"They're not meant for that," said the shinigami, dangerously.

Komui put his hat over his chest, despairingly. His voice held no greater pain in a man: "Then it's going to be straight and uncute in a day."

Rukia taught her son to read French very simply: she plopped him in her lap, trapped between herself and a copy of Le Petit Prince. Within days the boy was correcting her pronounciation and pages ahead--reading the whole thing to her, instead.