Where is Shiraishi?
Oda Nobunaga's doubts lingered.
His long life—both before and after death—was steeped in betrayal and being betrayed.
The Honnoji Incident was the most infamous, but far from the only one.
Aizen didn't care whether Nobunaga believed him or not. Reaching into his robes, he pulled out a bottle and tossed it over.
"This potion will temporarily suppress your fiery energy."
Nobunaga caught it, but before drinking he asked,
"Do you already have a way to cure me?"
Aizen smiled faintly, offering no direct answer. Instead, he murmured to himself:
"The plan will proceed as scheduled at the end of May. Don't advance it, don't delay it. Snow Lotus will only appear during the tax collection procession."
Nobunaga snorted. "So my death isn't far off. You're not even bothering to hide your malice."
His words were sharp, but his heart eased. As long as Aizen still needed him, their relationship would remain that of allies—at least temporarily.
Unruffled, Aizen said lightly,
"You're reveling in this, aren't you? Our agreement was simple: to work together against Yamamoto Genryūsai. We never promised to protect each other. Life and death are left to one's own skill."
Nobunaga downed the potion in a single gulp. The cooling sensation spread through his body, suppressing the raging flames. His back straightened, eyes brightening.
"Indeed. I should thank you for this opportunity."
"I hope you succeed." Aizen smiled faintly. His true goal was clear: to conceal the Hollowfication experiments in the real world. The more Shiraishi and Nobunaga stirred trouble in Soul Society, the better for him.
Nobunaga sneered in response.
Aizen departed with a flash of shunpo, leaving Kichō staring after him.
"Lord Nobunaga, who was that man just now?" she asked.
"Just a petty Shinigami." Nobunaga's eyes flickered with memory.
Three centuries ago, after his failed assassination attempt on Yamamoto, he had been left fatally burned with no escape from the Seireitei. At his lowest moment, Aizen Sōsuke appeared—posing as a minor Soul Reaper—yet somehow spirited him away to the West Tenth District of Rukongai.
Even the hot springs that soothed his flames had been Aizen's design.
Looking back now, Nobunaga realized Aizen's web had been spun far earlier than he'd thought. But no one could predict centuries ahead with precision. More likely, Aizen simply scattered pieces across the board in his youth and used them whenever convenient.
Being underestimated wasn't an insult—it was an advantage. Imagawa Yoshimoto had underestimated him at Okehazama, and that had allowed Nobunaga to secure his legendary victory. This time would be no different.
Clutching his Zanpakutō, fighting spirit surged through him. He would defeat Yamamoto Genryūsai, seize Soul Society, march into the living world, conquer Hueco Mundo, obliterate every threat, and rule all realms.
The Soul King? Meaningless. He would become master of the Three Realms himself.
"Let's head for the West Fifteenth District and regroup with Miyamoto and the others," Nobunaga declared.
"Yes, my lord," Kichō replied, her doubts swallowed by loyalty. If Nobunaga trusted his path, so would she.
---
Meanwhile, in the dense forest, two stealth operatives inspected the aftermath of battle.
One examined the seven corpses; the other scanned for lingering reiatsu.
"They were killed by different attack styles… could the enemy have had reinforcements?"
The first operative frowned. "That would mean we're not facing a small group, but part of a larger organization."
"No trace of reiatsu remains. They're strong. You return and report to the captain. I'll remain to guard the bodies."
"Understood."
Without further discussion, Ogawa Jirō used shunpo to speed back toward the West Tenth District.
Before long, he knelt before Captain Suì-Fēng.
"Seven operatives who pursued to the southwest were slain—three from Squad 11, two from Squad 8, and two from Squad 2. The enemy's whereabouts are unknown."
Suì-Fēng's frown deepened.
Though she dismissed Shiraishi's men as weaklings, they still held their own in Rukongai. Losses like this were rare.
Could it be Shiraishi?
The thought unsettled her. Without hesitation, she vanished with shunpo, arriving at the site within breaths.
Her subordinates bowed.
"Captain Suì-Fēng."
She knelt to inspect the wounds. The markings didn't match Shiraishi's Zanpakutō, but the killer was clearly skilled—no reiatsu trace left behind.
She fell into thought.
A voice drawled from behind, light yet edged:
"Is it Shiraishi?"
She turned. Kyoraku Shunsui stood there, his straw hat tipped low, flowered haori brushing the forest floor.
"No. Someone else. Deliberately using varied techniques. Showing off? Or disguising his true style?" she murmured.
"That's Oda Nobunaga," Shunsui said gravely.
Suì-Fēng stood sharply. "You know him?"
"Oda Nobunaga attempted to assassinate the Captain-Commander three hundred years ago. I thought he perished, but apparently he's been hiding here in West Rukongai, building an organization under our noses."
Shunsui tugged his hat lower, uneasy. To survive such burns, someone must have aided him. Only one name fit the recklessness of such a scheme—Tsunayashiro Tokinada.
The very thought left Shunsui disgusted. That aristocratic schemer had become a growing thorn in Seireitei since the Kakuro Incident, his actions veiled beyond reach. Assassination often crossed Shunsui's mind, but Tokinada's power made it an impossible gamble.
"What a nuisance," Shunsui muttered.
Before more could be said, a crushing wave of reiatsu swept into the clearing.
Kenpachi Zaraki emerged, towering over all, his bloodthirsty grin sharp as steel.
"Where's Shiraishi?"
Suì-Fēng answered coldly, "I don't know."
Kenpachi scowled, irritation in his voice.
"Then where the hell did that guy go?"
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