Chapter Three: Dawn with Her Rose-Red Middle Finger

The camera pans between the baffled faces of the Substitute Shinigami and his friends, who could all but just stand and stare as the Onmitsukido swarms the place. The shot then moves toward a couple that screams in pure terror as a shinigami garbed in what resembles a ninja outfit somersaults in front of them before blasting them in the face with a kikanshinki. The pair suddenly goes quiet and drops limply to the ground, the ninja somersaulting away and out of the shot. The camera then moves back to the horrified Kurosaki and zooms in at his pale features, adjusting the focus.

A particular voice is heard somewhere out of frame and it's impossible to make out what is being said amidst the frantic screaming of the crowd. But it catches Kurosaki's attention, and his head is seen turning in its direction before a giant fist flies in from the left of the frame and Ichigo simply vanishes from the shot. The view shoots up and juggles with its focus before revealing Zaraki as the attacker, donning a crazed grin as he cracks his knuckles in excitement. It travels down to the crumpled form of the Substitute Shinigami on the asphalt, and then shoots back up, this time capturing Sado and Ishida with their arms raised in surrender slowly backing out of the frame.

"WORLD STAR! WORLD STAAAR!" Asano chants excitedly as his face suddenly takes up the entire frame, blocking everything from view, ending the video there.

Soi Fon straightened herself as she leaned away from the small screen of Hitsugaya's denreishinki, wincing uncomfortably.

"Okay, I'll admit," she began, folding her arms across her chest. "Not the cleanest job we've done."

"That's an understatement," Toshiro quipped, shutting off the screen and pocketing the device.

"Come now, Captain Hitsugaya," Unohana urged, but Soi Fon had already decided not to take offence at his comment.

Even though she could simply divert the blame onto Zaraki who couldn't show any restraint and lunged at the Substitute as soon as he stepped foot in the world of the living, she couldn't discard the fact that as commanding officer of Seireitei's only task force, she should have accounted for the Eleventh Captain's presence. At least the memory wipe went well, and as far as she was concerned that had been the Onmitsukido's primary objective. She was lucky that Kenpachi had wanted to maul the only person there who could take a beating from the behemoth from the Eleventh, so in all, it was as good as it would get.

"No, he's right. I'll take that. By the way," she turned back toward Toshiro. "You're still thinking of sending this to Hisagi?"

A shrug was his only response. While everyone had been issued the latest denreishinki/soul pager models for their trip, the Publications Department had specifically requested Captain Hitsugaya to take photos and videos they could use for their website. While it still managed to sell plenty in print, the Seireitei Communication had decided to step it up a notch by launching a website a little over a year ago. The only new advantage it had over the print magazine were the videos, but they were so barren of any exciting content that there was really no point in keeping the site running.

Soi Fon had expected that Hisagi would approach them to help out in this regard – he was planning to run a special on the captains' vacation and even include a couple of articles on the weird customs of the living world. It wasn't a half-bad idea, but she found it a little strange that he had chosen to ask the Tenth Captain alone to help out. She'd asked, and Hitsugaya admitted that the Captain-Commander had decided to make it his "special assignment"; to give the vacation some vague illusion of actually being work.

Work was what Toshiro had made his excuse for declining time off, but the old man had weaved it into the trip, even going as far as to write up a letter and stamp it with an official seal like it was a mission that involved the very survival of Seireitei. Even more insulting was the candy that came with it, and a P.S. that essentially told him to keep the mission and the confection a secret. Of course Hitsugaya had already violated that rule by telling a couple of his colleagues about it, but still chose to keep mum about the candy for fear of being humiliated.

You know what? He was going to send that video. If he could collect plenty of evidence of the Gotei 13 captains wreaking havoc in the world of the living, then the assignment was as good an opportunity as any to drive home how bad an idea this vacation was. If not stop the trip in its tracks right here, then it would at least spook the Commander badly enough that he'd never mandate another vacation for them or any other shinigami ever again. The young captain promptly fished out his soul pager and sent it to the Publication Department's email.

"It's not quality, but I guess it's passable," Soi Fon shrugged as she saw the green check mark appear on Hitsugaya's screen.

The cab pulled up and the two turned their heads to look out the window at their new abode. The exterior was the same as the other houses in the street – this little spot between Karakura and Naruki was built for vacationers, especially college students on break or entire families. The buildings here were outfitted like standard living world homes, with fully furnished bedrooms, a kitchen, TV lounge and even a basement with working washing machines, and were rented out for up to 3 months to whoever was willing to keep paying for that long.

