Stranded
Fandom: Bleach
Title: Stranded
Genre: Humor/Parody
Characters: Hitsugaya, Yumichika, and a glut of other Soul Society folks
Spoilers: Memories of Nobody
Rated: PG-13
Summary: Firing a massive, magical cannon at the space between dimensions couldn't possibly have any adverse side effects.
Stranded
“So.” The word hung in the air, tense.
He didn’t get a response.
“Why are you guys just standing around?”
Ichigo fidgeted, uncomfortable.
“Would you knock it off? It’s creepy seeing a bunch of people in black hanging out on a bridge in the middle of the day. I feel like I’m early for a funeral.” A pause, and then a suspicious tone of voice. “You guys don’t know something we don’t? Is this bridge about to collapse?”
“No,” Captain Hitsugaya sighed wearily. “It’s nothing like that. We don’t know exactly what to do.”
“More like you don’t have anything better to do.”
The Captain looked up sharply. “What was that, Substitute Soul Reaper?”
“Nothing at all, Cap’n,” Ichigo whistled innocently.
Hitsugaya normally would have pressed the issue, but his patience had worn thin after spending the last God-knows-how-many hours trying to keep a fistful of bipolar personalities under control. He was normally one to follow orders, but that insufferable Lieutenant of his had cajoled him into leading a raid on the Valley of Screams despite the standing order to clear the area for the Kidou Cannon’s first and last volley. And what had it gotten him? Stranded in the human world thanks to some time-space mumbo jumbo brought about by so much raw power being poured into the boundary between worlds.
His own Lieutenant had been quick to point out that as Soul Society’s resident genius, acing his kidou classes in record time, he really should have seen that one coming. She disavowed any wrongdoing. She was only a hapless accomplice and a middling kidou student, she said, eyes welling up with crocodile tears that got the better part of the rescue party in a standoffish, hyper-defensive sort of mood. Matsumoto would be the death of him.
But she had turned around and helped him convince the rest of the raiding party not to wander off. She was a clever devil like that. Doing enough to raise his hackles, then just enough to smooth it over and avoid any immediate repercussions. Hers was a diabolical genius.
“Let’s go, Ichigo,” Rukia Kuchiki, not at all interested in Hitsugaya or his internal monologue, slapped her partner across the back, right at home in an Orb of Distortion-free gigai. No evil schemes and giant phoenixes of doom for her this time, no sirree.
Ichigo felt his eye twitch. He didn’t feel right about leaving these nut jobs loitering around his home town. It was bound to burn down while his back was turned.
“If you’re going to be a stick in the mud, I’ll go on alone,” Rukia huffed at his inattention, stalking off toward the other side of the bridge. Ichigo grunted something at her and was about to launch into another effort to uproot the Soul Reapers when she said something that made his brain spasm. “I’ll keep that video Keigo wanted to show you for myself.”
That was right. He had been dumb enough to mention that when she asked him what was news while she’d been gone. Keigo had insisted that he lend Ichigo a “special” video. Knowing Keigo, it was probably the type of thing with a lame title like Luscious Lovelies, MILFs-R-Us, or Asian Butt Sluts #9.
“RUKIA, WAIT!” If she got her hands on it, he would never live it down. And that’s if he was lucky. She would probably take the opportunity to make copies and show it to everyone she knew, loudly and frequently announcing that it was something of his. That could not be allowed. He took off after her at a feverish run, wishing he could flash step in his mortal body.
Hitsugaya took it all in with a jaded disinterest, anything to break up his nerve-shattering babysitting of the thugs and lunatics treating the bridge as a playground. He noted a foursome playing cards with no small amount of surprise. That was a surprisingly harmless pastime for Ikkaku Madarame, Renji Abarai, Shuuhei Hisagi, and Kira Izuru to be playing. One half of the four were Eleventh at some point. That was more than enough to make what was so eloquently known in the human world as “a shit storm.”
“What are the four of you up to?”
“We’re playing cards, Captain,” Kira was quick to offer a snappy, efficient response. Hitsugaya privately wished he had a Lieutenant who did stuff.
“Yeah, cards,” Ikkaku snorted. “Can’t we do that now? We can’t go boozing, fighting, screwing, or pranking. This all we have left.”
“Does being Captain come with playing fun police?” Renji added thoughtfully, shuffling.
Hitsugaya decided not to acknowledge that with a response. He could just tell Captain Kuchiki that his Lieutenant had been mouthing off to a superior officer. That would earn him another spleen-full of his Captain’s bankai.
