Just when it seemed that the duel between Ichigo and Zaraki couldn’t get any more interesting, it ended. It ended, not because either party vanquished the other, or even because they had decided that they didn’t wish to continue. It ended because Captain Soifon, who was then in her one of her more violent moods, decided that the best way for her to attract attention was to interrupt an activity that people were watching intently, which in this case, was the fight.
One must know that despite being part of a noble house (however insignificant the House may be), Soifon never believed in courtesies, or politeness, or such shit that was typically expected of a person of her status. She was a proud woman who never bowed before anybody (save for Yoruichi). She particularly deprecated forced courtesies, and hated it when she had to be polite to someone when in her heart of hearts she wanted to rip their face off. All these qualities in Soifon made her appear quite unladylike to the eye of a purist, or the more refined members of the Nobility.
Instances from Soifon’s past all point in the same direction: that Soifon was too proud for her own good. Someone who knew Soifon since she was little would indubitably cite this as an example if he or she were asked about Soifon’s character: Soifon once punched Ginrei Kuchiki on the jawbone and nearly killed a young Byakuya when she came under the misimpression that the latter was harassing Yoruichi. Yoruchi subsequently explained to a furious Soifon that she (Yoruichi) was the one harassing Byakuya. And when everything was resolved and Byakuya’s wounds had been attended to, Soifon still refused to apologize to the then Captain of the 6th Squad, or Byakuya—even when Yoruichi ordered her to.
Now, in a similarly unladylike manner, Soifon blew her nose very loudly on a piece of tissue and flung the thing with all her might at the two sparring men.
Ichigo saw the projectile out of the corner of his eye (owing to his acute lack of concentration in the fight), and reflexively jumped out of the way.
Zaraki, on the other hand, was less fortunate. He came under the impression that Ichigo had jumped backward because of something he’d done, and was about to get comfortable and relish his newest triumph when the flying tissue hit him square in the face.
Zaraki let out a sound like a dog that’s had it tail stepped on, but it was muffled by the tissue. He pinched the tissue and quickly threw it as far away from his person as he could. Sadly (or otherwise), Zaraki’s reflexes were too slow for the malevolent tissue: he had hesitated for enough time to allow the tissue to comfortably deposit its contents on his face.
Realizing the gravity of the situation he was in, Zaraki made a dash for his cabin without even bothering to officially call the match off, and left Ichigo staring dumbly at the spot on which he’d been standing a moment before.
It took the spectators several moments to realize what had just happened, as well. Byakuya, Unohana, Kyoraku, Yachiru and Renji (who had come to by then) were all staring at the spot where Zaraki had been standing a few moments before, their mouths agape slightly and a dazed look in their eyes. Comprehension dawned on them eventually, and with an undertone of irritation in his voice, Byakuya addressed Soifon:
“Surely a person of your capacity knows that interrupting a battle at its peak is an uncouth and unforgivable act.”
Renji nodded. It was one of those rare occasions on which he genuinely concurred with his Captain.
Unohana censured Soifon in the politest way her annoyance would permit:
“I am shocked beyond words, Captain Soifon. I am so shocked that I can barely speak. Yours was an unspeakable act.”
Soifon shot a derisive glare at Unohana, to which the latter was immune, but she said nothing.
Kyoraku straightened his hat and smirked insouciantly.
“You know, Captain Soifon, being a preacher of peace myself, I understand the demerits of battle better than most people do. But at the same time, I respect battles when they’re fought for a good purpose.”
“Which in this case,” Byakuya added, “was to provide us with much needed entertainment.”
“Tell her, Byakushi!” Yoruichi said, possibly being the angriest of them all—a fact reflected in the deepness of her frown. “Kenny was having a lot of fun fighting Ichi until Boom-witch came along!”
She pointed a deprecatory finger at Soifon, who, apart from grimacing at being called a Boom-witch—whatever it meant,—was taking all the criticism relatively well.
“You have acted disgracefully, Captain Soifon, and I demand that you apologize to us, Zaraki and Ichigo, before proceeding to apologize to the Head Captain, and atoning for your sins by standing naked in the middle of the Lake the next frozen dawn.” Captain Kuchiki pronounced solemnly.
“Tch,” Soifon said, wrinkling her nose.
