Chapter 53: Massacre

“You don’t have to take it so seriously,” Yamabuki Haruto said quickly when he saw the worried looks on his teammates’ faces. “I was just talking casually. The Dangai strengthens the passage between worlds. Unless you’re extremely unlucky, you’ll never encounter the Kōtotsu.”

When he looked up again, both of his companions had stepped a fair distance away from him.

“…Wait. What do you mean by that? Are you saying I’m unlucky?” Haruto asked.

Kano Chiharu answered in her usual gentle, devastating way: “I heard someone once lost a month and a half’s salary playing mahjong. I don’t dare risk my life with someone like that.”

Haruto’s eye twitched.

Still, fortune smiled on them that day. The three passed through without incident and emerged safely into the World of the Living.

The Village

“Is this… the Human World from a thousand years ago?” Haruto muttered as he stepped onto the soil. “Why does it look so desolate?”

Spring should have brought planting, life, and green fields. Instead, farmland stretched before them in ruin, overgrown with weeds taller than a man. The sky hung low and dim, an ominous light breaking through the clouds.

An abandoned thatched hut stood crooked in the middle of the fields. The silence was suffocating.

“This doesn’t feel right,” Yanagi Jinsuke said, hand already gripping the hilt of his blade.

The three advanced cautiously. Then Haruto’s foot caught on something. He looked down—at a skeleton.

“The existence of farmland means there should be a village nearby. Let’s split up and look—” Chiharu began.

“Absolutely not!” Haruto cut her off sharply. “What, you two have never seen a horror movie? Splitting up is the fastest way to die! Monsters always pick off the ones who wander off alone. I’m in charge here. We stick together.”

For once, neither Chiharu nor Jinsuke argued. Unreliable as Haruto was at times, they trusted his instincts in situations like this.

They pressed on through the weeds until, just as Haruto predicted, a village came into view.

But the smell reached them before the sight did.

The stench of rot.

Chiharu covered her nose, frowning. Jinsuke didn’t react, though his grip on his weapon tightened. Haruto’s stomach sank as they entered the village and found it exactly as he feared.

Bodies. Everywhere. Men, women, children. Already decomposing.

“This… this was no plague,” Jinsuke said after kneeling to inspect the corpses. “All killed by blades.” He paused, his brows knitting together. “But something’s wrong.”

“What?” Haruto asked.

“The souls,” Jinsuke replied quietly. “So many people died violently here… there should be spirits everywhere. Either lingering as Plus souls or twisted into Hollows. But there’s nothing. Not one.”

Haruto’s expression hardened.

There were only three possibilities when souls vanished completely:

• Hell. But Hell only took the souls of the most wicked criminals. An entire village? Impossible.

• Hollows. But even then, one or two survivors or lingering spirits should remain.

• Quincy. The Quincy destroyed souls outright. Yet, they generally hunted Hollows, not ordinary villagers.

“Then the most likely answer is…” Haruto murmured.

“Hollows devoured them,” Jinsuke finished grimly. His face was pale.

Haruto clenched his fist. A Shinigami had been stationed here. Reports said they’d lost contact. Likely, that Shinigami had fallen victim as well.

For now, they had no solid leads.

The Survivor

A faint noise stirred from one of the huts.

In an instant, Haruto drew his Zanpakutō, eyes narrowing. “Could the beast still be here?”

He gestured dramatically. “Alright, you two handle this. I’ll… provide support!”

Both Chiharu and Jinsuke gave him flat stares but moved ahead. Jinsuke led, sword at the ready—his naginata too cumbersome indoors. They traced the sound to a small wooden box.

Jinsuke cut it open in one stroke.

A boy tumbled out—six, maybe seven years old—trembling violently.

“A survivor?” Haruto asked, stunned.

The boy’s wide eyes darted between them, filled with terror. To him, three armed strangers must have looked no different from the bandits who slaughtered his home.

Chiharu’s expression softened. She knelt down, voice gentle. “Don’t be afraid, little one. We’re not here to hurt you.”

“Yeah, yeah! We’re the good guys,” Haruto added quickly. “Tell us what happened.”

The boy studied each of them. He pointed at Haruto. “You don’t look like a good guy at all.”

Then he pointed at Jinsuke. “And he looks like a pervert. This sister’s the only nice one!”

“…The brat’s got good instincts,” Jinsuke muttered under his breath with a strained smile.

“Why you little—!” Haruto rolled up his sleeves, about to give the boy a lecture on the dangers of mouthing off, but Chiharu stopped him with a look.

Instead, she asked softly, “What happened here? Why did so many people die? Why were you hiding in that box?”

The boy’s eyes welled up. “It was bandits… they came out of nowhere… killed everyone… I was lucky, I hid…”

Haruto snorted. “Lucky? Kid, if you escaped, then who’s that lying on the ground behind you?”

The boy froze. Slowly, he turned.

And saw his own body lying among the corpses.