A week has passed since I confessed my true feelings to Unohana.
I thought that after declaring one's love, the sky would look more beautiful and the world would change dramatically... but surprisingly, that wasn't exactly the case.
It's not like I had been hiding it entirely and then suddenly dropped a love bomb. We both already had feelings for each other, and I simply revealed them a bit late.
Above all, Unohana had always expressed her affection to a somewhat overwhelming degree, so not much had changed on her end.
Of course, when I say "overwhelming," I mean the sense of debt I felt from receiving meals, cleaning, tea, laundry, and everything else without any way to give back—not that I actually found Unohana herself burdensome.
If that were the case, I wouldn't have been the one to confess first.
Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that while our relationship shifted from master and disciple to lovers, neither Unohana nor the world changed all that much.
If anything changed, it wasn't them—it was me.
For starters, I liquidated my lifestyle of just being on the receiving end of everything; Unohana and I began working together.
"I could have done that.... Besides, how could I let a man into the kitchen..."
Of course, Unohana grumbled a subtle protest because a wild Nether King had suddenly appeared and snatched away her chores.
Well, her grumbling was quite adorable, so I just brushed it off with a smirk.
By the way, saying a man shouldn't be in the kitchen... what kind of pre-modern thinking is that...?
Oh, wait. We are in a pre-modern era.
"When we were master and disciple, I accepted it because of the hierarchy, but that's over now. Besides, I like cooking. More than that, I love seeing the person I care about enjoy the food I made. I just didn't have the chance until now. So, let me do this."
"Ah.... Mmh.... Yes...."
Here's one of Unohana's cute traits.
While she's incredibly proactive when launching an affectionate offensive, she's completely defenseless when she's the one on the receiving end.
She tried to turn her head away as if she didn't care, but catching a glimpse of the tips of her ears turning beet red was just too endearing.
Compared to me, who has only aged uselessly and is clumsy at expressing emotions, she's nothing short of an angel.
Granted, she's an angel who smells quite strongly of blood, but life is still long.
What is wrong can be set right. Even if it can't be fully rectified, a life lived in the effort to do so is a brilliant one.
This is also why I don't punish Unohana.
Because she is still alive. Because there are still plenty of chances to fix her mistakes.
'Of course, that doesn't mean I'll tell her exactly how to live.'
There's a reason I don't go out of my way to order Unohana around.
It would be a violation of fairness.
I am the one holding the title of Nether King, at least nominally.
I love her, but that isn't a reason to show her favoritism in that regard.
In fact, because I love her, I must be all the more impartial.
So that when she eventually faces death, she can proudly say she lived her own life—that she lived by her own will, not by someone else's.
"Um.... Dear, I think the food is going to burn."
Ah, right. There was one other thing that changed about Unohana.
When we're in the kitchen or the dojo—specifically when we're alone—Unohana has started calling me 'Dear' (Anata) instead of 'Master'.
...Wait, that's strange. Aren't dojos usually crowded with people...?
Well, whatever. More than half the reason I opened the dojo has already been achieved anyway.
"Dear?"
"Ah, sorry. I was just thinking for a second."
I quickly flipped the pan-fried zucchini, but they were already spotted with black charred marks.
It wasn't to the point of being burnt to a crisp, but it definitely didn't look as appetizing as the ones Unohana used to fry.
"Tch.... What a waste. I'll have to eat these ones myself."
As I said that and continued flipping the rest, Unohana wiped her hands on her apron, walked over, and took my hand.
Maybe it was because winter was approaching, but her hands felt quite cold.
"You shouldn't zone out while cooking, even if you usually do. Especially not in front of the fire. It's dangerous."
I can eat magma and lava and stay perfectly fine, so a little kitchen fire is hardly...
Normally, I would have said that with a shrug, but I quietly nodded my head instead.
She was speaking out of concern for me; there was no need to say something unnecessary.
"Thanks for the concern. I'll be more careful from now on."
"Huhu...."
Lately, it's always been this kind of atmosphere. Of course, it's probably because we're only a week into the fresh, honeymoon phase of our relationship.
After ten years, we'll probably fight a lot. After a hundred years, we might barely have any necessary conversations at all.
It's not that the relationship will end or we'll drift apart.
It's just that after fighting and fighting until you're sick of it, you find a middle ground and learn not to touch each other's taboos.
You're asking why I'm being so calculating for my first relationship?
Well, romance might be a first for me, but it's not like I haven't dealt with people before.
Moving past romance, any relationship between people is a continuous cycle of struggle and learning.
Arguments, fights, or the process of adjusting to each other through dialogue—it's a process of learning so that you can become better versions of yourselves for each other.
That's how most human relationships I've observed turned out.
"...."