“What are you all playing?”
“Go fish,” Shuuhei answered. “Got any fours?”
“Go fish,” Renji smirked in triumph. The other Lieutenant muttered something about Renji’s dopey face making for a surprisingly good poker face.
“You’re not even playing poker.” Hitsugaya felt oddly compelled to point that out.
“Oh, come on! You’re the word police too?” Ikkaku shot him another surly look.
“No…that…doesn’t even make any sense.”
“It doesn’t have to. You’re the word police.”
“We don’t play poker anymore,” Kira supplied helpfully. He decided to answer the unasked question, too (so efficient!). “We’ve discovered that it’s only a matter of time before we start playing for money. That never ends well.” He winced at that. Hitsugaya could only imagine.
Ikkaku asked Renji something. Renji told the third seat to go fish, which prompted him to go screaming across the circle to wrap his fingers around Renji’s neck.
“Oh, yes,” Hitsugaya narrowed his eyes. “This is much healthier.” He almost thought to stop them, but a few of the numb skulls beating each other unconscious would make his life easier.
He opted to take stock in the rest of the ragtag band of idiots.
A few of them were making sport of their intangibility, standing in the lanes while mortals phased through them. He winced. It was only a matter of time before a spiritually sensitive driver rolled through, saw what he or she was likely to assume were escaped mental patients, and swerved to avoid them. Hitsugaya wasn’t going to take the fall for a multi-car pile up.
“Captain Zaraki,” he did his best to steel his resolve. This was going to be like pulling teeth with a rabid badger. “I don’t think that’s at all wise.”
Zaraki spent several seconds considering his rebuttal.
“Don’t care.”
Hitsugaya suppressed the urge to scream. “I thought that you of all people would. If you persist in this foolish behavior, Captain-Commander Yamamoto will have more than a lecture waiting for you once we’re able to return to Soul Society.”
The leader of the Eleventh Division paused with a thoughtful look on his face. “You think he’ll finally give it to me?”
The young Captain’s mind boggled. “I…don’t believe the Captain-Commander is…interested…in that sort of thing.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Freud.” And then Zaraki went back to car-dodging.
He felt a retort burning to his lips before he realized that arguing the merits of psychoanalysis with Captain Zaraki was a recipe for disaster. The elder Captain, more brain than he would care to admit, would probably inflict some awful, soul-searing trauma on him if he dared locking horns over it.
He decided to change the subject.
“I doubt Captain Yamamoto has any interest in fighting you, either.”
“Oh, really?” Fifth Seat Yumichika Ayasegawa, who was playing the game alongside his Captain (different lane), suddenly threw in his two cents. Hitsugaya stifled a premature wince. This would be painful. “Then the old man hasn’t gone completely senile. He knows the score. He knows what a hideous loss he would suffer if he were to cross swords with our Captain.”
“Damn straight!” Ikkaku piped up from his corner of the sidewalk, which had settled back into something resembling decency.
He bit his cheek. The sword-slingers of the Eleventh were just trying to get a rise out of him. He wouldn’t take the bait.
Too bad there was another Captain on hand who disagreed.
“I don’t know what is in the water, but the barbarians of the Eleventh Division are deluded.” Captain Soifon of the Second, perched atop one of the suspension bridge’s lines, deigned to join the conversation. “The Captain-Commander is a peerless combatant. He would make quick work of you and your Captain.”
“Big words,” Zaraki flashed his gruesome smile, “from a little girl.”
Soifon stiffened visibly. Hitsugaya couldn’t find his voice fast enough. “Captain, I urge you to-”
“How dare you!” Soifon landed with an assassin’s grace, squaring her shoulders and pivoting toward her sneering coworker. “I am the Captain of the Second Division and the Special Forces! You like to brag about strength? All you know is mindless brawling. We of the Second are a purer breed of soldier.”
“Go tell someone who cares.” Zaraki chuckled lightly as a car passed through him. “Like that cat-woman you’re always mooning about.”
There came a sharp hiss and a click of teeth from Soifon, a mortified gasp from Hitsugaya.
“You would be lucky to kiss the ground she walks on!”
“Oh, I bet you’d like to kiss a lot more than her feet. And you’d do a lot more than kissing.”
Hitsugaya tried to breathe, only to realize he had been holding his breath. He couldn’t allow two Captains to debase themselves with a brawl but he wasn’t stupid enough to come between two pairs of death-on-legs.
