I, Rangiku Matsumoto, Will Absolutely Not Drink Today

Kūkaku had always favored sweets and ate little salt or meat. Though she no longer lived in Seireitei's noble district, she still had strict demands and standards when it came to food.

But now, as long as Dōsan made it, she would smack her lips over it, even if it was pig feed, let alone sweets.

Kūkaku recognized the large copper pot before her.

A few days ago, Dōsan, Koganehiko, and Shiroganehiko had spent half a day making the strange thing.

At first, Kūkaku had thought it was a smokestack and that Dōsan had finally come to understand her art.

Beside Kūkaku, Ganju sat on his knees, though his posture was nowhere near as proper as it once had been. His eyes were weak and listless, and one hand pressed stiffly against his lower back, over his kidney. Like a gravely ill patient whose kidney had been cut out, he let out a low, feeble "Mm" every now and then.

Only when the spicy aroma wafted into his nose did a little life return to Ganju's eyes.

But when he saw Dōsan Hanyū behind the copper pot, Ganju pressed harder against his kidney, fire blazing in his eyes as his body twitched wildly as if he were having a seizure.

Of course, Dōsan noticed Ganju's odd behavior from behind the pot. Though perhaps it could no longer be called odd; he had grown used to it over the past few days.

For the past two days, Mr. Ganju had been training with him.

At first, it had actually been fine, but Mr. Ganju couldn't hold out for even three days.

Ganju knelt there, speechless and choked up as he recalled the hellish torment of the past few days.

That high-intensity training, the mad suppression of his Spiritual Pressure every second of every minute, was like trying to wring water from clothes hung out in the desert.

Every day, he trained from six in the morning until midnight, with only mealtimes counting as breaks. A burly man like him had now been whittled down to a stick. He ate plenty every day, but his cheeks had still sunk in from hunger.

Especially these past two days, he had felt so hollow that he couldn't even sense his kidneys.

Most importantly, compared with Dōsan's rapid progress, his own was like the distance a snail crawled.

Hard work pays off, my ass.

Hardworking genius, my ass.

Dōsan set down the copper pot and let out a light breath, his face appearing before Ganju.

Turning his head, Dōsan saw Mr. Ganju excitedly let out a long "Mm" at him, his eyes seemingly blazing with fire.

Is that the fire of fighting spirit?

Dōsan's eyes brightened slightly.

It seemed Mr. Ganju must have thought the training wasn't intense enough.

Dōsan silently resolved to train with Mr. Ganju that night until they were completely exhausted.

"Little Dōsan, delicious! What's this dish called?"

Hm?

That wasn't Kūkaku's voice.

Before Dōsan had even put down the copper pot, a slender, jade-white finger had already dipped into the boiling hot oil. When he moved the pot aside and looked over, he saw a voluptuous older woman licking her finger.

"Rangiku... sis, is that you?"

"Long time no see, Dōsan-chan." Rangiku licked her finger with her little tongue, instantly won over by the marvelous flavor, and waved a hand casually. "I really liked your plum wine. Arigatō."

Though she was thanking him, Rangiku's eyes had already drifted back to the copper pot.

Casual as she sounded, her gratitude was sincere.

After picking Dōsan up and returning to the Tenth Division, Captain Isshin had made a point of conveying Dōsan's gratitude to Rangiku on his behalf.

Rangiku hadn't expected that her simple, offhand gesture would lead to Captain Isshin wanting Dōsan to represent the Tenth Division in battle this time.

She had coaxed and pestered her way into delivering the message so she could return the favor in person.

But Rangiku had never imagined their reunion would turn out like this.

It smelled so good. The flavor of the broth alone made saliva well up in her throat with a "glug, glug."

The rich, oily smell of the broth, which should have repulsed her, had her completely captivated.

"Daijōbu." Dōsan paid Rangiku's attitude no mind and knelt in his own place.

"Today's dish is called hot pot. You cook the ingredients in the broth, then dip them in the prepared sauce." Dōsan carefully set out a small dish of the prepared dipping sauce for each person.

"Got it. Hurry up, hurry up."

Once everyone was seated, they followed Dōsan's demonstration and chose the ingredients they liked.

Kūkaku was well-traveled and knowledgeable.

But this was Rangiku's first time. Her golden eyes blinked as she picked up a slice of meat, looking at it and smelling it without eating, just as Kūkaku had done the first time she tasted Dōsan's cooking.

Tentatively following Dōsan's instructions, Rangiku lightly dabbed it into the thick dipping sauce. "Phew, delicious!"

The child had been exposed to so little, and Rangiku had been hit with Dōsan's trump card the moment she sat down.

Kūkaku had no time for small talk. She knew how this worked.

Souls in the Soul Society could starve to death, but she had never heard of one eating itself to death.

Their appetites were limitless, but the food was not.

Lately, Dōsan's training had left Ganju with no appetite, and Kūkaku had gone undefeated for a while. With no competition at the table, even Dōsan's delicious food hadn't tasted quite as good.

Now that Rangiku was here, the two of them ate like pigs at a trough, evenly matched opponents at last.

Rangiku was still wondering what had gotten into her good friend today.

Are you trying to compete with me over how I eat?

Woman, you've successfully ignited my fighting spirit.

When it comes to digging in, I, Rangiku Matsumoto, have never feared anyone!

"Subarashii! Little Dōsan."

Rangiku's mouth was so full she couldn't fit another bite, and as she spoke, broth kept spraying from it.

"Hey, Rangiku, you're embarrassing yourself!"

Ganju glanced sidelong at Kūkaku, who looked as though she were saying, "I've seen the world," and thought that someone's plates came away cleaner after she used them than after they were washed.

Seeing Ganju clutching his kidney with no appetite, Dōsan was somewhat worried. "Ganju-san, eat more black foods to build up your strength. We'll train extra tonight."

Dōsan looked again and saw that Mr. Ganju's eyes were bloodshot and he kept saying "Mm." It seemed Mr. Ganju was full of energy today too.

He would have to give it his all today.

"Lady Kūkaku, would you like some sake?"

Halfway through the meal, Koganehiko bowed his head and respectfully asked beside Rangiku's ear, being quite familiar with the habits of this guest who always ate for free.

Rangiku's throat worked furiously, and she slapped a hand down hard on the sake jug. "Dame, dame! I have something important to tell little Dōsan. I promised the captain I absolutely wouldn't drink."

"That's a shame." Koganehiko stepped back, looking decisive and not at all as though he felt it was a shame. He pulled hard on the jug, but it didn't budge.

A slender hand had the jug pinned down firmly. Koganehiko looked, and who else could it be but Rangiku?

Looking at Rangiku's innocent, pale-silver eyes, the big, burly Koganehiko showed no mercy and yanked hard, his mustache twitching, but he still couldn't pull it free.

"Dame yo, Koganehiko-chan, I absolutely mustn't drink today!"