If a lowly fanfiction author disclaims in a forest and that disclaimer carries no legal weight, will plum tea and marshmallows still be a match made in heaven?
Number Two
Sousuke Aizen was a man accustomed to looking out for Number One. Not the Primera Espada, and especially not pee. Himself. As an egotistical madman, this just came with the territory.
He was, however, completely unprepared to deal with Number Two.
(Now, this story is not a romance, and is not listed as such. Therefore, Number Two is not a novel way of saying "love interest". Neither does its mention imply a sordid relationship between Aizen and Barragan Luisenbarn. No, Number Two means poop)
Upon his arrival in Hueco Mundo, Aizen had realized, to his annoyance, that the food simply did not agree with him. What began as frequent stomach upset soon ballooned to a dire predicament. He began to worry as his... movements... became less and less regular. His outward composure remained, however, keeping his subordinates in the dark.
The facade cracked just a little when all southerly movement abruptly halted. An uneasy pressure grew steadily in his nether regions. Despite his most fervid efforts, this was a matter firmly beyond Lord Aizen's control. His (nearly) frantic demand for prune juice and similar tinctures raised some eyebrows but otherwise went unquestioned.
His arrancar soon returned with a wide array of products (Imported, of course. He couldn't risk aggravating his condition). This being unfamiliar territory, Aizen began scanning labels for instructions. Despite his unfamiliarity, he soon concluded that the dosing instructions were written by imbeciles (Read: not Sousuke Aizen). They could obviously not comprehend the fantastical amount of pain his person was experiencing. Therefore, he simply took them all.
Assuming an immediate effect, he was struck dumb when no change occurred. Was this the end? Would he die of ruptured bowel before any of his plans could come to fruition? Could he somehow have planned for this?
His desperate questioning came to a sudden stop when a most ominous realization struck him. Perhaps he had meddled in affairs in which he ought not meddle. Perhaps he was not infallible. Perhaps he should have followed those instructions. Gurgle.
Aizen's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he sprang to his feet and sprinted for The Toilet.
(Incidentally, there is only one bathroom in all of Las Noches. Inside of that bathroom, there is only one toilet. One of Aizen's future schemes hinges upon this scarcity of facilities. No one complains, because really, do hollows use toilets?)
Arriving speedily at The Bathroom - Gurgle - Aizen found the door closed and locked - Gurgle. He pounded the door in a frenzy, wondering who - Gurgle - could possibly be in there of all places, particularly at a time like this - Grimblewimble - Oh dear.
A put-upon "Just a minute already, jeesh!" came from within. Aizen, threatened by both Grimblewimble and the new, even more unsettling Greee..., was forced into an undignified hopping dance. He waited for a good thirty seconds before the door finally clicked and opened. Rushing in, he slammed the door firmly behind him, effectively expelling the bewildered Grimmjow.
With sounds much too terrible to reproduce coming through the poor door (best summed up as Gesplorch), Grimmjow determined that he would probably prefer a new book anyway and went to go disinfect himself, just in case (Gesplorch). Inside the toxic cloud, Lord Aizen Gesplorched and plotted. Perhaps that particular plan wasn't so important after all... He vowed to install more toilets.
END
A/N (Because I know you all care about what I think): This is the result of a tired mind contemplating yet another WORLD WHERE NOBODY POOPS. Go look that up on TV Tropes and Idioms, why don't you? Incidentally, if a stranger reviews this, I might just have a heart attack and die. Care to try it out?
