. The healer and the hollow
The folded note underneath the plastic mug by the patient’s bed had not escaped Isane’s notice, but she elected to feign temporary blindness. Others’ privacy should always be respected. It was one thing to peer into novels that were left open on the bed as her charges fell asleep, as choice of reading literature provided her with an insight on how the ailing were feeling. It was another to pry into personal correspondence. Everyone had secrets after all, and the fairer sex tended to have more that they only confided in close friends. She knew that from experience. The matcha chocolate was an interesting choice and the corners of her mouth tugged upwards in amusement, for the addition of that tribute said more about the giver than the recipient. However, the nurses would have to be told, if only to make sure Mashiro did not gobble up the whole thing in one go when it was time for afternoon tea. Filing away a mental reminder to do so, Isane regarded Hiyori with an indulgent chuckle and a cock of the head.
It was plain the petite blonde was observant when it came to those she cared for. That she remembered little details, if the chocolate offering was anything to go by, was indicative of a someone capable of deep feeling. Which also told her that Hiyori was likely easily hurt because she felt so keenly. That was hardly surprising given all she knew about the girl and the treatment the Fourth had used on her in the field and in the operating theatre at various points. The peeled fruit and the thought given to the selection of this specific chocolate also hinted that Hiyori was likely detail-orientated in the extreme and focused on whatever she had set her sights on. While this was a worthy trait on its own, it also meant she rarely considered the big picture or whatever aspects of the larger picture around her. It was possibly a symptom of something else in the girl’s nature. Isane did not know what it was yet as she was only slightly acquainted with her. Even if she did know her well, it was not her place to steer the lass when she was old enough to make her own choices and not within the formal structure of the Gotei.
With that in mind, she met Hiyori’s gaze evenly and laughed, “I think she will do more than bother Captain Muguruma. We will have to stuff cotton wool in our ears as soon as she wakes up. Just let us know if you need some if you should drop by and do let us know when you take her out into the gardens.”
Despite the airy attempt at brushing off the remark to her complexion, Isane could not immediately defuse the blush from her countenance. “Oh, we don’t solely rely on Kaido. Surgery has a role to play too, as well as herbs and a range of other factors. We each have our own ways of coping with mental and physical exhaustion. Worries can affect quality of sleep, you know. But I think you should be able to rest better tonight since you’ve seen we haven’t hacked up Mashiro too badly,” she ventured self-deprecatorily, scribbling the reminder about the chocolate for the staff. Once done and a few words exchanged with the nurse on duty, she made a show of checking the pocket watch tucked into her obi and pretended that Hiyori had made a brilliant suggestion. “It is time for a break now that you mention it,” she hummed agreeably, extending a hospitable hand and leading the way to her quarters as soon as she discerned that the little lady could need to discuss a private matter. In fact, it seemed it was all but intimated. “We won’t be disturbed unless there’s an emergency. If nothing else, you can stomp around the greenery.”
It did not take them long, after that cryptic remark, to arrive at the living quarters annex and for Isane to unlock the doors to her quarters. Pottering across the tatami floor of the living room and unlocking another set of sliding doors, she plumped the zabuton at the low table and added, “You can open the doors to the engawa if you like. They overlook my garden. Just don’t ingest whatever you see, mind. Elsewhere in the Division, the plants should be safe. But the ones here… Well, some of them aren’t… palatable.” Upon checking on the floral arrangement on the sideboard, she made her way to the tiled floors of the small, modern kitchen and opened some cabinets for plates and the tea things, “What sort of tea would you like? Flower, Japanese, Western or a custom blend? If a serious matter is on your mind, we would need to settle the stomach and perhaps have something sweet to nibble on. I’m not sure why I’m saying this, but you don’t have to tell me anything unless you want to.”
Isane was most likely not laughing at her, but Hiyori still can’t quite control the way she flinches at it. Inwardly withdrawing, even though she ought to be over this by now. By ‘this’, it was… the way she reacted towards Shinigami. Even well-meaning ones like Isane. Or the fourth division. Or… others. She had nursed a grudge of hatred for so long, she does not know how to control her reactions around them. But for the sake of her friends, for the sake of that long, deep love… she will step into the place that made her the most uncomfortable in the universe. The place she had loved like a home. She swallows and shoves her hands in her pockets. A woman as shrewd as Isane would already clock in on her discomfort.
She nods punctually at the mention of other healing techniques. She was vividly familiar with surgery and kidou to ensure healing in a shinigami. She had undergone the technique herself after her brutal bifurcation in the war against Aizen.
The fair-haired visored manages a small smile even at the mention of Mashiro shrilly declaring herself suuuuper fit to work again. It was always the case with her friend. She was energetic and not even a hollow could darken her countenance for long. One of the only visored that never had to beat her hollow into submission. The secret of Mashiro’s power still belonged to her. Or perhaps… the secret was just that she was Mashiro. Their bubbly friend who could make even the thorniest people her friends.
There is no more to be said once Isane announced the time for a break. She’s grateful that she doesn’t have to hang around this place very long. It was full of sick/injured shinigami currently healing from their wounds. Hiyori doesn’t need the reminder of how lucky she had been.
The girl in the tracksuit followed on the heels of the taller shinigami and immediately took a seat on the small cushion in the living room once she had taken her slippers off. Hiyori did feel mildly self-conscious in the home of a lieutenant again.
She remembers quarters like these from a long, long time ago. Almost like it had been a dream. The same, grassy smell in the rooms. The same shoji paper walls that filtered a beautiful, dim light from the engawa into the room. Hiyori had to swallow the lump rising in her throat and balled her hands against her thighs. Being here, in the quarters of a lieutenant only reminded her of all she had lost.
Including her friends. But… she has seen them and heard of them here. They are celebrated. Their powerful zanpakuto able to go into battle once more with pride. She could not really have expected people like Kensei or the others to stay and live a stagnant life with her, could she?
I am such a scummy friend. She shook the thoughts out of her head.
No. She wasn’t here to feel crappy about being left behind. She was here to… ask about their welfare.
“I don’t want tea. I want= you are a captain. You must know what we are, right?” Hiyori was blunt.
“I want ‘ta know… why the fuck are my friends not using their masks? Back during the quincy invasion and even now… they get injuries they can avoid without blinking if they’d used their powers.”
The reason why she has not asked her friends is because she believes they may hide things from her to spare her the anguish on their behalf.
“Is it a secret or… have they been given some sorta ultimatum?”
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