There was no time for rest, let alone new training.
When he finally stepped out of the dark secret room, Arata at last saw the sunlight, but his sense of time was completely gone.
He stopped a girl from the Fourth Division who was passing by and asked her, only to learn that two whole weeks had passed.
"I actually survived two weeks… in that woman's hands?"
It was hard to tell whether it had been a dream or reality. He felt as if he were floating, half-conscious.
He passed through the Hakuda Gate and Rukongai, returning to his dormitory in the Shin'ō Spiritual Arts Academy.
The room was empty. His roommate, Shūhei, wasn't there, and judging by the layer of dust on the desk, he hadn't been around for four or five days.
He didn't have the strength to wonder where he'd gone. His body could barely stand, and his consciousness was held together by a thin thread.
He saw his bed, collapsed onto it, and fell into sleep.
When he next opened his eyes, the sun had already set. The moon hung high in the sky, full and shining.
This sleep was the deepest and calmest since he had arrived in this world. From the day of his reincarnation, Arata had lived under constant pressure battles, danger, expectations.
But now, thanks to Unohana Retsu and her brutally precise guidance, his mind was free of all distractions for the first time.
He stood up, stretched, and yawned.
The room was silent. Shūhei was still gone.
Maybe he'd gone off for some advanced training as well?
Sixth-year students no longer had mandatory schedules like the lower grades. Some stayed at the school, wasting time; others sought mentors, either within the Academy or outside it.
And some, especially those from noble families, used their status and wealth to hire private tutors from the higher ranks of Seireitei.
Ordinary students didn't have such privileges. Everything depended on luck, perhaps someone from Gotei 13 would notice them, or perhaps they'd have to rely only on their instincts and improvisation.
I'm not sure where Shūhei is, Arata thought. But considering that he'll become the vice-captain of the Ninth Division in the future, he's probably doing fine.
Growl…
His stomach roared. He hadn't eaten in over twenty-four hours.
Food first. Everything else later.
District One of Rukongai — Junrinan
The streets of Junrinan were lively and colorful. Lanterns glowed, people moved in groups, and the izakayas filled the air with the scent of fried meat, rice, and spices. On both sides of the street stood restaurants, teahouses, and food stalls. Occasionally, an elegantly dressed figure, members of the lower aristocracy, could be seen strolling in the evening.
District 1 was the calmest, wealthiest, and safest part of Rukongai.
Unlike District 80 — Zaraki District, where Captain Kenpachi had grown up, here one could find everything: food, protection, luxury.
Arata pulled out a small, finely embroidered pouch and turned into a quieter street. He entered an izakaya called "Seiran" an elegant and discreet place.
Inside, there weren't many guests. He found a quiet corner and sat down.
Just as he opened the menu, a magnetic, deep female voice spoke from beside him.
"Handsome boy… would you like some wine?"
The smell of alcohol mixed with spiritual energy hit his nose immediately. He knew at once, this woman was a Shinigami.
He looked up and saw wavy orange hair. The most noticeable thing, however, were her remarkably full breasts accentuated under her black shihakushō. A necklace with a large silver ring hung around her neck, just above her cleavage.
When you stare into the abyss, the abyss also stares into you…
Arata quickly looked down and returned his focus to the menu.
"A large portion of curry rice and a glass of cold milk."
"No need for alcohol. I'm still underage."
His tone was calm, as if her presence didn't faze him at all.
Adulthood in the Soul Society was a relative concept.
The life stages of Shinigami couldn't be compared to those of humans. Some looked like children even after a hundred years. Others, by thirty, had already fought in thousands of battles.
According to his family records, Arata had lived around 120 years in this world. And if he used the popular conversion formula from the forums he'd read in his previous life, dividing Shinigami years by ten, Arata was about twelve in human years.
As for why he was tall, dark, and muscular, you'd have to ask his late parents.
Of course, this conversion wasn't accurate, and there was no need to be picky about it.
"Eh, eh, eh?" the mature woman let out a surprised cry. "In my whole life, I've never heard of a rule that says you have to be an adult to drink sake."
Arata calmly replied, "And I've never heard of a vice-captain of Gotei 13 working as a waitress in an izakaya in Rukongai."
Matsumoto Rangiku reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. She slammed her hand on the table, and her proud, snow-white skin quivered under the force of the movement. For a moment, Arata felt a bit dizzy.
"No, no, no! I'm the owner, not just a waitress!"
Arata raised an eyebrow. "That's even more serious. An active member of Gotei 13 running a commercial business directly violates the regulations of Central 46."
Rangiku froze when she heard that. What was wrong with this dark-skinned boy? Even though she was a bit tipsy, she clearly remembered the strict warning her captain had given her when she decided to open the izakaya: Central 46 would not tolerate Gotei 13 adopting such a 'free-spirited mentality.' If she insisted on opening it, she had to do it secretly and discreetly.
But she hadn't taken his advice seriously. And, of course, today she'd run into someone who knew the rules better than she did.
"Kid, what do you want to order?" she asked in a lower tone, trying to defuse the situation.
"As I said, a large curry rice and a glass of fresh milk." Arata shook his head. "I just came here to have dinner. There's no need for Vice-Captain Matsumoto to be so tense."
Rangiku stared at him in confusion.
She wasn't surprised that he knew her name after all, he was wearing a Shin'ō Academy uniform, and she was quite well-known. The teachers probably talked about her.
Maybe she really was overthinking it.
"Hey, Shōta! One large curry rice and a glass of milk!"
"Got it~"
By Rangiku's personal order, Arata's meal arrived quickly and neatly.
He put his hands together and quietly offered a pre-meal thanks, just as he'd been taught since childhood.
Although the Saitō family had long lost their noble status, the manners and etiquette had been ingrained in him from an early age. They were reflexes, not conscious acts.
He ate at a moderate pace, neither too fast nor too slow. Completely at odds with his dark, strong appearance.
Rangiku didn't have many responsibilities. Although she owned the izakaya, most of the work was handled by her staff. For her, this was more of a refuge than a business, a place to drink, think, and escape daily life.
She sat across from him, watching as the young man finished three full servings of curry rice and drank the entire glass of milk. Throughout the meal, he didn't make a single sound except for the quiet chewing.
By the time he finished, Rangiku was almost completely sober.
"Pretty standard curry. Thanks for the meal," Arata said, handing her the pouch.
Rangiku noticed the embroidery and shape, it wasn't cheap. Her gaze dropped to his nameplate, stitched onto his uniform.
"Saitō-kun… this is too much for dinner."
Arata didn't respond immediately. Instead, he took out a handkerchief and wiped his face. Then he said:
"Consider the difference my apology for offending Vice-Captain Matsumoto."
He walked toward the door. Just as he opened it, he paused for a moment.
"Drinking harms performance. Maybe Vice-Captain Matsumoto should drink a little less in the future."
Rangiku was stunned for a moment, then a faint smile curved her lips.
"Interesting boy… a student from Shin'ō Academy, huh?"
"I haven't been there in a while… Maybe it would be nice to visit the younger generation."
She paused, a bit thoughtful.
"Now that I think about it… Isane did mention some kind of instructor training course…"