They however had their's for the next two weeks, and Hitsugaya wondered if it was a great idea to house the captains all in one place for that long. He figured that getting separate rooms in a hotel would've been too much for their budget, and everyone knew the old man kept a tight fist wherever money was concerned. But even still, renting out an entire house for two weeks was no minor expenditure, and it made him wonder just what exactly the numbers were for this vacation.

He didn't get to dwell on it for long though. There was still the matter of getting out of the cab, unloading his belongings and picking out a room. He'd been told that there were 5 rooms to go about, so depending on Toshiro's luck he'd either get one all to himself or have to share space with another captain. As the other two cabs rolled in behind them, he wondered who could possibly wind up as his roommate.

Mayuri wasn't a fan of sharing a room. Like the others, he too had fought vehemently for the single bedroom but it was the stubbornness that came naturally to snobs like Byakuya that won the Sixth Captain the much coveted prize. After that, it came down to drawing lots between Zaraki, Hitsugaya and Komamura, and Mayuri actually felt a little relieved that he wound up having to bunk with the boy. It was the best that could be made in the worst of situations – having witnessed Kenpachi's thunderous snores himself during that fateful meeting at the First Division headquarters, both he and Toshiro knew that as roommates they'd at least be sleeping well these two weeks.

Or so Kurotsuchi had thought. The scientist was already having incredible difficulty getting some shut-eye. He had lain awake in his cot for hours, staring up at the ceiling and counting the seconds until he'd finally begin feeling drowsy. But his eyes remained wide open, the faint chirping of crickets floating into his room despite the tightly shut window. He had an inkling that sleep was going to be an issue long before he'd even left Seireitei: he normally slept for 4-ish hours, his occupation demanding reduced sleep, and he'd grown into the routine so long ago that it had become inherent to him. So now that he was in a situation where he had nothing to do and couldn't even sleep away the night either, Kurotsuchi found himself alone with his thoughts.

And as it usually happens to folks who have nothing to do but think when the rest of the world has stilled, his mind too began to slowly drift into the realm of the painfully embarrassing. Memories began flooding in, jumping between the events that led up to his incarceration in the Maggot's Nest, to his childhood years, then to his most recent experiences before leaping to his teenage years. At some point it became absolutely unbearable and Kurotsuchi had to shift focus to more important things. Like how to get back to Seireitei pronto.

Mayuri had assumed that the whole thing about dropping out of the trip midway being treated as treason was a damn joke, but the fact that the missive came bearing fucking Central 46's official seal was just baffling to the blue-haired shinigami. In some ways it was impressive how far the Commander had gone to ensure Kurotsuchi's torture, but he wasn't in the mood to appreciate such dedicated vindictiveness. What mattered was his plan which he realized wasn't the best he could churn up while in such dark spirits, but it was his only other option besides killing himself. He had resolved to talk to Unohana (the true mastermind behind his persecution) in the morning and have her convince the old fart to return Mayuri to safety of his precious SRDI.

He wasn't counting on success though. Mayuri wasn't stupid and immediately caught on when he had seen the dates their leave would fall upon, the most pressing being April Fools. Kurotsuchi had cursory knowledge about how humans tended to celebrate it, which was mostly harmless, but the situation was vastly different for shinigami. The destruction that would sweep Seireitei was a marvel to behold – toilet paper rolls in the tons and graffiti covering every inch of space on the walls of the First Division barracks, grunts from the Ninth that went missing and would turn up in the Fourth's infirmary the very next day, concrete mix dumped into Kuchiki's pond while his fish would inexplicably wind up in Ukitake's Ugendo wearing little party hats, thirty thousand pizzas delivered to the Twelfth and the hooligans at the Eleventh losing all their hair after drinking from tampered sake bottles (save Madarame, of course.)

While Mayuri did admit to orchestrating a couple himself, he was at least with means to mitigate the damage done to his labs and staff. But when on his own, surrounded by people who would never on their life pass up the opportunity to gang up on him for the prank of a lifetime, Kurotsuchi knew he was caught in a death trap. And this wasn't even the worst bit. No, the old man had gone a step further by fitting his birthday into the leave: a double-whammy. God, that slimy old fossil.

