Three Days and Three Nights
West District 10, early spring.
The sun had fully set, and the night spread its quiet across the sky. Countless stars clustered around a waning moon, casting pale light over the forest perched on the cliff.
Bai Shi was chopping meat with a kitchen knife. His skills were rough, and he struggled to control his strikes, each blow echoing against the chopping board.
But he didn't care. The cut pieces of meat flew into a large iron pot half-filled with water, hanging above burning branches.
After chopping ten kilograms of meat, he grabbed black pepper, salt, garlic, and a few bay leaves from a pottery jar and tossed them into the pot before covering it. He had learned the steps from watching Nie Yinmeng cook. Simple, but effective.
Wiping sweat from his forehead, Shiraishi called inside, "Kūkaku, is the wine ready with the ghost technique?"
"Yep," Shiba Kūkaku replied, carrying a wooden barrel. Ice cubes clinked against the bottles inside, producing a crisp sound.
Kūkaku had changed into a white sleeveless kimono with blue stripes exposing the sides, a long red skirt, and wooden clogs. Her long black hair was braided neatly. She looked striking, sharp as a blade.
Shiraishi eagerly grabbed a chilled bottle from the barrel. "It's been ages since I drank like this."
"Why not drink yet?" Kūkaku asked, puzzled.
Shiraishi sighed and pulled the cork. "I don't want to ruin my image in Nemu's eyes."
Nemu, sweet and innocent, admired him. Shiraishi worried that showing his more casual, flirtatious side would shatter that image.
Kūkaku, by contrast, was his friend—there were no constraints with her. She could joke, drink, and tease freely.
"Geez, you claim to like me, yet flirt with little sisters at the same time. Truly a scoundrel," Kūkaku said, a hint of mock disgust on her face—but she sat down beside him anyway, wooden barrel in hand.
"I'm merely nurturing every delicate flower in the world, so they may thrive," Shiraishi said with a confident grin.
"Then let's drink to your shamelessness," Kūkaku replied, raising her bottle.
"Cheers." They clinked glasses. The cool wine washed down Shiraishi's throat, easing the summer heat.
He thought wistfully, If only the cicadas were here… perfect summer, a perfect moon, perfect companions… But in the wilderness of Soul Society, even the insects were sparse.
Gulping down the bottle, he smashed it joyfully against the rocks.
"Don't drink too much! The meat isn't ready yet," Kūkaku warned.
"If it runs out, we'll buy more later," he said nonchalantly.
Kūkaku rolled her eyes. "Don't forget—we're wanted criminals here. If the Visuals Department catches us, a captain will immediately come for us."
Shiraishi waved her worry away. He and Zaraki Fuuya were allies, and the Seireitei's surveillance could not touch him now.
"You only obey after getting hit by my fists?" Kūkaku feigned a threat.
"I'm scared," she admitted softly. "That Central Underground Prison… I never want to go back. Locked in darkness, stripped of freedom… even boiling spiritual pressure doesn't compare."
"…I'm sorry," Shiraishi scratched his head.
"You don't need to apologize. Without your rescue, I'd still be trapped, watching the night fade without feeling the wind. I'll never forget that favor."
"Then pledge yourself to me," Shiraishi half-joked.
"That depends on your ability," Kūkaku quipped.
"If that day ever comes, ten days and ten nights is no problem," she added, smiling slyly.
Shiraishi puffed out his chest. A man cannot say no.
"Exciting," Kūkaku said, tilting her neck back and drinking deeply. Shiraishi matched her, downing his bottle.
The flames crackled, the water boiled, and time slipped by in laughter and casual chatter.
When he finally checked the pot, Shiraishi saw the meat floating in the boiling water. He had forgotten the next step from Nie Yinmeng's instructions. "Just try it," he decided.
"It's not cooked yet," Kūkaku noted, inspecting the color.
"Impossible! I followed Yinmeng's method exactly." Shiraishi plucked a piece with chopsticks and tasted it. Surprisingly fresh and vibrant.
Kūkaku laughed. "I told you to buy food from the store, but you insisted on doing it yourself."
"Can't waste ingredients," Shiraishi replied. "Keep cooking. I hope Yinmeng could see this… Wait, am I drunk?" He rubbed his eyes and glanced at her in the moonlight.
"I saw it too," Kūkaku confirmed.
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