"You two understand what you did wrong now, don't you?"
Kazuma's expression turned stern.
His voice was quiet, but every word landed with crushing weight.
"W-We shouldn't have laughed at sensei!"
"And we failed to show proper respect!"
Rukia and Ichigo answered at top speed, neither daring to meet his eyes.
They sounded terrified that the slightest delay would earn them another serving of bamboo.
Kazuma nodded in approval.
'Spare the rod and spoil the child. That old wisdom really does hold up everywhere.'
Brats who didn't know their limits needed to suffer a little before they learned.
A pleased smile briefly touched his lips before he quickly restored his stern expression.
"Hoshi no Kago!"
At Kazuma's command, starlight surged from his Zanpakutō and wrapped the injured pair in a warm glow.
The angry red welts covering their bodies began fading before their eyes, almost as though time itself were running backward.
Within moments every injury had healed without a trace. Even the torn sections of their shihakushō repaired themselves completely.
Their physical wounds were gone.
The memory of being suspended from the ceiling and beaten for five combined minutes, however, stayed carved into their souls.
The pain, humiliation, and helplessness had become memories neither of them would forget anytime soon.
If they walked outside now and claimed Kazuma had just beaten them senseless, no one would believe them except the people involved and those who'd witnessed the whole thing.
Besides, who would dare spread the story and risk offending Kazuma?
Only someone who'd grown tired of living comfortably and desperately wanted to try the bamboo switch themselves.
"You two will write letters of repentance, immediately!"
Kazuma slapped his forehead, having nearly forgotten this important final step.
"At least ten thousand words each. If you don't finish, you don't eat."
Ichigo and Rukia stared at each other in horror.
They'd foolishly believed the ordeal was finally over. Neither had expected another devastating punishment waiting for them.
Rukia was especially terrified.
Writing was already a nightmare for her, and now she had to produce ten thousand words.
This was going to kill her.
"What?!"
"What do you mean, 'what'?"
Kazuma impatiently waved them off.
"Was I not clear enough? Get out of here and start writing!"
...
Night settled over the Seventh Division, but the grounds stayed bright with warmth and laughter.
A massive bonfire blazed in the courtyard, its dancing flames lighting every corner and driving back the dark.
Wearing a broad smile, Kazuma led the entire division in starting the grand celebration they'd prepared for his return.
The squad members gathered around the fire with cups raised high, drinking, laughing, and trading stories.
Their cheerful voices rose and fell through the night, blending into a lively chorus.
Amid all that celebration, though, two people looked completely out of place.
While Orihime and the others smiled and enjoyed themselves, Rukia and Ichigo sat nearby with miserable expressions, dark clouds practically hanging over their heads.
Today should have been a wonderful day.
For the two of them, it had become a nightmare they'd remember for the rest of their lives.
They'd not only been strung up and beaten with bamboo switches, but ordered to write ten-thousand-word letters of repentance.
That word count loomed over them like an enormous mountain, leaving them unable to enjoy any part of the celebration.
While everyone else buried themselves in food, drink, and laughter, Rukia and Ichigo could only sit off to the side with brushes in hand, desperately filling page after page.
Every smiling face around them felt painfully bright.
The two unfortunate students racked their brains for anything they could possibly write, laboriously piecing together one sentence after another.
Their fingers began aching from gripping their brushes so long, and fine beads of sweat gathered across their foreheads.
After what felt like an eternity of suffering, they finally finished the full ten thousand words.
Staring at the thick stacks of paper in front of them, both let out long breaths of relief and nearly collapsed from exhaustion.
Somehow, they'd survived.
...
"Rukia, why does this meat not taste good at all?"
Ichigo stared gloomily at the grilled skewer in his hand.
It was sizzling with oil and smelled delicious, yet he had no desire to eat it.
"I feel the same way. It doesn't taste like anything."
Rukia nodded weakly.
She took a token bite from her own skewer, then lost all interest in continuing.
The pair chewed silently, as though the tender grilled meat had turned into tasteless wood.
"Huh? How is that possible? It smells great!"
Orihime's clear voice suddenly came from beside them.
No one had noticed her approaching.
She looked curiously at their miserable faces, picked up a skewer from the tray, and took several large bites.
"It's really delicious!"
"The flavor is quite good," Chad agreed.
He picked up some grilled meat of his own and ate with obvious enjoyment.
Ichigo and Rukia exchanged confused looks.
Had something actually gone wrong with their sense of taste?
"The meat isn't the problem. They're miserable, and that's affecting how it tastes."
Ishida Uryū walked over and adjusted his glasses.
"When a person is depressed or anxious, the brain releases certain chemicals that can affect how flavor is perceived…"
The top student immediately launched into a serious explanation of the science for Orihime and Chad.
Listening to him lecture so earnestly, Orihime couldn't help laughing, and even Chad showed the faintest hint of amusement.
Uryū, meanwhile, silently congratulated himself.
Fortunately, he hadn't offended Kazuma the way Ichigo and Rukia had.
Otherwise, the suffering duo might have become a suffering trio.
...
The party hadn't been underway long when two figures appeared in the Seventh Division courtyard almost like ghosts.
"Kazuma, holding such a lively bonfire party without inviting the rest of us is rather inconsiderate, don't you think?"
A pleasant voice carried across the courtyard.
Everyone turned to see Fourth Division Captain Unohana Retsu approaching with a gentle smile, Lieutenant Kotetsu Isane close beside her.
More figures arrived right after.
Before long, captains from the other divisions began pouring into the courtyard with their lieutenants in tow.
"Hahahaha! Brat, how could you possibly hold such a lively celebration without this old man?"
His voice arrived before he did.
Captain-Commander Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni strode into view, his booming tone carrying across the whole compound.
"Captains, this bonfire party was only meant to be a small welcome-home celebration my squad members put together," Kazuma explained quickly.
His eyes shifted as he improvised something that sounded reasonable.
"Inviting all of you without proper preparation might have seemed disrespectful."
"Do you truly think we're that rigid?"
Yamamoto laughed without the slightest concern and warmly waved the captains to their seats.
"Tonight, you brats will have the honor of witnessing this old man's masterful cooking!"
With that, Yamamoto removed the haori marking his position and casually set it aside.
Then he gripped his hilt and drew Ryūjin Jakka in one swift motion.
Cold light flashed across the blade, and the surrounding air trembled under the weight of his reiatsu.
The gathered Shinigami stared in awe.
Kazuma merely let out a long, helpless sigh and covered his face with one hand.
He already had a terrible idea of what was coming.
Sure enough, Yamamoto grabbed an assortment of ingredients from the nearby trays and hurled them into the air.
Vegetables, meat, and other brightly colored pieces spun overhead like a swarm of dancing butterflies.
Yamamoto moved.
His figure blurred through a stylish turn, and his Zanpakutō flashed across the night with astonishing precision.
In an instant, every airborne ingredient had been speared and neatly threaded along the blade.
"Ryūjin Jakka!"
At the release of his Zanpakutō, roaring flames erupted across the once-gleaming edge.
The fire licked over the skewered ingredients, filling the courtyard with crackling sounds, rolling waves of heat, and an irresistible smell.
Thus began the most unusual barbecue imaginable.
"Wonderful!"
"The Captain-Commander is invincible!"
"His cooking skills are unmatched!"
The younger captains, who had never seen anything like it, stared blankly for a moment before breaking into applause and shouted praise.
No one would be sleeping early tonight.
That ridiculous little performance pushed the party to its peak.
The road ahead remained long and uncertain, but for now, everyone raised their cups, laughed together, and enjoyed this rare moment of peace.