The syllable offended Captain Kuchiki like he’d never been offended before. He was about to let slip a “What the hell?” when he checked himself in time and curtailed it into a simple, “What?”
“You’re such a pervert, Captain Kuchiki.”
You’re such a pervert, Captain Kuchiki... You’re such a pervert, Captain Kuchiki...
Like an alarm clock ringing at two in the morning, those words rang in Byakuya’s head for several moments before they finally settled down and allowed him to digest the whole thing.
In the interlude, Byakuya’s eyes were wide with shock, and his mouth was more agape than he would ever have permitted it to be if he were in the right state of mind.
Perceiving the look of pure shock on his noble captain’s face, Renji would have laughed hard within himself on normal occasions. This time, however, on an occasion of mutual misfortune, he couldn’t help but side with his Captain.
“Captain Kuchiki is not a pervert!” Renji said vehemently.
“He is. And I’ll say it again since it doesn’t seem as though he’s heard me: Captain Kuchiki, you are a pervert. Want me to spell it out for you? P-E-R—”
“Enough!” Byakuya commanded, his otherwise uniformly cold voice now sounding a little pained when one listened closely. “I can’t stand your insolence any longer!”
His hand hovered over the hilt of his sword for a few moments.
“Captain, are you all right?” Renji asked solicitously.
“Renji,” Byakuya began weakly. He appeared incapable of further speech.
Captain Unohana patted Byakuya sympathetically on the back.
“There, there, Captain Kuchiki,” she said in a motherly way; “We’re all in this together. Soifon has just transgressed a law of the Soul Society.”
“I was insulted in the worse manner possible.” Byakuya said once he found his voice. He rose to his full height and enveloped himself in the dignity that he still had left. “This is unforgivable. Renji, avenge this humiliation.”
“W-what?!” Renji said, a look of pure horror plastering itself over his face. Was Captain Kuchiki out of his mind? Did he just say that he wanted Renji to be pitted against a captain, and the Captain of the Soul Society Assassins—bloody assassins—at that?
“I will not repeat myself.” Byakuya said, following which he repeated, “Renji, avenge his humiliation.”
“No way!” Renji protested.
Byakuya sighed.
“You were never really any help to me. In that case, Ichigo Kurosaki, you avenge this humiliation.”
Recent events had trapped Ichigo in a sort of trance. He stared ceaselessly into the clearing between the trees directly in front of him—a sight that no conscious and self-respecting Soul Reaper would ever stop to admire unless the aforesaid clearing were filled by an enemy. Ichigo’s state of unconsciousness enabled him to find the clearing profoundly interesting, and as a result of his engrossment in his present activity, he didn’t hear a word of what Byakuya said to him.
Byakuya cleared his throat in an attempt to rectify an inexistent speech defect of whose inexistence he was aware. He was loath to admit that he was just ignored point-blank.
“Ichigo Kurosaki,” he said slowly and clearly, so as to eliminate any possibility of Ichigo mistaking the name as someone else’s. “I said, Avenge this humiliation for me.”
Ichigo remained impervious to Byakuya.
A gust of wind displaced several dried leaves.
The sound of the waves of the lake hitting the shore was audible in the distance.
Soifon yawned.
Kyoraku sighed.
Yachiru blinked at an idly passing hell butterfly.
Renji stared at his Captain with growing horror as he sensed the latter’s spiritual energy becoming unstable.
“Captain Unohana,” Renji whispered, “I don’t think Captain Kuchiki is well. Could you please heal him?”
Uhohana smiled wistfully.
“I’m afraid such an illness does not warrant performing the Sekkiseki Treatment. Captain Kuchiki’s is simply a case of unstable emotions.”
Renji found it hard to believe that a person like his Captain could fall prey to the vicissitudes of human emotions. But that went without saying. What Renji was truly concerned about was the fact that Byakuya was very short of reaching a stage where he might commit murder. He, being the loyal lieutenant that he liked to think he was, could not permit his Captain to do something like that.
Byakuya’s spiritual pressure rose immeasurably, and a pink aura surrounded his being. He placed his hand firmly on the hilt of his sword.
“Please, Captain Unohana,” Renji pleaded desperately; “Help!”
Byakuya was in the process of unsheathing his sword.
