(This story was inspired by Sims Sunday on Livejournal's capslock_bleach. Thanks for the lols, thelabbench!)
Catch
Ikkaku slouched around a corner in his not-so-white tennis whites, eager to get back to the 11th Division barracks for a good long nap. Tennis might be a good training exercise in Yumichika's book, but to Ikkaku it was a disproportionate amount of work for the minuscule reward of getting one over the net. Besides, if the others saw him like this, his tough-guy reputation wouldn't be worth spit.
He staggered against the wall as something -- or someone -- shot past him from the ground to a nearby rooftop, far too fast to identify. Ol' Kuchiki must have been practicing -- but no, the dark-robed figure perching on an impossible spire, a paradoxical portrait of stillness in motion overlooking Sereitei as though he owned it, wasn't a shinigami at all.
Belatedly, Ikkaku recognized Kurosaki's spiritual energy, though the substitute shinigami was nowhere in the vicinity. This would be his zanpakutou, then: Zangetsu, exploring Soul Society as so many others had been doing lately.
The zanpakutou's robe whipped about his ankles as he turned slowly, surveying the layout of the town. At least he didn't seem to be one of the destructive ones, though Ikkaku had to suppress a wince as the sword spirit's passionless eye flickered over him and onward, dismissing him as part of the scenery. How odd, that Kurosaki's brazen exuberance should manifest in this silent creature.
Still. Nobody turned their backs on Madarame Ikkaku if they wanted to live.
Tossing a tennis ball into the air, Ikkaku cackled inwardly, swung his racket and struck true. He wasn't picking a fight. Not really. Maybe the racket had slipped, and it wasn't his fault if Zangetsu took offense, and he'd always wondered about that first fight with Kurosaki....
Without turning around, Zangetsu reached backwards and plucked the speeding ball out of the air.
Ikkaku gulped. Fast--
But Zangetsu didn't return the shot. Instead, he simply flicked his wrist and tossed the ball high into the blue--
--where Lieutenant Yachiru, delighted to see one of her division members all ready to play a fun game, caught it and hurtled out of the sky right at Ikkaku's face.
Kurosaki, showing up hours later looking for his sword, was bewildered to find Ikkaku cursing its name and spoiling for a rematch, but the captains whisked him away for a tactical conference before things could get serious. Sometimes, Soul Society was just no fun.
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