Something I was thinking about for a while, it's up to you guys if I continue this if I get a warm enough urging to continue of course. It's a twisted idea I suppose Zaraki's love for little Yachiru mutating into something else, but you must admit it is plausible.

Disclaimer: Once again Tite Kubo, please do not hate me, I'm just a squirrel trying to get a nut.

Introduction: When his troubles began

Very strange things always happened to Zaraki Kenpachi when he thought too much. He had always deemed thought an unnecessary function the most useful of man's qualities were those of instinct. But he couldn't seem to stop his mind lately. Particularly about one little shinigami.

Zaraki wasn't sure about how many years or passed, or when exactly everything started to change, but soon enough they did.Yachiru no longer needed to lug her zanpaktou around on wheels. And then after that she grew out her hair, until the bubble gum hued tresses hung down her back in a long sheet. However, what pissed him off most was hearing bastards, even the wimps of the fourth division, talking about little Yachiru's body. Laughing and grinning like a pack of damn fools, eyeing her breasts. But that got better at least in his presence when a few unlucky guys ended up missing, after he coincidentally happened to overhear them

But the strangest thing of all was Zaraki wasn't sure why he was so riled about all of these changes. He tried hard to convince himself that it was simply the overprotective nature of his. The similar emotion that had tugged on his cords when he found the bubbling vulnerable Yachiru so very long ago. But it wasn't. It was something else. Something he couldn't exactly put his finger on.

When he closed his eyes he couldn't help but bring up a particular image of Yachiru. The one night he had truly ever watched her fight.

With hands crossed firmly over his large chest Zaraki, stared out into the distance. "Heh, it's been so long since I got any action and all they can bring out is two measly little hollows. Shoulda stayed in Sereitei"

"Ken-chan," her voice no longer at it's high pitched child like squeal but oddly harmonic and womanly, called. "A hollow is a hollow right," she winked at him before dashing forward, the black sleeves of her hakama dashing out behind her, her hair whipping in the soft wind, and the pitter patter of her feet steadily accelerating forward.

Like a kamikaze wind Yachiru had unleashed upon the Hollows. A tall slender figure thrusting, thrashing, and expertly slicing. Kenpachi's one good eye darted, strained, his senses drowning in her strong reiatsu. What was most exciting was her sheer enjoyment. In the brief still of her successive barrage, he could see her eyes wide, teeth gleaming, senses ablaze. She loved it. Excitedly his tongue flicked at his upper lip, and his fingernails dug into his palm, he had to stop himself from running out there and joining her.

And almost as soon as it began, the dust settled and Yachiru stood, unscathed, not a single drop of sweat upon her brow, pulling the zanpaktou into the scabbard tied to her hip. She laughed out, running toward Kenpachi after, the fire of battle still in her eyes, her veins "See, it was still fun!? You shoulda joined me Ken-chan!"

Kenpachi grinned widely, wildly, almost as if he had in fact joined her in the heated display, he stifled a chuckle, "Yeah, I shoulda, huh?" And for a millisecond Kenpachi was sure he had never seen a more beautiful woman.

Kenpachi shook his head still relishing in the memory, his tongue once again flicking quickly over his upper lip at the mere recollection. Oh yes, strange things happened when Kenpachi thought too much.