Chapter 48: Still as a Buddha, Moving as a Devil

The 69th District of East Rukongai.

Though infamous for its crime, the district was not as forsaken as the 80th, where only killers and thieves thrived. Here, some dared to live ordinary lives.

At a roadside stall, the scent of frying glutinous rice balls wafted through the spring air. The shopkeeper, Gengjirō, once a chef in the living world, had kept the trade even after death. Today, however, business was dead quiet. He leaned drowsily against the counter until a gentle voice woke him.

“Shopkeeper.”

Gengjirō looked up—and froze.

A young woman stood in the doorway, long black hair shining, her white kimono pristine, her smile warm as sunlight.

“Glutinous rice balls,” she said softly. “Extra chili.”

Her tone was melodic, almost healing. Gengjirō’s heart trembled. Such a refined young lady should not be in a place like this. Still, he nodded quickly and began to fry the rice balls.

“You shouldn’t be wandering alone in this district, girl,” he warned as oil hissed. “Bandits come often. What if you run into them? By the way, may I ask your name?”

“Unohana,” she replied, her smile never wavering.

“What a fine name!” Gengjirō chuckled. “I had a daughter once, fierce as a tiger. Always fighting with her husband. Hah! But life was good back then…”

Unohana tilted her head, thoughtful.
“Uncle, do you know of Seireitei?”

“Of course,” Gengjirō snorted. “The heart of this world. I thought death would free me from it, but no. Alive or dead, still under its shadow. Nobles above, commoners below. Always the same.” He sighed. “They say if you join the Gotei 13, you can rise to nobility. Hah! As if that’s meant for the likes of us.”

“Gotei 13…” Unohana murmured, gazing at the warm sun. So all the strongest are gathering there.

Her rice balls were ready. She took a delicate bite. Crisp, spicy, perfect. She smiled again.
“Delicious.”

But peace did not last. Dust billowed from down the street. A dozen horse thieves stormed into the stall, weapons drawn.

Gengjirō paled. He hurriedly fumbled for his savings to buy safety. But the bandit leader ignored him, spear aimed directly at the girl.

“You’re the one who killed my brother?”

Unohana shook her head, serene as ever.

“Then why?” he demanded.

Her voice was gentle, yet the words froze the air.
“I was in a foul mood. Killing someone lifted my spirits.”

Even the cutthroat bandits blinked in disbelief.

The leader roared. “Then I’ll have my fun too! Cut her down!”

But the moment they moved, the air itself shifted. Unohana’s expression never changed—yet the warmth vanished. Her eyes, once soft, now gleamed with absolute indifference.

To her, all before her were already corpses.

The horses snorted and backed away in fear. The bandits felt cold sweat run down their spines, unable to take a step forward.

“You… what are you…” the leader stammered—just before his head rolled into the dirt, his face still locked in confusion.

A Zanpakutō gleamed in Unohana’s hand.

“My name is… Unohana Yachiru.”

Panic erupted. “Sword-demon Unohana… run!!!”

But Unohana’s voice cut sharper than steel.
“Don’t be foolish. You can’t run from me.”

The street drowned in screams and crimson spray. Every swing was fatal. No one blocked her blade. In moments, the bustling corner was hell on earth.

When silence fell, Unohana wiped her blade and sheathed it. Her expression softened again, the mask of gentle serenity restored. She set coins on the table for the absent shopkeeper, her voice as kind as before.

“You are so gentle,” she whispered.