The house on the outskirts of Rukongai is immersed in silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the fireplace. On the table there is a plate of fruit and a bottle of sake. Kyōraku, comfortably settled on the floor, swings the cup in his hand, watching the flames. Ukitake sits a little further away, sorting through an old scroll that he recently found in the library.

Kyōraku glances lazily at his friend. "Jushiro, don't you think that we can afford such evenings less and less often?"

Ukitake puts the scroll aside and looks at it. "Perhaps, but that's exactly why they are so valuable."

Shunsui grins, takes a sip of sake and glances at Jushiro. "What do you think? Maybe we should make such evenings a tradition?"

Ukitake smiles softly and adds: "But only if there is something new each time. Otherwise, I'm afraid, even such evenings risk becoming boring."