Captain Unohana sighed.
“I didn’t think it would come to this.”
She extracted from the depths of her robes a corked glass vial containing a queer green liquid. She uncorked it and poured its contents on Byakuya’s hand—the only exposed skin within her reach.
The effect was instantaneous: a spasm ran down Byakuya’s body, his eyeballs rolled back into his head, and his shut against his will. His spiritual pressure went down to normal, and he fell to the ground in a graceful arc.
“Er, Captain?” Renji said, poking Byakuya tentatively in the ribs.
“He’s been knocked out.” Unohana explained. “That drug is very powerful. Typically, one drop of it can knock a person out for several hours if it comes in direct contact with the skin. In Captain Kuchiki’s case, his immense spiritual energy rendered it imperative to use a larger dose. Even so, its effects should wear off in half an hour or so.”
Renji stared at Unohana in ill-concealed awe. His imagination was racing, and he wondered with a sly smile on his face how enjoyable his professional life would become if he were to carry some of that drug with him all the time. Byakuya’s swooning replayed itself over and over again in his head, and he stowed the thought away for future reference in that corner of his brain which housed his collection of Awesome Memories.
“As for Ichigo Kurosaki,” Unohana said, staring at Ichigo, who was still in a trance, “I’m sorry to say that his condition does not warrant performing the Sekkiseki treatment, either. I can still cure him, though. Renji, could you please fetch me a bucketful of water from the lake?”
Renji nodded and left using flashstep (since he hated wasting time, and he hated long walks.)
He returned a few moments later with what was asked of him.
“Thank you, Renji,” Captain Unohana said, taking the bucket from Renji and placing it on the ground.
She took her haori off, folded it neatly and placed it beside the bucket. She extracted from her robes several more vials like the first containing liquids of various different colors—from a light blue, to a fiery orange, to a mild yellow, to an apple-green, to a bubblegum-pink, among some others with indescribable colors.
In addition to those vials, she took out an array of queer metallic instruments from her robes. She placed them, along with the vials, neatly on her haori.
“Captain Unohana,” Renji said; “Are you going to perform surgery on Ichigo?”
He always wanted to see a real surgery being performed.
Unohana smiled.
“No, Renji. I’m simply going to splash this water on his face so that he wakes up. As for all these things, I just don’t want them to get wet.”
Renji felt awfully stupid.
“I think I’m going to go take a nap.”
* * * * *
“Rukia, could you please pass me that large spoon? This stew is about done.”
Rangiku and Rukia had volunteered to be part of the Lunch Team, which, minus the two of them, consisted of Shūhei, Isane, Orihime, Yumichika and Omaeda. The latter two were there for special reasons: Yumichika, to make sure that the food was beautiful; and Omaeda, to make sure the food tasted good.
“Hm... I don’t think this chili pepper looks beautiful on this salad.” Yumichika said with a judicial air, plucking the offending pepper from said salad and disposing of it in the trash bag.
“I think this sauce needs more salt in it.” Omaeda said, proceeding to lick the bowl clean of every last drop of said sauce, and demanded that they make another bowl of it.
“Hurry up, Rangiku, it’s nearly lunchtime!” Rukia said.
“Relax, Rukia! You’re always so uptight! It’s not good for that little body of yours.” Rangiku said airily.
Rukia couldn’t come up with a retort, so she decided to nitpick someone else’s work.
“Isane, you’re supposed to stir the soup in the counterclockwise direction; not the clockwise direction.”
“I don’t see how it matters.” Isane said coolly.
“Of course it matters!” Rukia snapped; “You’ll end up with just the opposite of what you wanted!”
“Really?”
Rukia closed her eyes and assumed the air of one who is about to tell a most solemn story.
“Once, Brother wanted to make chicken soup, but he stirred it the wrong way while cooking, and what he ended up with was a fine specimen of tomato soup.”
Shūhei nodded omnisciently.
“That’s a common mistake newbies make when they enter the Kitchen unprepared. In a state of nervousness, some people tend to hallucinate and mistake one recipe for another. It’s called the ‘multiple recipe disorder’.”
“Or maybe he just read the wrong recipe.”
“Shut up, Rangiku. Don’t ruin the moment. It was I, after all, who discovered the disease. Rukia, what your brother needs is more practice in the Kitchen.”