Faint light began to filter through the edges of the drawn curtains, the soft chirping of awakening birds announcing morning's arrival. Mayuri nearly sprang out of bed, desperate to escape the despairing thoughts that seemed to grow louder and louder the longer he lay there. He cared little about disturbing the still slumbering boy who lay buried under a blanket at the other end of the room, and rummaged about for his belongings. Once he had them, he made his way to the bathroom.

Four out of the five bedrooms were located on the first floor with one bathroom to go about seven shinigami. The one on the ground floor had an attached bathroom and had been claimed by the women, because of course they need separate toilets. Kurotsuchi shuddered at the thought of the myriad diseases he could potentially catch, especially when Zaraki who was notorious for his less-than-desirable levels of hygiene would be using the same facilities. The very thought would have made him puke if Mayuri wasn't already on an empty stomach. He did bring along industrial-grade sanitizing chemicals, the one thing he made sure to pack a shitload of, which he promptly poured over the seat and bowl. The lemony scent was a plus.

He didn't take long to freshen up despite having never slept a wink and changed out of his pyjamas into a pair of grey sweatpants and a t-shirt that was one size too large. Slipping on his specs, he made his way downstairs, intending on taking a long walk to catch some fresh air and take his mind off his worries. It was still twilight out, but the soft blue hue of the sky indicated that it was going to be another hour or so before the sun would finally peek out from the horizon. He needed to kill time anyways – it was going to be a while before the others, including Unohana, would wake up.

"Hey, Mayuri!" he froze at Kyoraku's voice. If one had to leave the house, they'd have to cross the kitchen's entrance which lay at the midpoint between the front door and the staircase. Kurotsuchi, already at the frame of the entrance, turned his head to see the Eighth Division's captain as well as Soi Fon and Unohana seated around the center-table. Half-empty cups of tea adorned the face of the marble top while Ukitake stood at the counter, a recently unplugged electric kettle in his hand.

"I didn't take you lot for early-birds," Kurotsuchi said, barely lifting his hand to wave back the greeting.

"We aren't," the bearded shinigami shrugged.

"We couldn't sleep so we stayed up all night," it was Soi Fon this time. Ukitake had strolled over to the table and began pouring everyone a cup of what Mayuri determined from the aroma was a ginseng blend.

"It's all just so exciting being in the living world," the sickly man joined in. "There's so much to do, and it's not even the first day yet!"

"Yes, well, you do you," Mayuri was getting tired of the conversation, and maybe perhaps a little annoyed at seeing how these guys were enjoying themselves when clearly he was suffering. Whether they were saying this to rub salt in his wounds or expressing genuine sentiments, the Twelfth Captain couldn't say for sure. Regardless of their intentions, Mayuri's mood grew fouler the longer he remained in their presence and contemplated leaving for that walk toot suite lest he risk his blood pressure climbing to dangerous levels. And it didn't seem like he could drag Unohana away to have his talk with her; after all, what could he say to convince her to leave her fresh brew and the company of her friends to give him the time of day?

Kurotsuchi turned to leave but stopped when he felt a pinprick nagging at the back of his mind. He realized that something felt off, but couldn't put his finger on what. Something he had seen or heard that didn't register as easily owing to the lack of sleep combined with the perpetual state of misery he was in. He turned back on his heel to watch his colleagues, Jushiro and Retsu throwing him curious looks. He might have certainly been wearing a strange expression to warrant being stared at like that, but that wasn't his concern for the moment.

The longer he stood there, the more things seemed like they were out of place. It wasn't until he realized that the four were in uniform that he understood what was wrong.

"Where are your gigai?" he demanded, eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

"We dropped them there, in the living room," Unohana pointed to the arched entrance behind Kurotsuchi, blinking innocently as she tipped her cup to her lips. "They were getting really stuffy."

Mayuri whipped around and to his disbelief spotted their temporary bodies propped up against the sofa, their eyes closed and heads downcast so that they looked like corpses being made to sit like living humans. The scientist's jaw dropped open. Much like the eye-patch he had constructed for Kenpachi, gigai were designed to check the reiatsu a shinigami, especially powerful ones, would leak. In the living world, high amounts of concentrated reiatsu would draw a swarm of all manner of Hollows to a feeding frenzy, hence why it was absolutely necessary that they all wore their gigai at all times. And yet here four captain-level shinigami sat about chatting about niceties over ginseng tea while sounding off the loudest fucking dinner bell for miles around.

