Soul Society: Love and Bonds [4]

Cold. Trembling.

An oppressive feeling constricted Makoto’s chest, as though something heavy was tightly wrapped around him. His body was immersed in a slippery, viscous liquid, giving him a suffocating sensation he couldn’t quite describe.

Makoto gradually regained consciousness.

Until finally, his eyes snapped open.

An unfamiliar—

Glug… glug glug…

Splash!

He jolted upright from a water barrel only waist-deep, nearly collapsing again from weakness. Struggling, he leaned heavily on the barrel's edge, water splashing everywhere with his frantic movements.

Wait, where am I?!

“Oh?”

“You’re awake?”

“Congratulations, from today onward, you're officially a cute girl!”

Hearing the commotion behind him, a man with long flowing hair—busy at another bed nearby—turned around, a wooden ladle dangling casually from his hand.

Makoto froze.

Almost subconsciously, he reached into the shadowy depths beneath the water to check something vital.

“Whew.”

He breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

One foot of glory, safe and sound.

Thank goodness it was just a joke.

Turning toward the stranger, Makoto asked cautiously, “Were you the one who saved me?”

“Thanks.”

“But…”

Makoto trailed off, eyes scanning his surroundings.

He found himself in a steamy room, about the size of an ordinary bedroom, filled with buckets of steaming water.

A bathhouse...?

Makoto was briefly stunned by this realization.

In Zaraki, where resources like food, water, and clothes were fiercely monopolized by the strongest, even getting a few sips of water regularly was nearly impossible. Bathing leisurely was unthinkable; even fishing required a helmet.

How could anyone bathe so peacefully here?

Finally, voicing his confusion aloud, Makoto asked:

“Where exactly is this?”

“And… what happened to that murderous woman with the huge…?”

“Oh, so you didn’t fall for it? I thought you might…” The bathhouse attendant muttered absently before fully processing Makoto’s words, repeating in confusion, “Huge…?”

When the realization of whom Makoto was describing finally struck him, his cheeks bulged, turning beet-red.

He struggled briefly to hold back, before bursting out into uncontrollable laughter.

“Ku… kuhahaha! Hahaha!”

Doubling over, he clutched his stomach, laughing so hysterically he could hardly breathe.

Makoto stared at him in confusion.

I almost died at her hands. What’s so funny about that?

“You… You brat…”

Still trembling with laughter, tears almost in his eyes, the attendant spoke, his face stretched into a crazed grin:

“You’re definitely something else! Truly worthy of someone who survived an encounter with that woman!”

“Haha!”

“I’ll be sure to take special care of you from now on.”

Makoto was even more confused now. Instinctively, he moved to rise from the barrel.

But the moment he tried, a searing pain tore through his chest.

“Ugh!”

Gritting his teeth, Makoto looked down.

His chest, arms, and abdomen were heavily wrapped in thick bandages. The water soaking his body was stained a soft pink.

Blood. His blood had dyed the bathwater.

Cough… cough cough.

“As your professional doctor, I suggest you don’t move around too recklessly, alright?”

Before Makoto could speak, the attendant—with his long, flowing hair—struggled to hold back laughter as he gave this seemingly earnest advice.

Turning around, he went back to his business. Following his gaze, Makoto saw clearly what lay on the nearby bed—a stark naked corpse.

Makoto’s pupils instantly contracted.

He instinctively lunged for the broken katana nearby.

Grab.

Yet before he could fully rise, his wrist was swiftly caught and pinned by the seemingly carefree attendant.

Makoto froze.

He couldn’t move his wrist.

The man’s grip was powerful.

His [Shunpo] was impossibly fast.

Glancing from the corpse on the bed to the calm man before him, a horrifying thought surfaced:

Did that woman take me back to her hideout?

“Careful, kid.”

The attendant casually released Makoto’s wrist, saying offhandedly, “Drawing a sword in my place is very dangerous.”

“You’ll die, you know.”

