#reservedhealer

"oh, goodness, you're freezing… come on, put your arms around my neck. that's it, good job… let's get you inside."

(from the Blizzard prompts)

(Blizzard Prompts)

Nemuri wasn't completely defenseless in the snow and cold at least. She did have on proper gloves, shoes, and a scarf. However, that didn't make her any less cold. The young girl was quick to listen to the Fourth Division Captain when they cross paths.

"I was going to do snow science, but then the snow fell down a lot and it got super cold."

((It's the closest to a hand massage from that list and that is something the old girl could do for him if she notices his hands are tired.))

From here || accepting|| @reservedhealer

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐆𝐎 👀

It's 4am.

The lonely beeps of the machinery punctuated another silent night shift. They echo through the corridors, eerie enough that he could almost believe he was the only one on the whole ward. He's been here eight hours, still has another four to go. Tonight has felt longer than most, although he really can't pinpoint a reason for that. Perhaps it's the volume of patients, or how all the other doctors seem to be elsewhere. As if the idea of working alongside their director intimidates them.

He's at his desk when she first appears, slipping into the room without a word, just like she always does. By this point he's working his way through charts and requisitions with as much efficiency as he can – neat little ticks in black across the charts, and clipped notes in handwriting far too coherent to be associated with a dr. He's been at it a while and the pile doesn't seem to be getting any smaller. Finally, he's forced to pause, stretching his fingers out, opening and closing, trying to ward off a cramp. His wrist aches, the lower bit of his arm too. A little pathetic, he thinks, scrunching up his eyes, when all he's doing is paperwork...

She moves while he's concerned with his hands and actually manages to catch him off guard, seizing his hand and rubbing against the joints. Ryuken flinches, turning his head towards her, a mix of confused and irritated.

@reservedhealer​ || Starter from plotting!

Six days, Jūshirō has decided, is long enough.

To the credit of the Fourth Division attendants, the first three days of this particular episode were some of the most trying Jūshirō has seen in a long, long time. Jūshirō  can hardly fault them for their attentiveness, trying though it might be. 

On the fourth day, Jūshirō’s fever broke, and he slept. On the fifth day, he awoke with the dawn, and found himself able to stand and walk on his own two feet, and he was permitted to take a sanctioned stroll about the courtyard, leaning on the arm of a kindly, young attendant whose path Jūshirō had crossed only infrequently before. Only two fits of coughing had overtaken him, and  Jūshirō had regained his composure quickly. Today, the sixth day, Jūshirō found himself more than able to ignore the raw heat in his throat and the pricking in his chest. He’d taken care to drink enough water, and he’d been permitted to bathe without the oversight of his caretakers. 

He does not, admittedly, feel his best, but neither does he feel his worst. For  Jūshirō, that is cause enough to return to the Thirteenth. 

BLEACH - Kotetsu Isane

Captain of the Yonbantai - Chief of Medicine

sigh of consternation escaped Isane as she observed Rukia’s imprudence in doing more than fidget into a comfortable position. It was a source of additional stress for her whenever patients refused to behave when they were clearly in no fit state to be up and about. The disorientation on coming to was understandable as no one expected to wake up in a bed with the smells and sounds of a hospital ward, more so in those who had undergone surgery. If it was a mere testing of flexibility with some small movements of fingers, arms and toes, she could pretend she had not observed them – invalids rarely wanted to be treated like they were on the cusp of death after all. But when patients who regained consciousness ignored the limits of their physical body in spite of their battered conditions, sought to create a ruckus or escape from the confines of their bed, that was more troublesome. It invariably entailed more work for her and her nerves were already on the point of fraying. 

While her captain had mentioned in passing to the officers and staff nurses that they could employ reasonable force to restrain unruly patients, Isane was loath to do so to the more badly thrashed individuals whom she knew were of a reasonable disposition. Members of the Eleventh had to be strapped down lest they storm about the wards looking for comrades and commanding officers at the top of their lungs, injuries and blood trails oozing from their bodies be damned. She had pre-empted any such attempt by giving the order to the nurses to do exactly that before tending to the more seriously wounded. At the pace she was working to cope with the high casualty rate, she might as well park herself in one of the operating theatres. However, she needed to follow-up on the patients she had personally treated and it was only right she do so when her captain had given free rein to utilise any technique she deemed necessary to keep the patients alive.

