Disclaimer: don't own bleach
Late
A flutter out of the corner of his eye caught the attention of the shinigami on patrol in the streets of Seireitei. Turning the corner he found nothing suspicious. The streets were empty and the moonlight shone down on the pristine white walls. Scratching his head and giving a shrug, he returned to his patrol.
Down several streets, a flutter of pink caught the moonlight before disappearing into the shadows once more.
As the night wore on several more sentries were left scratching their heads and lecturing themselves for jumping at shadows.
A figure continued to dart through the darkened corridors. Finally reaching his destination, Kyoraku Shunsui, captain of the eighth division burst through the shoji doors. His pink haori flared out behind him as he dropped to his knees.
Dropping all the packages he carried with him, candy, toys and all sorts of little do-dads fell out onto the floor. A drop of sweat ran down the captain's face. He wondered how much longer he had to cater to the little lieutenant before the Shinigami Women's Association would release his previously secret stash of sake.
"You're late!" The figure of Kusajishi Yachiru fukutaicho, dressed in shiny black leather, called out and slapped the riding crop against her thigh.
A/N: Something my husband came up with. When we discussed it it was a lot funnier but well....