Rubbing his numb wrist, Makoto forced himself up cautiously from the barrel.

“Where am I exactly? Who are you? Can I… leave?”

“Ah, ah… Calm down.”

Smiling, the attendant dramatically flipped his flowing hair and gently explained:

“Apologies, I forgot my manners.”

“You’re currently in the West Rukongai, District 64—Sabitsura.”

“This place is none other than Soul Society’s unrivaled sanctuary for spiritual training—Yuanzijuku!”

He offered no further explanation, as if the name itself was common knowledge.

Finally, he pointed a confident thumb at himself, declaring with exaggerated pride:

“And I am none other than Yuanzijuku’s legendary pioneer, the dream-like expert, the fastest man in Soul Society!”

“The Great Thunderbolt Himself—Tenjirō-sama!”

“That’s right!”

Tenjirō dramatically swung his long hair, shutting his eyes expectantly, waiting for Makoto’s inevitable cries of admiration.

Yet the silence that followed was deafening.

Opening one eye, Tenjirō glanced curiously at Makoto.

Makoto, however, remained frozen, utterly speechless.

“Oi!”

“You brat, don’t tell me you only just died recently?”

“You’ve seriously never heard of me?!”

Suddenly, Makoto grabbed Tenjirō by the collar, his expression turning gravely serious:

“What did you say your name was?”

Confused, Tenjirō replied slowly:

“Tenjirō.”

“Kirinji Tenjirō!”

“Oi, oi! My reputation precedes me! Quit acting clueless!”

Otherwise, what was all that boasting earlier for?

Ignoring his protests, Makoto swallowed nervously, pressing on desperately:

“Then… Yuanzijuku is…?”

“You… seriously just arrived here recently, huh?” Tenjirō’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Yuanzijuku! Founded eight hundred years ago by the unrivaled master himself, the most powerful figure in Soul Society for a thousand years—the legendary ‘Jūjisai’ Yamamoto Shigekuni! It's the greatest spiritual training academy in Soul Society!”

As expected.

Makoto’s heart sank, yet he clung to a final hope, asking carefully:

“Then… has Seireitei’s Gotei 13 been formed yet?”

Now it was Tenjirō’s turn to look bewildered.

“Seireitei?”

“We've been fighting those noble bastards lately; lost a bunch of people, too.”

“But… Gotei 13?”

His small eyes gazed back with genuine cluelessness:

“Never heard of 'em.”

It was over.

The absolute worst luck.

Makoto slumped back into the warm water, utterly defeated, his expression bleak.

He had reincarnated into a time at least a thousand years before the original story—even before the founding of the original Gotei 13.

He’d completely lost his informational advantage. And if he managed to survive long enough, he’d inevitably have to face the all-knowing Yhwach—not once, but twice!

Not to mention the endless chaos and slaughter in Soul Society…

It was inevitable.

Seeing Makoto’s crestfallen look, Tenjirō tried to comfort him with another cheerful smile:

“But you’re really impressive, kid.”

“To survive that woman’s blade, even though you don’t look very strong.”

“Besides the old man, you’re probably the first one to manage that.”

“Right now, your name is probably spreading all through Yuanzijuku!”

At hearing mention of “that woman,” Makoto’s body twitched as if electrified.

After a long pause, his brain finally processed it.

“Who… did you say again?”

“Retsu!”

“That’s the name of the woman who nearly killed you.”

“Well, if we're being proper, I should probably use her new name now.”

Tenjirō laughed heartily, clearly enjoying himself.

“The infamous, one-of-a-kind villain…”

“Unohana Yachiru.”

“Yesterday, she’s the one who brought you here, saying she wants the old man to take you as his disciple.”

Makoto stared blankly at the ceiling, slowly sliding back into the water, completely giving up.

Screw Zaraki.

What a goddamned cursed place!

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This is a fan translation of 人在尸魂界，从恋与羁绊开始 by 纸刻 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!