Bleach | The Hungering, the Thirst [HIATUS]

3 | First Night, New Day

It was one extreme to the other. Ryoichi was either liked—a little too much—or thoroughly disliked. Surrounded by a cluster of old and new associates, it wasn't hard to notice the dirty looks thrown at her from the rest of the cafeteria who found her presence an insult to their entire Division.

To say that it aggravated her was a slight understatement. Ryoichi had never been treated as an outsider by the 11th. Sure, there had always been a few who couldn't accept a little girl running around, but they'd still maintained some form of respect. There was a sinking feeling that this had only been because of her fathers influence. Now that he was out of the picture, Ryoichi was sure their true colours would come through. Either way, most of these Shinigami she had never seen before.

"Ryoichi-san, there's still some left overs, want any?"

She looked up, pulled from the train of thought by Miura who was waiting expectantly for a reply. Ryoichi realised that she'd at some point cleared her plate, not even a single grain of rice left. "No thanks, I'm stuffed," she grunted, deciding to down the rest of her tea which had gone cold.

"Ohohoho, all the more for me!" He beamed, rubbing his hands together and taking off for whatever scraps he could salvage from the kitchens. Miura always ate a lot, being that he was a rather rotund and heavyweight man. So far from what Ryoichi had seen, he was still the biggest Shinigami out of the whole Division, practically a giant. As she stared after his skipping form, she had to appreciate how carefully he manoeuvred around the dining furniture.

Then she noticed that the hall had fallen eerily quiet and empty. "Where'd everyone else get to?"

"To put some last minute sparring in or straight to their rooms," hummed Kumagai. "It's already late."

"Oh. Didn't know so much time had passed already. Am I keeping you? I took my time."

Kumagai's eyelids were shut, as if he were trying to conserve some energy. "Hnhn, no, I have first night shift to get too in a bit. Hm?" He came to full attention at the sound of cluttering. "Lieuten— I mean, Ryoichi, you don't need to do that!"

The woman didn't pause collecting his and her eating utensils, about to make her way over to the sinks. "It's fine old man, you look a little tired." It wouldn't take her two seconds to wash their dishes and chopsticks, dry them and put them away. "How long before you have to go?"

"Ah, lets see." He squinted at a clock on the far wall, having to get up and come a bit closer to it. "Half an hour by the looks of it."

Ryoichi strolled over to him, drying her hands on her shihakusho. "Why don't you get glasses?" She asked out loud.

"I did, just that I kept breaking them," he sighed. When he noticed her concern, he laughed. "Haha, it don't bother me much kiddo, this old man can still kick ass."

"I don't doubt it."

"Oh, don't believe me? You should know I've not moved from the 6th Seat at all since you were gone," he crowed.

"Haaaah, still 6th seat? Damn, I would've expected you to be the captain by now," she teased, both of them bantering back and forth even after Miura returned from his gourmet conquest to tell them he was heading in to recover from a self induced food coma.

They'd been sat there long enough for the older Shinigami to boil more tea for the both of them and had moved on to talking about newer developments, touching seldom on the things that had happened before she'd left, although the old man had been burning with a need to ask how she was. There was a permanent weariness clinging to her features and the way she talked; the older Shinigami knew it wasn't anything to do with her long journey back home but he got the feeling Ryoichi wouldn't appreciate being asked if she was okay.