True to what he had expected, silence fell over the group as the familiar cacophony of dull, rattling groans echoed from outside, causing the earth to tremble and at least one cup half-empty with the now cooling drink nearly toppling off the table top.

"I guess we overshot how long we could go without the gigai."

Mayuri buried his face in his hands.

"Tea?" Jushiro offered.

'I had to skip class for this…' he thought to himself as the hot rays of the sun bore down on his prone form. Even though everything looked blurry, he could still make out the white clouds splashed across a bright blue sky. Mere minutes ago they had been obscured by the massive expanse of Menos that had clawed their way through their world into his – all he could remember of the past couple of hours was darkness and animalistic bellowing. He didn't know at what point he had managed to cut away enough of the darkness before the light finally took over, but he was still swinging his sword mindlessly at the air at phantoms that only his exhausted mind could perceive before his body finally gave. Next thing he knew, he lay spread eagled in the grass, his overworked lungs demanding huge gulps of air to keep them from collapsing. He couldn't even feel his legs and yet the only thing that remained on his mind was the grade penalty he was going to get for missing yet another class and being forced to repeat an already godawful semester.

Today was not his day.

A high-pitched screech escaped Ichigo as he felt burning cold envelop his body, and he shot up from the ground.

"What the fuck was that for?!" he snapped, arms instinctively crossing his chest to build warmth. He didn't appreciate having a bucketful of ice-cold water dumped on him without warning, and now he sat shivering like a wet dog in the grass, arms crossed against his chest to trap what little warmth he had left before it too escaped his body. Toshiro said nothing though he lifted a quizzical brow at him. The silent dismissal made Ichigo want to snatch the empty bucket out of the brat's hands, drop it down on him and tip him over with a well-placed kick so he would roll down the driveway. But the freezing cold had locked his muscles, robbing him of all movement as well as any desire to release his hold on himself for fear of losing the last of his body heat.

"Achoo!"

Aaaand he just caught a cold. He could kiss this semester as well as any hopes of graduating this year goodbye.

"The water was for dampening the towels, but whatever, seems like your way worked anyway," Soi Fon's voice came from behind him, obviously directed toward the kid. She walked into his line of vision and held out the aforementioned towels for him. "You can use these to dry yourself off."

It looked like an attempt had been made to fold the white fabric, but the incredibly fluffy softness had prevented whoever had set them from making it neat. It reminded him of the clouds he had been gazing at before being splashed with freezing cold water, the fabric undulating with the slightest stir. The towels exuded a warmth that Ichigo could feel just by looking at them, releasing his stiffened muscles so he could reach out and grab on to the life-giving plushness.

A sneeze interrupted the contact and he pulled back his hand to wipe his wet nose. Soi Fon leaned forward and draped the towel over his shoulders, the trembling Substitute pinching its corners and pulling it tight around himself.

"Well he's no longer having a heatstroke," Toshiro reported to Unohana who Kurosaki had to pivot on his hips to see. She was in the doorway of the house the captains were occupying, holding what looked like a ladle. Were he not aware of her moods, Ichigo wouldn't have ever guessed that she could use it to pound his skull in if she felt like it. Though right now violence didn't seem to be her intention – her smile didn't send shivers down his spine, shivers stronger than what he was currently experiencing due to cold, and instead made him feel relaxed. "He does have a cold now, though."

"It's alright," she said, and then shifted her eyes to him. "Kurosaki, how about you come inside for a while? I'm making some soup that'll work wonders for you, it won't take long."

Soup definitely sounded like a great idea. He nodded back and shakily got to his feet, the plush towel having worked wonders to spread heat across his frigid body as he followed her inside. Toshiro and Soi Fon trailed behind, and he took the opportunity to take in his surroundings. Although the interior was nicely decked out, adequate for folks looking to stay in comfort for some time, nothing seemed brand new or unused. Entering the kitchen, he saw Byakuya and another man he didn't quite recognize at the table. They'd been discussing something but stopped as soon as they saw Ichigo in the kitchen's entrance, the larger man getting up to shake his hand and lead him to a seat on the other end of the table that faced Byakuya.

Rukia's brother said little other than "Greetings, Kurosaki", and although he didn't speak much to begin with it was apparent that he wasn't in high spirits today. The Substitute figured it was because of the unintelligible yelling that was going on in the opposite room.

