"Captain Mayuri Kurotsuchi?"
Shimo's voice was filled with confusion.
"Why are you here?"
Mayuri's fingers twisted in gruesome, unnatural ways, and a bizarre smile curled across his face.
"Oh? Are you questioning me, the great captain himself?"
As someone who had once been imprisoned in the Nest of Maggots, Mayuri Kurotsuchi was, by all definitions, a dangerous individual.
After Kisuke Urahara defected from Soul Society, Mayuri was smoothly promoted to Captain of the Twelfth Division, as well as Director of the Shinigami Research and Development Institute.
His psychology was textbook mad scientist. To label him a dangerous element was, if anything, an understatement.
Just looking at how he modified his own body—and that of his subordinates—made that clear enough.
But Shimo smiled, completely unfazed.
"Don't tell me... Captain Kurotsuchi is reminiscing about old times?"
The jab wasn't subtle.
Very few people knew about Mayuri's history in the Nest.
To bring it up now was tantamount to tearing open an old scar.
As expected, Mayuri scrutinized him carefully after hearing those words.
He scratched at his own head repeatedly with those long, claw-like fingers before finally speaking:
"I remember now. You're the Kyoraku brat...
High-level reiatsu, strange power…"
Mayuri's eyes—evidently modified with some form of analytical enhancement—glimmered faintly.
"I really want to acquire you."
Those words instantly made Shimo's skin crawl.
"Ahem. Captain Kurotsuchi, we're both men, you know—"
But before he could finish his sentence, Mayuri interrupted again.
"If I had a specimen jar labeled 'Kyoraku Shimo,' I bet it would be delightful!"
Before he could say anything more, he noticed Shimo had already walked into his cell on his own—and closed the door behind him.
He didn't want to continue this conversation.
Instead, he threw a look at the nearby guard, silently asking to be spared.
Mayuri's expression relaxed, and he added with a mockingly sincere tone:
"Don't worry. I have no intention of shouldering the guilt of assassinating a high-ranking noble."
His mood changed rapidly—from disdain, to delight, and now to something calm and composed.
But Shimo knew well: everything on the surface was just an act.
If Mayuri saw a chance to surpass Urahara in scientific achievement, he would abandon all moral constraints to seize it.
Mayuri was madness incarnate.
His experiments and inventions left no room for doubt.
"I do sympathize with your being stuck in the Nest," Mayuri said casually.
"But I'm still extremely interested in any research related to you.
If the opportunity arises, come to the Twelfth Division."
"I've achieved what I came here for, so I won't bother you any longer.
Oh, and—enjoy your stay in the Nest of Maggots."
The guard didn't seem the least bit surprised by Mayuri's presence.
After finishing his final sentence, Mayuri turned to leave the corridor, the guard silently trailing behind.
Having once lived here, Mayuri clearly knew the layout by heart.
---
"That guy… what's he really after?"
Shimo narrowed his eyes, finding it impossible to read Mayuri's intentions.
"He's noticed something…
Maybe cooperation is worth considering…"
But not now.
His current concern was the group of unwelcome pests making noise nearby.
"Hey, brat!"
A thunderous voice called out.
"Look at that soft skin… you must be delicious."
The voice belonged to a towering, hulking figure of a Shinigami, arms so long they nearly touched the floor.
A disgusting, twisted expression appeared on his face. His blood-red eyes were devoid of humanity.
Drool leaked continuously from the corners of his mouth, painting a picture of unfiltered greed.
Clang! Clang!
The iron bars rattled violently as he yanked at them, the sound echoing deep into the hallway.
Other prisoners peeked their heads out of their cells, all turning to watch Shimo's cell.
"That gluttonous freak, Sasazuka, hates seeing youngsters the most."
"Once the guards are gone, he can't hold back his cravings."
"Damn... Getting devoured by that fucking monster... must be a horrible way to go."
Shimo heard every word.
But his expression didn't change—not even a flicker of fear.
If Mayuri could be compared to a venomous serpent lurking in the dark,
then this so-called Gluttonous Demon was nothing more than a loud, buzzing fly.
Creak—
The sound of bending metal broke the silence.
Apparently, the quality of the prison's construction left much to be desired.
Using his disgustingly long arms, the monster forcibly bent open the bars, demonstrating tremendous strength.
"Heh heh… Fresh meat!"
Then—
"Ye lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! Inferno and pandemonium, the sea barrier surges, march on to the south!—!"
The chant echoed clearly in the cell.
Shimo extended his hand calmly.
A surge of red energy gathered fiercely at his palm.
"Hadō #31: Shakkahō (Red Fire Cannon)."
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