A/N: First Bleachfic. Be kind. XD
Disclaimer: I own nothing, alas.
Prologue
"Are you kidding me? Since when did we start getting everybody's cast-offs?"
Madarame Ikkaku walked down one of the Eleventh Division corridors, his arms folded inside his Shihakushou, bare feet tapping lightly against the wooden floor. Yumichika walked beside him, instinctively picking his way over dirty laundry, bloody towels and the usual measure of debris that their division normally left in their wake. He was reading a letter, which made his execution of the assault course all the more impressive.
"We have always received everybody's cast-offs," he remarked lightly, rolling his eyes in what he knew to be a beautiful fashion. "It says that she has been through three divisions already, and come up against trouble in each one. Including the Fourth."
"Ehhh?!" Ikkaku looked disgusted. "Even those bandage-waving pansies wouldn't take her?"
"Her kidou is weak, practically non-existent, and her shunpou is rudimentary at best," Yumichika flipped the letter over to read the conclusion. "Ukitake Taichou seems to think that sending her here might do her good."
Ikkaku sneered.
"The old man's finally lost it. And she didn't object to being slung in here with the worst of Seireitei's thugs?"
"Speak for yourself."
"She's nuts," the third seat concluded with a shake of his head. At that, Yumichika smiled and folded the letter.
"She should fit in quite nicely, then."
"Che." Ikkaku reached over and took the letter from his friend without invitation, unfolding it roughly and squinting at the elegant script of Ukitake Taichou. Amongst the sentences of affectionate niceties, as per the taichou's usual style, he spotted a name. "Okajima... huh. Why does that name ring a bell?"
"Has Tetsu-san hit you in the head again? You really shouldn't mix sake with sparring, you're losing brain cells," Yumichika shook his head. "The Okajimas are one of the four noble houses, in the same league as the Kuchikis." Ikkaku stared at him, his face looking slightly pained, as if having trouble calculating all the factors.
"So... we have an aristocratic woman joining our division? She really is bat-shit crazy. I give her a week."
"Five days."
"You're on."