Izurich
shylarah
Expllo
BayRat
RevekaRed
Abstract Proxy
Archazen
The World
CollectorOfMyst
Vesuvius00 "Third, fourth, ninth, or thirteenth," Kobe mumbled after Jin, trying hard to remember what each of those squads were designated for. He was disappointed by his poor memory, and chuckled at himself.
"You know I've always hated that they're listed by number. Why aren't they just, like, the scouts. The combat squad. The research division. Might as well just go with squad eleven because it's the only one I can remember at this point," Kobe crossed his arms in a semi comical, semi literal pout with a smile. "I assume you have your reasons for each?"
Kobe knew that he did. Kobe also knew Jin wouldn't tell him unless he asked. He wasn't so talkative, which was saying something coming from the taller Shinagami. Kobe was asking because he was interested in Jin's thoughts. He always had the more analytical of their two minds.
"Hell, I know you do. You probably read the subsection of the handbook for each squad, as well as the individual bios of every captain. Am I wrong?" As he spoke, Kobe spied a small sake stand all the way on the end of the street. The elderly brewer smiled sleepily, smoking a pipe of his own and sitting on a simple wooden stool. Kobe had heard of the old man, how he had been a brewmaster in life and quickly became content doing the same thing in death. His sake was inexpensive, and simple, but smooth and exceptionally rich.
The old man ran the shop alone, so his supply was small and he often sold out. It had become a household favorite in the middle districts, but unless you lived down there it was hard to get some. His reputation had apparently reached this far, because here he was with only a single bottle left not even halfway through the night. As he listened to Jin speak, Kobe walked over to the old brewer Genji Otama, a wonderful idea blossoming in his brain.
"You know I've always hated that they're listed by number. Why aren't they just, like, the scouts. The combat squad. The research division. Might as well just go with squad eleven because it's the only one I can remember at this point," Kobe crossed his arms in a semi comical, semi literal pout with a smile. "I assume you have your reasons for each?"
Kobe knew that he did. Kobe also knew Jin wouldn't tell him unless he asked. He wasn't so talkative, which was saying something coming from the taller Shinagami. Kobe was asking because he was interested in Jin's thoughts. He always had the more analytical of their two minds.
"Hell, I know you do. You probably read the subsection of the handbook for each squad, as well as the individual bios of every captain. Am I wrong?" As he spoke, Kobe spied a small sake stand all the way on the end of the street. The elderly brewer smiled sleepily, smoking a pipe of his own and sitting on a simple wooden stool. Kobe had heard of the old man, how he had been a brewmaster in life and quickly became content doing the same thing in death. His sake was inexpensive, and simple, but smooth and exceptionally rich.
The old man ran the shop alone, so his supply was small and he often sold out. It had become a household favorite in the middle districts, but unless you lived down there it was hard to get some. His reputation had apparently reached this far, because here he was with only a single bottle left not even halfway through the night. As he listened to Jin speak, Kobe walked over to the old brewer Genji Otama, a wonderful idea blossoming in his brain.