“I won’t waste another second on you.” Soifon spun on her heel and was off, probably off to Kisuke Urahara’s shop to interrogate Yoruichi Shihouin. Yeah. Interrogate.
Hitsugaya remembered how to breathe. Maybe there was hope for the squabbling officers of the officer corps after all.
In thinking this, Hitsugaya underestimated just how badly Zaraki wanted that fight.
“Have fun with Catwoman, Captain Bitch-ninja.”
She exploded with a bloody shriek and surged across the pavement to plant the heel of her foot between Zaraki’s eyes. He responded with an erudite ‘urk!’ His hands flailed awkwardly as the fingers of one hand hooked her Captain’s haori. She shed the outer layer of her ensemble and twisted to land in a perfect pose, all in one fine motion.
Zaraki smirked, his face rapidly marinating in its own juices as the wound on his forehead began to bleed.
(Marinating. Hitsugaya dimly realized he was starving.)
A car drove by, windows rolled down, radio blaring Andrew WK’s “Party Hard.” It was morbidly appropriate.
Zaraki rushed her again. The sword went wide, as he expected. His free hand lashed out to grab her around her slim waist, but she was already moving to seize him by the wrist and use herself as a fulcrum. The big Captain went sailing with a flick of Soifon’s wrists, using his momentum against him. Hitsugaya noticed he was on a trajectory that would send him clear of the bridge.
Zaraki must have noticed, too, making one last desperate grab with the same hand. This time, he snaked his fingers around the fabric clinging to her torso.
Soifon gasped with horror. She was willing to do a great deal of things for the Thirteen Court Guard Squads. Flashing an ogre like Captain Kenpachi Zaraki was not one of them.
So it was perfectly reasonable to go with the flow and pitch herself over the edge with him. The only alternative was letting him fly, along with her top. And that was unacceptable. She could always kill Zaraki later. She couldn’t make the gathered Reapers forget what she looked like half-naked.
A chorus of disappointed groans went up as the two sailed into the surging waters below. Being men (and Matsumoto), they wouldn’t have minded catching Soifon in a compromising position, even if it would put them right at the top of her hit list. “Totally worth it,” most of them might say.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Hitsugaya mumbled to no one in particular. In a matter of minutes, two of the Captains in their party had gone AWOL.
Ikkaku’s spiritual pressure and voice exploded. “Captain!” He ran to the handrail, where he drooped at the sight of his Captain and Soifon having the world’s most awkward fist fight as they were swept away in the current.
Yumichika sauntered over to console his friend. “Don’t worry, Ikkaku. The Captain can take care of himself.”
“Nah, it’s not that. I can’t remember the last time I fought in the water.”
“Then why don’t you join him?”
“I would, but we’ve got a game going.” He gestured vaguely to the three others who had been playing Go Fish.
“Well~,” Yumichika all but sang, “why don’t you do both? Why not take them fighting with you?”
Ikkaku beamed like a kid on Christmas. “I’m so happy we’re friends.” Without further ado, he stomped over to Renji, punched him in the face, and tossed him in the river while he was still loopy. Then he hopped in with a shout of “BANZAI!”
No one lifted so much as a finger to try and stop this.
Hitsugaya dimly considered the upside of the disaster. Maybe a long swim would wash the stink of blood off the men of the Eleventh.
It didn’t make him feel any better. He decided to take stock of his remaining troops on the off chance he could head any future madness off at the pass. He noted Captain Kuchiki’s presence across the way, tall and unmoving. That was good. He had nothing to worry about from that man.
Matsumoto was still here, chatting with Yumichika, Kira, and Shuuhei. The latter had given up on cards after losing two players and the newcomers had apparently started a rousing game of Truth or Dare.
“I don’t think I can do that,” Shuuhei eyed Yumichika distrustfully.
“But Shuu!” Matsumoto pouted at him with a pet name. “That’s not how the game works! You can’t pick and choose. How can you back out on me?” Her eyes had gone big and glossy, hands clasped in a helpless gesture. That was a wolf in sheep’s clothing if Hitsugaya ever saw one.
“Really, Hisagi, it’s so unsightly.” Yumichika sniffed prissily, only for a wide grin to split his face. His eyes glittered like daggers. “I think I have a proposition! If our dear Shuuhei were to carry out Matsumoto’s dare, would she be willing to make it worth his while?”
“Of course, of course” Matsumoto didn’t miss a beat, nodding vigorously.
“I…ah…what did…you…um…have in mind?” Shuuhei had gone as red as a beet, trying not to make himself look perverted when that was the only way the scenario could possibly end.
