underneath the handle, he found a set of gray short clothes and brown trousers.
They were probably left behind by the missing driver. The clothes were soaked with sweat, and even standing slightly close made him feel dizzy from the smell.
Holding his breath, Fūma Kamano grabbed the clothes with both hands and shook them hard.
But there was no registration pass inside.
Refusing to give up, he turned his attention to the passenger seat of the rickshaw.
The moment he looked, he froze.
Under the pale moonlight, a complete Shinigami uniform (Shihakushō) lay on the seat.
Beside it was a dark travel bag and a sealed Zanpakutō (Asauchi).
"This… could this be destiny?"
..
Drop some POWERSTONES to push the story forward!
PS: Read Advance Chapters at https://www.patreon.com/c/ReadJin