Maybe these aren't the kind of thoughts one should have while flipping zucchini pancakes.
Thinking that, I finished the rest of the cooking and returned to the dojo hall.
I didn't have a separate living quarters, so we ate in the dojo and slept in the dojo.
Some might ask what if someone sees us, but since no students were coming anyway, who cares? As long as I'm comfortable, that's all that matters.
"Hm?"
...Is what I was thinking just a moment ago.
As if mocking my thoughts, while I was plating the zucchini pancakes, I felt someone approaching the dojo.
Judging by the stride, they weren't very tall... about 148 centimeters...?
No, it felt like they were intentionally taking oversized steps. Maybe they were more like 144.
They seemed light, too. About 44 kilograms. Based on the Spiritual Power I felt, it was a female.
However, for some reason...
'She feels exactly like Unohana did before her edges were softened.'
I wanted to think it was just my imagination, but considering she was blatantly emitting Spiritual Pressure to provoke me to come out...
"Sigh."
From the looks of it, it's some brat who's tasted a bit of blood with the blade. I'll have to beat some sense into her to fix that attitude.
I scratched my head and stepped out of the kitchen, only to see Unohana glaring toward the entrance with a murderous look that suggested she was ready to bury someone.
"I was hoping to have a nice breakfast before starting the day, so why does it have to begin like this?"
"I was wondering the same thing."
"Relax your face. Looking at you, someone would think there's a funeral about to happen today."
"It's bad enough they're intruding with muddy feet first thing in the morning, but when they come openly radiating bloodlust like this, how could I possibly relax?"
"Learn from this. Never forget how this feels."
When I said that, Unohana flinched, bit her lip slightly, and nodded.
She really is quick-witted. I chuckled and patted the head of the now-bowed Unohana before stepping past her.
"I've finished frying the zucchini in the kitchen. Could you please bring it out? I'm counting on you."
"...Yes."
"Thanks, Yachiru."
"Ah.... Yes...."
I watched with a smile as Unohana retreated to the kitchen with ears turning crimson, then I wiped the grin off my face as I felt a presence reveal itself behind me.
"So, shall I take a look at the face of this rude little brat who came looking for a bloodbath at the crack of dawn?"
The moment I turned around, a blade lunged straight for my face.
Of course, I had sensed it coming, so I simply caught the blade between two fingers, halting its momentum.
'What is with this weight?'
Feeling an unnerving weight pulling toward me, I looked up and met the eye of a brat with purple pigtails who was practically perched on the sword.
Why only one eye? Because for some reason—whether from an injury or something else—this kid was wearing an eyepatch.
Just as her brief hang-time was ending, the brat immediately swung a leg toward my face.
This kid... she's so light she can pull off these ridiculous stances with zero effort.
Since I was about to eat breakfast, I didn't want to block muddy feet with my hands, so I flicked my wrist like I was throwing a dart, tossing both the sword and the brat away.
Whoosh! Twisting her body mid-air to land, the brat stuck out her tongue with an expression of pure joy.
"Kihit...! What's this, what's this?! I came here because I heard the murderous Yachiru was here, but I found something even more interesting!!"
"Hold your horses. You should greet people properly when you see them."
"Why would I need to greet someone who's about to die anyway!! Gyahahaha!! Forget the greetings, let's just fight!!"
"So you're not a person, you're just a beast. I guess greetings aren't necessary for your kind then."
I insulted her openly, but the mysterious purple-haired girl, whose rationality had already half-evaporated, swung her sword blindly.
No, she wasn't just swinging the sword—she was being swung with the sword.
Doesn't make sense? It didn't make sense to me either.
I thought it was some bizarre sword style, but it wasn't a 'style' at all. It was simply the movements of someone driven only by the desire to kill.
That made it more annoying.
She tried to kick up dirt to blind me, briefly exposed her chest to draw my eyes away, spat in my direction...
"Just look at all this bullshit."
With a deep sigh, I caught the brat from behind and lifted her up into the air.
Dangling like a kitten grabbed by the scruff of its neck, she remained still for a moment before turning back to look at me with a ferocious grin.
"Nothing's working on you. You're fun."
"I'm not having any fun at all, brat. I'm about to have breakfast and you're serving me cold steel instead. I don't know what grudge you have against Unohana, but how about we eat first?"
"Unohana? Who's that?"
"...?"
Is this punk messing with me?
"You just said you came looking for the 'Murderous Yachiru'."
"Wasn't that you? You look like you can hold a blade well enough."
"Why the hell would I be 'Yachiru'?"
"If you're not Yachiru, then who is?"
"You do realize that 'Yachiru' is how you read the name of the 'Eight Thousand Styles' practitioner, right?"
"No idea."
...Is this kid a bit of a dimwit?