#reservedcloud

Renji's jaw went slack, eyes wide as Isane chattered on and on about oden - going into the specifics of what she liked and did not like eating. That... was much more information than what Renji had been expecting, and much more information than he was able to process at the moment.

He nodded slowly after she finished, taking a moment to chuckle. That was the most that Renji had ever heard Isane talk about something non-medical, and he had to admit it was quite amusing. Never did he think that she would be so passionate about oden. His intent had been to tease her about some nightmares he'd heard about through the grapevine. Now he sees that might have been a bit of a reach.

He sighed as he walked out of the office, looking up to the sky. He couldn't see but he could feel the warmth of the sun on his face. He'd just finished supervising a surgery on someone who had been doing patrols and was attacked. It was several deep lacerations, one of which was a critical wound. He had served with the patient in the 11th division, which he felt was like a second family to him. He couldn't do much since the lost of his dominant arm, but he could still observe and direct some of the surgeons.

He reached in his uniform and grabbed his pack of cigarettes, something he had tried hide from some of the up and coming surgeons. Well more from his captain over anyone else. Leaning down, he took a cigarette out with his teeth. Stashing his pack back into his coat. He couldn't shake the thought of how he'd became a medic. He reached up with his remaining hand, letting a small charge arc between his fingers. With his cigarette lit, he had wondered if there was anything more he could have done for the patient in surgery. His constant self doubt was a tendency to be his undoing on a few occasions. He generally tried to hide it from the Kotetsu sisters, trying to show that he was worthy of being one of their seated officers. His unwavering commitment to caring for the entirety of the Seireitei was one of the fewer good qualities that he had.

He thought back to how many lives he had saved. Did it clean the red from his ledger of people he'd gotten hurt from his carelessness as a young shinigami? He didn't believe so, he never believed he would be able to atone for some of the foolish things he had ever done. The tobacco burned as he took a long draw, letting the hot smoke fill his lungs. He felt that Isane would skin him if she saw the sight he was presenting. He knew how health minded she could be, having offered her lunch on some occasions. He was thankful that she humored his feelings for her, though he felt that was a far as it had went with her. He knew of her beauty and that, if she so chose, she could have almost any man or woman in the Seireitei. Some talks had even said that her features rivaled that of the self proclaimed beauty of 10th division, Matsumoto Rangiku. He would never vocalize any of this but it did make him curious as to why she humored his feelings. Or why her sister and Vice-Captain insisted on playing matchmaker for her.

He exhaled, letting the large cloud of smoke into the sky as he heard footsteps approaching. He felt the familiar Reiatsu and gave a half chuckle.

@reservedcloud || an unkindness of ghosts || no longer accepting

Ichigo winces as he pushes himself upright, the edge of the training platform digging into his back. 

His sleeve is half-burned, blackened and still faintly smoking near the shoulder, where the Kidō spell went sideways. Not that it hit so much as detonated out of his arm as if his spiritual pressure was suddenly made of napalm.

He glances up at Isane, but then huffs, dropping his eyes and trying to lever himself up on his good arm. 

He didn't know she'd been around or he might've asked for advice.

“Just trying to get a handle on this binding spell… That’s supposed to be easy, right? Didn’t know it’d blow up if I poured too much reiryoku into it.” His mouth twists into a scowl, eyes narrowing at the scorched fabric. “Seriously.” He huffs again. There’s no way he’s admitting to Rukia it’s harder than it looks. Not after all the shit he said.  “No one told me Kidō could explode.”

He pauses though.

"Hey, you're usually pretty busy. You didn't come over here for me, did you?"

send “⚠️” plus a warning label for tsubaki.

Are of excellent quality. Excellent quality. EXCELLENT. This was the sort of thing he loved to hear. Having his work recognized and appreciated ALWAYS boosted his mood. He was even willing to accept that he had to work so closely with the 4th division, and keep supplying them with artificial organs and blood.

Following a head tilt in which the date was eyed in askance and then taken, her initial unease at the (probably) artificially created fruit gave way to a fond half smile. "I'm free as long as you're not using me as an experiment. Is this for my professional opinion?"

Jugram felt like an eternity had passed since he last returned home, as he headed to his and Isa's favourite café after months of absence. The quirky chime of the bell when he pushed the door, the smell of freshly baked apple pie, immediately filled him with comforting familiarity and a warm sense of feeling right at home. A much welcome change of scenery in the hectic life this past year had been.

New cases had kept coming in without rest, adding up to an already busy list of on-going investigations. New families and faces passing the door of his office both hopeful and desperate to seek answers, peace of mind and justice above all. Crime never rests, they said, and unfortunately it couldn't be truer.

It always felt difficult to decline a case; as his clients often sought him as a last resort.

Most of the time, his clients didn't come to seek a second expertise on a case that had already been fully and diligently investigated by the police, but the absolute opposite. Cases dismissed as suicide or voluntary disappearance, cases close with little to no investigation or plainly neglicted, cases close to keep the 'numbers good'... The list goes on and had become his daily preoccupation.

Gradually, the last few months had turned into a never ending race against time. Jugram often found it akin to running in front of windmills amidst a storm. Both physically and mentally.

But luckily, he had never quite grasped the notion of giving up. Even when all odds seemed against him or exhausted as he currently was.

He adamantly refused to close a case until his clients got justice or, at the very least, knowing everything possible had been done for their case. Such was the oath he'd taken when he started his private practice ; after many years spent within the ranks of the criminal police, a peculiar world where individual ambitions far too often primed over justice.

Regardless, he hadn't come here to think about work, but to rest and catch up with a dear old friend. As he took a sit at an empty table nearby the large window, finally pausing both his mind and body, he tried to shifted his mind to more pleasant thoughts watching people rushing through busy, snowy streets.

Actually, he looked forward to hearing about Isa's latest life developments since he last saw her. Her joy and warmth were always a breathe of fresh air and carried a contagious, uplifting zeal.

Quite the sharp contrast to his more reserved temperament, but which never made for a dull moment in their friendship. There was always something to learn from one another.

Jugram hoped his friend had faired well, despite sharing the same tendency to go above and beyond where work was concerned. At least, they could relate to one another and there was no judgment.

But seeing the negative affects of work on a friend stroke differently. Jugram admitted to sometimes worrying about her, although she was a capable adult and brilliant professional in the medical field. Well, sometimes shoemaker's children are the worst shod, aren't they not?

He also hoped his friend could forgive him for not keeping in touch very much of late, perhaps bride her with the little gift he'd brought her. Plesantry aside, he knew deep down she would never resent him for it and understood better than anyone the toll of duties.