A Beneficial Arrangement

Sorry it's taken so long to update this.  Life has literally been hell this whole year.  But thanks to everyone for being patient.  By the way, Raymy, thanks.

***

Inari tried to snort back a laugh as the olive stuck to Byakuya’s forehead for a second then managed to roll down that very aristocratic nose and onto the counter.

“You little . . .” he growled.

“You were the one who cast the first olive,” she pointed out to him.  “So, you started it.”

“I intend to finish it as well,” he said, looking around for more ammunition. That had been a challenge if he’d ever heard one and it was the principal of the thing now, no matter how childish it might be. He could fully admit that it was childish and foolish and utterly beneath his station and . . . quite frankly, fun. Further ammunition was to be had in the jar of olives, which she deftly dodged three before he finally managed to hit her in the side of the head.  That was clearly a declaration of war in edible form because Inari brought out the big guns that included salami and salad dressing.  By the time they’d run out of readily throwable food, they were both leaning on the counter and laughing.

“Holy gods! I haven’t had that much fun in . . . forever!” Inari laughed, wiping at the side of her face where a bit of shredded cheese had gotten stuck.

Byakuya nodded, chuckling and trying to get tomato seeds out of his hair.

“See, I knew there was fire under all that ice,” Inari said, pulling another piece of cheese out of her shirt.

“What made you so sure?” he asked, reaching over and pulling a piece of salami out of her hair.

“I could feel it.  Plus Senbonzakura had to get it from somewhere and since he’s your zanpakto it had to come from you,” Inari said.  “Don’t worry, I doubt anyone else would ever think you’re anything but a cold hearted bastard.”

“I’m . . . not entirely certain that’s comforting,” Byakuya said.

“Didn’t mean it to be comforting, Bya,” Inari laughed. “Hmm, I think we’ve made quite the mess in here.”

“What is going on in here?!” a loud voice said from the doorway.

Byakuya was almost instantly on his feet, reaching for a weapon and looking at one of the biggest men he’d ever seen.

“It’s okay, Bya.  Hey, Mori, sorry about the mess,” Inari said, moving deftly between him and Byakuya.

“Woman, you are a menace to my kitchen,” the big man said.

“Truly and properly accused,” she said, then turned to Byakuya.  “Kuchiki, Byakuya, meet Hirohito, Masumori.”

Byakuya’s eyebrows went up for a moment.  “The former Sumo champion?”

“Again, truly and properly accused,” Inari said, reaching up to pat Mori on the shoulder.  “He’s an even better cook than Sumo.”

“Which leads me to ask why you thought porcine products would make good projectiles?” Mori said, pulling another piece of salami out of her hair.

“Well, it all started with the throwing of an olive . . .” Inari said, looking over her shoulder at Byakuya.  “I’ll clean it up, Mori.”

“No, you’ll not touch anything else in the kitchen.  Out of the way, woman,” he said, moving past her.  “I presume you’re down here due to some vague semblance of hunger.”  He was moving easily around the kitchen, pulling out various things.

Inari moved around the counter and sat down next to Byakuya, pulling a straggling bit of olive from his hair.  “You look like a tossed salad, Bya,” she said with a laugh.

“And you are ever so much better,” he said sarcastically, showing her a piece of her hair that had taken a direct hit after the olive oil had gotten involved.

“Well, at least that’s good for my hair,” she said. “Hey, Mori, what brought you down here anyway?”

“The noise. I do only live above the kitchen you know,” he said, moving easily between the refrigerator and stove. 

“Sorry to wake you,” she said.

Mori shrugged. “I have to be up in an hour to start breakfast anyway. This just means I’ll get a head start, which is probably a good thing with all the extra people we have at the moment.  Your family, correct, Kuchiki-sama?”

“Yes,” Byakuya said.  It was decidedly odd to be sitting in the royal kitchens talking to the head cook who happened to be one of the greatest Sumo wrestlers of all time.  Odder still that Inari seemed utterly comfortable with him as one would be a good friend.  A small, slightly evil smirk threatened when he thought how absolutely displeased certain members of the Kuchiki family would be once they figured out Inari’s true personality.

“Why are you smirking like that, Bya?”

He compressed his lips together quickly before turning slightly to answer her.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course not.”

“I am curious as to how one of the most renown Sumo wrestlers becomes a cook for the royal family,” he said, looking at Mori’s broad back.

“Simple really,” the big man said.  “My manager swindled me out of the vast majority of my winnings.  I had lost almost everything when the crazy woman sitting next to you found me.”

“I’d heard he was a world class chef with no training whatsoever,” Inari said.  “Since we’re always looking for good help, I asked if he was interested.”

“For which I am eternally grateful,” Mori said. “I am not a chef, I am a cook, Inari.  There’s a difference. Cooking is really what I love to do and the fact I can for so many who genuinely appreciate it is a blessing.”  He deftly slid two bowls of rice topped with an egg in front of them, then put down miso soup and tamagoyaki beside that.

“You are a marvel, Mori,” Inari said, inhaling the steam off of the miso.

“If you believe that, stop throwing my food.”