𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐀 ( @choukaimon ) sent : With all but the most final preparations completely, Shutara cast one more glance around the shinigami gathered to see them off, and found her eyes drawn to a flash of violent — eyes she remembered from their youth, vibrant and joyful gone vacant, haunted. The orbs in her grasp shifted as she sauntered closer, a single arm unfurling to brush the cold touch of her knuckles against her cheek.
❝ Don’t look so pained, my dear. Kirinji can do what your Captains here cannot, ❞ she said, with a pointed look towards the Fourth Division’s. Her gaze wandered, then, to the shinigami in her possession: the handsome young Lieutenants, and even a Kuchiki heir. Which, she wondered, had Eri so concerned? The weaver supposed it didn’t matter, as her gaze slid back, and she offered some bit of comfort in her own way. ❝ They’ll be back soon enough. ❞
𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 that came with anxiety; a physical chilling sensation that clung to her arms. Yet that didn’t seem to keep her fingers from trembling. Juushiro had not let her out of his sight since he’d stopped her from preforming a task she had been so convinced was her responsibility (was still quietly convinced). She’d been too weak — too easily swayed by her childhood friend.
Her father gave his life (had always been willing to give his life) for the protection of the Gotei. The true source of his strength, his loyalty, his pride — the very thing he had built from nothing. She had been willing to do the same;she should have done the same. Then all of this would be over. What was her life to the hundreds that had already been lost — to more that would surely die to this boiling blood feud. Eri had tried to argue that in her distress, but Juushiro had insisted it wasn’t what her father would have wanted. She had wavered at his words because …
Because wouldn’t he know better? Didn’t he and Shunsui know him better than she ever had, no matter how hard she’d tried? He had never given her a direct command to follow, only vague words that felt like a weight and a goodbye all the same. She couldn’t tell where her shame ended and her grief began.
She had lied to herself; offered a bitter comfort that Byakuya would have understood her choice. It had felt so much easier when the coldness of loss was blanketing her. When she had thought he too was just one more gravestone she’d have to visit. Byakuya also held a willingness to die for the Gotei; a sworn oath all Captains had taken but some held more nobility and honor than others. … And who held more of that, than him.
Hope had already abandoned her, sunk in her heart like a stone lost to a tumultuous sea. Byakuya had barely managed to escape the same fate as so many others, but how was she to take solace in seeing him encapsulated, bandaged nearly beyond recognition. Instead of a clean cut to her heart, she had been left to watch him die when Unohana had exhausted all her talents.
The crimson eyes that beckoned her attention were distantly familiar — as was the voice that followed. For as much as Eri wanted to find reassurance in the weaver’s words, her presence alone washed her with deeper mourning. It was not Senjumaru’s fault, but how could she not think of her mother when she looked at her face. Her family was gone now, and Shutara aimed to carry off what felt like the last piece of her soul; no matter what she said there was no promise in her words. Or maybe it was more that now, Eri simply couldn’t bear to hold any hope at all…