Chapter 39: The Wild Heart of the Young Lady

When Yamabuki Haruto spoke earlier, Kano Chiharu quietly lowered her head, eyes flickering oddly in the candlelight. No words followed.

“Sister—you didn’t eat,” Kano Chimaru urged softly.

Chiharu lifted her gaze and offered a practiced smile. “I’m not hungry. You eat.”

Late into the night, Chiharu sat behind candlelight, carefully mending a tear in her sister’s robe. Memories echoed in her mind—Haruto’s words and the weight behind them.

“Your eyes… they’re the eyes of a killer.”

She whispered into the quiet: “Are my eyes truly… murderous?”

Her reflections traveled back to childhood. She’d witnessed violence as an innocent—a group of armed ronin attacked her family’s carriage. Her father’s counterattack was brutal and swift, blood splattering the soil.

The sight of blood—so vivid and alive—had captivated her more than any delicate embroidery or floral design ever could.

Even as a child, she had yearned to be like her father.

But noble girls were taught restraint: poetry, calligraphy, quiet grace. No swinging of swords.

She begged for sword training. First, kendo—but it lacked power. Then, naginata—but it remained limited.

Inside her, desire grew. Her spiritual pressure soared. Her passion, strangled by etiquette.

Was she doomed to be an elegant puppet, forever?

A butterfly settled on her hand. She crushed it.

I’m at my limit.

Elsewhere…

“Brother Yamabuki! Look what I have!” Sasakibe Chōjirō beamed, revealing his Zanpakutō.

“Chojiro—you made lieutenant?” Haruto blinked in surprise.

Chōjirō puffed up with pride. “Fourteenth level! I’ve earned my place in the Gotei 13!”

Smiling gently, Haruto replied, “Congratulations—but don’t be complacent. Only once your Zanpakutō releases can you be called a true Shinigami.”

“I’ve already done that!” Chōjirō said, drawing his blade. “Shikai: Gonryōmaru!”

The sword morphed into a lightning-wreathed rapier. Sparks cracked through the air in purple arcs. It was electrifying.

Haruto’s lips curled into a half-smile. “Nice trick. But true power comes from your reiatsu—not just form. Prove it.”

Chōjirō lunged, rapier humming with energy. Haruto calmly caught the blade with two fingers—immovable.

“This is a rapier of lightning,” Haruto said calmly. “But you’re still green. Ten more years of training.”

He then muttered under his breath: Why hasn’t my Zanpakutō awakened yet? I’m jealous!