“Hmm…I wonder?” Matsumoto took a deep breath that drew his eyes toward a certain part of her anatomy. He got points for at least trying to keep his eyes away.
“I’ll do it!” Shuuhei barked, drawing Yumichika into a big, wet sloppy kiss just as Matsumoto ordered. She squealed in delight, clapping her hands. Kira took the entire scene in with one wide eye. Several seconds later, after a great deal of Yumchika stroking Shuuhei’s hair and Shuuhei slapping his hands away, the two pulled apart.
Shuuhei looked ready to crawl into a ditch. Yumichika looked like a superstar.
“’kay, did it,” Shuuhei grunted.
“Then you get a reward!” She leaned forward and mirrored Shuuhei’s kiss with Yumichika, which earned an upturned nose from the man. Then she did him one better. She took him by his choker and started dragging a dazed Shuuhei down the road.
“Where are you going!?” Her Captain exploded once his mind had recovered from the mind-numbing display.
“Oh, nowhere special,” Matsumoto quipped. “He took one for the team, so I figured it was my turn I took something.” Hitsugaya cringed at the pun. “I was figuring we could seclude ourselves in a love hotel somewhere-”
“That’s quite enough.”
“And do all sorts of things.”
“I don’t need to hear anymore.”
“The kinds of things that will make him weep with joy when he thinks back on them. Things like-”
“THANK YOU, MATSUMOTO!”
A tumbleweed rolled past. Somehow. Maybe. Maybe Hitsugaya’s mind had finally collapsed.
“In that case, I’ll see you later, Captain!” Then she bounced off, with her love slave in tow. The Captain watched them go, feeling powerless in the face of Matsumoto’s greatest weapon: TMI (Too Much Information).
“Officer,” Hitsugaya leveled his chilly gaze at the fifth seat. “I’m onto you.”
Yumichika’s face foliage bounced merrily as he raised his eyebrows in a look of innocence. “What ever do you mean?”
“Every time something has gone wrong, you have been at the center of it!” He stabbed a damning finger forward. “You provoked Captains Soifon and Zaraki! You encouraged Madarame to kidnap Abarai! You suggested my Lieutenant do unspeakable things with the Lieutenant of Ninth Division!”
“They must not be that unspeakable if she was willing to have a chat about them.”
“That’s irrelevant!”
“Then are you jealous?”
“I-No! That’s not-No! I can’t even believe you would say such a thing.”
“That one wasn’t even my fault. She let her dirty little mind run away with her.”
“Stop changing the subject!”
So of course Yumichika changed the subject again. “You’ll never believe who I saw locking lips with the Fifth Division Lieutenant before our departure.”
Kira squeaked.
Hitsugaya felt his blood run cold. Colder than it usually did, at any rate. His voice ground out of his throat like a razor blade. “Tell me exactly what you saw.”
Kira vehemently shook his head, his visible eye pleading with the man to stay silent.
“The Lieutenant of the Third stopped by her room and spoke with her for a time. Yes, that man there,” he waved to Kira, who had been wildly gesticulating, begging him to stop. “He said a great many beautiful things to Miss Momo, about how his endless passion and boundless love. She was so overcome by his declaration that she gave him, in her own words, ‘my first kiss.’”
Yumichika sparkled.
Kira gulped.
Hitsugaya didn’t do a thing. Not right away.
“I,” Kira licked his lips, “I think you broke him.”
“SIT UPON THE FROZEN HEAVENS, HYOURINMARU!”
Kira vanished in a flash step, with a very irate Captain hot on his heels.
Yumichika smiled, patting himself on the back for a job well done. He had nothing against Kira, but the prospect of seeing a Kirasicle was too great an opportunity to pass up. Kirasicle. Yes, that was nice. He would have to copyright that. He produced a pad and pencil to write that one down. It would be the next big thing in Soul Society.
In the meantime, though, he would have to find a way to get under Captain Kuchiki’s skin. He had been a late arrival to the Valley and had wisely chosen to dissociate himself from the rest of his mildly mad associates when they found themselves stranded on the bridge.
He eyed the Captain, who cocked a single, thin brow, not quite comprehending.
Maybe Yumichika would get Ichigo and the Kuchiki girl drunk and lock them in a closet. Yes, that was bound to raise his hackles. If by some chance it didn’t, he could always try again. They would be here for quite a while. He had all the time in the world to find Kuchiki’s hot button and dig up brand new ones for everyone else.
Getting stuck in the human world was the best thing that had ever happened.
