Chapter 15: Visitor
Time slipped into June, and night deepened gradually.
The first floor of Terada-ya had been cleaned and closed for the evening. Suoh Tsukasa returned to his small attic room.
Pushing open the single narrow window, the voices from below had already faded away. Rukongai's streets lay quiet, with only the intermittent chirping of insects drifting from nearby.
Cool night air rushed in, brushing across his bare upper body and dispersing some of the lingering summer heat trapped in the room during the day.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Suoh didn't immediately begin his nightly training. Instead, he pulled over the small table laden with food that had been waiting beside him.
A large pot of steaming white rice, glistening and translucent. A plate of ginger-braised pork, rich with sauce and overflowing with meat juices. A dish of crystal-clear stir-fried shrimp. Accompanied by a plate of tender, plump tamagoyaki and vibrant green stir-fried seasonal vegetables.
Simple dishes, but the portions were substantial. The aroma of the food radiated a humble warmth.
This was his fifth meal of the day—enough to fill three grown men.
"Thanks for the meal."
After filling his bowl with rice, he picked up his bamboo chopsticks and placed a mouthful of warm grains in his mouth.
Then he grabbed a slice of meat thoroughly soaked in sauce. After chewing briefly, the perfectly balanced sweet-salty flavor bloomed across his palate, the substantial meat melding perfectly with the fragrant rice.
He ate quickly but without rushing, taking each bite seriously.
"Burp—ah, I'm full."
With a small satisfied burp, he'd cleaned every bit of food before him.
This wasn't merely about enjoyment. It was part of his training.
If someone asked whether eating so much ordinary food in the Shinigami world actually helped, Suoh would answer without hesitation: Yes, it does!
After these past few days of training, Suoh had come to understand clearly—food was his shortcut to rapid self-improvement.
Delicious food didn't appear from nowhere. It represented the connection between all things, and human society.
Air, water, soil, plants, and living beings—everything in the Shinigami world was composed of spirit particles.
Spirit particles existed everywhere, only most people in this world remained obliviously unaware.
The spiritual pressure within a soul's body didn't increase from nothing. The spirit particles needed to enhance spiritual pressure had to be obtained from elsewhere.
Kirio Hikifune of Squad Zero was his greatest inspiration. Her overly plump figure was the physical manifestation of massive spiritual pressure.
Her ultimate theory of 'Artificial Souls' involved taking spiritual pressure unrelated to oneself and placing it into one's body to increase one's own spiritual pressure.
Though he didn't currently understand the specific techniques behind her masterwork "Temporary Soul," he could still imitate the most basic method—eating.
Gently pushing the cleaned table aside, Suoh sat cross-legged upright on his bed.
What came next was tonight's true training.
Spiritual power covered Suoh's right palm at a speed nearly invisible to the naked eye, coating it with a layer of flowing dim light.
He raised his index finger and stared at the tip. Surging spirit particles rapidly gathered and compressed at his fingertip.
Finally, they condensed into a structurally complete, clearly-edged number '1' floating in the air.
As Suoh's thoughts shifted slightly, the number gradually changed, from 1 to 2, equally complete and clear.
Under his control, the numbers appeared in sequence, like a young child typing digits on a keyboard. From 1 to 0, from 0 to 1, cycling endlessly.
Each complete transition between numbers took roughly two seconds. Plenty of room for improvement still.
"Haha."
He continued practicing until his head felt somewhat dizzy before stopping. Suoh lay back on his bed to rest, a soft laugh escaping his throat.
This training only exercised fine control over spirit particles.
After his own modifications and adjustments, the consumption of his spiritual power had become negligible. What it really consumed was mental energy and stamina.
During the long training process, he could clearly feel the consumption of food within his body and the slow but definite growth of his spiritual pressure at a pace he could consciously perceive, though it remained weak.
Sensing the changes in his body's total spiritual pressure, a bright light flashed through Suoh's eyes.
Such clear improvement was enough to make him feel excited and delighted.
The total amount of spiritual pressure could be built up through resources.
The Shinoreijutsuin had no entrance requirements. His originally somewhat anxious mindset had settled down considerably.
What he needed to do now was steadily improve his fundamentals. Time wasn't something he lacked at the moment.
Over the following dozen or so days, Suoh's life simplified into an unchanging, fixed rhythm.
Before dawn broke, the sound of whooshing air being split always rang out punctually in the courtyard.
In the morning mist, the kimono-clad woman always sat nearby with a gentle smile on her face, quietly watching the young man's figure training diligently.
During the day, he completed his work with efficiency far exceeding ordinary people. Terada-ya's business flourished, with customers coming and going in an endless stream.
When night fell deep and people grew quiet, his spiritual power control training in the attic proceeded without fail.
It was precisely these utterly plain daily routines and somewhat monotonous training that made him feel more fulfilled than ever before.
In the back kitchen.
Terada-ya had just finished the day's business. Suoh was humming a tune while cleaning up his workspace in the kitchen.
The work was light. His hands were extremely steady, his work habits excellent, and Japanese cuisine's cooking methods were relatively clean. The stove and cutting board produced very little mess.
Really, there wasn't much to wash. It was just his personal habit.
Rather than calling it cleaning, it was more like a ritual to draw a perfect conclusion to the day's work.
"Tsukasa, someone's at the door looking for you."
At that moment, a sweet voice carrying laughter broke the kitchen's leisurely atmosphere.
Kotama leaned against the serving window's edge with both hands, poking her head through with a beaming smile.
"Mm, wait a moment. I'll be right there."
After returning the last item to its proper place, Suoh turned and replied.
He washed his hands unhurriedly, dried them, then casually hung the cloth on the wall before straightening his collar and walking toward the entrance.
He had a pretty good idea who the visitor was, and his face showed a few degrees more anticipation.
Reaching the entrance, beneath the dim yellow glow of the lantern, a slightly hunched figure stood by the door holding a long wrapped bundle.
The light outlined his somewhat disheveled hair. On a face marked by exhaustion, a pair of eyes shone remarkably bright, his expression revealing barely suppressed excitement.
Seeing clearly who waited under the lamp, Suoh raised his hand in greeting.
"Matsuzaki, long time no see. You're here."
"Suoh, it's been a while."
"Here, this is your blade. I finished it. Take a quick look and see what you think."
Hearing the voice, Matsuzaki Yoshito looked up in response, his mouth splitting into a grin.
He stepped forward and solemnly extended the long wrapped object.
"No rush. Come inside first for some tea. Have something to eat and rest."
Suoh accepted the bundle and held it against his chest with one arm, not hurrying to open it. With his other hand, he pulled Matsuzaki Yoshito's arm, inviting him inside.
Looking at the wood shavings and oil stains on Matsuzaki Yoshito's clothes, he understood that his friend had probably just finished the work not long ago and rushed over in such haste he hadn't even cleaned himself up.
"Uh, I don't need to—"
Before the words left his mouth, Matsuzaki Yoshito felt an irresistible force transmitted through his arm.
His steps lightened, and his body somewhat involuntarily followed Suoh into the shop.
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