"Speaking of which, tomorrow is the final for Group One. Toushirou, Momo, are you two ready?" Arata's gaze swept over the two suddenly nervous faces.
"I-I'll do my best!" Hinamori Momo suddenly jumped up, and the spilled milkshake left a pink stain on the tablecloth.
"Even if my opponent is Toushirou!"
Toushirou's fingers, which were holding the glass, suddenly tightened.
He looked at the childhood friend beside him and saw that the fighting spirit in her eyes was hotter than the fire under the hot pot.
"M-Momo, you…"
"What? Think I'll go easy on you?" Hinamori Momo suddenly leaned in so close that her nose nearly touched Toushirou's forehead. "Hehe… Don't forget who got a perfect score on the Kidō test last semester!"
"Nonsense, you can't compare the difficulty of first-year and second-year tests!" Hitsugaya blushed as he retorted, but it was clear he was losing the war of words.
Kusaka suddenly choked on the spicy soup and coughed while slapping Renji on the back.
Renji was the type who never backed away from a fuss; he pointed his chopsticks at the two and shouted, "Hey, hey! What's with this childish crush drama? Toushirou, you're blushing!"
"Senpai Abarai, what nonsense are you spouting?!" Toushirou's chopsticks clattered against the bowl's edge, and the tips of his ears poking out from his white hair turned even redder.
"Hahahaha…"
Arata watched the kids joke and laugh, then tapped his fingers on the round table so the dishes would keep rotating.
"Although the battles for the other three groups haven't even started, you all need to push harder." His gaze swept past Rukia, who was secretly drinking Rangiku's plum wine.
"That includes those of you pretending to behave, if you lose to the upperclassmen tomorrow, I'll ask Rangiku to double your training."
"Huh?!" Six cries echoed at once, even Kira, who had been studying types of peppers, froze.
Rangiku suddenly wrapped her arms around Arata's neck, her breath smelling of plum wine tickling his ear. "So strict… Saitō-sensei~" She deliberately used the classroom honorific to tease him, poking his tense jaw with her fingertips.
"But… hic! I like that~"
"Rangiku-sensei is drunk again…" Hinamori Momo panicked, trying to support the staggering Rangiku, but she was grabbed and had her cheek rubbed. "Little Momo is so soft~ Much nicer than Arata's hard boy~"
"Aaah! Teacher, stop pinching my cheek!"
Arata held his forehead and sighed. This woman acts normal in everyday life, but as soon as she drinks a little, she turns into a completely different person.
He pulled Rangiku back by the collar of her haori and said to the six kids, "It's late. I'll walk you back to the dorm."
At dusk, Junrinan Street was unusually quiet, the shadows of people stretched long under the streetlights.
Toushirou and Hinamori Momo walked in front, the girl demonstrating the Kidō gestures she would use tomorrow.
Kira and Renji leaned on each other, discussing tactics and occasionally bursting into laughter, while Kusaka and Rukia brought up the rear, quietly reviewing notes they had taken in class.
"It's nice to be young…" Rangiku mumbled slurrily, lying on Arata's back, her golden hair tickling his neck. "Arata was such a cute kid when he was little…"
"What do you mean 'when I was little'? I only graduated a year ago." Arata tightened his grip slightly to better support her thigh, feeling the soft touch behind him.
Besides, the word 'cute' doesn't suit a guy like him at all!
After escorting the kids to the gate of the Shinō Spiritual Arts Academy, Toushirou suddenly turned around.
"Saitō-sensei!" The white-haired boy stood tall in the setting sun, his emerald eyes sparkling. "We'll definitely take first place in all four groups. Just watch us!"
"That's right, I, Abarai Renji, leader of Rukongai, will definitely break into the official group to challenge you, senpai!" Renji gave a thumbs-up, his nose proudly tilted upward, looking especially smug.
"Then it's settled. I'll be waiting for you in the official group." He smiled and waved, then headed back toward Seireitei with Rangiku on his back.
