The figure of that young boy wasn't tall, but he was outlined in a faint golden light that pierced through the thick clouds covering the sky of the Soul Society along with his radiance.
The moment he appeared, Musashi Kasa froze—and then a wave of terror rose from the depths of his soul. It was a fear that trembled through his very spirit.
He wanted to run, but to his horror, he realized that his legs had completely lost strength without him noticing. He couldn't move.
He wanted to cry out, but his throat was dry and tight—he couldn't make a sound.
Asano Kiyoshi walked toward him without any expression on his face. The gruesome, blood-soaked duffel bag in his hand dripped thick, foul-smelling blood with every step.
The blood splattered on the ground—and splashed into Musashi Kasa's heart.
He looked at the bag… and saw the familiar faces—
Captain Yamano Yajirou of Squad 2, reduced to a limbless stump. Captain Yutaka Daisei of Squad 5, his head stacked alongside several elite members…
These faces, once ones he could only look up to, now hung together like slaughtered boar heads at a butcher's stand, devoid of any dignity—just like dead strays.
Looking at the boy before him, something primal surged within Musashi Kasa—perhaps the instinct to survive. He began to lash out in a wild, chaotic manner with his asauchi, his face twisted, screaming hysterically:
"Stay back! Stay back! You monster! Don't come near me! Get away from me!"
He swung his blade and cried at the same time. The stench of urine rose from his body, his clothes darkening around the crotch.
Asano Kiyoshi looked at the man who had lost all dignity and felt nothing but disgust and bitter satisfaction. He raised the duffel slightly and said to Musashi Kasa:
"You're actually quite lucky. There aren't too many heads in here yet. You can still pick a decent spot for yours."
Those words shattered what was left of Musashi Kasa's mental defenses. With a scream, he hurled his asauchi at Asano Kiyoshi and turned to flee like a madman—only to trip over himself in his panic, falling to the ground and scrambling away on all fours in utter humiliation.
Asano Kiyoshi caught the sword easily. The blade trembled slightly in his hand, and an overwhelming sense of grief came pouring from it.
He understood immediately—this Zanpakuto was crying.
He gently whispered to it:
"It's alright. I'll bring him back to you. Just hold on a little longer."
Then he turned toward the fleeing Musashi Kasa. With a flick of his hand, he hurled the sword like a javelin straight toward him, saying coldly:
"A Zanpakuto is half your soul. It's not something you can just throw away. Can't you hear it? That piercing cry of sorrow?"
The sword traced a mournful arc through the air and pierced directly into Musashi Kasa's lower abdomen, pinning him to the ground.
Asano Kiyoshi walked over slowly and calmly severed all four of Musashi Kasa's limbs. He spoke to him:
"You like torturing people, don't you? The wounds on that old man's body—those were your doing, right? Then, when you chose to be a monster, you should've been ready to be treated like one."
Musashi Kasa said nothing. He only wailed in agony, his eyelids twitching from the unbearable pain.
Seeing this, Asano Kiyoshi had no further interest in dragging things out. Beheading him would be enough—but even that, he realized, wouldn't be enough to save the rotten, decaying Rukongai.
If the people of Rukongai remained numb and indifferent, no matter how many monsters like Musashi Kasa he killed, it would all be meaningless.
He could resolve conflicts—but this wasn't salvation.
True salvation had to come from within. From their own courage. From their willingness to raise a blade against injustice.
So, Asano Kiyoshi stood up. He carried the barely breathing Musashi Kasa to the front of the house he had struck down earlier. There, the girl was holding her father and weeping.
Looking at her, Asano's face showed both compassion and sorrow—but also a hint of quiet, steely resolve.
"Don't cry. I'll heal your father. This man, the one who wanted to hurt you—I've brought him here. What you do with him is your decision."
He dropped Musashi Kasa in front of the girl.
She screamed at the sight of the mangled, bloody body.
Asano said nothing. He only walked to the unconscious old man and gently peeled away the blood-soaked, tattered clothes fused into his back.
He said nothing. He didn't try to coax or instruct the girl. He simply treated the man's wounds in silence, letting her struggle with her choice.
The girl's expression slowly changed—from fear, to disgust—and finally, when she saw her father's injuries, to burning hatred.
She stepped toward the Zanpakuto lying on the ground. Her thin arms trembled as she picked it up.
She looked at her father's mutilated back—and from her throat came a cry of rage, a howl of despair against fate itself.
With that scream, she raised the Zanpakuto and struck Musashi Kasa in the face!
Her strength was too little. The strike left only a shallow gash, no wider than a thumb.
But that single strike woke Musashi Kasa from his daze. Seeing the girl holding the blade, he seemed disoriented—he couldn't grasp where he was or why.
Instead, he screamed at her:
"You filthy little bitch! You dare strike me?! I'll skin you alive! I'll cut off your arms and legs! I'll—!"
But the girl didn't listen. She simply raised the blade again—and struck him once more!
And again. And again.
Each cut stronger than the last.
It was a weakling's revolt against destiny.
It was a roar in a steel cage, reaching toward the light beyond the bars.
Asano Kiyoshi watched her, a faint smile playing on his lips. Then, he turned and called out to the nearby residents who had been secretly watching from their windows:
"Remember this: You are human! Not livestock raised for slaughter! You are people! Living, breathing people! No different from me!"
T/N: For up to 20 chapters ahead on all my translations, become a p@tron at [email protected]/LordHipposApostle
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