Refuge
West District 5, the beginning of spring.
The sky was dark and gloomy, devoid of sunlight.
Shiraishi leapt down from a tree branch and walked toward the cliff edge at the mountain's peak, surveying the village below.
The houses sprawled across the slope, stacked haphazardly without planning—layer upon layer like a crooked trapezoidal maze.
Seeing this brought a faint smile to his lips.
The more complex the streets, the more enjoyable it was to use E.
"Step Forward Slash," Shiraishi muttered childishly as he leapt from the cliff. The wind howled in his ears.
His body dissolved into a rushing gust, floating down with the air currents.
Unlike the game's Step Forward Slash, which required a minion to activate, the true technique responded to any movement of wind.
Its distance and speed depended entirely on his spiritual pressure.
For example, during his escape earlier, he had used Step Forward Slash continuously for thirty kilometers—burning through a massive amount of reiryoku.
Steel Flash, Wind Barrier, Breath of the Wind—every ability demanded spirit energy.
Unless absolutely necessary, he avoided relying on them. Better to fight and retreat than to risk exhaustion with no means of escape.
He landed lightly on the crowded street below. Before passersby could notice, he launched himself forward again, weaving through the throng like a shadow of wind.
To the villagers, nothing remained but the faint brush of air across their cheeks. Their perception was nothing compared to the sharp awareness of someone like Sui-Fēng, commander of the 2nd Division and head of the Onmitsukidō.
Reaching the village center, Shiraishi stopped in front of a modest house with three bluestones stacked neatly at the entrance. He vaulted through the side window, closing it behind him.
The room inside was small, sparsely furnished. He sat down, poured himself a cup of tea, and waited.
The door creaked open. A bearded man in a brown robe entered cautiously, his square face unreadable.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Shiraishi. Adachi from West District 3 told me to come here—Ban Village, West District 5, the house with three stacked bluestones. He said the man living here could help me escape the Secret Agents."
From his gold messenger bag, Shiraishi produced a stone pendant. "He gave me this token."
The man's expression eased, a small chuckle escaping.
"So, we're comrades of circumstance. Tell me—what did you do in District 3?"
"Nothing too serious," Shiraishi replied casually. "I simply disliked the Fifth Officer of the Secret Agents and cut him down in one blow."
The man's eyes widened, disbelief etched on his face.
"The Fifth Officer?!"
In their circles, the Secret Agents—the covert enforcement arm tied to the Central 46—were figures of dread, and officers even more so.
Hasegawa Taizō. Fifth Seat of the Secret Agents. Swift, ruthless, notorious for his cruelty and womanizing. A man who had survived nine assassination attempts, counterattacking eight times and escaping once. He had even hidden among the cutthroats of West Rukongai's 80th District, earning both infamy and fear.
And this silver-haired youth before him claimed to have killed him outright?
If he were recruited into one of the underground resistance groups, his strength alone would make him a pillar.
But Shiraishi waved his hand dismissively.
"Let me be clear: I don't join organizations. I don't care if they're anti-Shinigami. I walk my own path."
The man's excitement faded into disappointment. "Then what—do you intend to hide like this for the rest of your life?"
"I'm a man of the wind," Shiraishi replied simply. "I go where I please."
In truth, he despised the idea of being bound to incompetent allies. Rebellions in Rukongai never lasted; the Onmitsukidō, the Gotei 13—especially the Eighth or Eleventh Division—would stamp them out within a day.
None survived beyond their first meeting.
"Fine," the man said coldly. "Then pay the hiding fee, if you want safety."
"How much?" Shiraishi asked without hesitation.
The man narrowed his eyes. "The highest price is 100,000 kan. With that, we'll smuggle you to the far reaches of West Rukongai—70th or 80th District. Outside the Shinigami's control."
Shiraishi shook his head.
"No. I won't go that far."
The outer districts were lawless wastelands. Hollows appeared rarely, and spiritual energy was weak. A poor place for someone who needed combat to grow stronger.
To refine his techniques—Steel Flash, Wind Barrier, Forward Slash, Breath of the Wind—he needed experience. And only Hollows offered enough.
"Is there another option?"
The man thought for a moment. "Yes. Closer. West Fourth District. The Shiba Clan. One of the Five Great Noble Houses. Shiba Kūkaku is no ordinary noble—she hates the Shinigami's arrogance and has a reputation for kindness. If anyone will shelter you, it's her."
"Oh? Shiba Kūkaku. I've heard she's magnanimous," Shiraishi mused. "I'd like to meet her. That will be my destination. How much?"
"Five thousand kan," the man said, extending his hand. "And I'll give you the map."
"No problem." Shiraishi pulled out the bills from his bag and passed them over.
The man accepted, walked to his bedside, and retrieved a rolled map from a hidden compartment. "Head east when you leave the village. Follow the map, and you'll find her estate. Don't use my name—it's useless and will only anger her. Instead, tell her how you cut down that monster."
"Understood." Shiraishi tucked the map into his jacket, zipped it closed, and vanished into the night, leaving nothing but the whisper of wind behind.