In the center of the Zaraki District, right beside that crumbling well.
Over a dozen figures held their breath, creeping on tiptoe as they emerged inch by inch from the surrounding shadows and ruins.
Their eyes were fixed on the center of the clearing, staring at the motionless figure lying on the ground. Their hands gripped various lethal makeshift weapons—rusted iron scraps, sharpened bones, and wooden clubs weighted with stones.
Leading them was the scrawny man who had been tossed aside earlier by Kuruyashiki Kenpachi.
His eyes darted rapidly, filled with a volatile mix of terror and uncontrollable greed.
They moved slowly, each step agonizingly cautious, as if the ground were carpeted in invisible spikes.
The distance narrowed. Five meters, four meters, three meters...
Three meters.
The legendary "three-meter" threshold. Everyone stopped in unison at this distance, and the air seemed to crystallize for several seconds.
The man on the ground still didn't move. Only his chest rose and fell slightly with faint, rhythmic breaths.
The scrawny man was the first to snap. His shoulders began to quiver, a tremor that soon consumed his entire frame.
He peeled back his lips to reveal the few rotting yellow teeth he had left. "Three meters! Did you see that? Three meters! We've stepped inside!"
He spun around, snarling at his red-eyed companions while flecks of spit flew from his mouth.
"Ever since this demon arrived in the Zaraki District, anyone who dared step within three meters of him was cut down! They ended up dead or crippled! That previous big shot was tough enough, wasn't he? He survived a few extra swings, but he still ended up in the dirt!"
He panted heavily, his trembling finger pointing toward the youth on the ground. "But look at him now! He let us get close! He's just lying there! What does that prove? It proves he's spent! That Shinigami's strike finished him off!"
Greed finally incinerated the last shred of his hesitation. A guttural, strange shriek tore from his throat. "The demon's head is mine! Nobody touch it!"
Clutching his rusted, half-broken blade, he was the first to lunge forward.
He intended to claim the head of the "demon" who had once made the entire Zaraki District shudder. If he succeeded, he might just become the new "killer."
Seeing this, the others could no longer restrain themselves.
"Divide him up!" someone howled. Over a dozen silhouettes moved at once, brandishing their junk weapons as they swarmed the clearing.
They were ready to shred this former symbol of fear and use his blood to herald the start of a new era.
"You guys probably shouldn't go over there."
A voice rang out—light and soft, carrying the gentle lilt unique to a little girl.
"You'll die."
Everyone, including the scrawny man mid-lunge, froze instantly.
Their necks turned stiffly toward the source of the sound.
Beneath the mostly withered limbs of an old tree by the well, a little girl had appeared out of nowhere.
She was tiny, dressed in an ill-fitting, faded outfit. Her short pink hair was a bit messy.
She stood there quietly, her small face devoid of expression as she observed them.
A brief, heavy silence followed.
Then, a burst of violent, mocking laughter erupted.
"Ha! Hahaha!" The scrawny man laughed until he doubled over, wiping away the tears that leaked from his eyes.
"Where did this brat come from? Your luck is really 'something,' isn't it? Dropping straight into the Zaraki District?"
He spat the word "dropping" with particular malice. In the Rukongai, new souls appeared randomly in any district; landing in the Zaraki District was effectively starting life on "hell" difficulty.
He scanned the pink-haired girl from head to toe with malicious intent. "Just wait. Once we've finished with this demon, we'll come over and 'teach' you exactly how to 'survive' in Zaraki." He made no effort to hide his cruelty.
The girl wasn't intimidated. She continued to watch them seriously and repeated herself, her voice ringing clear.
"You really are going to die."
"Die? Why would we die? Just because of this broken—" The scrawny man sneered, turning back to complete his task of decapitation.
The smile froze on his face.
An oppressive shadow loomed over him without warning.
It wasn't that the light had failed; rather, a presence saturated with the scent of rust and blood had materialized immediately behind him.
The scrawny man had survived this long in Zaraki by relying on a beast-like intuition for danger and a complete lack of hesitation when it came to self-preservation.
The moment he felt that shadow, his greed and ambitions vanished instantly. Only his primal survival instinct remained.
Turn! Kneel! Beg for mercy! The entire sequence flashed through his mind, and his body tried to execute it. He began to pivot, his knees buckling...
Pfft.
A faint sound, like a piece of overripe fruit being sliced open.
The scrawny man's face still held a distorted mask of terror and desperation as he turned, but his eyes were already glazing over.
He felt a sudden chill at his throat. Then, all his strength and consciousness drained away along with that cold sensation.
Thud, thud, thud, thud...
A rhythmic series of dull impacts followed as bodies hit the earth in rapid succession.
The residents who had been so aggressive seconds ago were now lying scattered across the ground.
The wounds were different, but they had all been killed instantly. The clearing grew so quiet that only the wind whistling through the broken well remained.
The youth stood there, his right hand loosely gripping the jagged long sword. Droplets of blood trickled slowly from the tip.
He raised his left hand, gripping his neck and tilting it from side to side. His vertebrae gave off a series of light cracks.
He glanced down at his chest. The horrific wound that Kuruyashiki Kenpachi had inflicted was gone.
Only a faint, thin scar remained on his skin, looking like an injury sustained a long time ago.
He tilted his head slightly, staring at the sword in his hand with a hint of confusion before scanning the corpses around him.
"Has my strength increased?"
He muttered to himself, his voice thick with doubt.
The power that had surged through him the moment he woke, and the fluid ease of his swing, felt different than before.
Before he could process it, he felt a gentle tug on his pant leg.
He looked down.
The pink-haired girl had approached him at some point. She was looking up at him, her small hand firmly clutching the fabric of his trousers.
"Brat," he said, his voice raspy and coarse. "What are you doing?"
The girl remained silent, her wide, bright eyes locked onto his.
He stared back as the Zaraki wind swirled dust between them.
They remained in a silent stalemate for a long moment.
The girl showed no hint of fear; she simply held onto his leg with stubborn persistence.
Finally, he was the first to look away.
"Come with me," he said, his tone flat.
The girl's eyes instantly curved into crescents.
"Okay!" she chirped, nodding vigorously.
Then, before he could react, she scrambled up his broad shoulders with surprising agility. She settled there, her small hand naturally finding a lock of his messy black hair.
She kicked her legs and asked with a giggle, "What's your name?"
"Name?" He began walking toward the general direction of the Seireitei. His stride was steady, the weight on his shoulder seemingly no more significant than a leaf.
"I don't know."
"I don't have one either," the girl said, her pink hair swaying as she shook her head. "I really want a name." She pouted slightly, appearing disappointed.
A name... He listened to her mumbling as they navigated the desolate streets.
A shadow buried in the deepest reaches of his memory seemed to stir at the mention of a "name."
A single syllable slid to the tip of his tongue without warning.
"Yachiru," he said suddenly.
"Huh?" The girl blinked.
"From now on, your name is Yachiru," he repeated.
"Yachiru..." She tasted the name, her cheeks puffing out. She clearly wasn't entirely satisfied with it.
Still, she didn't object. She simply tugged on his hair again. "What about you? What's yours?"
"From now on, call me Zaraki."
"Oh!" Yachiru nodded, quickly accepting the answer anyway. She resumed swinging her legs. "Then where are we going?"
His shoulders remained steady, providing a comfortable perch.
He raised a hand and pointed toward the horizon.
"The Seireitei."
"To find those guys in the white clothes."