[ And there, the change back into recognisable manner. The Kuchiki cousin, or whoever he is, an esteemed guest, a loyal guard from the Gotei 13, takes on a commanding air with him, clearly marking the difference between a sword and whatever tool that signifies servitude, today the wash brush, tomorrow the lack of either that or a sword. Empty hands. On his travels, he carried a staff for protection, isn't that so? Thus, Isamu should, from experience, know the position of a guard, too, but he doesn't feel he can claim that title aside from the loyal part, perhaps, if his reputation is that lucky. In the end, he didn't manage to guard much, after all.
She lies buried, and that, even sloppily, he was just one man to do the job, in the farthest corner of Soul Society.
His face betrays none of these feelings as he bows, again, with all the bowing his back will give out in ten years time, like his father's began to do, licking his lips and clearing his voice. Yes, Master, it means. Still, he doesn't speak those words exactly. It might be that he got too used to not only being a servant to her in all that time. It might be that he never thought it was right that he should be. Whatever the reason, Isamu just replies, curtly and to the point.
Knowing he might as well be asked, because even the Kuchiki Clan is no longer a fitting home to him. Home, right? A place of work, at least. Isamu never had a home aside from the road, and his father prided himself of them not being travelling servants... The irony stings. ]
Isamu.
[ Like all servants and most people from the Rukongai, there's only that. A given name. Nothing to denote family. He has his father, he had a mother once, too, but unlike the man before him, no doubt, they were not given a shared name to denote that they were family at all. They were individuals, haphazardly bound together.
no subject
She lies buried, and that, even sloppily, he was just one man to do the job, in the farthest corner of Soul Society.
His face betrays none of these feelings as he bows, again, with all the bowing his back will give out in ten years time, like his father's began to do, licking his lips and clearing his voice. Yes, Master, it means. Still, he doesn't speak those words exactly. It might be that he got too used to not only being a servant to her in all that time. It might be that he never thought it was right that he should be. Whatever the reason, Isamu just replies, curtly and to the point.
Knowing he might as well be asked, because even the Kuchiki Clan is no longer a fitting home to him. Home, right? A place of work, at least. Isamu never had a home aside from the road, and his father prided himself of them not being travelling servants... The irony stings. ]
Isamu.
[ Like all servants and most people from the Rukongai, there's only that. A given name. Nothing to denote family. He has his father, he had a mother once, too, but unlike the man before him, no doubt, they were not given a shared name to denote that they were family at all. They were individuals, haphazardly bound together.
Yet, isn't everyone? ]