Title: Stranded
Genre: Humor/Parody
Characters: Hitsugaya, Yumichika, and a glut of other Soul Society folks
Spoilers: Memories of Nobody
Rated: PG-13
Summary: Firing a massive, magical cannon at the space between dimensions couldn't possibly have any adverse side effects.
Stranded
“So.” The word hung in the air, tense.
He didn’t get a response.
“Why are you guys just standing around?”
Ichigo fidgeted, uncomfortable.
“Would you knock it off? It’s creepy seeing a bunch of people in black hanging out on a bridge in the middle of the day. I feel like I’m early for a funeral.” A pause, and then a suspicious tone of voice. “You guys don’t know something we don’t? Is this bridge about to collapse?”
“No,” Captain Hitsugaya sighed wearily. “It’s nothing like that. We don’t know exactly what to do.”
“More like you don’t have anything better to do.”
The Captain looked up sharply. “What was that, Substitute Soul Reaper?”
“Nothing at all, Cap’n,” Ichigo whistled innocently.
Hitsugaya normally would have pressed the issue, but his patience had worn thin after spending the last God-knows-how-many hours trying to keep a fistful of bipolar personalities under control. He was normally one to follow orders, but that insufferable Lieutenant of his had cajoled him into leading a raid on the Valley of Screams despite the standing order to clear the area for the Kidou Cannon’s first and last volley. And what had it gotten him? Stranded in the human world thanks to some time-space mumbo jumbo brought about by so much raw power being poured into the boundary between worlds.
His own Lieutenant had been quick to point out that as Soul Society’s resident genius, acing his kidou classes in record time, he really should have seen that one coming. She disavowed any wrongdoing. She was only a hapless accomplice and a middling kidou student, she said, eyes welling up with crocodile tears that got the better part of the rescue party in a standoffish, hyper-defensive sort of mood. Matsumoto would be the death of him.
But she had turned around and helped him convince the rest of the raiding party not to wander off. She was a clever devil like that. Doing enough to raise his hackles, then just enough to smooth it over and avoid any immediate repercussions. Hers was a diabolical genius.
“Let’s go, Ichigo,” Rukia Kuchiki, not at all interested in Hitsugaya or his internal monologue, slapped her partner across the back, right at home in an Orb of Distortion-free gigai. No evil schemes and giant phoenixes of doom for her this time, no sirree.
Ichigo felt his eye twitch. He didn’t feel right about leaving these nut jobs loitering around his home town. It was bound to burn down while his back was turned.
“If you’re going to be a stick in the mud, I’ll go on alone,” Rukia huffed at his inattention, stalking off toward the other side of the bridge. Ichigo grunted something at her and was about to launch into another effort to uproot the Soul Reapers when she said something that made his brain spasm. “I’ll keep that video Keigo wanted to show you for myself.”
That was right. He had been dumb enough to mention that when she asked him what was news while she’d been gone. Keigo had insisted that he lend Ichigo a “special” video. Knowing Keigo, it was probably the type of thing with a lame title like Luscious Lovelies, MILFs-R-Us, or Asian Butt Sluts #9.
“RUKIA, WAIT!” If she got her hands on it, he would never live it down. And that’s if he was lucky. She would probably take the opportunity to make copies and show it to everyone she knew, loudly and frequently announcing that it was something of his. That could not be allowed. He took off after her at a feverish run, wishing he could flash step in his mortal body.
Hitsugaya took it all in with a jaded disinterest, anything to break up his nerve-shattering babysitting of the thugs and lunatics treating the bridge as a playground. He noted a foursome playing cards with no small amount of surprise. That was a surprisingly harmless pastime for Ikkaku Madarame, Renji Abarai, Shuuhei Hisagi, and Kira Izuru to be playing. One half of the four were Eleventh at some point. That was more than enough to make what was so eloquently known in the human world as “a shit storm.”
“What are the four of you up to?”
“We’re playing cards, Captain,” Kira was quick to offer a snappy, efficient response. Hitsugaya privately wished he had a Lieutenant who did stuff.
“Yeah, cards,” Ikkaku snorted. “Can’t we do that now? We can’t go boozing, fighting, screwing, or pranking. This all we have left.”
“Does being Captain come with playing fun police?” Renji added thoughtfully, shuffling.
Hitsugaya decided not to acknowledge that with a response. He could just tell Captain Kuchiki that his Lieutenant had been mouthing off to a superior officer. That would earn him another spleen-full of his Captain’s bankai.
