A Culinary Genius

Isshin Shiba returned to the Seireitei before long. A Captain-level officer couldn't be as carefree as a lieutenant. Baka Rangiku, he was so jealous of her.

Evening, in the kitchen.

"Koganehiko-san, Shiroganehiko-san, may I help out here?"

Dōsan bowed his head slightly as he made his request, but he couldn't help glancing around the kitchen. It really was just what one would expect of big sister Kūkaku's kitchen: it was full of works of art that defied all reason.

There was the five-sided iron wok Koganehiko was tossing, for example, and the ladle bigger than a face, and the iron basin with a statue of Kūkaku standing in its center.

"Lord Kaien once said there was no reason to make a guest cook for himself.

All you need to do is relax and let us brothers serve you, Mr. Dōsan." Koganehiko set down the wok in his hands, his handlebar mustache twitching as he politely refused.

Shiroganehiko also looked around cautiously. "Lady Kūkaku is very particular about her food. If it isn't made properly, we'll get beaten up."

Dōsan Hanyū didn't give up. Instead, he pressed his palms together and asked again. "I'm very grateful for the help Lady Kūkaku and Lord Ganju have given me. I can neither eat nor sleep in peace with this debt of gratitude weighing on me. Please."

The two men lowered their heads to look at the little fellow before them and saw the determination in Dōsan's eyes.

Shiroganehiko's little mustache twitched, but his older brother stopped him. "Gin-chan, Lord Kaien once said there was no reason to refuse a man's wish to repay his benefactor."

Koganehiko held out a triangular spatula to Dōsan, who didn't even reach his chest. "Go ahead and do it, little brother Dōsan. Don't hold back."

"Yes!"

Dōsan Hanyū looked at the ingredients. Fortunately, they weren't as bizarre as the kitchen.

All the seasonings were there too: oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, and more.

Tomatoes, eggs, beef and mutton, as well as many ingredients that should have been exclusive to the World of the Living.

In Dōsan's experience, Kūkaku's little kitchen had a selection of ingredients to rival restaurants outside.

Dōsan rolled up his sleeves and began by washing some essential seasonings. By the time he finished, he had also put together a menu in his head.

A faint smile appeared on Dōsan's lips. He didn't believe there was such a thing as a cultivation genius, himself included. He had always believed he was simply a combination of luck and hard work.

But he admitted he was a culinary genius.

Although Dōsan Hanyū had lost more than ninety percent of his memories after arriving in Rukongai following his death, he had inherited outstanding brewing skills and considerable culinary talent.

He had originally been born in Rukongai's danger-filled forty-ninth district. It was thanks to his Chinese cooking that he had managed to settle in the eleventh district and even save up enough for a house.

"So you two just handed the kitchen over to Dōsan?" The corner of Kūkaku's mouth twitched. She slapped the table, a fierce glint in her eyes.

Shiroganehiko still seemed oblivious. Already tall enough to look down on everyone, he tilted his head up and spoke confidently before Kūkaku. "Lord Kaien taught us that no one can refuse a man's request."

With a crash, an uppercut sent Shiroganehiko headfirst into the ceiling. Kūkaku turned an unfriendly gaze on Koganehiko.

"L-Lord Kaien said a man should take responsibility for his own actions..."

Bang.

Another head was buried in the ceiling.

Ganju knelt nearby, head lowered. Suppressed by their bloodline, he didn't dare move a muscle.

Dame.

If anything was scarier than an angry big sister, it was a hungry big sister.

Knowing Kūkaku's temper, even if Dōsan brought the food out now, it would be hard to put out her anger.

As time passed, dinner was already fifteen minutes late. Koganehiko and Shiroganehiko, their faces battered and swollen, now kept their heads down too. Their faces trembled, and neither dared speak.

But inside their hearts, two little figures were kneeling on the ground and weeping bitterly. Dōsan led us astray.

In the suffocating atmosphere, Ganju didn't even dare take a sip of water.

"Dear sister, do you think it's possible Dōsan is trying to poison you?" Ganju ventured. After all, his stupid sister had gone too far just now.

But to his surprise, a red light flashed before Kūkaku's eyes, and she punched him headfirst into the ceiling.

