And so, Shirō and Yoruichi shared a meal that was both simple and extravagant.
The dishes weren't overly numerous, but each was exquisitely prepared and delicious. Shirō had once thought he understood noble dining, but sitting here with Yoruichi made him realize the truth: compared to the Shihōin, the Emiya household was practically peasant fare.
Only the two of them sat at the table. The old steward remained standing to one side, serving quietly, without the right to dine beside them. Shirō, meanwhile, tasted dishes he had never encountered before, delicacies so good he couldn't stop eating, and all the while he squabbled with Yoruichi. The squabble, naturally, was over the food itself. Really? he thought. You've eaten this your whole life, and you're fighting me, the one tasting it for the first time, for scraps?!
And he was right. Yoruichi had long since grown bored of these meals; to her, the flavor was nothing special. The only reason she was stealing bites from him was because it amused her. If Shirō ever found out, he'd be pissed off.
Had Shirō managed to keep up his calm, aristocratic composure, Yoruichi might not have bothered. At most she'd nibble politely, and the rest would've been his. But sometimes, the best way to get what you want… is to not fight for it.
By the time they were nearly full, Shirō began to wonder. On any other day, Yoruichi living like this was one thing. But today, on her coming-of-age day, shouldn't there have been some sort of ceremony? Class as usual was already strange enough, but to eat in this same quiet manner too? If not for his sudden invitation, she would've eaten alone.
Was this "coming-of-age" nothing special at all, no different from an ordinary day?
Thinking back to how young Yoruichi had been when she inherited her clan, became head of the family, and later captain of the Second Division, Shirō's chest tightened. Maybe her odd personality came from loneliness.
But then he looked up again, saw her gnawing a chicken leg with greasy fingers, wiping the oil onto his sleeve, and his sympathy evaporated. Right. She's fine. The one who deserves pity here is me.
With a shrug, he pushed away his thoughts and went back to fighting for food.
Just then Yoruichi's eyes sparkled. She pulled out a sake flask from who-knows-where, poured herself a cup, swirled it dramatically, inhaled the fragrance with exaggerated bliss, then arched a brow at Shirō.
"Mmm~ so fragrant~" she teased.
She sipped daintily, face glowing with feigned sophistication.
Shirō rolled his eyes. "Are you drinking sake or sampling tea?"
Before she could react, he snatched the cup, tipped it back, and downed the entire thing in one go. No flush and no stagger. He simply glanced at her with disdain and went right back to his food.
"You, you!" Yoruichi sputtered. "You're underage, how can you drink?!"
Of course, she had only brought the sake out to tempt him. But Shirō hadn't needed tempting at all. He stole her drink and emptied it in one gulp, ruining her game entirely.
"You mean to tell me you've never stolen a sip before?" Shirō shot back.
"Hah! So you are a comrade after all. Looks like you can drink. How about a contest?" Yoruichi's grin returned.
"Bring it on! Who's afraid?" Shirō answered with reckless bravado, conveniently forgetting how tragic his actual tolerance was in this life. In his previous life, he could hold his liquor, hence his confidence. But in this body… one sip too many, and it was lights out.
Another flask appeared. Yoruichi poured herself a full cup.
"Cheers!" she said.
"Bottoms up!" Shirō answered, downing it again.
The steward, watching from the side, sighed quietly and shook his head. His eyes softened with pity. Poor boy. He has no idea what's coming.
"For my birthday today, cheers!" Yoruichi announced.
"Cheers!"
"For the fact we met today, cheers again!"
"Cheers!"
And so it went.
Before long Shirō was slurring, "I'm telling you… my tolerance… it's legendary. Bottomless!"
Yoruichi chuckled darkly. "Oh really? Then let's have another!"
Glug glug!
"Yoruichi… you know… there's something I've been dying to ask…" Shirō leaned on her shoulder, draping his skinny arms around her like an old drunk uncle.
Yoruichi nearly choked laughing. They had only just met today, yet he spoke like they'd been lifelong friends.
"Your zanpakutō… what does it look like? I'm dying to know…" His words tumbled out without pause, not even waiting for an answer. Definitely drunk.
Then he added, "Captains are overrated. Bankai? Just picking on kids who don't know any better…"
"Uh…" Yoruichi and the steward traded startled glances. Was this child fearless, or simply insane? Who in Soul Society dismissed captains and bankai so lightly?
For Yoruichi, though, interest stirred. Up until now, Shirō had been nothing more than an amusing companion, an odd little kid who wasn't scared of her, which made him fun to toy with.
But now? It felt like the little "mouse" she'd been toying with had suddenly revealed claws, tiny cat claws, yes, but feline all the same. Somehow, without noticing, she'd begun to see him not as prey or plaything, but as… one of her own.
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150 P.S = 1 Extra Chapter