“Rukia, what your brother needs is a cook.”
“Stay out of this, Rangiku!”
Rukia coughed politely.
“Er, Rangiku? I think your stew’s getting too hot.”
“Oh my goodness! No!”
In a moment, Rangiku’s scream pierced the air like a really sharp Zanpakutō.
* * * * *
Lunchtime is one of those special occasions on which people forget all their differences and lunch together with a spirit of true camaraderie. Even the most reclusive and insular person becomes gregarious when he has food on his plate and the sun above his head. The vacationing Soul Reapers were living testimony to that. They dined together, breaking all barriers of rank and class, and talking as though they were paid a handsome amount of money for every minute they blathered.
In the end, Rangiku’s special stew had survived the overheating, and a delicious lunch was had by all.
“So, Captain, how’s life?” Renji asked affably.
Byakuya replied with a cold glare.
Renji sighed. Evidently Captain Kuchiki really hated talking, if not even the lunch could stimulate him to converse.
He then began perambulating in the lunch area, searching for someone with whom he could converse at length.
“So Ichigo!” he called; “How’re you feeling?”
“Fine,” Ichigo replied, raising an eyebrow slightly.
“I was just wondering. Back when your battle with Zaraki ended, you looked sick.”
Ichigo scowled.
“Shut your face, Pineapple-head.”
“No, no!” Renji said, almost forgetting that he had a plate in his hand as he tried to raise his hands in protest; “I meant that you looked ill.”
“Oh,” said Ichigo; “Well, I’m fine now.”
“Guess the lake water was helpful.”
“Yeah,” said Ichigo; “It felt good. In fact, I’m thinking of going for a swim after lunch.”
“That’s a great idea. I’ll join you.”
“Sure. We just have to make sure Captain Unohana’s safely inside her cabin so she can’t attack us with that ‘Sekkiseki’ shit.”
“How are you feeling now, Ichigo?”
Ichigo paled.
“C-Captain Unohana! Er, I’m fine! Fine!” he stammered. “You didn’t happen to hear Renji and me talking, did you? We weren’t saying anything about you, of course! Honest!”
Unohana smiled.
“It’s quite all right, Ichigo. You don’t have to be shy. I’ve got enough Sekkiseki with me to treat you a hundred times.”
One must know that despite being part of a noble house (however insignificant the House may be), Soifon never believed in courtesies, or politeness, or such shit that was typically expected of a person of her status. She was a proud woman who never bowed before anybody (save for Yoruichi). She particularly deprecated forced courtesies, and hated it when she had to be polite to someone when in her heart of hearts she wanted to rip their face off. All these qualities in Soifon made her appear quite unladylike to the eye of a purist, or the more refined members of the Nobility.
Instances from Soifon’s past all point in the same direction: that Soifon was too proud for her own good. Someone who knew Soifon since she was little would indubitably cite this as an example if he or she were asked about Soifon’s character: Soifon once punched Ginrei Kuchiki on the jawbone and nearly killed a young Byakuya when she came under the misimpression that the latter was harassing Yoruichi. Yoruchi subsequently explained to a furious Soifon that she (Yoruichi) was the one harassing Byakuya. And when everything was resolved and Byakuya’s wounds had been attended to, Soifon still refused to apologize to the then Captain of the 6th Squad, or Byakuya—even when Yoruichi ordered her to.
Now, in a similarly unladylike manner, Soifon blew her nose very loudly on a piece of tissue and flung the thing with all her might at the two sparring men.
Ichigo saw the projectile out of the corner of his eye (owing to his acute lack of concentration in the fight), and reflexively jumped out of the way.
Zaraki, on the other hand, was less fortunate. He came under the impression that Ichigo had jumped backward because of something he’d done, and was about to get comfortable and relish his newest triumph when the flying tissue hit him square in the face.
Zaraki let out a sound like a dog that’s had it tail stepped on, but it was muffled by the tissue. He pinched the tissue and quickly threw it as far away from his person as he could. Sadly (or otherwise), Zaraki’s reflexes were too slow for the malevolent tissue: he had hesitated for enough time to allow the tissue to comfortably deposit its contents on his face.
