"I'm off! What a wonderful day to be an ordinary man…"
Kazuma hummed cheerfully as he said goodbye to Kūkaku and set off with a spring in his step.
After running around for so long, Renji's Zanpakutō problem had finally been dealt with. His mood couldn't have been better.
Still humming to himself, Kazuma made his way toward the Seireitei, enjoying the cool breeze against his face.
The moment he stepped into the First Division, however, that pleasant mood vanished completely.
"Pay for it!"
The Captain-Commander's short, thunderous demand hit Kazuma out of nowhere and froze him in place.
"What?"
Kazuma stared blankly at the stern-faced Yamamoto.
He'd only just returned and hadn't even caught his breath, yet the old man had already cornered him over some mysterious debt he didn't remember owing.
Without another word, Yamamoto grabbed Kazuma and dragged him toward the courtyard.
Kazuma stumbled along in confusion until he finally saw the devastation for himself.
The courtyard, once filled with lush trees and carefully maintained greenery, now looked as though a catastrophic typhoon had swept through it.
Broken pieces of structures littered the ground.
Trees had been severed neatly through the middle, and only the lower half of a pavilion remained standing.
"Yama-jii… were you unhappy with the courtyard's design, so you decided to tear everything down and renovate?"
Kazuma looked over the ruins suspiciously.
Had the Captain-Commander decided on an extensive remodeling project, only to discover he lacked the funds and come looking for Kazuma to pay the bill?
The thought alone made his wallet ache.
"Open your eyes and look carefully at how those trees and structures were cut!"
Yamamoto's eyes blazed with fury, veins bulging across his forehead as though they might burst.
Kazuma didn't dare waste another second.
He hurried forward and examined the fallen trees and the remains of the pavilion.
Their cut surfaces were unnaturally straight, almost as though someone had measured them before slicing.
Kazuma ran his fingers over one of the exposed sections and drew a sharp breath.
It was as smooth as a mirror, without the slightest roughness.
This was no natural break.
Someone had deliberately cut everything with an extraordinarily sharp blade.
Kazuma frowned in thought.
Then realization struck him.
"Rukia!"
This destruction had clearly been caused by Sayafushi, the blade he'd brought back from Ōetsu.
An ordinary Zanpakutō could never produce cuts this clean and powerful.
"RUKIA! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!"
Kazuma's enraged roar shook the entire First Division.
He'd already noticed something odd upon returning. Rukia was usually wandering around nearby, yet today she'd been nowhere to be seen.
Now the reason was obvious.
That wretched student had caused another disaster and hidden like a frightened rabbit because she didn't dare show her face.
Before leaving, Kazuma had repeatedly warned her to guard Sayafushi carefully and never swing it around recklessly.
Apparently, she'd ignored every word.
Fortunately, she'd only slashed toward an empty courtyard. Had she accidentally aimed it at a fellow Shinigami, someone might have died.
"Stop shouting."
Yamamoto waved one hand.
Sasakibe Chōjirō emerged from the building, escorting a small figure who'd been tied up so thoroughly that she looked like a trussed-up parcel.
It was Rukia.
A filthy, ragged strip of cloth had been stuffed into her mouth, leaving her capable of producing only muffled noises.
Her face was bright red as she shook her head frantically and twisted her body like a desperate worm.
"You disobedient little menace!"
Kazuma's temper exploded.
"Leave you alone for three days and you'll tear the roof off the house!"
He undid the belt around his waist as he marched forward, grabbed Rukia's tightly bound body, and dragged her inside like a dead dog.
"Mmph! Mmmph!"
Rukia shook her head so violently it seemed it might fly right off.
She desperately wanted to explain herself, but the filthy cloth sealed her mouth too tightly for even half a word to escape.
Kazuma hung her from a ceiling beam, then looked around and realized he had nothing suitable to beat her with.
He was about to head outside and find a bamboo switch when Yamamoto silently produced a leather whip from somewhere and handed it over.
And so Rukia got another generous serving of the whip.
Her screams echoed into the heavens.
Inside, Rukia was drowning in injustice.
This incident had absolutely nothing to do with her!
Yamamoto had been the one who tested Sayafushi and destroyed the courtyard, yet somehow she'd ended up carrying the entire blame.
What kind of undeserved disaster was this?!
"Lord Genryūsai…"
Chōjirō crept toward Yamamoto like a thief, his normally stern face filled with guilt and hesitation.
"Do you not think allowing Rukia to take the blame might be somewhat excessive? She is only a young girl. This seems terribly unfair…"
The arrangement went completely against the gentlemanly principles he'd upheld all his life.
"Oh? Is that so?"
Yamamoto narrowed his eyes and fixed Chōjirō with a quiet, threatening gaze.
"If you cannot bear to watch Rukia suffer, perhaps you would like to take her place."
"Someone must accept responsibility for this."
Chōjirō's entire body trembled, and he immediately shook his head as fast as he could.
Absolutely not.
Kazuma was already furious. If he discovered the truth, he'd undoubtedly beat whoever was responsible without hesitation.
Just imagining the scene sent a chill down Chōjirō's spine.
Maintaining his gentlemanly dignity was important, of course.
But compared to the possibility of being physically destroyed by Kazuma, self-preservation was clearly the wiser choice.
Someone else could carry that blame.
He wanted no part of it.
...
"Yama-jii, look! I've already given her a thorough beating, so I'll be taking Rukia back with me now. Children are bound to make mistakes sometimes, so please be the bigger man and don't hold it against her. Getting angry is terrible for your health!"
Kazuma spoke while tossing the whip aside with a satisfied expression. He grabbed Rukia and immediately prepared to return to the Seventh Division.
If he lingered any longer, Yamamoto would probably start discussing compensation for the destroyed courtyard.
That wouldn't be a small sum.
It would be his hard-earned money!
Kazuma had always been completely broke.
The meager salary he earned from working in the World of the Living went into a bank account controlled entirely by Batsu'unsai.
Most of the wages he received in Soul Society were spent on alcohol, while the rest was entrusted to Iba Tetsuzaemon for safekeeping.
Forcing him to pay for the damage would hurt worse than killing him.
With that thought, Kazuma wasted no more time
. He sprinted away while carrying Rukia, leaving behind a cloud of dust and a helpless Captain-Commander.
Yamamoto watched his retreating figure with some lingering irritation, but he also understood that his own side had been responsible for the incident.
Rukia had merely been forced to take the blame.
Since things had already reached this point, it was probably best to let the matter end here.