The afternoon sun over the Seireitei should have been lazy and warm.
But when the dusty, heavy warehouse door deep within the Second Division barracks creaked open just a crack, an invisible tension instantly filled the air.
Ōmaeda Marechiyo's wide head, crowned with a chonmage topknot, poked out. His small eyes nervously scanned the empty corridor, gold chains jingling as he moved.
He tilted an ear toward the distant barracks. All was silent, save for the faint whistle of wind passing the eaves.
"Quick, quick, Obito," he whispered, voice dry and trembling, "this is our chance. Captain Suì-Fēng must be busy with documents in her office; she won't bother us. Move in!"
A small figure, Obito—Izuna's youngest son—slipped past his uncle's armpit like a loach, a mini replica of the Ōmaeda Family Bloodline. His round face shone with excitement as he scurried into their "fortress" hidden behind stacks of crates, built from discarded files and old canvas.
"Uncle, Uncle!" Obito plopped onto a thick cushion, unable to contain his excitement. "What is it today? Smells so good!"
Marechiyo nervously ducked back, sealing the warehouse door, wiping sweat from his brow, and shuffling into the fortress. The hem of his wide shinigami uniform brushed the floor; the purple collar of his jacket scraped against the crates.
Like a magician, he produced an oiled paper package. As he peeled back the layers, a richer aroma of oil and sweetness instantly filled the air.
"Here," he whispered, pride barely contained, "Old Jing Family's secret recipe fried pancakes, fresh out of the pan. Eat quickly!" He carefully handed a golden, crispy piece to Tobi. "Be careful, it's hot!"
Tobi inhaled the fragrance, eyes sparkling. Just as he was about to bite, CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The warehouse trembled with a dull, urgent bell, piercing the air like a weapon.
The highest-rank emergency assembly order for the Thirteen Court Guard Squads had sounded.
Marechiyo's face went ghostly pale. Fingers holding the package trembled; the golden pancake nearly slipped. His small eyes widened in sheer terror, pupils pinpricks. A chill ran from his feet to the crown of his head, stiffening even his gold chains.
"Th-this is bad… so bad! Emergency assembly? Why now?!"
He fumbled to hide the package, moving like a puppet with strings cut.
"I'm finished… Captain Suì-Fēng is at the assembly point… if she finds me missing…"
Obito, startled, dropped his pancake onto the cushion and stared blankly at his panicking uncle. Then his gaze fell on the nearest pancake—the only survivor not buried in dust.
His small mouth instinctively pouted.
"Obito…" Marechiyo gasped, seeing his nephew's tearful face—a tiny mirror of Hiyo's expression. Panic instantly overrode fear of the Captain.
He lunged forward, stuffing the remaining pancakes into Obito's hands.
"Don't cry! Uncle's here! We'll hide… after the assembly…"
His courage was fragile, like a soap bubble.
BOOM!
The warehouse door slammed open as if struck by a Menos Grande. Dust and wood chips flew in a choking cloud.
A petite figure stood framed by sunlight, haori fluttering violently—an Asura from Hell in human form.
Captain Suì-Fēng.
Her white captain's haori marked supreme authority. Her fair face betrayed no emotion, but her sky-blue eyes burned with incinerating fury.
"Ō…ma…eda!" The syllables thundered from clenched teeth.
The icy rage made it almost impossible to breathe.
"You—are—in—here?!"
Marechiyo's body quaked as if every bone were breaking. He scrambled upright, knocking over an empty crate. Legs soft as noodles, he leaned on the crates to stay upright. Gold chains jingled wildly.
"C-Captain! W-weren't you… approving documents? How… how… so fast?"
"Documents?" Suì-Fēng stepped forward, crushing hope underfoot. Her voice, icy and mocking:
"Is your brain filled with fried pancake crumbs, lieutenant? The Observation Squad reports an emergency! Ryoka have invaded the Seireitei!"
Her piercing gaze swept over Marechiyo, finally landing on the oiled paper package and the terrified Obito.
"I… I… I…"
Marechiyo's tongue tied; his legs gave out. Knees hit the floor with a thud, the package slipping, pancakes spilling and mixing with dust.
"C-Captain! Have mercy!" he wailed, forehead pressed to the cold floor, backside comically sticking up.
Gold bracelets clanged with each tremor. Tears, snot, and sweat smeared his face.
Meanwhile, Obito, huddled under his uncle, recovered enough to notice the nearest pancake—untouched and smelling heavenly.
Ignoring Suì-Fēng's fury still fixed on Marechiyo, the boy slunk forward with incredible stealth, his chubby hand snatching the pancake.
Bigger than his fist, he shoved it into his mouth, cheeks puffed like a tiny, gluttonous hamster in a granary. He froze, trying to mimic terror, but the gleam of victory shone through his wide eyes.
Suì-Fēng, unamused by the child, simply grabbed Marechiyo by the collar and dragged him away like a dead dog.