my shinji fanart ;) ig @duscloops

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my shinji fanart ;) ig @duscloops

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Bleach Studio Pierrot 2004
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cups ππΈ.Β°β’ shinji hirako
bleach week masterlist
Shinji stared at the sake in his ochoko, swirling it mindlessly: a perfunctory detail that held little meaning given the open bottle leaning haphazardly against his thigh. He could just drink from that bottle if he wished β he'd done it the night before, and he'd probably do again it tomorrow β but tonight he wanted to feel a little more dignified, so he poured his drink into a cup, instead, to trick himself into thinking this was normal.
The Seireitei was quiet. During times of peace it always was, especially at night, and even more so in his quarters. In times past he used to fill the silence with company or scratchy vinyl, but after growing so accustomed so the unrelenting noise of Karakura Town, he felt like he should distance himself from that brand of chaos.
After all, he should be happy β¦ right? He should have grown from his time in exile. He should be able to find pleasure in all that his new β or, rather, old β home has to offer. Privacy, respect, title ... no more hiding in the shadows like some kicked dog β¦ all good things. All things he'd craved for one-hundred years, and could finally call his own again.
Why, then, did he prefer these evenings of drunken solitude? Why did his stomach twist when he caught glimpses of his old comrades, and why did he feel the urge to shield himself from the light in their eyes as they resumed the lives that had been stolen from them?
He thought that his questions might be answered by approaching his drink with more tact. Maybe enjoying a beverage as intended would spark an epiphany and tear him from his β¦ grief? Spite? Longing?
But, using an ochoko did nothing of the sort. It did not make him feel any more sane; if anything, it made things worse as he kept misjudging his pours, causing liquor to slide down the sloped edges and soak into the skin of his fingertips.
He eyed his silent companion wistfully. Some artists found their muse at the bottom of a bottle, so why couldn't he?
With a lazy toss, Shinji's ochoko struck the floor. He startled when it shattered, porcelain shards scattering at his feet. He forgot how delicate everything was here. He missed the plastic cups they kept at the warehouse, with each of their names written sloppily onto them, and color-coded to boot. Red for Lisa and blue for Kensei. Yellow for Love. Green for Hiyori β¦ or was that Mashiro?
The bottle could help him remember. Porcelain graveyard forgotten, he swiped it and took a long swig, face scrunching at the burn.
Hacchi was pink. That was a fact. And Rose β¦ Rose was yellow.
No, Love was Yellow.
What had Rose been? Pink? Were there two pink cups? Or maybe two yellow ones?
Shinji's was orange. He remembered that, at least. It was bright and cheerful, and he should have washed it more than he did.
But now, he drank from white. Sterile β¦ heavy in his palm. A blank slate: a second chance.
How the Soul Society figured out the "Masked Army" existed
Here's the thing that just hit me from the Hell Arc oneshot of Kubo's. The Soul Society knew 12 years after TBTP that Shinji and the others had to be alive.
Konso Reisai is done 12 years after a captain's death (Bleach ended 10 years after TYBW finished, so this is two years later). Kyouraku mentions that it's something shinigami learn at the academy, and as Renji says, it's not done terribly often, because captains don't die very often.