"Uhh… is everything okay?" he asked.

"Of course everything's okay, why wouldn't it be?" the stranger talked like he knew him and it made Ichigo incredibly awkward that he couldn't recall this guy's name. He'd been struggling to remember since the moment the man had walked up to him, his mental gymnastics turning up nothing besides the assumption that since he'd met only captains at this point, this was a new dude who'd filled in one of the spots left by Aizen, Gin or Tosen.

"Well there's all this screaming, Captain…?"

"Oh yeah, that's right, you won't recognize me in this body. It's me, Sajin Komamura."

Ichigo's eyes widened in surprise. He'd nearly forgotten that one of them wasn't exactly human, since much of his memories of the were-beast had his visage obscured by that weird wooden mask of his. He knew that Sajin had stopped wearing it after Sosuke's betrayal, but Ichigo didn't exactly see him much of him then, though he did get the feeling that he had heard that voice before. Hearing Sajin but watching a man with the looks of a runway model flap his mouth weirded Kurosaki out, and the boy couldn't suppress his involuntary shudder. Thankfully Sajin assumed that the reaction had been because of the cold, and he patted the Substitute's back for reassurance.

"Here you go," Unohana slid a bowl in front of him. Boiled carrots, broccoli and chopped cabbage floated in a clear broth, a delicious aroma wafting into the air. Ichigo realized that he was incredibly hungry, having not even bothered with breakfast when he felt the immense spiritual pressure from the Hollows that had invaded the world of the living. His hands emerged from the towel cocoon and pulled the porcelain bowl closer to him.

Ichigo had scarcely even put the first spoonful in his mouth when the heated voices from the room behind him had suddenly gotten very close, and he turned around in his seat to see Kyoraku, Ukitake and another guy he didn't recognize walk into the kitchen. Kyoraku was arguing with the new guy, or more like trying to fend off the latter's angry remarks with sheepish excuses, while Ukitake was chuckling at the whole scene. Kurosaki again wondered if the blue-haired guy with an undercut was a replacement for one of the three ex-Gotei 13 captains, but judging from the pitch of his voice as well as the way he enunciated every syllable, he was likely looking at Kurotsuchi Mayuri.

"You know, I'm actually going to give credit to the others for at least getting it through their skulls as well as to spite you, but you're a complete idiot as is so I don't know if it can get any worse for you than that," yup, it was definitely the freakshow from the Twelfth Division. Boy if Uryu had recognized him yesterday it would have been a lot more trouble than what Ichigo got. And now that he found himself in the midst of what could easily have been mistaken for a marital spat between two captains, one of which he was cautiously aware was a full-blown psychopath, Ichigo had a feeling that the day might turn out badly if he didn't leave.

After he was done with the soup, though.

"You call anyone who doesn't agree with you in the slightest an idiot, that insult lost its meaning a long time ago," Shunsui waved a dismissive hand at him.

"Really?" Mayuri challenged and then his voice dropped into a mocking baritone. "Hey Mayuri, what's the French word for "croissant"? I promised brunch to the Women's Society and I wanna make an impression. Hey Mayuri, I clicked on this ad to talk to hot single women in my area but my computer started freaking out, was it a virus? Hey Mayuri, how do I write "sit on my face" in kanji? I wanna give this card to Nanao on Valentine's Day and I think kanji will give it that classy touch."

Nevermind, this was hilarious. The spoon slipped from his fingers and dropped back into the bowl as Kurosaki's quiet snickering joined in with that of the others.

"I don't sound like– I have never said any of those things!" Shunsui exclaimed, offended.

"You definitely said the last one, because you came to me for same thing," Jushiro intejected, but instead of taking offence his friend gestured at him like he'd said the winning line. He glided over to the pale shinigami and put an encouraging arm over his shoulders.

"And you helped!" Kyoraku went on. "See, that's what good friends do: they help each other, not chew their ears out over teensy weensy slip-ups."

"I'd have gladly let you have your innumerable slip-ups if it meant that you alone would be the one to get court-martialed for them," Mayuri was unamused. "But as it turns out, we're all stuck on the same boat. So if the four of you decide to punch a hole in it, the rest of us go down with it. And I actually like being alive, thank you very much."

"We didn't punch any holes in the boat, you're exaggerating."

"Yeah, you calling in a fucking Menos party by taking off your gigai is me exaggerating."

