Alright Hear This [Rukia, Mizu]

The announcement by the acting Captain Commander hadn't changed anything, when it came to the 2nd Division's operations. They'd run out of resources and funding eventually, Rukia knew that; but she wasn't going to throw it all into the air right away. She'd run this division down to the last man, until their funds hit absolute zero. There was still medical work to be done, and she wasn't going to let the squabbles between Central 46 and her actual employer stop her from working.

That wasn't what she'd taken up this position to do. It wasn't what she'd brought anyone into the division to do, either. But some conversations still needed to be had, and so now she was going to the one person that she needed to speak with most.

"Morikawa. Do you have a minute?"

Rukia understood that her vice captain had suffered more than she had during this attack. She might have been a jaded woman, but she wasn't callous. She didn't have any intention of making demands or throwing ultimatums right now. All that mattered was discussing where things were going next.

Every minute, hour, day bled into the next. Mizu felt like a zombie, and the bags beneath her eyes and poor posture reflected that. Her eyes themselves were cold and distant, empty and without feeling, even as she continued working in the remnants of Second Division. Her family had been devastated, her hopes and dreams dashed, all in the span of one day. One single day.

At one point Mizu would have practically jumped for joy just for being acknowledged by Rukia Kuchiki, but now as the woman called out to her she could only turn toward the voice and slightly nod her head in confirmation. She followed the Captain to wherever it was they were to talk, walking as a ghost through the barracks hallways. Though even that was being too generous; her spirit had been destroyed, leaving little more than a carcass that could cast Kaidō.

Mizu didn't speak. She didn't gesture. She just waited, still as a statue.

Rukia's office was the only place that she'd hold a conversation like this; she knew it was going to be a wildly unpleasant one. She didn't consider herself good at these kinds of conversations, but it didn't mean she wasn't going to try. Rather than sit down, she stayed standing, even as she gestured to one of the seats in the office for if Mizu felt so inclined as to sit.

"I don't intend to ask if you're doing alright. I know that would be a stupid thing to ask right now. I want to ask what you need right now."

Maybe that was still too much pressure to put on a grieving woman in this circumstance. Rukia wasn't really sure; she'd be lying if she said she was awake and alert and at her best mentally right now, either. She just wanted to be supportive.

"If you need time away from here, I don't want you to force yourself. I'm worried about you."

That much, at least, was true. Rukia liked her Vice Captain, beyond merely being a good coworker. She'd been an uplifting presence in the division, generally balanced out her own cynicism in ways Rukia had always appreciated. To see her like this was something that she felt she needed to at least try and help with, in whatever ways she might still be able to.

Empty eyes, ones already vacated by the mettle that once inhabited them, stared back at Rukia as the Captain offered to help in any way she could. But how do you help a person who has already given up? No, that help was better off being offered to someone else. Not to Mizu.

Speaking in a voice quiet with defeat, Mizu answered but didn't know what to say "I...we might need to get more medical supplies soon somehow. More bandages, bedding, infusion pumps and tubes...that kind of thing." She knew that wasn't the kind of thing Captain Kuchiki was asking about, but what she wanted from Mizu was too hard to think about, much less say. That didn't stop moisture from gathering at the corners of her eyes, and it didn't stop her from beginning to break down, the exhaustion from working nearly twenty four/seven since the attack tearing down what flimsy walls she had managed to put up around herself.

"No, I need to stay here. And work. People...I can save lives here. Help them. I can do that. I have to. If I leave and someone dies, what about their dreams? And their family? What if there's another attack? Or another bombing? Or..or what if..." Mizu's head fell forward, her face caught by her hands as she quietly sobbed into them. She had thought there couldn't be any more tears left to cry. Apparently she was wrong.

There wasn't any chance Rukia would have tried to interrupt her vice captain, give her something stupid like 'no, I mean what you need for yourself.' Obviously the woman understood that, and Rukia understood exactly why she'd answered that way. Everyone had suffered here, sure. But some had suffered more than others, and the people here in 2nd, who'd been working day in and day out to save the people they could, hardly had any time to handle their own grief, to process the weight of what was happening.

"Mizu. The worst of it is over for now. I'm in charge of medical, in charge of making sure everyone is healthy. But even besides that, I'm your Captain. You're a good woman, you've done more here than most people could match. You need to take time for yourself."

Even if it was perhaps awkward, stilted, from a woman who'd long since become something of a jaded old lady, Rukia nevertheless stepped to offer Mizu the most supportive hug that she could. It felt hollow as a gesture; it felt like it was just the only thing left that Rukia could offer. But even if it was the only thing she could offer, she'd still offer it.

"I'm sorry."

Rukia had lost a lot of people in her life. She'd grown somewhat numb to the grief over the years, especially after the war. But she knew, painfully well, what it was like to lose a sister.