Another sigh escaped her as Rukia suffered from the symptoms of pushing herself too far too soon by sitting up so abruptly. Patients very rarely heeded advice to acclimatise their minds to their injured bodies, and Isane was inured to it. Nevertheless it still vexed her to see a severely wounded patient moving by instinct as they were habitually wont to do. Shinigami were trained to get up and go as long as they could move, but mind over matter was not something that worked when a body had been knocked about to an inch of its life, she reflected wryly. As this was something she doubted Rukia wanted to hear, she held her tongue. She was relieved, however, that Rukia showed no inclination to get out of bed. Good. That saved her the trouble of deciding if she should sit on the smaller female’s legs, knock something into her nose, press a knee to her abdomen or strap her down. Deploying one of these methods on the male officers was something she had no compunctions doing, as they sometimes only responded to serious discipline; doing so to female acquaintances and close friends who had mostly exhibited good sense was not something she enjoyed.

She had been in the midst of pouring out some water and getting her sputtering patient to lie back on the pillows when she felt her sleeve being seized. “Shh… He’s alive. The Captain tended to him personally,” she soothed truthfully, deliberately omitting that her own prognosis for the elder Kuchiki sibling’s condition was ‘touch and go’. And that was from his reiatsu alone.

Though she had not examined the man, a cursory appraisal of his unconscious form as her captain ordered the large operating theatre to be readied had led Isane to diagnose severe haemothorax, haemopericardium and a sharp drop in blood pressure. A glance was all it took for her to see that he had severe trauma to the abdomen and she posited at least three organs had been shredded. The wounds had been more than simple lacerations or perforations. Before Isane had entered her own operating theatre, she had heard her captain order a multitude of artificially regenerated organs and the correct type of artificial blood that the Fourth held in storage from the Twelfth when the latter made them on behalf of their Division. The order for anticonvulsants was more worrying, mused Isane, but she chose to say nothing on that matter in front of Rukia. Even though she had overheard the surgical nurses whisper that the Captain of the Sixth had been physically put back together, he was still unconscious from excessive blood loss and was probably hanging on to life through willpower. While these revelations had not altered her ‘touch and go’ prognosis, she affected deafness and proceeded with her rounds among her own patients. Focusing on them was more important in the present. She could compare notes with her captain at the end of the day.

With that in mind, she returned her attention to Rukia with a tight smile and held out the cup of water to her. “Try not to over-excite yourself. You’ve just had reconstructive surgery and reishi stitched into certain wounds. Let’s not undo all that and the Kaido,” she recommended gently, excising the details of the anaesthetics and drugs she had used in the operating theatre. “You should still be dizzy, confused, drowsy and sore. You won’t stop feeling foggy for a few days yet.”

Rukia could feel her body sinking into the bed frame, her eyes shutting to absorb the information. If she could breath more properly she would sigh in relief, but what comes out instead is a something of a long breath with a sputtering cough. Her trust in the fourth division, and thusly Isane’s words, and Unohana’s work never was something she gave enough time to question. There was nothing she could do that the fourth couldn’t manage better, that much she could truly know. With her single worry quelled, her mind stops racing and the outreached hand of hers falls loosely to the side of the bed. She hadn’t required the details, just an answer to know what side of the coin toss she needed to use. And with it her mind could begin to stop running on adrenaline from who knows where she pulled it from. And now without that worry bouncing that energy about her body, it all but runs dry, and the deficit for that burst earning a small groan from her as her torso aches of all its been through while she was unconscious. 

She remains still, though more due to her body’s complaints than the other’s words. Her one good eye peeks around at her surroundings for the first time, her focus being lost on little details about; the plain teal and empty seat beside her, the drooping plant in the corner, all of them feel just a bit off, fuzzy and skewed, like on their own diagonal rather than level on the ground. Only then does Rukia put together that it’s not the objects that are off, but her own sight. Without thinking, she touches about her eyes to check, instantly regretting the tap as she squints with a flinch at the disturbance of the nerves beneath the wraps there. 

Quickly, she begins to notice the true state of herself. She stares at the hand that she had just brought up to her face, flexing the palm open and close to stretch it as if it was unnatural, despite how she had just moved it so normal before, but it feels different to observe it rather than to just do it. Then to her torso which feels tight, constricted, and aching like a string of an old violin, on its last legs. It’s draining just trying to come to terms to it all and her head feels like it is ringing, and she can’t help but grasp the feel of the soft fabric of the blanket atop her in idle comfort. Rukia is pulled back to reality by a swift image of a darting nurse rushing by the hall in her peripheral. Her eye falls on Isane then, who she only now notices that she seems rather incomplete in her own ways, leaving Rukia wondering that if she would snap if she were to just tap on her shoulder. Surely the past hours have been rough not just on the soldiers amongst them but the medics as well.

