As always, Sentaro and Kiyone followed their Captain. However, tonight it was as if they were following a ghost, the shell of the man.
They couldn't understand it. Of course, one would expect a normal person to be depressed over losing his partner, but this was Ukitake Jushiro. He would shield his emotions to help everyone else get over their own negative feelings. He would give Kaien Shiba a wonderful funeral; he would apologise to his family for failing to protect him, even if it wasn't his fault; he would help Kuchiki Rukia through her period of mourning. It's not because he's a leader, it's merely because he's a good person like that. He puts others before himself in any situation.
So why, the two Shinigami thought as they continued to follow their leader, why does he not say a thing as they made the seemingly long trek back to Ugendou? Why didn't he, hasn't he, consoled his fellow 13th squad members? Why, why, why?
They ask him this. Subtly.
"How are you, Taichou?" questions Kiyone sympathetically.
"What shall we tell the traumatised squad members, Taichou?" enquires Sentaro worriedly.
The only answer they get is the sound of a chair scraping back on wooden floorboards. Ukitake slowly sits down, as if he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, and places his elbows on the desk and his chin in his palms. His eyes are as vacant as the heaviest mist, his skin as pale as paper. A drop of blood drips from the corner of his lip onto the ink-stained desk.
Kiyone and Sentaro can all but think about how that blood will stay, invading the ink...and his life.