"Money will eventually disappear, but honor won't."
"Souya, you were born with a talent far greater than your sister's. One day, you'll definitely grow strong enough to shoulder everything… just like our ancestors did."
She smiled gently—like the warmest sunlight in early spring.
In a family reeking of coin and corruption, she stood alone like a lotus blooming from the mud: pure, graceful, untarnished.
The boy of the Shijō household could never match his sister's brilliance, but he loved her smile. It was the one comfort he had throughout his long, lonely childhood.
For him, as long as he could see that smile, no amount of effort or hardship mattered.
"Guess I don't have a choice," he muttered. "I'll try becoming a Shinigami then."
"But, Sis… don't end up being my stepping stone, okay?"
Holding onto such stubborn, roundabout feelings, the boy of the Shijō family began his training.
Hearing his defiant words, his sister simply smiled with her usual tenderness.
"Souya will definitely become an even greater Shinigami than our ancestors—someone the whole Shijō family can look up to."
That soothing smile etched itself deep into the boy's heart. It became the driving force that pushed him to study and grow stronger, even though at the time he couldn't properly hold a bamboo practice sword.
But their peaceful days were shattered in an instant.
Several high-ranking noble houses, coveting Shijō wealth, conspired together to frame the family. They fabricated "evidence" claiming the Shijō clan was plotting to overthrow the Five Noble Houses and even the royal lineage itself.
Soon after, every member of the Shijō family was arrested.
When the ruling was delivered, the clan met its end. All of them were sent to the execution grounds.
They were thrown into a massive pit and ordered to fight a Hollow to the death.
Looking upward from the pit, they could see the nobles who framed them sneering down, lips curled in mocking amusement.
They sat on a raised platform, enjoying the sight of the condemned writhe in agony. Blood and broken bodies blended together, painting a hellish mural on the earth below.
Because the Shijō family had spent generations focused on commerce, they had let their martial traditions decay. Strength had been neglected. So even a single execution Hollow was more than they could handle.
The Shijō boy was the last to be brought to the execution pit.
Locked in a cell beside the massive cavity, he watched his loved ones butchered one after another. His thin body trembled uncontrollably under the weight of terror.
When only he and his sister remained, the execution method suddenly changed for reasons unknown. The siblings were thrown into the pit together.
A guard unlocked their shackles and handed each of them a shōtō, a short practice blade.
From the high platform above, the execution officer let out a derisive laugh.
"This battle will prove what we've been saying! The Shijō clan, once hailed as heroes, now has not a shred of strength worth respecting!"
"This bloodline has no value left to preserve."
"These two siblings are the last of the Shijō name, and even together, they can't kill a single Hollow!"
"That is the proof of their family's decay!"
The boy couldn't understand all their words—he was too young, too terrified—but he understood well enough that they were insulting his sister. Rage welled up inside him, impossible to contain.
It burned like a blazing fire in his chest.
The execution began.
A massive Hollow emerged before them, its bloodshot eyes filled with ravenous hunger, desperate for fresh flesh.
The crushing spiritual pressure crashed down on the boy, suffocating him. His small frame trembled violently, drowning in despair.
Just as fear threatened to swallow him whole, his sister turned back and flashed that familiar gentle smile.
"It'll be okay, Souya."
"I'll make sure you walk out of here alive."
What happened next blurred in his memory.
He remembered only the blood splashing across his face—hot, unbearably hot.
The Hollow's gigantic body was riddled with savage wounds. Thick blood poured down its form, pooling into dark red streams across the ground.
And in its misshapen jaws… hung the body of the girl.
Clutching his short blade, the boy tried to run forward, but terror had rooted him in place. His limbs refused to move.
The dying girl looked back at him.
There was no blame in her eyes. Instead, her lips curved into the faintest, most tender smile.
"Souya… you must become a Shinigami with great strength…"
Her soft whisper faded into the air—followed by the rapid chant of a complex Kidō spell.
The next moment—
Blazing azure flames erupted across the Hollow's monstrous face, devouring everything in their path.
The boy's scream broke in his throat, unable to form sound, leaving behind only a hoarse, animalistic cry of despair.
Like a wounded beast.
"…What happened after that?"
Kisaragi Akira almost blurted the question out, but caught himself—asking would've only poured salt on an old wound. Considering their difference in power, provoking him was the last thing Akira wanted.
Shijō Souya glanced calmly at the two beside him. As if reading Akira's thoughts, he continued his story.
"When I finally regained my senses…"
From the high platform, the execution officer let out a grotesque laugh.
"Oh? The last boy of the Shijō family has stopped crying! Looks like he's ready to fight!"
"Let's give him a big round of applause!"
The boy couldn't grasp the meaning behind the words. But what followed shattered any remaining hope and exposed the nobles' ugliness without restraint:
"All right, release the next Hollow into the pit."
"…There's no point in telling the story after that."
Souya cut off their morbid curiosity with a calm tone.
"And because of the nature of my Zanpakutō, the spirit particles of those who died that day lingered in the execution grounds."
"So…"
His serene gaze shifted to Kisaragi Akira.
"I'll try my best."
Akira patted his chest. He didn't dare sound too confident.
Up until now, all his rituals involved gathering spirit particles from those who died recently. Trying to summon someone dead for over a century was an almost impossible task.
Under the puzzled stares of the other two, Akira pulled a miniature offering table from his uniform sleeve, took out incense sticks, bells, purification wands, and a small cup of water.
Then, from his waistband, he produced a perfectly folded shrine-priest outfit.
In moments, the diligent Spiritual Arts student transformed into the High Priest of the Reversed-Bone Shrine.
Incense flickered to life, filling the execution grounds with a faint, drifting fragrance.
The bell chimed softly, its crisp tones echoing across the empty chamber.
"In the name of Priest Kisaragi… I offer this rite to the One-Eyed Great Deity, Mimihakigi…"
Akira's fingers formed mudras with practiced speed, shifting through countless signs. While chanting, he released the strongest spiritual pressure his current level allowed.
Since I'm summoning someone who died a hundred years ago, I guess it's fine to use a little extra spiritual power…
With that dubious confidence, Akira completed the final ritual step.
The next instant—
A deafening roar exploded across the execution grounds, shaking the ceiling.
Before their stunned eyes, an enormous, sacred black silhouette rose behind Akira, warping the spirit particles around it.
Ink-black darkness spread outward, blotting out everything.