Jushiro watched as the teacup slipped from his hands and crashed to the floor, scratching the surface of the polished wood with edges of the shattered pieces. He didn't even make a move to pick them up nor give them much thought, too preoccupied with the way his hands were trembling. They felt so weak, like a chill just struck them and rendered them helpless.
He leaned against the wall, feeling a headache coming in fast. The pain crept up to him like a shadow snake in the darkness, playing its tricks on him until he was left to wonder just how he managed to end up bent over, choking on the tea. He beat his chest with a fist that he forced to stay gripped, steady and firm, coughing out spit and blood and tasting the unpleasant taste of vomit.
This was new, he mused bitterly, biting on his lower lip to prevent himself from throwing up right then and there. Bile was just waiting at the base of his throat, and he felt it threatening him with each move he took. His head pounded in his ears, his heart raced against the clock on the opposite wall; his breathing quickly escalated into heavy pants, laborious and strained.
He clutched at his chest, grasped the front of his uniform, but that did little to ease the burning sensation in his throat. His nose flared, and he could now taste the blood upon his lips, hot as it charged up to dribble out between his lips. It trickled down his chin, onto his hair, sliding down his neck to stain his immaculate haori.
His servants were going to have a lot of cleaning up to do.
Jushiro felt his knees weakening as he hacked into his sleeve. When he brought his hand away from his face, he found heavy bloodstains on the cloth, but he wasn't able to scrutinize it further for another wave of vertigo struck him, bringing him down to his knees. Upon landing, the pain that shot through his legs was excruciating, tearing at his tendons, shooting through his veins.
With a hand braced on the floor for support, he coughed into his sleeve, feeling the wet heat seeping through the cloth to stain his skin. He gritted his teeth, but that only served to deepen the coppery taste that now plagued him, and he could do nothing but allow the blood to flow and splatter onto the floor.
And finally, Ukitake Jushiro collapsed. He lay there until Sentaro and Kiyone found him, broken, like the shattered pieces of the teacup beside him.