Nie Yinmeng's Choice
"Whatever you want."
Kurotsuchi Mayuri quickly forced his rage under control. In his current state, he could neither strike nor defend. To rebuild a proper body would take him more than three days.
He had been humiliated, urinated on, and his lieutenant stolen from him — but anger would solve nothing. As a scientist, he could not afford to let crude emotion dictate his decisions. His liquefied form writhed, drawing itself away. The only option now was to return to the Twelfth Division and begin recovery.
Shiraishi watched the sludge seep into the grass and vanish. He sighed inwardly. Mayuri was utterly inhuman, yet his "black technology" was terrifyingly advanced. To relocate vital organs like the brain and heart — that level of insanity required countless human experiments.
A soft moan drew him back to the present.
Shiraishi loosened his grip from the collar at her throat, withdrawing his oppressive reiatsu. His tone was deceptively casual:
"What's your name?"
"…Nemu," she breathed, her pale face tinged faintly pink. Unlike other lieutenants, she had no spiritual pressure of her own. Her soul had been shaped and reshaped countless times by Mayuri's hands, and the weight of a captain's reiatsu left her trembling, nearly collapsing.
"Aren't you sad your captain abandoned you?" Shiraishi asked.
"If Mayuri-sama survives, it doesn't matter what becomes of me," Nemu answered flatly. Her voice, though gentle, carried no warmth. Her deep green eyes regarded him steadily, accepting her fate.
"Will you dissect me? Break my limbs? Chop my fingers one by one?" she asked. Each horrific suggestion spilled from her lips without fear or hesitation. This was not bravado — it was routine. To Nemu, her body was simply another experiment. She had lived most of her life as little more than a specimen on Mayuri's lab bench.
"Enough." Shiraishi's voice cut her off, startling even himself with its sharpness. "I'm a gentle man. How could I harm a beauty like you?"
Nemu tilted her head, then extended her arms with matter-of-fact clarity. "So… you intend to mate with me? Then please, do so."
Shiraishi blinked, then barked, "No. Don't think such nonsense." His voice hardened. "I'm not the kind of man who takes women by force. What I said earlier was out of anger. I won't restrain you. You may leave and return to Mayuri… or you can remain here until he comes back for you."
"I—" Nemu began, instinct pushing her toward departure.
But Shiraishi interrupted: "Don't you want to know how important you truly are to Kurotsuchi Mayuri?"
She fell silent. His words pierced her. For all her loyalty, for all her obedience, she had never truly known her place in Mayuri's heart. She dreaded the answer, yet longed for it.
"If you wish to know," Shiraishi said firmly, "stay with me. When Mayuri comes, you'll have your answer."
He turned and descended the mountain path. He knew she would follow. A creation cannot help but wonder what she means to her creator.
Nemu hesitated only briefly before trailing after him.
Together they passed through the dense forest, returning to Saitō-ya along the mountain road.
At the teahouse, Guidie sat at a table, blowing steam from her cup. She glanced at the pair and smirked. "So this is the 'cockfighting prize' that man spoke of?"
Nemu's shihakushō was cut shorter than standard, resembling a modern skirt that barely covered her hips, exposing pale legs. She wore thick wooden clogs instead of the usual straw sandals. To Guidie's eyes, she looked more like a courtesan in costume than a true shinigami.
"So, you're quite the playboy," Guidie teased. "No wonder you've ignored me. It turns out you like your women to look both innocent and sinful at once."
Shiraishi only gestured toward Nemu's armband. "Look closer."
The badge bore the number twelve.
Guidie leaned in, frowned, then scoffed. "A convincing forgery."
"She isn't faking," Shiraishi corrected her. "This is Lieutenant Kurotsuchi Nemu. I captured her."
Crash.
Guidie's teacup slammed onto the table, scalding liquid spilling across the surface. Her eyes widened. "You—what?"
"I fought with Captain Kurotsuchi Mayuri," Shiraishi said. "He barely escaped with his life."
"Mayuri-sama was well prepared," Nemu murmured in his defense. "That was no fluke."
"You defeated a captain?!" Guidie's voice lost all its usual charm, cutting sharp as a blade. She rose abruptly, studying Shiraishi as if for the first time.
She, more than most, understood what it meant. The thirteen captains stood above six thousand shinigami — titans whose power was absolute. She had thought Shiraishi merely capable of resisting them briefly. To actually overcome one…
"Well," Shiraishi admitted, "his raw strength is low, but his methods are vile. I suspect this place is now exposed. We should move quickly."
He paused, then added, "Don't speak of wealth or ambition. I intend to travel. I won't stay here."
Guidie's face tightened. "If you move recklessly, the Gotei 13 will catch you. Come with me to our base, lie low."
"Let me be clear," Shiraishi replied coldly. "I'll never join your organization."
He knew full well the danger of Soul Society's politics. To ally with rebels against the Gotei 13 was to invite betrayal.
"This is wise," Nemu agreed. "Any rebellion against Seireitei will fail. Even humanity's greatest heroes fall short before Soul Society's history — and before Captain-Commander Yamamoto himself, whom even Mayuri-sama reveres."
Guidie exhaled slowly, regaining her composure. "It seems the lieutenant understands."
"No," Nemu corrected softly. "It is simply the truth. Compared to the Seireitei, humanity's struggles are nothing."
Guidie's lips curled into a smirk. "Very well. We won't force you to join. But we do have a great operation in motion… it would be a shame to walk away now."
"Fine," Shiraishi said. "Let's hear it."