"Didn't big brother Kaien teach you to trust your friends? Can you still call yourself a fine man of the Shiba Clan, acting like that?"

Ganju cried out in pain. I let my guard down!

"Phew." After beating up her little brother, Kūkaku felt a little better and let out a breath.

Poisoning her might be going too far, but the fellow who had left her hungry was even worse than a poisoner. It was simply unforgivable.

Getting angry made a person hungry, and the hungrier they got, the angrier they became. Kūkaku folded her arms and swept the three fellows with a dangerous gaze, itching to smash something.

"Hm?"

Afraid she had imagined it, Kūkaku sniffed again.

What was that smell?

It smelled so good!

The aroma had layers to it. It wasn't just one dish.

What drew her nose most was the faint sweet-and-sour scent filling the air. Already hungry, Kūkaku felt her throat quiver and saliva pool in her mouth. Following it came a rich aroma of meat, without the greasiness she so detested.

In the culinary desert that was Soul Society, hot food was a luxury enjoyed by nobles.

But Kūkaku had never encountered a delicacy that made her mouth water from the smell alone.

"Sorry for the wait, everyone."

Dōsan carefully carried three dishes. Since it was his first time cooking for the Shiba Clan, he had wanted to put his all into expressing his gratitude.

The dishes weren't difficult, but the cookware, which he had no idea how to use or where it might leak, had made things much harder in every sense.

Dōsan had simply cooked the three dishes from the ingredients on hand after observing Kūkaku and Ganju's personalities and little details about them.

With that greeting, Dōsan carefully pushed open the door, carrying the dishes he was so proud of. As soon as he entered the room, the first thing he saw was Ganju's "corpse" swinging back and forth from the ceiling.

But now, apart from Dōsan, no one was paying attention to the "dead man" on the ceiling anymore.

The three dishes were set on the table.

"Sugoi!"

The first was a vivid combination of yellow eggs and red tomatoes. Simple though it was, the dish required an astonishingly ingenious idea.

The second was pork, reddish and glistening, coated in rich oil and dark sauce. When touched with chopsticks, the pork could even be felt quivering, incredibly springy.

The third was sliced duck. Its crisp, golden skin, covered in oil, looked as though it had been deep-fried, but Kūkaku could tell it definitely wasn't made in such a simple, foolproof way.

Ganju pulled himself free and returned to kneel in his place, his face bruised and swollen, his eyes fixed on the three dishes.

He was being so rude and disappointing, but Kūkaku couldn't be bothered to scold him.

Kūkaku had lived in the Seireitei's noble district as a child, where some of Soul Society's finest chefs could be found, but she had never seen food in this style.

The aroma of the food spread through the air, and simply breathing it in was enough to intoxicate them.

All her earlier anger had vanished. Following her preference, she first picked up a small piece of egg and held it before her, examining it closely with her large, almond-shaped eyes. Then she brought it close to her nose and sniffed.

Just fucking eat it already!

Kūkaku, the emperor, wasn't anxious, but Ganju was.

Damn the Shiba Clan's rules, damn noble etiquette. Ganju had to wait until Kūkaku had tasted every dish before he could pick up his chopsticks.

Seeing that Kūkaku still wasn't moving, Ganju was so anxious his eyes were almost spitting fire. Sister, honestly, you'll never get to eat four dishes in this lifetime.

Kūkaku still took her time, holding a small piece of egg before her and examining it closely. Even without tasting it, the dish's color, aroma, and even its style seemed designed just for her.

A dish she had never heard of before suited her one hundred percent.

How could there be such a coincidence?

Could it be...

If that were true, then simply eating it would be an insult to Dōsan.

Her big brother Kaien had once said, "Whether or not you are enemies, never insult a man."

Just as Kūkaku was about to put the food in her mouth, Ganju's eyes went wide. It was as though he were the one holding the egg, and as he imagined it, drool streamed from his mouth.

Then, under Ganju's astonished gaze, Kūkaku ultimately didn't take the bite. She actually pulled her chopsticks back and set it on her plate.

Kūkaku slapped the table and leaned toward Dōsan.

"Dōsan, kid, is this how you feel?"

Ganju: (?_?)