Conversation
"You don't understand."
Shiraishi's eyes narrowed.
"What happened to Shiba Kūkaku?"
The casual smile slipped from his face, his voice sharp as steel.
Kawakami Saburō froze, realizing too late that he'd revealed more than he intended. He slapped both hands over his mouth, stammering, "N-No, nothing at all! Haha, the weather is so fine after the rain, isn't it?"
Shiraishi stood, expression blank, and slowly drew the Infinite Blade. As the steel slid free, a golden light shimmered along its edge, cold and merciless.
Saburō trembled, his charade collapsing under the weight of that blade's presence. With a sigh, he lowered his hands. "Don't tell anyone I said this…"
"Don't worry," Shiraishi said evenly, returning the sword to its sheath. He sat back down, his tone steady. "I'm a man of my word. No one will ever know you spoke to me."
Saburō drew in a shaky breath before finally whispering:
"Captain Shiba Isshin of the Tenth Division defied the Captain-Commander's orders and went to the World of the Living without authorization. He vanished. The Central 46 suspects him of treachery against the Seireitei.
"Because of this, some have claimed Shiba Kūkaku is colluding with you—plotting to overthrow the Central 46 itself. The higher-ups dispatched Captain Ichimaru Gin of the Third Division to bring her in. If he succeeds, she'll be tried in the Central 46."
He slumped against a pillar, as if the words had drained him.
Shiraishi's brow furrowed. Isshin… gone to the World of the Living. He must have found his wife.
But in the canon timeline, Kūkaku had no direct involvement. At most, the Shiba clan's noble status was revoked. Is this because of me? Has my presence warped events this far?
His lips pressed into a thin line. Without a word, he flickered from sight. In his place, a cascade of gold bars slammed onto the table, splashing Saburō's wine and soup into a messy puddle.
The nobleman nearly fell out of his seat. Normally, such wealth wouldn't shock him—Kawakami coffers had once been deep. But now? They were ruined.
Hiring Shiraishi as a double, feigning ignorance of his crimes—it had all come at a price. The Central 46 had fined them heavily. Worse, the Kawakami dog-breeding business, their pride, was gutted: nearly every hound confiscated by the Twelfth Division. Their fortune gone, their prestige crumbling, Saburō now lived on scraps.
And here, before him, was a mountain of solid gold.
Another heavy clatter joined the first. Trembling, he picked up a bar, bit into it, and nearly wept at the taste of true wealth.
"You… what do you want me to do?"
Shiraishi didn't ask the hardest question first. He asked the simplest.
"For a crime like Shiba Kūkaku's, what sentence would the Central 46 hand down?"
Saburō licked his lips, clutching the gold. "Fourth level of the Central Underground Prison. Howling. Minimum sentence—five thousand years."
Shiraishi's eyes darkened. "Howling?"
Saburō nodded nervously. "They bind the prisoner in cursed garments that force their spiritual pressure to boil, burning them alive from within. Three hours of torment, one hour's respite, then the cycle repeats endlessly. The screams echo without end."
He shuddered. "The Underground Prison… it breaks even the strongest. Each floor has its own torture. A century down there leaves a Shinigami crippled."
"Normally, nobles are spared that fate," Saburō added bitterly. "They get the Maggot's Nest—safer, easier, and sentences can be bought down. But betrayal of the Seireitei? That's different. That's spitting on the nobility itself. No one will shield them this time."
He swallowed hard. "The proposal to strip the Shiba from the Five Great Houses is already on the agenda. If it passes… a thousand years of history ends with them."
Shiraishi leaned forward. "How do I enter the Seireitei?"
Saburō's blood ran cold. "Y-you're not seriously considering a prison break? Are you mad? No one has ever escaped the Central Underground Prison! It's under the First Division's jurisdiction. Captain-Commander Yamamoto himself ensures it!"
Shiraishi's voice cut like a blade. "How do I enter?"
The weight in his tone left no room for evasion. He wasn't Ichigo Kurosaki charging headlong to an execution. He was calculating. With his hidden reiatsu, he could slip in and extract someone without a direct fight. And if he could count on Jūshirō Ukitake… Shunsui Kyōraku wouldn't be far behind.
Saburō shook his head furiously. "You're insane! Absolutely insane! I'll never betray the Seireitei!"
Clang. Another avalanche of gold tumbled down, dazzling in its brilliance.
Saburō's loyalty snapped like brittle glass.
"I'll… I'll tell you," he stammered. "The Ōmaeda Gem Company. On the tenth of every month, they deliver ore through the White Road Gate. Nobody inspects them. If you slip in with their convoy, you'll enter Seireitei unnoticed."
Shiraishi smirked faintly. "Ōmaeda, eh? I remember him boasting about his family's wealth."
Saburō forced a laugh, still clutching gold. "Whether you make it in or not, that's on you. But listen to me—don't risk everything for one woman. There are always others. Better ones."
Shiraishi shook his head, turning away. "You'll never understand."
A flash of movement, and he was gone.
Saburō collapsed atop the glittering pile, gnawing at the bars with greedy teeth.
"You say I don't understand? Hah… You're the fool. With this much gold, you could buy hundreds of women."
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