Soon enough a glass is right in front of her. It’s subtle but she nods in response just slightly, though she would be lying if she fully processed every word, before taking the glass in her hand. There is only a moment of hesitation, mostly still due to her off putting vision, before she manages to take a sip. It’s the reflection of herself in the glass, warped by the curves and ripples in the water that drives her mind to match the very sorry state she sees. How foolish she was to leave herself vulnerable to attacks from behind and fall so easily without so much as getting a swing of her sword...

@reservedhealer from here;

Hiyori was that audacious that she wandered into Soul Society at will. It was always on a very rare occasion. She does not like the place. The air itself, would sometimes take her by the throat and stir her insides like congee. It was just… too painful. The home that she has lost forever.

But… her friends are still alive. She had just needed to ensure that Mashiro had been alright. Whilst Hiyori had very dramatically and firmly declared she would never ever step foot in Soul Society - she has already done so once. Reluctantly as a fighter against the quincy and now, again… to check on a friend. to check on Mashiro Kuna. The green-haired lieutenant loved matcha flavoured chocolate, but only in one brand. And who would take the time to bring that? Hiyori hopes someone would. But days trickled into a week and the girl had noticed Mashiro still had no sweets. Plenty of fruits and hearty meals, but none of her favourite sweets from the world of the living. So Hiyori had not only left peeled fruits (because Mashiro wasn’t going to eat the fruits unless they were peeled), as well as matcha kitkats. The small visored had debated on leaving a note. Something sappy like… get well soon. But… instead she had just wrote you are super - and left it at that.

Mashiro would know and then burst into tears and it would all be too dramatic. Hiyori couldn’t have people think she was going soft.

Her eyes wavered once more, glancing at the monitors and fluids attached to her friend before slipping out. She would be okay. Once that had been asserted, Hiyori found herself caught by the captain of the fourth division. Shit. This wasn’t Unohana- but the former lieutenant.

Long legs like some sexy skyscraper and a very pretty face. Eugh… Hiyori cannot deal with girls like this. They made her feel ten times uglier than she really was.

Hiyori glances at Mashiro again. She would be so thrilled to see the gardens and to see Hiyori in so long but…

“Eh- she’ll be bouncin’ around and bothering Kensei again, no need for me ‘ta hang about,” Hiyori shrugs  in a way that suggested she didn’t really care. Although, it was obvious to the pair of them she would be coming back again.

At least the care from the fourth division was always on point. Hiyori was living and breathing proof that the fourth division was amazing at what they did. And so… she could not help but be a little concerned. Not much. Just a teensy bit.

“Yer dropping on yer feet. Even I know healing kidou is the most draining kidou. I –” she blinks and then looks away. Isane looks almost embarrassed at having been caught. “I’m not tired. I don’t have a job like this.”

Hiyori’s life was relatively on easy mode now. No Aizen to worry about defeating. No life and death encounters with menos grande or creepy enemies. Just leisurely training sessions with Love and Hachi. Some little jobs in the world of the living she could do in her sleep. She was strong and fast so had a technical advantage over humans in their jobs.

THE SOUL PANTHEISM: A Bleach Roleplay Community

FEATURING: KOTETSU ISANE // @reservedhealer

A festival celebrating Aizen's defeat and the reinstatement of the three Visored was held in June. He and Kisuke decided to use the invitation as a way of introducing Jinta and Ururu to the Soul Society. Kisuke had taken the two to play a few of the carnival games that had been set up by the Men’s association while Tessai saved their spot to watch the fireworks.

Though from the start he had the suspicion that the three of them wouldn’t be back in time for the start of the show. Indeed 5 minutes before the show was to start, he received a text message informing him of a delay. However, he was more amused by the delay than anything and sent back a message asking for pictures of the incident. Just as Tessai had sent the text when he felt a vaguely familiar presence.

They hadn’t been formally introduced, but Yoruichi had given him an overview of the Gotei 13's current roster, and the lieutenant had been in the room with all the Captains and the other lieutenants when he’d been formally pardoned. On closer inspection, she appeared to be looking for a spot to watch the fireworks.

“Hello, Kotetsu-dono." Tessai called across the field. "I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. "I am Tsukabishi Tessai.” He bowed in greeting.