Disclaimer: I don't own bleach


Fashion victim

Renji's left eyebrow twitched slightly as he inspected the outfit Rukia had prepared for his trip to the living world. Now, he may not have been an expert on such things, but he was fairly certain that this particular item of clothing had not, in fact, been designed as menswear.

Rukia, however, had insisted that she was his senpai when it came to the ways of the living world, having spent months there as a human, and therefore knew better than he what was normal there and what was not. Plus, she'd added, driving her point home, she had seen a man wearing that exact same outfit on TV.

Renji, obviously deciding that it would be so much easier not to argue with Rukia at this moment, eyed the outfit again. It still didn't seem quite right. But then, he'd seen some strange fads, he admitted grudgingly, even in the relatively traditional soul society.

Renji damn well hoped Rukia knew what she was talking about.

Finally caving in, Renji grabbed the outfit and, tattooed eyebrow twitching furiously, stalked out of the room.


Renji refused to look in the mirror Rukia presented. He just didn't want to know. He felt like he was wearing the most ridiculous thing ever seen on the planet. There must have been one or two items of clothing that were even more horrible than this, Renji thought grudgingly. He just hadn't come across them yet.

Renji fervently hoped he never did. It would probably drive him insane. As it was now, he felt ready to murder the first person who dared to grin. Hell, if anybody so much as breathed loudly, or showed signs of anything that could be even remotely interpreted as amusement, they had better watch out, because Renji's thin control might possibly snap.

Perhaps people sensed this murderous entity lurking behind the twitching eyebrow. Nobody dared meet his gaze even for a second.


Renji half-limped half-stalked through the streets of the living world. Those damn purple tights Rukia had chosen really pinched at the balls.

Renji noted with resentment that nobody seemed to be wearing anything remotely like what he was. Faced with this fact, he made it a point to glare menacingly at every single person he passed, just daring them to comment so he could vent his pent-up feelings.

If he hadn't gone to all that trouble to help save Rukia from that damn Aizen's evil plan, he reflected grumpily, he might just have killed her himself for this.

Finally, he noticed that he was nearing Ichigo's house. He was just concentrating on ignoring those damn purple tights as they attempted an invasion of the valley between his buttcheeks, when all of a sudden, a man dressed almost as strangely as himself appeared in front of him.

Renji's twitch became a spasm as the man circled him predatorily, before flashing Renji an exuberant thumbs-up and asking him in an extremely loud voice where he had found the tights.

Renji's patience reached it's end. "Ya want the tights?" he growled "Ya can have 'em!"

Renji then proceeded to remove those damn purple tights in the middle of the street.

Kurosaki Ishhin could hardly believe his luck. Grasping his prize, he was all ready to run before Renji had time to change his mind, when he found another item of clothing thrust at him.

"–And while you're at it, take the damn tutu!" Renji growled, waving it in front of him before dumping it in his arms. "And take this too!" Distaste was evident as he removed the bright pink and slightly floral camisole from his person, dumping it on the small pile in the other man's arms.

He then proceeded to stalk off, wearing nothing but his underpants and a pair of white shoes which was the only thing Rukia had managed to get right.


Ichigo scowled as he heard a rattle sound from the general direction of his window. Why would they never use the damn door, he wondered grouchily. Jumping up from his homework to growl at the new arrival, he paused, slowly pushed his lower jaw shut, and carefully pasted his usual scowl back into place.

Renji scowled back at him. "Don't ask. Don't laugh. Don't do anything. Just get me some decent clothes" he growled, lowering himself into the room from his perch on the windowsill. Ichigo blinked at him, before pointing wordlessly at the closet, a smirk hovering around the edges of his mouth, threatening to overtake his careful scowl.

As Renji stalked in the direction Ichigo had indicated, Ichigo's suppressed amusement exploded from him with an inelegant snort.

Renji whipped back around to glare at him. Ichigo quickly rearranged his features to show no sign of amusement whatsoever.

Who would have known that a tough-guy shinigami like Renji would wear white y-fronts with three little pink hearts decorating his butt.


This story, sadly, began with no clue, and ended with even less sanity. I apologize. That's the dangers of writing from no inspiration for you…