"Let's see," muttered the reinforcement. "A shinigami, a Quincy and a werewolf walk into a bar..."
He blew on his hands, rubbed them together, and muttered a few words. When they glowed he clapped, and laid his shining green palms on Komamura's wounds. The near-comatose wolf croaked feebly, and Isshin ruffled his head like a pet dog. Probably the first and last to dare do so.
"Don't worry, I'm a doctor," he grinned. "I mean, uh, Fourth Squad. I mean, formerly. Anyway; don't worry."
The deep gashes quickly began to knit together, and the local GP turned to Ikkaku, administrating more fast, efficient healing kido. It was a mark of his skill and experience that no long chants or complex gestures were needed.
Magic was so fast after twenty years of human medical science that he almost felt a little too quick, so he took the time to dig some colourful children's plasters out of his pocket and stick them artistically all over Ikkaku's hands and face. This important masterpiece complete, he administered a sedative to stop the Third Seat officer chewing off his fingers again, and turned back to his other patient.