“What are you all playing?”
“Go fish,” Shuuhei answered. “Got any fours?”
“Go fish,” Renji smirked in triumph. The other Lieutenant muttered something about Renji’s dopey face making for a surprisingly good poker face.
“You’re not even playing poker.” Hitsugaya felt oddly compelled to point that out.
“Oh, come on! You’re the word police too?” Ikkaku shot him another surly look.
“No…that…doesn’t even make any sense.”
“It doesn’t have to. You’re the word police.”
“We don’t play poker anymore,” Kira supplied helpfully. He decided to answer the unasked question, too (so efficient!). “We’ve discovered that it’s only a matter of time before we start playing for money. That never ends well.” He winced at that. Hitsugaya could only imagine.
Ikkaku asked Renji something. Renji told the third seat to go fish, which prompted him to go screaming across the circle to wrap his fingers around Renji’s neck.
“Oh, yes,” Hitsugaya narrowed his eyes. “This is much healthier.” He almost thought to stop them, but a few of the numb skulls beating each other unconscious would make his life easier.
He opted to take stock in the rest of the ragtag band of idiots.
A few of them were making sport of their intangibility, standing in the lanes while mortals phased through them. He winced. It was only a matter of time before a spiritually sensitive driver rolled through, saw what he or she was likely to assume were escaped mental patients, and swerved to avoid them. Hitsugaya wasn’t going to take the fall for a multi-car pile up.
“Captain Zaraki,” he did his best to steel his resolve. This was going to be like pulling teeth with a rabid badger. “I don’t think that’s at all wise.”
Zaraki spent several seconds considering his rebuttal.
“Don’t care.”
Hitsugaya suppressed the urge to scream. “I thought that you of all people would. If you persist in this foolish behavior, Captain-Commander Yamamoto will have more than a lecture waiting for you once we’re able to return to Soul Society.”
The leader of the Eleventh Division paused with a thoughtful look on his face. “You think he’ll finally give it to me?”
The young Captain’s mind boggled. “I…don’t believe the Captain-Commander is…interested…in that sort of thing.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Freud.” And then Zaraki went back to car-dodging.
He felt a retort burning to his lips before he realized that arguing the merits of psychoanalysis with Captain Zaraki was a recipe for disaster. The elder Captain, more brain than he would care to admit, would probably inflict some awful, soul-searing trauma on him if he dared locking horns over it.
He decided to change the subject.
“I doubt Captain Yamamoto has any interest in fighting you, either.”
“Oh, really?” Fifth Seat Yumichika Ayasegawa, who was playing the game alongside his Captain (different lane), suddenly threw in his two cents. Hitsugaya stifled a premature wince. This would be painful. “Then the old man hasn’t gone completely senile. He knows the score. He knows what a hideous loss he would suffer if he were to cross swords with our Captain.”
“Damn straight!” Ikkaku piped up from his corner of the sidewalk, which had settled back into something resembling decency.
He bit his cheek. The sword-slingers of the Eleventh were just trying to get a rise out of him. He wouldn’t take the bait.
Too bad there was another Captain on hand who disagreed.
“I don’t know what is in the water, but the barbarians of the Eleventh Division are deluded.” Captain Soifon of the Second, perched atop one of the suspension bridge’s lines, deigned to join the conversation. “The Captain-Commander is a peerless combatant. He would make quick work of you and your Captain.”
“Big words,” Zaraki flashed his gruesome smile, “from a little girl.”
Soifon stiffened visibly. Hitsugaya couldn’t find his voice fast enough. “Captain, I urge you to-”
“How dare you!” Soifon landed with an assassin’s grace, squaring her shoulders and pivoting toward her sneering coworker. “I am the Captain of the Second Division and the Special Forces! You like to brag about strength? All you know is mindless brawling. We of the Second are a purer breed of soldier.”
“Go tell someone who cares.” Zaraki chuckled lightly as a car passed through him. “Like that cat-woman you’re always mooning about.”
There came a sharp hiss and a click of teeth from Soifon, a mortified gasp from Hitsugaya.
“You would be lucky to kiss the ground she walks on!”
“Oh, I bet you’d like to kiss a lot more than her feet. And you’d do a lot more than kissing.”
Hitsugaya tried to breathe, only to realize he had been holding his breath. He couldn’t allow two Captains to debase themselves with a brawl but he wasn’t stupid enough to come between two pairs of death-on-legs.
