Accident
The R&D Bureau always maintained strict surveillance over the Dangai. Even low-class Hollows attempting to slip between the Human World and Soul Society were rarely overlooked—let alone anything at the level of an Adjuchas or above.
To conceal Nnoitra's and Dordoni's passage, Aizen had already prepared a layer of Kyōka Suigetsu over the Bureau's monitoring systems. Kaname Tōsen and Gin Ichimaru maintained the illusion, ensuring no Shinigami noticed their movements and that no records would later appear in the Video Room archives. Even idle officers skimming old reports would find nothing.
Nnoitra couldn't have cared less about such precautions. He stepped through the Garganta Aizen had opened, entering a sealed chamber.
The space was lit not by candles but by faint radiance leaking through rows of small round holes in the walls and ceiling.
At its center stood a man, well-dressed, perhaps in his late thirties. Long, dark-green hair framed a narrow, cold face. His sharp eyes reflected arrogance more than welcome.
"You're Tsunayashiro Takehiko?" Nnoitra asked flatly.
"Correct. Stay here. If anyone intrudes, claim you're one of my experimental Hollows. Above all, do not speak Aizen-sama's name."
Takehiko wasted no time with pleasantries. His tone carried the innate pride of a Great Noble, the kind that grated even on an Espada.
Nnoitra's lips curled. He decided then and there—once he crushed Shiraishi, he'd crush this arrogant man too.
Dropping his massive scythe-like weapon into the floor, he embedded one crescent blade deep into the stone, then lowered himself to sit upon it, head bowed, fingers brushing the ground.
Takehiko, misreading the posture as obedience, turned and left, faintly satisfied.
But Nnoitra wasn't idle. While he looked half-asleep, his senses were at work. Unlike other Arrancar, his method of detecting reiatsu was unique: with his hand pressed to the ground, vibrations in spiritual energy resonated outward, his awareness stretching for miles.
One presence. Two. Weaklings, hardly worth a glance. He almost drifted off—until a sudden surge shook him.
His eye snapped wide. His hand clenched, dragging gravel across the gouged floor.
Far to the east—an immense reiatsu had flared.
---
Thick clouds gathered over the mountains, painted crimson by the setting sun.
Unohana Retsu alighted gracefully upon a tree branch, her long black hair brushing her shoulders as she surveyed the landscape.
The mountainside teemed with lush greenery, ridges rising layer upon layer into the blazing mist. The air was pure, the view almost otherworldly.
"Isn't this mountain… too large?" Shiraishi muttered, landing on a nearby branch.
The peak loomed impossibly high, at least three thousand meters above sea level. Flaming clouds coiled about it, veiling the summit. The expanse must have covered a thousand square kilometers or more.
Unohana smiled serenely. "With your help, our search for the Ryūdōtō fungus will go much faster."
Shiraishi pressed his lips together. That trusting smile of hers made him suspect he'd been tricked into doing hard labor. The basket of gathered herbs had ended up on his back, too.
Not that he lacked the strength. Still, hunting for a rare herb no larger than a marble across an entire mountain range? Patience was not his virtue. He had thought they'd known the exact spot—or that the mountain wasn't this vast.
"Actually, I think—" he began, searching for a tactful excuse.
"If you find it," Unohana interrupted with a playful glint in her eyes, "I'll reward you with a kiss."
Her lips curved, glossy and soft in the fading light.
Shiraishi froze, then straightened, righteous in tone but burning with intent. "Leave it to me! The Ryūdōtō fungus will be found. You'll keep your word, won't you?"
"I never lie," she replied with a gentle smile.
Without another word, he vanished into the forest, determination blazing.
From another branch, Kotetsu Yūne finally whispered, unable to hold back, "Unohana-sensei… why did you really bring him along?"
"Isn't it better to have more help?" Unohana deflected smoothly. She had no intention of revealing her true suspicion—that she still could not sense Shiraishi's reiatsu, even in close contact. His Zanpakutō rang false, and their earlier hot spring conversation had been riddled with lies.
He reminded her of Shunsui—playful, silver-tongued—but unlike Shunsui, Shiraishi's eyes carried audacity. He even had the nerve to lust openly after her.
"Then you shouldn't offer him something like a kiss!" Yūne blurted, cheeks flushed. To her, the price was absurd compared to the value of a herb.
Unohana chuckled softly. "That same promise applies to you. Should you find it, I'll reward you as well."
"I—I don't need that!" Yūne protested, flustered. "Serving you is reward enough. And anyway… your kiss shouldn't go to someone like him."
Despite herself, Yūne searched the underbrush with redoubled fervor, muttering promises to herself. She would defend her captain's honor, even from Shiraishi.
Unohana only smiled again, amused. She hadn't said where she would kiss—her hand, her cheek, her forehead, they all qualified. And with her knowledge of herbs, her chances of finding the fungus first far exceeded theirs.
Unless fate played a trick.
---
Shiraishi, however, was not so fortunate. Hours passed, night fell, and the forest swallowed all light. Even the moon's glow barely pierced the dense canopy.
No matter which way he walked, he circled back. His marks faded, useless. Frustration burned in him.
But the promise of Unohana's kiss kept him moving. No matter where it landed, it would be his first.
He slammed a fist into a tree, snarling, then bounded upward through the branches, searching for higher ground.
At last, a clearing appeared. A fire flickered. A tent was pitched.
Someone was roasting meat over the flames.
Shiraishi squinted, then froze in disbelief.
"Kūkaku?! Why are you here?"