"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.
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Komui/Byakuya, wait wot am I sayingum. Kuchiki(s) of your choice, books.no subject
"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.
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