(T/N: Second chapter for today!)
Though Katori Nanatsuki and the others were dressed like ordinary Rukongai residents, Sajin Komamura could tell from their bearing that they were anything but.
He had originally assumed they were nobles or wealthy merchants out for a leisurely trip, so he accepted their invitation to travel together. Acting as a guard meant he could at least score a free meal.
But after witnessing Nanatsuki's speed as he left earlier, Komamura realized this group had no need for his protection whatsoever.
Feeling embarrassed to keep freeloading, Komamura decided to head out before Nanatsuki returned—maybe he could hunt something and bring it back.
The Fuwai District was barren. Komamura had to walk a long while before he found a patch of forest with half-decent vegetation.
But instead of prey, he stumbled across a gang of bandits resting in the woods.
These bandits were no ordinary souls—they had Reiatsu and were decently strong.
Still, Komamura's Reiatsu already rivaled that of an average Shinigami foot soldier, and he defeated them easily.
They were dirt poor. The only thing he managed to find on them was a small stash of coins—and a single crate of porcelain hidden in their camp.
He gave up on hunting and decided to sell the porcelain at the local market instead.
What he didn't expect—was that the porcelain was stolen, and the very merchant who had been robbed was also at the market!
The marketplace was small, and the merchants all knew each other. So the moment Komamura arrived with the crate—
—they stopped him immediately.
A group of angry merchants surrounded him, shouting:
"You've got the nerve to try selling goods stolen from White Porcelain Workshop?!"
"That belongs to Madarame-sama! You idiots must have a death wish!"
Komamura frowned. "I'm not a bandit. I picked this up from a bandit camp."
"We're not interested in your excuses. Save it for when Madarame-sama gets here!" one of the merchants snapped.
They insisted he stay put until Madarame Ichirō arrived to sort things out.
Komamura didn't want to stay. His identity couldn't withstand scrutiny—if things escalated, his pursuers might find him.
He had once struck a noble who was harassing a respectable girl. He'd managed to escape at the time, but afterward, the wolfman clan, under pressure from noble influence, had no choice but to hunt him down.
"I found this crate in the bandits' camp," Komamura said. "If it's yours, you can have it back."
A merchant grabbed his arm. "Don't leave! We lost more than one crate!"
Komamura paused, then said, "How about this—I take you to the bandit camp. The ones I knocked out are still there. That should prove I'm not one of them."
"No way," the merchant scoffed. "You could be leading us into a trap. We'll wait for Madarame-sama. He's a powerful Shinigami—you can't fool him with tricks!"
"And you're still hiding your face under that helmet. What are you trying to hide, huh? You look shady as hell. Probably one of them!"
"There were no wolfmen among the bandits," Komamura muttered. But he knew time was running out. He couldn't afford to wait any longer.
He took off his bamboo helmet, revealing his wolf-like face.
He figured it was better to reveal himself now than be forced to later—once the Shinigami arrived, it would be nearly impossible to hide.
"He's a wolfman!"
"Knew it! A cursed soul turned beast—and now a bandit too!"
But to Komamura's surprise, revealing his true appearance only made the merchants more unwilling to let him leave.
As tension mounted between him and the merchants, a warm voice rang out from the edge of the crowd:
"My, this seems lively."
The merchants turned toward the newcomer. Seeing his attire, one of them waved him off: "This doesn't concern you. Don't butt in."
Nanatsuki tilted his head. "But the man you're surrounding is my traveling companion. How is that not my business?"
Komamura was stunned. Even after seeing his true form, Katori Nanatsuki showed no change in demeanor.
Ever since he left Inuyama, he'd been met with constant discrimination for his appearance.
He was always the center of attention—for the wrong reasons.
Even the girl he had saved before… once she learned he was a wolfman, she refused to testify for him.
Komamura's orange eyes locked onto Nanatsuki. As if sensing his gaze, Nanatsuki turned and gave him a gentle smile.
Komamura's heart shook.
There was no hatred. No judgment. No disgust.
Just… acceptance.
A merchant standing beside Nanatsuki flinched. "You're with him? Then you're a bandit too!"
Just then, the man they had been waiting for arrived.
Madarame Ichirō, flanked by a group of armed guards, pushed through the crowd.
"Where's the bastard who dared steal from White Porcelain Workshop?!" he roared, scanning the crowd with sharp eyes.
But the moment he spotted Nanatsuki, his thunderous aura instantly collapsed.
"Katori-sensei! What are you doing here?" he greeted with a respectful smile.
Nanatsuki took a moment to recall, then remembered who Madarame Ichirō was.
He had been a classmate of Kuchiki Sōjun. After Tsunayashiro Tokitani was dismissed, Danmu Zōsuke had taken over their class.
Nanatsuki had never taught that class directly, but he had served as the Swordsmanship Department Head, and Ichirō had trained in his advanced class.
"I just came to do some shopping," Nanatsuki said with a smile. "But it seems my companion and I were mistaken for bandits."
One of the merchants whispered the whole situation to Ichirō.
As the details reached him, Ichirō's face changed repeatedly—like a Sichuan opera mask.
Then he exploded at the merchants: "What the hell were you thinking?! How could Katori-sensei possibly be a bandit?!"
Komamura said, "To be fair, they didn't know who I was. I'll return the porcelain."
Ichirō's eyes lit up with inspiration. He quickly had someone bring a thick stack of payment slips.
"This crate is valuable, and recovering it helped me tremendously. Please accept this as your reward."
Nanatsuki smiled. "You've gotten a lot smoother since I last saw you."
"This is…" Komamura looked at the money in his hands—it clearly exceeded the value of the crate.
The merchants bowed deeply. "Please, sirs, accept it as an apology for the misunderstanding!"
"It's not a big deal. Apology accepted." Nanatsuki took the payment and handed a share to Komamura. "You take some too."
Komamura stared at the money in his hand, falling into thought.
In the Soul Society… only strength earns respect.