Men Must Be Fast
The Owari Clan had been operating underground for years, centered around the hot springs where Oda Nobunaga resided. The passages had long since been dug out, extending in every direction like the threads of a vast spider web.
Of course, no chamber could compare to the space reserved for Oda Nobunaga himself.
Shiraishi was led into a small, cold-blue room along one of the passages. A straw mat lay in the corner with a folded quilt and pillow, beside a simple desk and futon.
"If you need to use the restroom, go straight ahead and turn left at the intersection. Dinner will be brought to you shortly," Guidie explained.
Shiraishi wasn't particular about the living conditions—he had slept rough in the wilderness before. His concern was something else entirely.
"If I want to leave, how can I reach the surface?"
A flicker of surprise crossed Guidie's face. "Why would you want to leave?"
"How could a man as powerful as me stay underground all day without the sun?"
It was a lie, of course. The real reason was simpler: if he stayed down here, he wouldn't encounter Hollows.
Without slaying Hollows, there would be no experience gained. Without experience, there would be no leveling up. And without leveling up, how could he grow stronger?
Strength was the foundation of survival in this world.
When he became strong enough that even Yamamoto Genryūsai no longer considered him a threat, the Central 46 would naturally lift his wanted order.
Guidie's face darkened, as if reminded of something unpleasant. She sighed. "Rest first. I'll ask Lord Nobunaga if he'll permit you to leave."
"No need to ask. He'll definitely agree," Shiraishi said with confidence. He hadn't spent long with Oda Nobunaga, but he already had a rough measure of the man.
"…I'll ask anyway," Guidie replied, then turned back toward Nobunaga's chambers.
---
Nobunaga's Chambers
Oda Nobunaga was still drinking the hot spring water. His head tilted back, some food residue spilling from his lips as if the heat itself was cleansing him from within. Yet the flames of his body didn't fade in the slightest.
Kicho stood nearby, hands clenched, her expression tight. "Lord Nobunaga."
"Hm."
Nobunaga lowered his head, spitting out the murky water. His voice rasped: "Is he settled properly?"
Kicho bowed. "He asked nothing of the room, only how to leave. He refuses to stay underground until he can act."
"Then tell him where the exit is."
Nobunaga wasn't worried about Shiraishi leaking their secret. If the man harbored ill intent, he would have revealed it during their first encounter.
Years of torment under the flames had honed Nobunaga's speed to something beyond human. He could barely keep his sword sheathed, so it remained permanently stabbed into the nearby cliff face, within reach at all times.
Kicho didn't argue; she never questioned his decisions. Instead, she said softly, "Lord Nobunaga… you never asked why I brought him here."
"You must have your reasons. I believe you."
His words carried the weight of unshakable trust.
Guidie's expression softened, guilt clouding her features. "The truth is… Saitoya is in danger of being exposed. I can no longer serve as your eyes and ears in public."
Her face twisted with self-blame, as though her only purpose in life had been stripped away.
"You need not apologize," Nobunaga said. "You've done more than enough over the years. And with the Snow Lotus nearly in my grasp, I no longer need to hide."
He paused, then added with unexpected candor, "If anyone should apologize, it is I. I wronged you, forcing you to live among those Shinigami."
"No," Guidie said quickly, shaking her head. "It is my honor to serve Lord Nobunaga. Without you, I would have remained a plaything for the nobles—a life worse than death."
She would never forget that snowy night, when the man cut down her tormentor and, with mocking casualness, asked her, "What's your name?"
"Bitch. Chamber pot," she had muttered, lifeless eyes staring back. Filth had dripped down her skin, her body hollow and broken.
"Tsk, what a miserable expression. From now on, you'll be called Kicho. That's my favorite name for a woman."
In that moment, her life had been reborn. His words had given meaning, and she was willing to dedicate everything to him.
"Tch, so you still remember that trivial moment," Nobunaga muttered. He himself had thought nothing of it—simply naming her on a whim because her despairing face had been too dull to look at. Who could have imagined that small act would bind her so tightly?
"Wait until I conquer the world… No. Forget it."
He fell silent. Saying it aloud would ruin the surprise.
"Go back and tell Shiraishi the way out. Don't make him wait."
"Yes." Kicho bowed her head, curiosity gnawing at her. What would Nobunaga do once the world was his? She pondered it but found no answer. It didn't matter. So long as she remained at his side, even as a servant, she was content. Anything more was unthinkable for someone as stained as her.
---
Shiraishi's Room
Guidie returned to Shiraishi's chamber. Dinner had been delivered: two grilled saury, a bowl of rice, and miso soup.
"It's too little," Shiraishi complained at once. With such a small amount, he wouldn't be satisfied himself, much less sharing it.
Guidie slapped her forehead. "I forgot to tell them you have a big appetite."
Shiraishi pointed to Neonmeng lying on the mat behind him. "And her food, the straw mat, quilt, and pillow."
Guidie smirked, arms crossed. "A single man and a single woman, sleeping together under the same quilt. Quite the opportunity."
"I admire beautiful women," Shiraishi said simply.
There was nothing wrong with liking beauty—how many men would deny it? But forcing himself on a woman, especially someone like Neonmeng, who was utterly innocent in matters of love and obedience, would be nothing but animal behavior. He couldn't do it.
"Fine, I'll arrange it," Guidie agreed. Then she added slyly, "But tell me, are you falling for her?"
"What nonsense," Shiraishi scoffed, rolling his eyes. Keeping Neonmeng close had nothing to do with affection—it was all to spite Mayuri Kurotsuchi.
Back when he had only watched Bleach, he had felt some twisted admiration for the man—despicable in the early arcs, yet strangely reliable in Hueco Mundo and the Quincy War. But facing him in reality was another matter entirely. There was nothing likable about him up close.
All Shiraishi wanted was to beat him to a pulp—or kill him outright. But that was easier said than done.
He couldn't kill Mayuri, but he could keep Neonmeng—forcing Kurotsuchi to live with the shame of his failure.