“I won’t waste another second on you.” Soifon spun on her heel and was off, probably off to Kisuke Urahara’s shop to interrogate Yoruichi Shihouin. Yeah. Interrogate.
Hitsugaya remembered how to breathe. Maybe there was hope for the squabbling officers of the officer corps after all.
In thinking this, Hitsugaya underestimated just how badly Zaraki wanted that fight.
“Have fun with Catwoman, Captain Bitch-ninja.”
She exploded with a bloody shriek and surged across the pavement to plant the heel of her foot between Zaraki’s eyes. He responded with an erudite ‘urk!’ His hands flailed awkwardly as the fingers of one hand hooked her Captain’s haori. She shed the outer layer of her ensemble and twisted to land in a perfect pose, all in one fine motion.
Zaraki smirked, his face rapidly marinating in its own juices as the wound on his forehead began to bleed.
(Marinating. Hitsugaya dimly realized he was starving.)
A car drove by, windows rolled down, radio blaring Andrew WK’s “Party Hard.” It was morbidly appropriate.
Zaraki rushed her again. The sword went wide, as he expected. His free hand lashed out to grab her around her slim waist, but she was already moving to seize him by the wrist and use herself as a fulcrum. The big Captain went sailing with a flick of Soifon’s wrists, using his momentum against him. Hitsugaya noticed he was on a trajectory that would send him clear of the bridge.
Zaraki must have noticed, too, making one last desperate grab with the same hand. This time, he snaked his fingers around the fabric clinging to her torso.
Soifon gasped with horror. She was willing to do a great deal of things for the Thirteen Court Guard Squads. Flashing an ogre like Captain Kenpachi Zaraki was not one of them.
So it was perfectly reasonable to go with the flow and pitch herself over the edge with him. The only alternative was letting him fly, along with her top. And that was unacceptable. She could always kill Zaraki later. She couldn’t make the gathered Reapers forget what she looked like half-naked.
A chorus of disappointed groans went up as the two sailed into the surging waters below. Being men (and Matsumoto), they wouldn’t have minded catching Soifon in a compromising position, even if it would put them right at the top of her hit list. “Totally worth it,” most of them might say.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Hitsugaya mumbled to no one in particular. In a matter of minutes, two of the Captains in their party had gone AWOL.
Ikkaku’s spiritual pressure and voice exploded. “Captain!” He ran to the handrail, where he drooped at the sight of his Captain and Soifon having the world’s most awkward fist fight as they were swept away in the current.
Yumichika sauntered over to console his friend. “Don’t worry, Ikkaku. The Captain can take care of himself.”
“Nah, it’s not that. I can’t remember the last time I fought in the water.”
“Then why don’t you join him?”
“I would, but we’ve got a game going.” He gestured vaguely to the three others who had been playing Go Fish.
“Well~,” Yumichika all but sang, “why don’t you do both? Why not take them fighting with you?”
Ikkaku beamed like a kid on Christmas. “I’m so happy we’re friends.” Without further ado, he stomped over to Renji, punched him in the face, and tossed him in the river while he was still loopy. Then he hopped in with a shout of “BANZAI!”
No one lifted so much as a finger to try and stop this.
Hitsugaya dimly considered the upside of the disaster. Maybe a long swim would wash the stink of blood off the men of the Eleventh.
It didn’t make him feel any better. He decided to take stock of his remaining troops on the off chance he could head any future madness off at the pass. He noted Captain Kuchiki’s presence across the way, tall and unmoving. That was good. He had nothing to worry about from that man.
Matsumoto was still here, chatting with Yumichika, Kira, and Shuuhei. The latter had given up on cards after losing two players and the newcomers had apparently started a rousing game of Truth or Dare.
“I don’t think I can do that,” Shuuhei eyed Yumichika distrustfully.
“But Shuu!” Matsumoto pouted at him with a pet name. “That’s not how the game works! You can’t pick and choose. How can you back out on me?” Her eyes had gone big and glossy, hands clasped in a helpless gesture. That was a wolf in sheep’s clothing if Hitsugaya ever saw one.
“Really, Hisagi, it’s so unsightly.” Yumichika sniffed prissily, only for a wide grin to split his face. His eyes glittered like daggers. “I think I have a proposition! If our dear Shuuhei were to carry out Matsumoto’s dare, would she be willing to make it worth his while?”
“Of course, of course” Matsumoto didn’t miss a beat, nodding vigorously.
“I…ah…what did…you…um…have in mind?” Shuuhei had gone as red as a beet, trying not to make himself look perverted when that was the only way the scenario could possibly end.
