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Boom.
Thunder rolled. Heavy rain poured down in sheets, as though the heavens had overturned a basin above the West Tenth District. The downpour blurred everything beyond five steps, drowning the world in gray.
The roadways turned to mire. Unlike the stone-paved streets of Seireitei, Rukongai's roads were nothing but dirt, left to nature's mercy. On clear days they looked quaint. In rain like this, every step became a pit of mud.
Few dared venture out in such weather, unless misfortune forced them to be already on the road.
Crack!
A tree splintered under the weight of the storm. Lightning tore through the dark clouds, its brief flash illuminating a lone figure on a cliff—Shiraishi.
Raindrops as large as soybeans hammered down, streaming across the iron safe at his side. The runoff formed a curtain of water.
"It's raining so hard…" Shiraishi muttered, glancing up. Ever since entering the western districts, the skies had been nothing but gloom. Now, in District Ten, the storm had grown into a full deluge.
Beside him, Nie Yinmeng said nothing. Her wooden clogs struck the rocky ground in a steady rhythm, barely audible against the rain. She reached the cliff wall, fingers feeling for a hidden crack. With a push, the rock shifted aside, revealing a concealed entrance.
Behind the facade stretched a vast cavern, dark and hollow.
Nie Yinmeng struck flint, lighting a torch the old-fashioned way. Her body—modified by Mayuri's experiments—allowed her to move her hand like a drill, sparks flaring until flame caught.
Controlled, the technique was useful. Unchecked, it could gouge through stone with ease.
Shiraishi hauled the safe inside and set it in the cavern's center. As torches lit along the walls, the shadows fled.
Nie Yinmeng slid the rock face shut again, concealing their hideout from prying eyes.
Shiraishi wasted no time. He pried open the battered safe door and dove headfirst into the piles of cash and gold within. Laughing, he rolled across the notes, grabbing fistfuls of bars in both hands.
"Haha! I've struck it rich this time!"
The scent of money filled his nose. For a moment, he reveled like a child in his first fantasy come true.
Once, he had envied television characters who got to count money in stacks, vowing to do the same someday. Reality, however, hadn't even given him the chance to count other people's money, let alone his own.
But today—today was different.
He scooped up bundles of bills, calculating quickly. "One hundred and fifty thousand for Kawakami Saburo… round it up. Thirty thousand back to Elder Yonemura…"
As he counted cheerfully, Nie Yinmeng moved to prepare food. Limited ingredients meant simplicity. She washed rice, steamed it, and then shaped the hot grains into triangular rice balls. Each one she filled with dried plums and wrapped neatly in seaweed.
Four plates later, the rice was gone. She licked the stray grains from her fingers without shame—the freshness alone was flavor enough.
Turning, she called, "Shiraishi, the rice is ready."
"I'll be right there."
He stacked the counted bills neatly aside, washed his hands, and hurried over. Grabbing a steaming onigiri, he bit in greedily.
"Mmm! This rice is good—it's glutinous rice, isn't it?"
Nie Yinmeng nodded. "Yes."
"No wonder." His smile widened as he bit into the sour plum core. The sharp-sweet contrast lit up his appetite. "Your rice balls are amazing. It's just a shame we don't have meat."
"When the rain stops, we can buy better ingredients," Nie Yinmeng said softly, her usual expressionless face easing into something almost human. Almost… tender.
For an instant, Shiraishi thought of her as a wife fussing over dinner. He shook the thought away.
Nie Yinmeng's voice broke the silence. "Don't you need to return the money?"
"It's yours now," Shiraishi replied, waving the notion off. "Forget it. I was just thinking nonsense." He stuffed another rice ball into his mouth, unwilling to explain further.
She tilted her head, still innocent in her questions. "What should I make for dinner? I can prepare dango, grilled steak, rice balls with meat, or miso soup."
"Anything's fine. I trust your cooking," Shiraishi said, unconcerned.
"Oh…" She lowered her eyes, already lost in thought. Before meeting him, she had never chosen for herself—always following Mayuri-sama's orders. Now, every meal was a decision. And choices, she realized, could be paralyzing.
When the rain eased, she took three stacks of cash and slipped out to the market.
Shiraishi had tasks of his own. With money in hand, there was no excuse left. He moved swiftly, returning debts with clean precision.
At Da Mi Village, he appeared before the chief's house, left a bundle of bills on the table, and vanished again without a word. Staying risked exposure—Soul Society's surveillance was concentrated in villages like this, where Hollows often struck.
His next stop was at the foot of Niujiao Mountain, outside the home of Kawakami Saburo.
Scaling the wall with ease, Shiraishi noted the empty dog cage in the yard—likely abandoned due to the storm. He slipped through the north corridor.
There, Saburo sat alone, drinking and watching the rain-slicked garden.
"Hey, Mr. Kawakami. Long time no see."
Shiraishi appeared opposite him at the table.
Saburo startled, spilling his cup. "Y-You! Stay back!"
"Relax. I'm not here to hurt you. Just to repay my debt."
Shiraishi laid down a stack of bills. "One hundred and fifty thousand. Count it if you like."
But Saburo's face remained stricken, his hands trembling. Tears welled in his eyes.
"Please… leave. I don't want the money. If the higher-ups learn I'm still in contact with you, Shiba Kūkaku's fate will be mine."
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