The soft setting sun blinded eyes. The weather was still warm, but the chill of the approaching night was already felt. On a wooden platform, under a canopy, overlooking the courtyard of the 11th detachment, Captain Zaraki was sitting. The man gazed thoughtfully at the sunset while sipping sake straight from a clay bottle. Yachiru, who was sitting next to his, was drawing something with children's crayons on the sheets of paper, chatting endlessly about everything and nothing at the same time.