Stepping out of his office, Komamura was immediately greeted by cheery calls from his subordinates. He grumbled a response and half-walked, half-ran out of his squad's headquarters, Iba falling into step and hurrying to keep pace with his captain's longer strides. The vice-captain clumsily shuffled the papers he was carrying, his concentration divided between briefing his captain and avoiding collisions as Komamura began picking up speed. They made sharp turns through Seireitei's narrow streets, taking a roundabout route that would avoid the busiest roads on the way to the Captain's meeting.

Iba wasn't sure if he could blame his Captain or not for his behaviour. Sure, he'd been through some rough times. He'd spent most of his life hiding his identify, even arriving in Seireitei masked. From what little he knew about his Captain's past, Komamura had spent the better part of his life suffering in one way or another for his unique appearance. Now sure, it was a mystery that still saw the occasional scientist looking to prod Komamura for answers, but hadn't things changed? Didn't the squad, and Soul Society as a whole still hold the same respect and admiration of him, even after the mask came off?

Iba certainly didn't blame the girl from the living world that had inadvertently kicked off this whole mess. Not that he could blame anything on any girl that beautiful, but that was beside the point! Komamura had been injured, and she'd rushed to repair his injuries. How was she supposed to know that she'd repair all his injuries? There's no way she knew about his past, about a time a man could feel so low that he'd taken a blade to himself just to fit in better?

Lost in their thoughts, both men were surprised by the surge of reiatsu, whipping around to see a pink-and-black blur tear up the street as it rushed towards them.

"Go! I'll hold her off!"

"Be careful, Tetsuzaemon!"

Iba braced himself for the assault, but was momentarily stunned as his captain turned and began to make for the safety of the captain's assembly. No-one in all of Soul Society could accuse him of being anything but the manliest of men. Nothing could shake him. Nothing could stop him. No slight against him or those he respected went unchallenged.

But he had to admit, when one of Komamura's freshly-regenerated tails brushed his face as his captain turned to run, that yeah, they had to be the softest, fluffiest damn things he'd ever felt.

And as fluffy as they were, it was rude of people to try to grab, nuzzle into, pet, or do any such thing to his captain's tails.

It was his job, no, his duty, to keep the whole bunch away and let the captain deal with old emotions and get used to having several enormous and overly-fluffy tails again.

…

This included, of course, Iba himself, no matter how much he wondered just how soft and fluffy those things really were. A manly man just wouldn't do that sort of thing.

…

*cough*

What can I say? It's something I was wondering about, and this was the explaination I came up with to explain his lack of a tail.

Of course, I could have gone with a long, dramatic and introspective look into Komamura's history and how bad things must of been to engage in self-mutilation, but, well...that's just depressing

Besides...Komamura with big fluffy tails. :)