"Why are you sighing, brat? The future belongs to energetic youngsters like you."
Captain-Commander Yamamoto's weathered face was clouded with sorrow, his deep-set eyes carrying the weight of countless years.
"Um… Yama-jii, I'm really not that much younger than you."
Kazuma scratched his head, caught somewhere between laughter and exasperation.
By any honest measure, he'd already reached late middle age and qualified as a genuine old bastard himself.
His youthful appearance and attitude merely made him seem younger than he truly was.
Whatever else one might call him, young was hardly accurate.
"Hmph! If I say you're young, then you're young! Why are you talking so much? When did you become this long-winded?"
Yamamoto's beard bristled as he snapped at him.
A perfectly respectable, melancholy mood had been ruined the moment Kazuma opened his mouth.
"I was only stating a fact. Is that somehow wrong?"
Kazuma muttered with an innocent, aggrieved expression.
He hadn't been playing clever or trying to make a joke this time.
For once, he'd simply spoken honestly and explained the situation exactly as it was.
Yet his heartfelt sincerity had still earned him a merciless scolding.
"You…!"
Yamamoto's anger flared once again.
His grip tightened around his cane until his hand trembled, and the wood began creaking ominously beneath his fingers.
Had he not held on to one final shred of restraint, the dignified Captain-Commander might already have grabbed Kazuma by the neck, hung him from the ceiling, and beaten him like a disobedient child.
"Sensei! We're back!"
Just as the tension reached its breaking point, a clear voice rang out.
Rukia and Renji had returned at exactly the right moment.
Renji had apparently become so excited at the prospect of repairing his Zanpakutō that the two of them completed the return journey in half the expected time, racing into the First Division faster than startled rabbits.
"Captain Kazuma! I understand that you still have no children of your own. If you wouldn't mind, I could…"
Renji gazed at Kazuma with such hope and gratitude that his eyes practically shone.
When Rukia told him Zabimaru could definitely be restored, he'd nearly dropped to his knees on the spot.
At that moment, Kazuma was no different from a second parent in his heart.
"Stop! Stop right there!"
Before Renji could finish, Kazuma urgently waved both hands and cut him off.
The longer the man spoke, the more dangerous the conversation sounded.
Was Renji about to declare, 'If you will accept me, I wish to take you as my adoptive father'?
Kazuma shuddered.
He'd heard enough old tales about adopted sons who turned on the men who took them in. He had no desire to end up stabbed by one of his own.
Granted, Renji's current strength was nowhere near enough to succeed at patricide, but caution kept a man alive.
"Why?"
Renji looked at him with complete sincerity.
Assuming his devotion hadn't been convincing enough, he immediately dropped to his knees and slammed his forehead against the floor.
"That isn't what I meant!"
Kazuma hurriedly waved him up.
"Helping you restore the sword is something I should do anyway. Rukia was the one who broke it."
He had no intention of inviting trouble by acquiring some enormous adopted son who specialized in stabbing fathers.
Besides, he and Batsu'unsai hadn't even had a child of their own yet.
The thought of suddenly picking up a grown one for free wasn't especially appealing.
"Come on, let's go. I'll take you to get Zabimaru reforged."
Kazuma swiftly changed the subject.
He had no desire to continue this conversation for another second, so he hauled Renji to his feet and dragged him away.
Before leaving, Kazuma handed Rukia the Sayafushi he'd stolen from Ōetsu.
"Keep this safe. Don't swing it at anyone for fun. If you cause trouble with it before I come back, you'll be getting another beating."
...
"Is this some sort of divine weapon?"
Rukia watched Kazuma hurry away, then stared curiously at the unsheathed blade in her hands.
It had an old-fashioned shape and a cold gleam along its edge, but otherwise looked rather battered and unimpressive.
She lightly flicked the blade with one finger.
A crisp metallic note rang out.
When she tested its weight, she was surprised to find that even the hilt felt slightly unstable, as though the whole thing might fall apart at any moment.
Yamamoto walked closer and lowered his gaze toward Sayafushi.
"Let this old man examine it."
He took the sword from Rukia and inspected it carefully.
After turning it over several times, however, his brows drew together.
It appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary Asauchi. He could see nothing remarkable about it.
Then he remembered Kazuma's very specific warning not to swing the blade toward another person.
Was there more to it than appearances suggested?
Curiosity rose within him, and Yamamoto decided to test its power personally.
"Stand back."
He ordered Rukia to move aside, then loosely gripped Sayafushi and gave a casual swing toward the courtyard.
Hum—
An invisible aura of slaughter erupted from the blade like a raging gale.
The force swept through the courtyard without resistance, slicing every tree, shrub, and patch of greenery cleanly in half.
"Hiss…"
Yamamoto and Rukia stared at the devastation, their mouths suddenly dry as both drew a sharp breath.
Who could have imagined that such an ordinary-looking blade held this level of destructive power?
"Captain-Commander…"
Rukia slowly turned her head, her body stiff.
Thank goodness she hadn't foolishly tested Sayafushi on another person.
Yamamoto had barely put any strength into that swing, yet the courtyard had been destroyed.
Had he used even a little more force, the buildings behind it might have been sliced apart as well.
"What happened?!"
Sasakibe Chōjirō stumbled into the courtyard in a panic, believing the Captain-Commander had begun fighting someone.
Instead, he found Yamamoto and Rukia standing motionless amid the wreckage, both still trying to process what they'd just witnessed.
"Put the sword away carefully. Do not lose it."
Having recovered his composure, Yamamoto offered no explanation.
He calmly returned Sayafushi to Rukia, though beneath that serene expression, his thoughts were already churning like a stormy sea.
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