A slightly tattered kimono and a pair of elegant, serene eyes—despite the dirt smeared across her face, they radiated a beauty that couldn't be concealed. She was like a lotus blooming unstained amidst the mud.
What beautiful eyes!
Makoto wasn't a poetic aristocrat or a literary scholar. He lacked the flair for elaborate descriptions, but from a physician's perspective, the sheer beauty of those eyes made them an unparalleled specimen of perfection.
Byakuya stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the onion-headed girl sitting on the ground, wincing in pain. His previously furrowed brows relaxed unconsciously.
"I... I'm sorry..."
The girl looked up at Byakuya, panic flashing across her face as she noticed the noble attire that seemed to belong to an entirely different world than her own in Rukongai. She hurriedly bowed in apology.
Before the brief exchange could proceed further, the sound of hurried, chaotic footsteps echoed from the alley. Five burly, menacing men emerged, surrounding the onion-headed girl. The scar-faced leader grabbed her wrist and yanked her up forcefully, barking:
"Running off to another district won't save you from your debt!"
"I... I promise I'll repay it! Please, just give me more time!" the girl stammered, her voice trembling with fear.
The scar-faced man sneered. "Heh, no need to trouble yourself. Just come work for us. A good twenty years should be enough to pay it off."
The girl shook her head vehemently, tears streaming down her face. "No, please, I can't! My little sister is still so young. If I go with you, she'll die! I beg you, just give me a little more time—enough to find someone who can take her in."
Impatience flared in the scar-faced man's eyes. "Give up. You know the boss's rules. You've already borrowed enough to feed that spiritual-energy-filled sister of yours. His patience is running out."
Pausing, the man's tone turned cold. "If you run again, we'll break your legs and drag you to work. With the kind of labor we're talking about, you won't last long."
The girl's tears fell like rain as she pleaded, "But if I abandon my sister, she... she won't survive either. Please, I beg you!"
The scar-faced man's patience snapped. Tightening his grip, he prepared to drag her away.
Makoto, who had been silently observing the scene, couldn't shake the feeling that the girl seemed familiar. As pity stirred within him, Byakuya unexpectedly broke the silence.
"Wait."
The scar-faced man paused, wary of Byakuya's unmistakably noble attire. His tone shifted to one of caution. "Is there something you need, my lord?"
"I'll pay her debt."
Byakuya's expression remained calm, his tone indifferent. He didn't even bother asking how much the girl owed, exuding the dignity of a great noble.
However, when Byakuya reached into his robes, his composed demeanor faltered. His expression stiffened, a faint flush creeping onto his cheeks.
A moment later, Byakuya turned his head slowly, his movements almost mechanical, and stared at Makoto. He opened his mouth as if to speak but couldn't seem to find the words.
Makoto quickly pieced the situation together and sighed. "Hey, Byakuya, don't tell me... you didn't bring any money?"
Byakuya's face turned crimson, as vibrant as a chameleon's transformation. Turning abruptly, he faced away from the group, his voice trembling as he struggled to maintain his composure.
"When I leave home, it is customary for my steward to carry funds. Today, however, I was invited here by you on short notice."
Makoto stared at him, incredulous. He felt a surge of exasperation. So you're expecting me to foot the bill for your heroic rescue?
Though money wasn't an issue between them, something about the situation irked Makoto. It felt oddly reminiscent of paying for a friend's romantic escapade—covering the room costs, escorting them upstairs, and then waiting alone outside.
"Tch. How much is it?"
Makoto's tone darkened as he fixed a sharp gaze on the scar-faced man, his hand resting lightly on his Zanpakutō.
The scar-faced man hesitated under Makoto's scrutiny. "10,000—no, no, 4,000 kan. Since you're a Shinigami, we'll waive the interest. Just the principal will do."
Makoto counted out 5,000 kan and handed it over. "Here. The extra 1,000 covers the interest."
The scar-faced man let out a relieved breath. "Thank you, Shinigami-sama."
With the matter settled, the men departed. Freed from their grasp, the onion-headed girl bowed deeply to Byakuya and Makoto.
"Thank you so much! Please, may I know your names? I will dedicate my life to repaying your kindness."
"There's no need."
Byakuya, still turned away, spoke indifferently and began to walk off.
"Wait!"
The girl called out, lowering her forehead to the ground in a gesture of utmost sincerity.
"Noble lord, Shinigami-sama, please... would you take my sister, Rukia, into your care? She has spiritual power. She will grow to become a Shinigami and will surely repay your kindness someday."
Rukia?!
Makoto froze, realization dawning upon him.
So this is Kuchiki Rukia's elder sister—the one who passed away early? The same woman who, in the original timeline, became Byakuya's wife, Hisana?
No... she doesn't bear the Kuchiki name yet.
Byakuya's steps halted as he turned to look at the girl prostrating herself on the ground. For a fleeting moment, Makoto thought he glimpsed a trace of compassion in Byakuya's eyes.
Yet as Makoto took in Byakuya's youthful appearance and the girl's similarly young age, a thought struck him:
Oh no... Have I inadvertently set Byakuya on the path to a childhood romance? If his grandfather finds out, the poor kid might get grounded for life!
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