"See you tomorrow."
…
The streets of Seireitei felt unusually quiet that night, as Arata carried a tipsy Rangiku across the last patrolled street.
The woman on his back shifted restlessly, her plum wine-scented breath constantly brushing against his ear.
"Arata… I can still drink…" Rangiku mumbled incoherently, her fingers unconsciously curling around his collar, "just one more glass…"
"Enough." Arata helplessly adjusted his hold so that her chin could rest comfortably on his shoulder.
Moonlight cast a silver edge over their silhouettes, and the sensor lights in the courtyard lit up one by one with the rhythm of his steps.
When he pushed open the wooden lattice door at the entrance, Rangiku suddenly slipped off his back and twirled barefoot across the tatami.
Her wide shihakushō slipped halfway down, revealing her round shoulders.
"Bath! I want a bath!" She stumbled seductively toward the bathroom and nearly tripped over the low table.
Arata quickly caught her around the waist. "Slow down, drink the hangover tea first…"
However, his words trailed off because he saw that the jar of hangover tea on the medicine shelf was empty, with only a few dried bits stuck to the bottom.
Arata suddenly remembered that he had used up the entire supply during drunken nights with Rangiku over the holidays.
"Tsk." He rubbed his temples and looked at Rangiku, who was now wrapped in a towel and struggling to reach the bathroom. The ends of her golden hair left wet streaks across the tatami.
He sighed and used Bakudō #4: Hainawa.
Golden ropes of spiritual pressure secured the woman to the couch, and a cup of honey water was pressed into her hands. The scene looked like some kind of rope-play scenario.
"Sit here nicely and wait. I'm going to the Fourth Division to get medicine."
"Nee…" Rangiku tugged pitifully at the golden rope, her towel slipping another finger's width as she squirmed.
Arata forced himself to look away and, in the next moment, vanished into the darkness of the courtyard.
The lights at the Fourth Division barracks looked especially warm that night. As soon as he stepped into the courtyard, Arata ran into Iemura Yasochika holding a box of medical records.
"Ah, the kid from the Saitō family?" Iemura Yasochika raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What brings you to the Fourth Division this late…"
"Hangover tea." Arata briefly explained. "We're out at home."
Iemura showed a look of understanding. "Captain Unohana went to a meeting with the captain-commander, and before leaving, she gave the storeroom key to Isane-chan."
He pointed to the end of the corridor. "But she just said she was going to take a bath…"
Arata nodded and thanked him, then quickly made his way to the vice-captain's office.
Just as Iemura said, the office was empty; an herbal ingredient list was spread across the table, and next to it sat a half-drunk cup of still-warm floral infusion.
Just as he hesitated about calling out, a soft sound of water came from the adjacent lounge.
It was the distinctive sound of flowing water, not the usual splashing of bathing, but a delicate trickle like a stream running over stones.
Arata realized what it was and felt his heart beat a little faster.
The vice-captain's lounge of the Fourth Division was connected to her office. Rangiku had once said that Isane had recently gotten into the habit of taking medicinal baths…
"Sorry to intrude." He cleared his throat softly and was just about to turn and leave the office when the bathroom door beside him suddenly opened a crack.
Through the misty cloud of warm steam, Kotetsu Isane's voice sounded unusually flustered: "Arata-kun, is that you? P-please, wait just a moment!"
The sound of fabric hastily being pulled on could be heard through the door. Arata turned his back to the bathroom, his gaze falling on the bookshelf against the office wall.
After a while, the water inside quieted, but the subtle scent of nard and chuanxiong still lingered in the air.
"Sorry, sorry for keeping Arata-kun waiting so long…" Isane's voice suddenly came from right behind him, and when he turned around, he almost bumped her nose.
Isane's short hair was now damp, her cheeks flushed from the heat.
The collar of the hastily donned shihakushō was still dripping, and a few stray bits of herbal residue clung to her collarbone.