"Eh, you're getting your panties in a twist over nothing. Kurosaki took care of everything like a pro, and the old man didn't catch a whiff."

"Ah yes, the 'pro' who's currently lying comatose on our lawn. Maybe I shouldn't have shut down the Garganta; he looked like he would've appreciated a fourth wave."

The Substitute stiffened at having heard his name pop up in the conversation and cold sweat began to bead on his brow. The two had been so busy throwing insults at each other that they hadn't realized Kurosaki was right in front of them. And he had been fine with remaining unseen – getting involved in their affairs, whether willingly or unwillingly, was a fine way to lose one's sanity. After all, shinigami were nutty, their captains even nuttier and to associate with them longer than ten minutes or so, as Rukia had warned, was a certified health hazard.

The past couple of hours that had transpired could attest to that. If what Kurotsuchi implied was true, then they were sorely to blame for his nearly dying of exhaustion combined with a heatstroke today. He'd nearly gotten himself killed over nothing, and was then lured in by treacherously fluffy towels and promises of soup as compensation for fucking with his immune system. All this was reason enough to widen the distance between himself and the shinigami captains before he'd lose his life for certain, and wind up back under their feet when he'd pass over to the other side. Having made up his mind, he silently pushed the chair out from under as he got up.

"Achoo!"

Well... shit.

A deathly silence fell across the room as all eyes were suddenly upon the only mop of orange hair in the room. Ichigo stilled, mind too preoccupied with mentally cussing himself out that he didn't even bother wiping off the blob of mucus dangling from his nostril until he started to physically feel the pressure of being everyone's center of attention. Running a sleeve under his nose, he turned around warily to face the very people who'd been discussing him not a moment ago.

"Oh wow, he's awake," Kyoraku commented. "You feeling alright?"

Ichigo didn't answer. His tongue had gone dry under the scrutinizing gaze of the blue-haired captain who he felt like was mentally drawing guideline on where to cut and portion his flesh. Perhaps because she had sensed his discomfort around Kurotsuchi (and God knows if that was the common sentiment among people who'd find themselves in the presence of that nutcase), Unohana answered in his stead.

"Much better."

"Achoo!"

"And he'll be his right self once he'd had a little soup to fix that cold."

"If you plan on feeding him the entire week," Kurotsuchi retorted, his golden eyes never wandering from the now sweating Substitute Shinigami.

"Or if he takes Benadryl twice daily for the next three days alongside it, as I was going to prescribe him," she shot back in her characteristically polite tone.

"That's still 3 whole days of unwanted illness. I can fix him up within the hour. How about it?" he said, turning toward the current subject of debate who reeled back in horror at finding Mayuri suddenly so close to him. Ichigo never saw when and how he had managed to close the distance between them, and now backed into the table there was no real way for him to widen the gap once again. Not to mention the disconcerting way Kurotsuchi flashed his toothy grin at him. Jesus, even if he got out alive this time, those fucking teeth were going to haunt him in his dreams for the next couple of months. "It's a simple injection, and provided you avoid any and all food intake for 5 or so days afterwards you probably won't develop brain tumors."

"That is a shitty trade-off, doc," the orange-haired boy declined, doing everything in his willpower to keep himself from stuttering. Mayuri glowered at him.

"You don't know better."

Ichigo was silent once again and his gaze flitted about, hoping that at least someone would come to his aid. He couldn't see Byakuya or Sajin but their complete silence was an indication as any that they weren't going to get themselves involved, and seeing Shunsui shrug at him made him lose all hope of finding any hint of sanity amongst these freaks. Oh wait, that's right: Unohana.

"I think I'll have the soup," he turned to grab the bowl and presented it to the lunatic as a physical representation of his rejection of the offer.

"Are you sure?" Kurotsuchi demanded and Ichigo quirked a brow at what he thought was pity in his tone. Thinking none of it, the Substitute put a spoonful of the broth in his mouth as his final answer.

Ichigo asshole clenched up almost immediately. His teeth clamped down on the spoon tightly as pain shot throughout the back of his throat to his lower jaw, his lips shrivelling and sealing his mouth shut so that he couldn't even spit out the soup, much less the utensil between his teeth.

"Be careful," Unohana said offhandedly just as a pathetic whimper escaped the human boy. "The soup might be just a tad sour, but it'll do wonders for your sinus."

Tears flowed down his cheeks and into the bowl.