I Like Maids
Kawakami Saburō lived at the foot of Ushikaku Mountain, in the center of the Rukongai's inner districts. This was not an official Seireitei outpost, but rather the private estate of the Kawakami family.
The mansion reflected Seireitei's aristocratic taste: a sprawling, single-story residence tiled in gold, surrounded by a high mud wall. Between the wall and the mansion stretched a broad courtyard, neat and imposing.
From afar, Shiraishi studied the layout but chose the polite approach—walking straight to the front gate.
The two gate guards stiffened at once, hands on the hilts of their swords.
"Who goes there?" one demanded.
"I'm a guest. Yagyū Ichirō sent me."
The guards exchanged a glance. Recognition flickered in their eyes.
"Oh—you must be Shiraishi-sama. Please, come in."
At the sight of his silver hair and strange clothing, their tension eased. One guard pushed open the massive golden-lacquered door with a creak.
Beyond lay a bluestone avenue leading directly to the main building, flanked by tall fences. Through gaps in the wood, Shiraishi glimpsed the forms of dogs—large and small—resting in the sun.
As he crossed the threshold, some of the dogs barked sharply.
"Quiet," Shiraishi said coldly, spiritual pressure flaring for an instant. He liked dogs, but not ones that barked at him.
The animals yelped, tails tucked, and fled.
At the mansion's door, he slid it open. The entrance was paved in polished bluestone, tatami mats beyond.
Kneeling there was a young woman in a black-and-white maid uniform. She bowed deeply.
"Welcome to the Kawakami household, Shiraishi-sama."
Shiraishi pressed a hand theatrically to his chest.
"Such beauty! Your angelic smile has pierced my heart."
The maid gave a practiced, polite smile. "Sir, you flatter me."
"Don't be so formal. Call me Shiraishi—or better yet, Gōshūjin-sama. I've always dreamed of hearing a maid say, 'Welcome home, Gōshūjin-sama.'"
Without missing a beat, the maid replied softly:
"Welcome home, Gōshūjin-sama."
Shiraishi nearly glowed. "Perfect! The blush in your cheeks, the sweetness in your voice… incredible!"
When he used to watch anime, he'd envied those protagonists fawned over by maids. To him, maids were the pinnacle of luxury.
The young woman, meanwhile, was thinking, What a troublesome guest.
Seeing him remove his shoes, she rose and said with practiced grace: "Please, follow me."
"Hi~," Shiraishi chirped, brimming with energy. As they walked, he peppered her with questions—her name, hobbies, favorite foods, birthplace, siblings.
She answered each with a polite smile, but inwardly sighed. Nagging, persistent… what a nuisance.
Finally, they reached the main hall. The maid slid the door aside and announced:
"Master Kawakami, your guest has arrived."
The hall was spacious and quiet. On the open veranda beyond, two Shinigami in uniform sat drinking sake, admiring the garden.
Kawakami Saburō, seated among them, turned with a slightly drunken smile and raised his glass.
"I've heard of you from Yagyū. You killed that devil Hasegawa Taizō… splendid work!"
The Secret Mobile Unit—Seireitei's covert operatives—were notorious, second only to the 12th Division in their intrusiveness. And Hasegawa Taizō, a Fifth Seat, was infamous even among Rukongai residents for treating them like disposable toys.
For a schemer like Kawakami, Taizō's death was cause for celebration.
Shiraishi bowed lightly. "It's not that impressive." He'd expected Kawakami to be timid, based on Yagyū's description. But it seemed the man was only timid in open battle. In the shadows, he struck where it hurt.
"Allow me to introduce you," Kawakami said, gesturing. "This is Akimoto Osamu of the 8th Division, tasked with monitoring West District 10."
Akimoto gave a curt nod. "I look forward to your cooperation."
Shiraishi returned the courtesy with minimal enthusiasm. His passion was reserved for beautiful women, not other men.
"Sit, drink," Kawakami urged, filling another cup. "I've called for Kenji and his crew. Since we'll all be working in West District 10, it's good to be acquainted."
Shiraishi shook his head. "No need. I killed them."
The sake jug slipped from Kawakami's hand, crashing onto the tatami and spilling its contents. His face went slack.
"You… what did you say?"
"I didn't like them on the way here," Shiraishi said casually. "So I killed them. If that causes offense, I apologize."
Though his words carried apology, his expression didn't. To him, killing bullies who tormented the weak was no crime—it was justice.
Kawakami blinked, then suddenly burst into laughter. "Offense? No—relief! Those brutes were strong, yes, but unbearable. You've done me a service!"
Shiraishi raised a brow. The man's joy was genuine.
Kawakami leaned forward eagerly. "From now on, the Hollows in West District 10 are yours. Payment: five hundred kan per Hollow."
"Done." Shiraishi accepted without hesitation.
Kawakami grinned—then froze. "Wait. The Divine Messenger is still with Kenji. Without it, I can't relay Hollow sightings from the Technology Development Bureau."
Shiraishi stood. "I'll retrieve it. They're not far."
Kawakami exhaled in relief. Acquiring a Divine Messenger was no small feat; even noble connections strained to secure one.
"Then I'll rely on you, Shiraishi-sama."
Shiraishi nodded faintly. "Contact me when there's news."
And with that, his figure vanished, leaving only the faint sway of the sliding door.