"I brought specially dried persimmons and sake. Your afternoon tea won't be in vain." Rangiku winked, a blend of mature charm and girlish playfulness appearing on her at the same time.
Arata took in the charm of the woman before him and stepped aside to make room. "Miss Rangiku, please come in. Just be sure to take off your shoes."
"Of course, unless Miss Rangiku wouldn't mind helping me with cleaning, then you don't have to take them off." Arata said casually.
"Alright, alright, you've got rules here just like the 10th Division," Rangiku laughed as she stepped in, the hem of her shihakushō lightly rippling with the movement of her legs.
She entered the lounge as if it were her home and spotted the unfinished flower cookies on the table. Her eyes suddenly sparkled. "Oh, perfect, I thought the persimmon cakes alone would be too monotonous. Here's another snack to go with the drink."
Arata closed the door and followed her in. He saw that Rangiku had already sat down and begun unpacking the bentō. Inside were dried persimmon cakes arranged in a circle, releasing a fresh fruity aroma.
From somewhere hidden in her clothing, she pulled out a small wine container, and then quite naturally commandeered, Arata's teacup as a sake glass and skillfully poured.
"Sit down, Arata." Rangiku patted the cushion beside her. "Don't just stand there like a stump. An injured person should be aware that he's injured."
Arata obediently sat down but didn't accept the drink Rangiku had poured. "Miss Rangiku, the last two times you visited, you swore you'd quit drinking, and not much time has passed, and you're drinking again?"
He still clearly remembered how she had sworn that day.
When it was brought up, Rangiku was like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. Her face immediately fell, and she mumbled in confusion.
"That… that…" Luckily, she was sharp enough and quickly thought of the perfect excuse.
"Ah! I came to fulfill a promise I made to you. I didn't break my vow of abstinence!"
Arata tilted his head. What promise?
Rangiku rolled her eyes and squished his cheek with both hands. "You're so forgetful, boy! When you bought me that wooden sword, you promised to drink with me!"
Actually, she had just been in a bad mood today and couldn't resist the urge to drink.
Arata parted his lips slightly and suddenly remembered what it was about.
When he was founding the Kendo Club, he made a deal with Rangiku and bought a series of training wooden swords from the 11th Division through her. After the trade was done, he owed her a big favor, and Rangiku had said then that she'd drink with him when she felt like it.
However, after that, Rangiku never brought it up again, so Arata thought she had forgotten.
He didn't expect her to still remember it so well.
"Ah, my bad, poor memory. I'll have a drink to apologize." Arata smiled wistfully and apologized to Rangiku, then took the cup from the table and was about to down it.
But just as the cup touched his lips, a gentle hand stopped him.
"You're such a simple-minded idiot! How can you let an injured person drink alcohol? I just made up a random excuse." Rangiku's tone was gentle, but her hand was firm. She snatched the cup from Arata's hand and instead pushed a dried persimmon into it.
"Come on, try it! I bought them at a Japanese sweet shop in Junrinan. They're my favorite snack."
Arata listened, put the persimmon cake in his mouth and his eyes sparkled.
The taste wasn't as sweet as the popular snacks in Soul Society, nor was it complex and chaotic. On the contrary, it was the simplest and purest scent of fruit flesh.
The soft orange-red skin concealed sweetness; it was refreshing, soft, sticky, tasty, and juicy.
"Miss Rangiku's recommendation is truly good. This dried persimmon is really delicious."
"You've got taste."
Rangiku took a sip, then leaned back on the sofa with a backrest, letting out a sigh of comfort. As she shifted her waist back, the white beauty of her bust gradually outlined itself.
Somehow, Arata unconsciously connected the persimmon cake in his mouth with the scene before him.
Mmmm, juicy and delicious.
"So, can you tell me what kind of training could cause a gifted student of the Spiritual Academy to get injured like this?" Rangiku suddenly asked.
Arata chose his words: "Just some… training with the Zanpakutō."
"Oh?" Rangiku raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise on her face. "You've already started practicing Shikai?"
"You could say that, but I haven't fully mastered it yet." Arata replied vaguely.
All students admitted to the Shinō Spiritual Academy receive a Zanpakutō, temporarily loaned from the academy in their first year, and then are officially assigned one upon entering a division.
Some people can communicate with their Zanpakutō and perform Shikai shortly after enrollment, like her childhood friend Ichimaru Gin.
Others can't even utter the name of their Zanpakutō until graduation.
Even now, not all soldiers in her 10th Division have Shikai, many rely solely on the four techniques in battle: Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Shunpo, and Kidō.
For a sixth-year like Arata, coming into contact with Shikai before graduation was quite rare, so Rangiku was surprised.
But then she thought again: this kid had previously received such high praise from Captain Aizen. Compared to that, reaching Shikai wasn't all that shocking.
Rangiku stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly poked him in the chest with her finger. "Does it hurt?"
Arata was caught off guard by the poke to his wound and immediately inhaled sharply. "Hiss, Miss Rangiku!"
"Looks like it really does hurt." Rangiku quickly withdrew her hand, and her playful expression was replaced with seriousness.
"Arata, you do know that training with a Zanpakutō is a very dangerous thing, right? Especially for someone like you who's not yet skilled, forced release will only backfire on you."
She put down her cup and, for once, showed a serious expression. "I've seen too many Shinigami rush toward success and end up falling by the hands of their own Zanpakutō. I don't want you to become one of them."
Arata was silent for a moment, then nodded quietly. "Thank you for your concern, Miss Rangiku. I'll know my limits."
Perhaps Rangiku doesn't know now, but her future captain will be exactly the person she's talking about, only Tōshirō is on a higher level and it's a forced Bankai.
"If you knew your limits, would you have ended up like this?" Rangiku scoffed, clearly dissatisfied with Arata's answer, and poured herself another.
"Forget it. You geniuses are different from the rest of us anyway. You always have your own ideas." She downed the cup all at once. Her body's lines looked especially beautiful in the sunset.
As she said that, a young man came to her mind. He was once a genius like Arata, and now he was drifting further away from her.
When she put the cup down, her expression returned to its usual lazy softness.
"Alright, I should get going. Even though I ditched work to come here, drink a bit and relax, I still have a mountain of tasks waiting in the division. If I don't go back and work overtime, the captain will scold me again."
Rangiku didn't stay long and soon asked to leave.
Arata quickly stood up to see her off. "Miss Rangiku has been drinking, allow me to escort you."
"No, no, you just rest. If that Isane finds out I bothered you this much, she'll lecture me for days." Rangiku waved her hand, signaling that he didn't need to come out.
When she reached the door, she turned and said: "If you ever run into trouble while training your Shikai, you can come to the 10th Division to find me. Don't try to solve everything on your own anymore."
"Even though I'm not that great at kendo, I still know a thing or two about Zanpakutō training."