Encounter with a Black Cat
From the moment he arrived in Soul Society, all Shiraishi saw were low thatched houses. Everyone was dressed in clothing reminiscent of the Edo period, which made him wonder if his memories of his previous life had begun to blur.
Now, seeing modern high-rise buildings again—familiar reinforced concrete structures—unlocked a treasure chest of memories buried deep in his heart.
Aside from his parents dying young, not having close friends, a girlfriend, or any real strength, his life hadn't been terrible.
Born in a country under the red flag, he could play countless games even while lying in bed, and could occasionally afford to eat meat. Sometimes he'd grit his teeth, spend a day's wages, and treat himself to barbecue worth over a hundred yuan, washed down with ice-cold beer. That feeling had been truly refreshing.
Overwhelmed by nostalgia, Shiraishi stood there in a daze.
Suì-Fēng noticed his distraction and said in a low, firm voice, "You're dead. That's a fact that won't change."
"Yeah, that's true," Shiraishi replied softly, shaking his head as if to rid himself of the heaviness. A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Let's grab some breakfast and a Coke first. I haven't had Coke in ages."
Suì-Fēng frowned. "Coke? Can you even drink it without money?"
"…," Shiraishi's smile froze. He turned his head away. "Don't you have any cash on you?"
"How could Soul Society have money from the human world?" she answered bluntly. "By the rules, we aren't even supposed to interact with humans."
"Never mind, I'll think of something. Give me your hand."
Shiraishi held out his left hand.
Suì-Fēng obediently extended her right, though her expression was skeptical. "Holding hands… is this supposed to mean something?"
"Of course. What's a date without holding hands?"
Her palm was small and soft—almost boneless, like that of a schoolgirl.
"…Fine," she said, offering no further protest.
Hand in hand, they stepped out of the alley and onto the street. The roads weren't busy—few cars, fewer pedestrians—so it clearly wasn't a large city.
"Where exactly are we?" Shiraishi asked.
"Karakura Town. Tsubakidai," Suì-Fēng answered matter-of-factly.
"Karakura, huh?" He studied the town with interest. Judging from its look, it had to be sometime in the late 1980s or early 1990s. Was Kurosaki Ichigo's mother even born yet?
As they strolled, he failed to find any breakfast shops. Right… this isn't China. No steamed buns, no fried dough sticks.
Slightly disappointed, he suddenly caught a faint whiff of vanilla. A small café came into view.
Its sign bore English words he couldn't quite parse, but the carved wooden coffee cup swaying in the wind made its identity obvious. The café's rustic wood tones, cobblestone path, and potted plants gave it a fresh, inviting feel. The faint aroma of coffee drifted from within.
Shiraishi pushed the door open.
"Good morning. What can I get for you two?" the smiling waiter asked.
"Two coffees, and two chiffon cakes," Shiraishi said quickly.
"Coming right up."
Shiraishi immediately tore into the packaged chiffon cakes and offered one to Suì-Fēng.
"Eat," she said flatly, refusing his offer.
"You really don't want to try it?" he asked.
Her brows knit together. "We don't have any money."
The air went stiff. The waiter froze mid-step. Had he heard correctly? That doll-like beauty just admitted they were broke? That couldn't be. With her appearance and grace, anyone would mistake her for a young lady from a wealthy household.
"What are you saying?" Shiraishi quickly shoved the cake at her head, then, realizing their cover was blown, bolted.
"Hey! Stop right there, thief!" the waiter shouted, giving chase.
Shiraishi and Suì-Fēng sprinted. Just as they turned a corner, a boy and a girl rushed out from the opposite side.
"Damn it!"
Shiraishi twisted his body to avoid collision. The boy tried to dodge too but stumbled, twisting his ankle and tumbling into the street—straight into the path of an oncoming truck.
The horn blared, deafening.
In a flash, Shiraishi lunged forward, shoving the boy clear over the hood and rolling with him onto the opposite sidewalk.
The truck roared past, the driver's muffled curses fading into the distance.
The boy's heart pounded. For the first time, he truly felt alive.
"Hey, you okay?" Shiraishi asked, patting his face.
"Amazing!" the boy said, eyes shining. "You risked your life to save me!"
"Dazhi, you idiot!" the girl snapped, striding over. "It was because of him running like a lunatic that you fell in the first place!"
She wore a brown cap with goggles perched on top, her figure far more developed than Suì-Fēng's petite frame.
"Don't say that, Ikumi," the boy retorted, brushing himself off. "Hi, I'm Unagiya Daisuke, a sophomore at Karakura First High School."
The café clerk finally caught up, panting. "Stop, thief!"
Suì-Fēng deadpanned, "Give the cake back."
"You're still stealing?" Miyamoto Ikumi clenched her fists. Though a poor student, she was a notorious delinquent and skilled fighter in Karakura.
"I've had it rough lately," Shiraishi said shamelessly. "Unagiya-kun, you got money?"
"Yes," Daisuke nodded and quickly paid the bill.
The clerk accepted the 600 yen, nearly in tears. Three days' worth of running, all for this… next time, I'm not chasing anyone.
"Dazhi, why did you pay for him?" Ikumi growled.
But Daisuke ignored her, stepping closer to Shiraishi. "Brother, do you need a job?"
Shiraishi waved him off. "No. I run a Yorozuya, solving people's problems. Just… business has been slow."
"Yorozuya? That's awesome! I want to open one too." Daisuke's eyes shone with excitement. His future had always felt empty—studying, following his parents' plan—but this sounded fun and meaningful.
"Dazhi, if you call it Unagi-ya, people will think it's an eel shop," Ikumi deadpanned.
"I don't care! I want to run it with you for the rest of my life!"
"Idiot! Who said I want to be with you?!" Ikumi's face flushed as she folded her arms.
"You like Ishida anyway…" Daisuke muttered bitterly.
"Who'd like that stone-faced guy?" she retorted with a scoff.
Watching them bicker, Shiraishi felt as though he were being force-fed dog food. Youth really is something.
Then Suì-Fēng's sharp gaze fixed on something else. A black cat, watching them silently from the shadows.