When I entered the house, I saw a futon where the sick boy was sleeping peacefully. He was thin, bald, and pale—so worn down by illness that it was frightening to look at him. And he couldn't even go to a doctor.
When I arrived, he stirred and opened his eyes.
"How are you?" I asked softly.
"Karasumaru," he smiled weakly. The guy was in bad shape. I just hoped the medicine would help.
"Here, drink this." I handed him a spoonful of the medicine. "It doesn't taste great, but it should help."
"Thank you," he murmured, swallowing it obediently.
Honoka-san soon prepared food for everyone. I really hoped the medicine would take effect. If not, I'd have to ask Rangiku for help. I didn't have many other friends among the Shinigami. Of course, there was Isane, but she was the lieutenant of the Fourth Division—always busy. We rarely saw each other, except when she got drunk with Rangiku. I was also somewhat acquainted with Captain Unohana, but she'd only checked on me once—and that was it.
After feeding friend with a spoon, I stayed with him for a while longer. We talked a little and simply sat together. He got bored lying down all the time, so my visits always cheered him up.
Soon he drifted off again. A weakened body needs rest.
I stayed with the Marked until evening, helping however I could, doing whatever was needed. I gave the children some sweets. There's so little joy in their small lives—I wanted to offer at least that much.
"Karasumaru-kun," Honoka-san said, turning to me. "Thank you so much." She smiled faintly. "If it weren't for you, we'd be in big trouble."
"Don't mention it. I just couldn't walk past," I replied. "It's really no trouble. I'll help as long as I can."
"Still…" she looked at me, her tired, sad eyes filling with tears. "Without you, we would have been lost."
"Come on," I said, feeling awkward. I wasn't used to being thanked. I don't know who I was in my previous life, but I don't think I received much praise.
By evening, I went home. As usual, I moved quietly, staying out of sight. Although many people already knew about the settlement, so I wasn't the only one helping them. At least the vendors understood where I was taking the supplies—they didn't ask questions. This world is full of good people, though the stupidity and cruelty of others often smothered that goodness. A single person is rational, but a crowd is a wild, mindless beast. You have to be careful not to provoke that beast.
I got home quickly and decided to visit Matsumoto—but she wasn't in. Oh well. There's still plenty of time, I'm going to go train.
Concentrating my reiryoku within my body... At first, I learned to gather it in front of me; now I needed to focus it inward. It didn't work right away, and I was still far from the result I wanted, but that's always how it goes. I'd just have to keep trying, keep training. According to Rangiku, many souls use it instinctively—it all comes down to emotion.
We are souls; our shells may resemble living beings, but they remain spiritual. Therefore, growth and strength can be enhanced through emotions, feelings, and aspirations. In a moment of rage, the power concentrates itself in the fist. Or fear will protect you or minimize damage. It all depends on the soul's strength—and the feelings that dwell within.
An hour of training wore me out completely. But my strength still wasn't anywhere near that of a Shinigami. Once, I convinced Rangiku to let me feel her power—it took forever to talk her into it. I almost passed out then, but now I have a point of comparison. And she's just a lieutenant. I can only imagine what captains are like.
After resting, I decided to take a walk through the city. There was some kind of festival going on, so it was fine to wander about.
There were a lot of people around. Fortunately, few of them walked on rooftops, and most had already grown tired of paying attention to me. I wish I could learn to conceal myself—but to hide something, you first need something to hide. Momoto-san is probably already here somewhere with the others. Well, I'm doing fine as it is.
As I moved across the roofs, a strange voice caught my attention.
"Listen to me, my children, for the Soul King hears you through me," someone was saying. It was a man in a white robe embroidered with a golden cross. It looked like a religious symbol from the world of the living—Christianity. Andy-san had once told me about it. It seemed like a decent faith, but I never delved into it. Just when you're a soul, it feels strange to hear people talk about gods. Everyone knows of the Soul King, but no one knows what he is, what he wants, or if he even needs our worship. Wait—the King's symbol isn't a cross at all, so what's this guy doing? Maybe something's wrong with his head?
"Listen to me, and your sins will be forgiven! You will ascend to the King's Chambers and find peace and tranquility!"
The man spoke eloquently, with conviction—and I could sense his reiatsu. A faint orb of power glowed on his staff. I could do that too, but... there was something off about him.
The people gathered around reacted differently to his speeches. Some were skeptical, frowning as they just walked away. But others… there was adoration in their eyes. It's even scary to look at these people.
"Fear nothing, for sorrow and misfortune will pass you by! The Marked Ones will not touch you—those evil ones, branded by empty demons! Evil will not dare approach where the servant of the Soul King stands guard!" the preacher declared proudly. You shouldn't talk about the Marked that way. They're good people. Not all of them, but the ones I know don't fit the description of villains or servants of Hollows."Rejoice and believe! Evil will pass you by!"
Applause broke out.
Damn it—they believe him! So many of them believe it?! What a nightmare! How could they—?
Wait a second… isn't that him? He looks almost the same. But the other one had a beard—and this one's clean-shaven.
"Stay away from the Marked Ones!" he continued, even more fervent now. "They bring misfortune and darkness! The servants of demons carry evil within their souls!"
"You bastard…" I growled, ready to jump down and shut him up—but someone grabbed my arm.
"Yare yare. Don't," a calm voice said. I turned and saw a gray-haired guy with narrow eyes and a broad, sly smile. With that expression, he looked almost foxlike. Tall, slender, maybe around twenty—but it's hard to judge a soul's age. We age very slowly. He wore simple yet expensive-looking black and silver clothes.*9*
"You can't do anything anyway," he added casually.
"But he's lying!" I snapped. "They're not like that! It's all nonsense!"
"People believe what's easier for them to believe," the guy smirked. "You can't change the opinion of the majority."
"But… that's…"
"I know," he said. "But that's how it's been for thousands of years. People like him aren't the first, and they won't be the last. Heh, they all choose the same path."
"But why?"
"Hmm?" He glanced at me—but I couldn't see his eyes. "Because it's easier. Pick up a local rumor, blow it out of proportion, scare people—and then become their protector. You'll get followers in no time. Praise the Soul King , and no one will say a word against you. No one cares about anything else.The Marked can't defend themselves, and no one will listen to them."
"Do the Shinigami really not care?" I asked bitterly.
"Why should they?" he said with that same sly smile. "The Shinigami protect everyone from the Hollows—they're not arbiters of justice. They simply don't have the time. This isn't the first time, either. And the end of such preachers is always… unpleasant."
"But why them?"
"Some Shinigami from Rukongai tried to explain, but it was useless,"he said. It was impossible to read what he was feeling—his face remained completely unchanged. "You can't change fools' minds. In that respect, poor areas are more honest, but you still have to reach them. And many safe crossing points are blocked by aristocratic villas, so crossing can be even more dangerous."
"The world… is unfair," I muttered, lowering my head.
"Yes," he agreed, lost in thought for a moment. Then he turned to leave. "Well, I think I'll go. Don't get into trouble."
"By the way, who are you?" I called after him.
"Huh?" He turned around. "You can call me Gin."
"Karasumaru," I introduced myself.
"Good luck," he said, waving casually before leaping off the roof and vanishing into the crowd below.
Strange guy. I don't know who he is, but he's definitely suspicious. Probably best to stay away from him.
I suddenly lost all desire to stay at the festival—that bastard's preaching still echoed in the distance.
Better to leave. I can't do anything anyway, and I'll only ruin what's left of my mood.
When I got home, I fell asleep almost immediately.
I was a little tired.
I need to rest...