Drunken Recklessness...
Destruction comes in an instant, but rebuilding takes much longer. Even ten days, half a month, would not be enough to restore what was lost.
Shiraishi lingered in the mountains for a time, but eventually returned to the Tsunayashiro compound. Entire buildings lay in ruin, the cries of the wounded and grieving echoing with the wind, filling the air with sorrow.
He did not seek out Unohana Retsu or Kotetsu Isane. Watching from a distance was one thing; standing among the injured, listening to the sobs of the bereaved, would weigh too heavily on him. Since he neither knew what to say nor how to help, he ignored the mourning altogether and went straight to the central building.
Slipping through an open window, he found a grisly scene. Tsunayashiro Takehiko's severed head rested on the floor, his body slumped lifelessly over the table. Blood pooled and dripped steadily, the sound stark in the silence.
Shiba Kūkaku stood before the table, a thick notebook clutched in her right hand, a black cloak draped loosely over her shoulders. Her eyes were fixed on the decapitated head.
"Kūkaku… are you alright?" Shiraishi asked.
She turned her glare toward him, irritation flashing in her gaze.
"Did you kill Takehiko Tsunayashiro?"
"Yes."
"You reckless idiot!"
Kūkaku roared, slamming down the experimental diary. The table cracked apart, the corpse collapsing to the floor. The diary's cover smeared with blood—evidence she had uncovered in the laboratory.
It recorded Takehiko's orchestration of her eldest brother's murder. Using a cloak that concealed his reiatsu and weaving Kidō for subtle invisibility, he had stolen her brother's body by disguising it as spirit particles. A flawless plan—undetectable. Except Shiraishi had noticed.
The diary showed Kūkaku's surprise at the revelation, though she had not dwelled on it. Instead, she had thrown herself into Hollowification experiments with Shiba Kaien's body—only for those to fail.
Her anger had grown, until she stormed off to confront Takehiko, only to learn he was already dead.
How could he die like this? By another's hand? The rage inside her boiled, with no outlet, burning her heart to cinders.
"I'm sorry. I didn't think too much at the time… I just acted," Shiraishi admitted. Takehiko had left himself open, practically inviting death.
Kūkaku ignored his explanation, her gaze sharp as a tiger's, teeth clenched in fury. But after a moment, she sighed, scratched her head, and growled:
"Why apologize so honestly now? Damn it, so sly! At least give me a reason to stay mad! Or a fight!"
Shiraishi thought to himself that clinging to anger would only hurt her health. "There are plenty of ways to vent—drinking, talking. If you want to fight, we can go somewhere quiet, and I'll give you a proper match."
"…Forget it. Let's drink."
The urge to fight left her, replaced with a desire to drown it all in alcohol. She set her sights on the Tsunayashiro branch family's stores. The Shiba and Tsunayashiro clans had long been at odds; with Kaien's death between them, robbing their treasury for liquor hardly weighed on her conscience.
After flooring seven retainers, she finally reached the wine cellar. The room was vast and bright, its shelves lined with jars of sake and even imported Western bottles.
Kūkaku didn't hesitate. She tossed Shiraishi a jar, uncorked another, and the rich aroma of sake filled the air.
"Come on, drink!"
"Cheers."
Shiraishi hesitated briefly, then raised the jar and drank deeply. The sake wasn't harsh—fragrant with rice and carrying a hint of sweetness. He drained it in one go, then theatrically smashed the jar against the ground, just as in a play.
"Good. That feels good!" Kūkaku grinned, followed suit, and smashed her jar, the shattering sound ringing like release.
"Haha!"
Laughing heartily, she grabbed another jar. "Sorry for snapping earlier. It wasn't your fault, but I still took it out on you. This one's my apology."
She tilted the jar back, drinking greedily, but much spilled from the corners of her mouth, running down her neck, pooling briefly on her chest before sliding lower. Shiraishi swallowed hard at the sight. It wasn't lust so much as a strange urge not to let good sake go to waste.
Kūkaku wasted a quarter of the jar and reached for another. "No matter what, you avenged my brother. For that, I thank you. Here—another drink."
Shiraishi, emboldened by drink, blurted, "Why not skip the speeches and give me a real reward? Help me get over my first kiss."
Realizing how it sounded, he forced a laugh. "Kidding. Don't take it seriously. Let's keep drinking—I can't let you drink alone."
But Kūkaku didn't drink. Her eyes hazy, she said slyly, "Oh right… you've been eyeing my body for a while, haven't you?"
Shiraishi flustered. "Let's… let's talk about something else. Our ideals, maybe—"
"Haha." Kūkaku smirked. "Tonight, I'll let you have your way."
"What—?"
Before he could finish, she leaned in, the taste of wine flooding his mouth along with the soft press of her lips. Then it was gone.
"My… my first kiss," Shiraishi stammered.
"You make it sound so dramatic," Kūkaku said casually. "Now you're speechless, huh?"
"Can you… do it again? I wasn't ready."
She answered with a punch. Shiraishi could have dodged, but chose not to. Better to exaggerate.
"Ow! Why'd you hit me?"
Kūkaku laughed, setting her hands on her hips. "If I want to kiss you, I will. If I want to hit you, I will. What are you going to do about it?"
"How could I refuse the Shiba family's heiress?"
"You're terrible at flattery," she complained, unimpressed. "Forget it. Let's keep drinking."
Shiraishi switched to bottled sake, not wanting to down jars endlessly. Kūkaku stuck to her heroic jar-drinking, pouring her heart into the wine until her words became slurred.
In the end, the night dissolved into laughter and haze—until Shiraishi blacked out into darkness.