Realizing the gravity of the situation he was in, Zaraki made a dash for his cabin without even bothering to officially call the match off, and left Ichigo staring dumbly at the spot on which he’d been standing a moment before.
It took the spectators several moments to realize what had just happened, as well. Byakuya, Unohana, Kyoraku, Yachiru and Renji (who had come to by then) were all staring at the spot where Zaraki had been standing a few moments before, their mouths agape slightly and a dazed look in their eyes. Comprehension dawned on them eventually, and with an undertone of irritation in his voice, Byakuya addressed Soifon:
“Surely a person of your capacity knows that interrupting a battle at its peak is an uncouth and unforgivable act.”
Renji nodded. It was one of those rare occasions on which he genuinely concurred with his Captain.
Unohana censured Soifon in the politest way her annoyance would permit:
“I am shocked beyond words, Captain Soifon. I am so shocked that I can barely speak. Yours was an unspeakable act.”
Soifon shot a derisive glare at Unohana, to which the latter was immune, but she said nothing.
Kyoraku straightened his hat and smirked insouciantly.
“You know, Captain Soifon, being a preacher of peace myself, I understand the demerits of battle better than most people do. But at the same time, I respect battles when they’re fought for a good purpose.”
“Which in this case,” Byakuya added, “was to provide us with much needed entertainment.”
“Tell her, Byakushi!” Yoruichi said, possibly being the angriest of them all—a fact reflected in the deepness of her frown. “Kenny was having a lot of fun fighting Ichi until Boom-witch came along!”
She pointed a deprecatory finger at Soifon, who, apart from grimacing at being called a Boom-witch—whatever it meant,—was taking all the criticism relatively well.
“You have acted disgracefully, Captain Soifon, and I demand that you apologize to us, Zaraki and Ichigo, before proceeding to apologize to the Head Captain, and atoning for your sins by standing naked in the middle of the Lake the next frozen dawn.” Captain Kuchiki pronounced solemnly.
“Tch,” Soifon said, wrinkling her nose.
The syllable offended Captain Kuchiki like he’d never been offended before. He was about to let slip a “What the hell?” when he checked himself in time and curtailed it into a simple, “What?”
“You’re such a pervert, Captain Kuchiki.”
You’re such a pervert, Captain Kuchiki... You’re such a pervert, Captain Kuchiki...
Like an alarm clock ringing at two in the morning, those words rang in Byakuya’s head for several moments before they finally settled down and allowed him to digest the whole thing.
In the interlude, Byakuya’s eyes were wide with shock, and his mouth was more agape than he would ever have permitted it to be if he were in the right state of mind.
Perceiving the look of pure shock on his noble captain’s face, Renji would have laughed hard within himself on normal occasions. This time, however, on an occasion of mutual misfortune, he couldn’t help but side with his Captain.
“Captain Kuchiki is not a pervert!” Renji said vehemently.
“He is. And I’ll say it again since it doesn’t seem as though he’s heard me: Captain Kuchiki, you are a pervert. Want me to spell it out for you? P-E-R—”
“Enough!” Byakuya commanded, his otherwise uniformly cold voice now sounding a little pained when one listened closely. “I can’t stand your insolence any longer!”
His hand hovered over the hilt of his sword for a few moments.
“Captain, are you all right?” Renji asked solicitously.
“Renji,” Byakuya began weakly. He appeared incapable of further speech.
Captain Unohana patted Byakuya sympathetically on the back.
“There, there, Captain Kuchiki,” she said in a motherly way; “We’re all in this together. Soifon has just transgressed a law of the Soul Society.”
“I was insulted in the worse manner possible.” Byakuya said once he found his voice. He rose to his full height and enveloped himself in the dignity that he still had left. “This is unforgivable. Renji, avenge this humiliation.”
“W-what?!” Renji said, a look of pure horror plastering itself over his face. Was Captain Kuchiki out of his mind? Did he just say that he wanted Renji to be pitted against a captain, and the Captain of the Soul Society Assassins—bloody assassins—at that?
“I will not repeat myself.” Byakuya said, following which he repeated, “Renji, avenge his humiliation.”
“No way!” Renji protested.
Byakuya sighed.
“You were never really any help to me. In that case, Ichigo Kurosaki, you avenge this humiliation.”