“Hmm…I wonder?” Matsumoto took a deep breath that drew his eyes toward a certain part of her anatomy. He got points for at least trying to keep his eyes away.
“I’ll do it!” Shuuhei barked, drawing Yumichika into a big, wet sloppy kiss just as Matsumoto ordered. She squealed in delight, clapping her hands. Kira took the entire scene in with one wide eye. Several seconds later, after a great deal of Yumchika stroking Shuuhei’s hair and Shuuhei slapping his hands away, the two pulled apart.
Shuuhei looked ready to crawl into a ditch. Yumichika looked like a superstar.
“’kay, did it,” Shuuhei grunted.
“Then you get a reward!” She leaned forward and mirrored Shuuhei’s kiss with Yumichika, which earned an upturned nose from the man. Then she did him one better. She took him by his choker and started dragging a dazed Shuuhei down the road.
“Where are you going!?” Her Captain exploded once his mind had recovered from the mind-numbing display.
“Oh, nowhere special,” Matsumoto quipped. “He took one for the team, so I figured it was my turn I took something.” Hitsugaya cringed at the pun. “I was figuring we could seclude ourselves in a love hotel somewhere-”
“That’s quite enough.”
“And do all sorts of things.”
“I don’t need to hear anymore.”
“The kinds of things that will make him weep with joy when he thinks back on them. Things like-”
“THANK YOU, MATSUMOTO!”
A tumbleweed rolled past. Somehow. Maybe. Maybe Hitsugaya’s mind had finally collapsed.
“In that case, I’ll see you later, Captain!” Then she bounced off, with her love slave in tow. The Captain watched them go, feeling powerless in the face of Matsumoto’s greatest weapon: TMI (Too Much Information).
“Officer,” Hitsugaya leveled his chilly gaze at the fifth seat. “I’m onto you.”
Yumichika’s face foliage bounced merrily as he raised his eyebrows in a look of innocence. “What ever do you mean?”
“Every time something has gone wrong, you have been at the center of it!” He stabbed a damning finger forward. “You provoked Captains Soifon and Zaraki! You encouraged Madarame to kidnap Abarai! You suggested my Lieutenant do unspeakable things with the Lieutenant of Ninth Division!”
“They must not be that unspeakable if she was willing to have a chat about them.”
“That’s irrelevant!”
“Then are you jealous?”
“I-No! That’s not-No! I can’t even believe you would say such a thing.”
“That one wasn’t even my fault. She let her dirty little mind run away with her.”
“Stop changing the subject!”
So of course Yumichika changed the subject again. “You’ll never believe who I saw locking lips with the Fifth Division Lieutenant before our departure.”
Kira squeaked.
Hitsugaya felt his blood run cold. Colder than it usually did, at any rate. His voice ground out of his throat like a razor blade. “Tell me exactly what you saw.”
Kira vehemently shook his head, his visible eye pleading with the man to stay silent.
“The Lieutenant of the Third stopped by her room and spoke with her for a time. Yes, that man there,” he waved to Kira, who had been wildly gesticulating, begging him to stop. “He said a great many beautiful things to Miss Momo, about how his endless passion and boundless love. She was so overcome by his declaration that she gave him, in her own words, ‘my first kiss.’”
Yumichika sparkled.
Kira gulped.
Hitsugaya didn’t do a thing. Not right away.
“I,” Kira licked his lips, “I think you broke him.”
“SIT UPON THE FROZEN HEAVENS, HYOURINMARU!”
Kira vanished in a flash step, with a very irate Captain hot on his heels.
Yumichika smiled, patting himself on the back for a job well done. He had nothing against Kira, but the prospect of seeing a Kirasicle was too great an opportunity to pass up. Kirasicle. Yes, that was nice. He would have to copyright that. He produced a pad and pencil to write that one down. It would be the next big thing in Soul Society.
In the meantime, though, he would have to find a way to get under Captain Kuchiki’s skin. He had been a late arrival to the Valley and had wisely chosen to dissociate himself from the rest of his mildly mad associates when they found themselves stranded on the bridge.
He eyed the Captain, who cocked a single, thin brow, not quite comprehending.
Maybe Yumichika would get Ichigo and the Kuchiki girl drunk and lock them in a closet. Yes, that was bound to raise his hackles. If by some chance it didn’t, he could always try again. They would be here for quite a while. He had all the time in the world to find Kuchiki’s hot button and dig up brand new ones for everyone else.
Getting stuck in the human world was the best thing that had ever happened.