#era::progress();

"......."

you don't fight fair, you fight to win.

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“A keen observation! It’s a matter of survival.” Beneath his brim, Kisuke fixed Hayden with a grim, even gaze of dark mirth.

The air of the underground training area was thick with dust settling slowly back to earth. Benihime’s tip scratched the grit beside his geta as Kisuke shifted his stance. “Hayden-san… you may view your battle ethics as commendable, but holding too tightly to fighting with honor against an enemy who doesn’t... can be a way to get oneself killed.”

“For example, although we’ve paused to chat, there's no need to assume—” Without warning, the tip of his zanpakutō flicked upward, the blade held level before him.

"you don't see people, you see leverage." (Katsu to Kisuke)

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"I haven't seen it, but I believe I've heard of that show—"

Karin & Kisuke; you never ask how i feel, you just assume.

(Not perjortive)

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"Hmm?"

The shopkeeper looks up from his tabulations. He's been quietly aware of her presence for some time. Whatever she had weighing on her mind, he knew she'd be prone to venture it, sooner or later. On that score, she'd proven him correct.

"You're almost there, Jinta. We're makin' fun o' the phony celebs and musicians who say they care 'bout serious crises and causes, but they know nothin' 'bout what's actually goin' on. Or they think their star power and lame protest songs'll solve everythin', and they'll look like champions o' the people."

"Yeah, sure dude! We care a lot 'bout the Soul Society's wars! We care so much that we're gonna tell ya loudly that we care!" @katsu-at-the-bottom

"Well that's what I'm saying." His hands jab at the keys in discordant staccato, culminating with a heavy lean on as many of them as he can, an overwhelming wall of sound like the end of Rush E. Then his fingers fly to his ginger hair and rub it vigorously as he lets out a grunt of frustration, then finally reach for his kanabō, which is never far away. He grips it and it feels solid in his hands, yeah... He likes how it feels when it connects with bone. That crack, like in baseball, satisfying, solid and staccato like the keys, but harder. So real.

🎵 "We care a lot!" 🎵 @katsu-at-the-bottom

"Yeah!" Jinta pumps his fist in the air, matching the energy. And then he kinda... seems to deflate a little.

"Okay, but... do we, though? Like, yeah, when we're up on stage screaming about it, it sure feels true, but then we just go back to our place and party, and on a good day, bust Hollows and whatever else, but nothing ever changes, man." Shit, he's bringing the mood down.

"Mmm..." A decade, give or take. The sentiment catches the shopkeeper in a pensive mood, and his hazel eyes glance upward beneath the brim.

"Shh!" He shushes Jinta and gestures for him to wait and watch. He rigged Kisuke's seat cushion with a launchpad. When he sits down, he'll be sent flying! @katsu-at-the-bottom

"Ridin' with my top down, wit' my jewelry on, hey! i'm just gettin' my hood on—huh?"

What a buzzkill. Jinta shot Katsu a why-did-you-wreck-my-vibe glance. It took a moment, but he discerned through a not-so-subtle series of gestures and facial expressions that Katsu had done... something to his new (to him, anyway) canvas-topped jeep.

It was too late; the exchange had caught Kisuke's attention, and he was looking their way, paused with his hand on the door handle.

"Not having second thoughts about taking your old pops for a spin in your new set of wheels, are you?" He flashed a grin and opened it, hopping up into the passenger seat. " —Shotgun!〜" they heard him call, as he pulled the door closed after him.