Recent events had trapped Ichigo in a sort of trance. He stared ceaselessly into the clearing between the trees directly in front of him—a sight that no conscious and self-respecting Soul Reaper would ever stop to admire unless the aforesaid clearing were filled by an enemy. Ichigo’s state of unconsciousness enabled him to find the clearing profoundly interesting, and as a result of his engrossment in his present activity, he didn’t hear a word of what Byakuya said to him.
Byakuya cleared his throat in an attempt to rectify an inexistent speech defect of whose inexistence he was aware. He was loath to admit that he was just ignored point-blank.
“Ichigo Kurosaki,” he said slowly and clearly, so as to eliminate any possibility of Ichigo mistaking the name as someone else’s. “I said, Avenge this humiliation for me.”
Ichigo remained impervious to Byakuya.
A gust of wind displaced several dried leaves.
The sound of the waves of the lake hitting the shore was audible in the distance.
Soifon yawned.
Kyoraku sighed.
Yachiru blinked at an idly passing hell butterfly.
Renji stared at his Captain with growing horror as he sensed the latter’s spiritual energy becoming unstable.
“Captain Unohana,” Renji whispered, “I don’t think Captain Kuchiki is well. Could you please heal him?”
Uhohana smiled wistfully.
“I’m afraid such an illness does not warrant performing the Sekkiseki Treatment. Captain Kuchiki’s is simply a case of unstable emotions.”
Renji found it hard to believe that a person like his Captain could fall prey to the vicissitudes of human emotions. But that went without saying. What Renji was truly concerned about was the fact that Byakuya was very short of reaching a stage where he might commit murder. He, being the loyal lieutenant that he liked to think he was, could not permit his Captain to do something like that.
Byakuya’s spiritual pressure rose immeasurably, and a pink aura surrounded his being. He placed his hand firmly on the hilt of his sword.
“Please, Captain Unohana,” Renji pleaded desperately; “Help!”
Byakuya was in the process of unsheathing his sword.
Captain Unohana sighed.
“I didn’t think it would come to this.”
She extracted from the depths of her robes a corked glass vial containing a queer green liquid. She uncorked it and poured its contents on Byakuya’s hand—the only exposed skin within her reach.
The effect was instantaneous: a spasm ran down Byakuya’s body, his eyeballs rolled back into his head, and his shut against his will. His spiritual pressure went down to normal, and he fell to the ground in a graceful arc.
“Er, Captain?” Renji said, poking Byakuya tentatively in the ribs.
“He’s been knocked out.” Unohana explained. “That drug is very powerful. Typically, one drop of it can knock a person out for several hours if it comes in direct contact with the skin. In Captain Kuchiki’s case, his immense spiritual energy rendered it imperative to use a larger dose. Even so, its effects should wear off in half an hour or so.”
Renji stared at Unohana in ill-concealed awe. His imagination was racing, and he wondered with a sly smile on his face how enjoyable his professional life would become if he were to carry some of that drug with him all the time. Byakuya’s swooning replayed itself over and over again in his head, and he stowed the thought away for future reference in that corner of his brain which housed his collection of Awesome Memories.
“As for Ichigo Kurosaki,” Unohana said, staring at Ichigo, who was still in a trance, “I’m sorry to say that his condition does not warrant performing the Sekkiseki treatment, either. I can still cure him, though. Renji, could you please fetch me a bucketful of water from the lake?”
Renji nodded and left using flashstep (since he hated wasting time, and he hated long walks.)
He returned a few moments later with what was asked of him.
“Thank you, Renji,” Captain Unohana said, taking the bucket from Renji and placing it on the ground.
She took her haori off, folded it neatly and placed it beside the bucket. She extracted from her robes several more vials like the first containing liquids of various different colors—from a light blue, to a fiery orange, to a mild yellow, to an apple-green, to a bubblegum-pink, among some others with indescribable colors.
In addition to those vials, she took out an array of queer metallic instruments from her robes. She placed them, along with the vials, neatly on her haori.
“Captain Unohana,” Renji said; “Are you going to perform surgery on Ichigo?”
He always wanted to see a real surgery being performed.
Unohana smiled.
“No, Renji. I’m simply going to splash this water on his face so that he wakes up. As for all these things, I just don’t want them to get wet.”
