Chapter 133: If I Am Guilty, Let the Law Punish Me

Chiyo’s smile was uglier than a sob as she shuffled back into the wooden cabin, her eyes darting to the front yard. Piles of Hollow corpses littered the ground, their grotesque forms including a Gillian’s towering remains. How strong is this crumbling old man? she wondered, her heart sinking.

Minutes later, the Old Man hobbled in, clutching a bowl of dark, murky liquid. “Since you’re injured, drink your medicine like a good girl,” he said, his sinister grin chilling her. “I’ll watch you this time. Drink!”

Chiyo’s hands trembled as she took the bowl, its foul stench reigniting her fears. Who can save me? She couldn’t fight him—his speed and power outclassed her—and escape had failed. With no options left, she suppressed a gag and took a tentative sip. To her shock, the liquid was sweet, not rancid. Warmth spread through her body, her wounds knitting together, her reiatsu slowly replenishing.

It’s… working? The medicine was effective, even miraculous. Maybe this Old Man wasn’t trying to kill her after all.

Emboldened, Chiyo downed the rest, the Old Man watching with a grin that mixed curiosity, kindness, and a scientist’s cold scrutiny—like she was a lab rat. “How do you feel?” he asked, his tone probing.

“My injuries are better,” Chiyo admitted, flexing her fingers. But a sudden, searing pain stabbed her stomach, as if blades were twisting inside. She doubled over, gasping.

“Quick, take this antidote!” the Old Man said, producing a small vial. “My toxitherapy uses potent poisons to heal. The antidote maximizes the effect.”

Chiyo’s face turned green. Toxitherapy? What kind of twisted healing is this? She forced the antidote down, and the pain subsided—only for her limbs to stiffen, her palms and soles itching unbearably, like ants crawling beneath her skin.

“What’s happening now?” she croaked.

The Old Man calmly offered another vial. “That antidote was also poisonous—it neutralizes the first poison. Now take this antidote to the antidote.”

An infinite nesting doll of poison? Chiyo’s mind reeled. What did I do to deserve this? Her thoughts flashed to her past—a reckless plot to kill her brother, a sin she’d buried. Is this heaven’s punishment?

She swallowed the second antidote, the itching fading. “No more poison this time, right?” she asked, voice trembling.

“None this time, don’t worry,” the Old Man chuckled, his eyes gleaming. “But your injuries aren’t fully healed. I have more treatments to try. It’s lonely here, and a young thing like you is perfect company. You’ll leave when we’re done playing.”

Chiyo forced a smile, her heart screaming: If I’m guilty, let the Central 46 punish me, not this creep!

As the Old Man approached with a massive syringe, the cabin door exploded inward. Yamabuki Haruto stood in the doorway, his reiatsu flaring. Chiyo’s heart soared—her first genuine joy at seeing him.

Haruto’s eyes flicked to Chiyo, her forced smile, and the Old Man’s syringe. “Having fun, huh? I won’t interrupt,” he said, relief in his voice at finding her alive.

“You idiot, get back here!” Chiyo roared. “I’m being tortured! This pervert’s using me as a guinea pig! Look at that syringe! Show your invincible strength and beat him!”

The Old Man leaned on his cane, smiling at Haruto. “What a lively day—another young guest! Stay, both of you, and keep me company.”

In a flash, the Old Man appeared before Haruto, his cane stabbing forward. But it pierced only air, striking an afterimage. Haruto’s form flickered, reappearing beside Chiyo, his movements mirroring the Shihōin clan’s techniques.

“Hm? Shihōin footwork?” the Old Man mused, not turning. “Are you from their clan, lad?”

“Nope, just picked it up,” Haruto replied, hoisting Chiyo onto his back. “This girl’s no prize, but she’s my student. Mind if I take her?”

The Old Man’s smile widened. “Kids these days don’t respect their elders. Why leave? Stay for my experiments.”

Haruto didn’t bother replying. With a burst of Shunpo, he dashed for the door, but the Old Man matched his speed, blocking his path. “I’m no fighter,” the Old Man said, his cane thrusting like a sword.

Haruto countered, Kidō crackling along his arm. “Shunkō!” he roared, unleashing a punch charged with explosive reiatsu. The impact sent the Old Man tumbling across the ground, crashing into a tree.

“Cough, cough!” the Old Man wheezed, rising. “So violent! Combining Kidō and Hakuda—never seen that before. But I said I’m no fighter!” His voice turned sinister as he slammed his cane into the earth. Dark purple gas erupted, swirling with corrosive reishi.

“Careful!” Chiyo warned. “He melted a Gillian with that poison!”

Haruto’s usual calm gave way to caution. In Bleach’s world, poison was a deadly art. Unlike wuxia tales where heroes purged toxins with inner strength, a Shinigami’s reiatsu offered no such defense against a master poisoner’s craft.