A/N: Just a short little fic based on a lame joke my friends and I always make with each other. Also, this is my first Bleach fanfic, so I really hope you like it! =D Sorry in advance if any of the characters seem OOC.
Also, a big thankyou to my good friend, madder than your hatter, for beta-ing this.
Disclaimer: I think this fic alone is evidence enough that I don't own Bleach. I mean, seriously, who's going to write fanfiction based on something they own? Really?
Different Wavelengths
"Shit!"
The Tenth Division Lieutenant, Matsumoto Rangiku, jumped at the unexpected curse resonating from inside the main office of the Ninth Division. The stack of paperwork she carried in her arms wobbled precariously in an almost threatening manner as she struggled to maintain her hold on the load. Despite the audible disturbance it caused amongst the formerly quiet hallways of the Ninth Division Headquarters, this unheralded outburst continued, comprised of a myriad of colourful words.
Rangiku had recognised the voice almost immediately, though she had quite a bit of difficulty coming to terms with who it belonged to. The owner of the voice was none other than Ninth Division Lieutenant, Hisagi Shuuhei, an individual who usually seemed so calm and collected. She couldn't remember the last time she had heard him sound so aggravated.
"I can't believe this," Shuuhei continued, his voice growing more frustrated by the second, as if to further contradict Rangiku's musing, "I could've sworn I left it around here somewhere!"
This verbal rampage was soon followed by a tumultuous rustling, as Shuuhei rifled madly through the piles of paper occupying his desk, emphasising his seemingly futile search. Rangiku momentarily considered leaving him alone and coming back later, but knew there was no way that she could. Her Captain was expecting her to submit the forms that they, scratch that, he, had filled out. She could only imagine his reaction if she were to return not having done what he'd asked.
"Shuuhei?" she asked, knocking hesitantly as she walked towards the door of his office.
The commotion from inside came to an abrupt halt at the sound of her voice and her concern remained unanswered for several seconds. Despite the closed door that prevented her from seeing inside of the office, Rangiku could sense a great deal of chagrin radiating from Shuuhei after she had caught him in the middle of his rant. He eventually sighed and cleared his throat audibly before responding.
"Oh, Rangiku-san," Shuuhei began sheepishly, appearing embarrassed that she had overheard him in the middle of such an upheaval "I didn't realise you were there."
"Is everything alright, Shuuhei?" Rangiku queried, "You seem a little... tense." As uncharacteristic as Rangiku found Shuuhei's behaviour, she couldn't really blame him for getting stressed. After all, he had a lot on his mind now that he was running his division alone, as well as still having to worry his regular missions and editorial duties.
"Yeah, everything's fine," he replied, exhaling deeply in an attempt to calm himself down, "I just can't find something of mine..."
"Oh."
The silence reverberating from inside the office upon her reply was uncomforting to say the least. Rangiku considered leaving Shuuhei alone to calm down for a second time when she was broken from her reverie by the sound of his voice.
"Hey, Rangiku-san?"
"Yeah, Shuu?" she answered.
"You're heading out to the real world for a mission later today, right?" He began, still with a rather averse intonation in his voice.
"Right," she responded with a grin, looking forward to another opportunity to 'investigate' the shops of the real world.
"Do you think you could... pick something up for me?" Shuuhei asked, seeming to stumble over his words slightly.
"Sure," she replied, sensing a hint of reluctance in his tone, "No problem. What do you need?"
"I, I... I need a G-string."
If Rangiku was shocked at that revelation, she did well to hide it.
"What?"
Well, sort of...
"I said, 'I need a G-string'," Shuuhei reiterated.
Rangiku was baffled; this incredibly casual request Shuuhei had thrown her completely off guard. Sure, she'd spent a lot of intoxicated evenings with the man before her and learnt that beneath his reversed, serious exterior was quite an animated, outgoing individual, and she had feeling that the '69' tattoo etched across his left cheek wasn't only there to pay homage to the former Ninth Division captain who had saved him from a hollow attack as a child. Nonetheless, she couldn't help but feel taken back by this rather unusual request.
"Is something the matter, Rangiku?" Shuuhei spoke up eventually, breaking the silence that lingered between the two.
"N-no," Rangiku eventually responded, clearing her throat as she attempted to regain her composure "I just don't know if I can help you there, I mean... I don't know your size or anything."
"26 inches," Shuuhei stated, again, rather casually.
"What?" Rangiku exclaimed, as she felt a very unfamiliar heat flow to her cheeks.
"It's about 26 inches," he repeated, his tone remaining impassive.
"T-That's not what I meant, Shuuhei," Rangiku breathed, a rather repugnant flush forming across her cheeks. She was unsure as to whether she should be mortified or impressed by her colleague's revelation. "What do you need one for anyway?" she asked, after she had regained the ability to form coherent sentences.
"Well, I just broke mine, and I thought I had a spare lying around somewhere, but I can't find it."
"You broke your G-string?" Rangiku queried, her eyebrow perking in curiosity.
"Well they tend to snap if they're stretched too tightly."
At this point, Rangiku had completely lost her composure. She had known Shuuhei for quite awhile and felt they were fairly good friends. She'd seen both him and even Kira strip down to their undergarments on more than one drunken occasion. But this was completely out of the ordinary for him. She had absolutely no idea why her Shinigami colleague wanted a G-string or what exactly he was getting up to with them that was causing them to break.
"So, can you help me?" Shuuhei's deep voice broke Rangiku again from her momentary lapse in concentration.
"Huh?" she responded blankly.
She then turned to see Shuuhei walking through the door carrying with him an acoustic guitar, shy one string.
"I said 'Can you get me a G-string for my guitar'?"
A/N: As I'm sure most of you already know, Shuuhei has a guitar, which he found while out on a mission in the real world and brought back with him to Soul Society. He practices playing it with the hope of impressing Rangiku, which is why I wrote him as being a little reluctant about bringing it up around her. Thus, his embarassment led Rangiku to believe he was actually talking about buying, well, revealing underwear. Yeah, it's a lame joke I know, but as most of my friends and I are all wannabe musicians, we make it on pretty much a regular basis. So, one day I remembered Shuuhei's guitar and this fic came to mind. I hope you found it at least somewhat enjoyable. :D Anyway, please R&R!
Also, as a side note, 26 inches is about the average size of a guitar neck.