Renji felt awfully stupid.
“I think I’m going to go take a nap.”
* * * * *
“Rukia, could you please pass me that large spoon? This stew is about done.”
Rangiku and Rukia had volunteered to be part of the Lunch Team, which, minus the two of them, consisted of Shūhei, Isane, Orihime, Yumichika and Omaeda. The latter two were there for special reasons: Yumichika, to make sure that the food was beautiful; and Omaeda, to make sure the food tasted good.
“Hm... I don’t think this chili pepper looks beautiful on this salad.” Yumichika said with a judicial air, plucking the offending pepper from said salad and disposing of it in the trash bag.
“I think this sauce needs more salt in it.” Omaeda said, proceeding to lick the bowl clean of every last drop of said sauce, and demanded that they make another bowl of it.
“Hurry up, Rangiku, it’s nearly lunchtime!” Rukia said.
“Relax, Rukia! You’re always so uptight! It’s not good for that little body of yours.” Rangiku said airily.
Rukia couldn’t come up with a retort, so she decided to nitpick someone else’s work.
“Isane, you’re supposed to stir the soup in the counterclockwise direction; not the clockwise direction.”
“I don’t see how it matters.” Isane said coolly.
“Of course it matters!” Rukia snapped; “You’ll end up with just the opposite of what you wanted!”
“Really?”
Rukia closed her eyes and assumed the air of one who is about to tell a most solemn story.
“Once, Brother wanted to make chicken soup, but he stirred it the wrong way while cooking, and what he ended up with was a fine specimen of tomato soup.”
Shūhei nodded omnisciently.
“That’s a common mistake newbies make when they enter the Kitchen unprepared. In a state of nervousness, some people tend to hallucinate and mistake one recipe for another. It’s called the ‘multiple recipe disorder’.”
“Or maybe he just read the wrong recipe.”
“Shut up, Rangiku. Don’t ruin the moment. It was I, after all, who discovered the disease. Rukia, what your brother needs is more practice in the Kitchen.”
“Rukia, what your brother needs is a cook.”
“Stay out of this, Rangiku!”
Rukia coughed politely.
“Er, Rangiku? I think your stew’s getting too hot.”
“Oh my goodness! No!”
In a moment, Rangiku’s scream pierced the air like a really sharp Zanpakutō.
* * * * *
Lunchtime is one of those special occasions on which people forget all their differences and lunch together with a spirit of true camaraderie. Even the most reclusive and insular person becomes gregarious when he has food on his plate and the sun above his head. The vacationing Soul Reapers were living testimony to that. They dined together, breaking all barriers of rank and class, and talking as though they were paid a handsome amount of money for every minute they blathered.
In the end, Rangiku’s special stew had survived the overheating, and a delicious lunch was had by all.
“So, Captain, how’s life?” Renji asked affably.
Byakuya replied with a cold glare.
Renji sighed. Evidently Captain Kuchiki really hated talking, if not even the lunch could stimulate him to converse.
He then began perambulating in the lunch area, searching for someone with whom he could converse at length.
“So Ichigo!” he called; “How’re you feeling?”
“Fine,” Ichigo replied, raising an eyebrow slightly.
“I was just wondering. Back when your battle with Zaraki ended, you looked sick.”
Ichigo scowled.
“Shut your face, Pineapple-head.”
“No, no!” Renji said, almost forgetting that he had a plate in his hand as he tried to raise his hands in protest; “I meant that you looked ill.”
“Oh,” said Ichigo; “Well, I’m fine now.”
“Guess the lake water was helpful.”
“Yeah,” said Ichigo; “It felt good. In fact, I’m thinking of going for a swim after lunch.”
“That’s a great idea. I’ll join you.”
“Sure. We just have to make sure Captain Unohana’s safely inside her cabin so she can’t attack us with that ‘Sekkiseki’ shit.”
“How are you feeling now, Ichigo?”
Ichigo paled.
“C-Captain Unohana! Er, I’m fine! Fine!” he stammered. “You didn’t happen to hear Renji and me talking, did you? We weren’t saying anything about you, of course! Honest!”
Unohana smiled.
“It’s quite all right, Ichigo. You don’t have to be shy. I’ve got enough Sekkiseki with me to treat you a hundred times.”
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