DISCLAIMER: You know that list of everyone who doesn't own Bleach or Prince of Tennis? Well, I'm right there at the top of it.
WARNINGS: OOCness. Especially . . .well, everyone. Also, if you are actually going to sit down and think about reasons why a tennis racket can't achieve bankai, you probably shouldn't be reading this in the first place.
RATING: G!
TIMELINE: This story is silly, which means it can exist in some crack PoT timeframe where it's after the Kantou Tournament and the movie, and yet no one is injured and everyone is present. So let's just assume there is a rest day sometime during the Nationals after the first round. Yeah. . . .
A/N: I'm crawling out of my hole and supposed to be writing more Gintama, but TeniPuri happened instead. I still don't quite know how Bleach got involved in this . . . . .
The Shinigami Captains of Tennis
by keyascribe
Once upon a time, Uruhara Kisuke was reading the newspaper, because he does things like that when he's bored, and he happened upon an interesting article, which he quickly scanned and text'd to Kyouraku Shunsui (because you just KNOW they're IM buddies).
"!!!!!1!!" Shunsui mailed back. He, too, was very very bored.
(and thus)
"Hey, Old Man," Shunsui greeted General Yamato the very next morning as he bounced into the 1st Division's office, because that's what Kyouraku does when he's bored and his vice-captain is camping out on Utitake's doorstep in wait for him. "It says here that last week a series of unexplained tornadoes, hurricanes, meteoric explosions and giant columns of fiery inferno were reported on a cruise ship near Tokyo."
"Oh?" Yamato replied guardedly, because a) there's not much you can say to a statement like that and b) this was Shunsui we were talking about so he was pretty sure this was leading up to something (most likely involving sake).
"Aa! And the best part is that they think a group of middle schoolers were responsible!"
"Middle schoolers?"
"Sounds like something we should check out, naa Old Man?"
Yamato considered. "What were these middle school children supposed to be doing when they caused these phenomena?" he asked cautiously.
Shunsui grinned like he had just been given a birthday gift. "Tennis!" he proclaimed.
Yamato's eyebrows creased together. "Tennis players can't do that."
"Exactly!"
And so a scout was accordingly dispatched (with much rolling of his eyes because how stupid was this assignment!) to the grounds of Seishun Gakuen Middle School.
He returned several days later with a noticeable change in attitude and handed in his report. In sum, his debriefing suggested that many players exhibited a strange reiatsu that enabled them to, among other things:
a) glow
b) approach shunpo-level speed
c) manipulate the air and ki of the court
d)achieve something remarkably like shikai with a tennis racket.
And then the scout had to go have a liedown, because the aforesaid report was quite bizarre.
Luckily, Shunsui liked bizarre things and this was before Ichigo et al, so he really was very very bored indeed (almost as bored as Urahara). Naturally, he begged to be able to have a look; and of course Shunsui could not be trusted alone, so Utitake agreed to go along as well. The white-haired captain also tactfully suggested that certain younger captains like Hitsuyaga might like to spend a little time in company their own age, and certain other rather, er, tense captains like Byakuya might need a little "down" time. Since they were not currently present everyone else agreed for them.
This also meant that Aizen became interested (because even while he was plotting to rule the world he could recognize the potential for wacky hijinks and he's always secretly wanted to be in the cool kids' group) and that meant that Gin had to go, and then Kurotachi decided he might find some interesting specimens and Yachiru wanted to see what "tennis" was, so Kenpachi agreed to take her as a present for getting her paperwork done on time (in crayon). Even Tousen decided to go, for the sake of group-secretly-bent-on-taking-over-the-world solidarity.
(Yes that meant that most of Seireitai was left unprotected, but since Aizen was going with them we can assume that it was actually safer than normal to be there).
Of course the women didn't go, because as far as we can tell no woman is ever good at tennis. And Komamura declined as well due to an unfortunate semi-hereditary hang up he had about chasing after fast-moving objects.
So with just a quick stop to grab Renji as guide and Hanatarou, because he happened to be walking by and with this many idiotic captains the odds of injury were decidedly high, they were off to the Japan National Tournament.
(earth)
Unfortunately, amidst their preparation the captains of Seireitai had forgotten the crucial step of buying tickets to the match. However this did not particularly stymie them in any way, because when you're used to slicing apart gigantic monstery things for a living, you don't worry much about things like tickets.
In fact, most of the group didn't worry at all about things like tickets, because they didn't even know what a 'ticket' was.
The guy waiting at the entrance to take tickets did, in fact, know what tickets were, but he wasn't sure what to make of the dramatic group of assorted characters with extremely good hair striding en masse toward him. However, he was already used to herds of preternaturally attractive middle school tennis teams wandering around, so he was able to withstand the intense levels of bishounen-ness as the captains approached.
"We have come to watch tennis," Byakuya announced solemnly, because he always likes to think he's in charge.
In response, the ticket guy asked, because it was an issue always close to his heart and also the second most logical question, "D-do you have tickets?"
The captains considered this. "No," they decided.
The ticket guy looked hard at the group. They were all obviously athletic, used to attracting attention, and wore matching outfits of black shorts and white tennis shirts with different numbers on the back, so as to blend in with the other tennis-playing . . . middle schoolers.
(We can assume there are some shinigami with very suspect senses of humor in the Clothing Division of Seireitai, as later evidenced by Matsumoto's high school uniform.)
"Are you guys some sort of pro team?" the tickets guy ventured after a while.
"You could say that," Utitake put in, smiling in his charming, reliable, we're-not-as-insane-as-we-look-so-there's-no-need-to-call-the-authorities way. His long white hair was in a pony tail and Shunsui was drooling a little at the combination of that and the shorts. Byakuya also had a ponytail (and his kenseikan) and shorts, and Renji's eyes were already starting to glaze over.
The ticket guy's eyes were also beginning to glaze, although possibly for different reasons.
"We're here to give the boys a few pointers," Shunsui added debonairly, draping an arm across the ticket guy's shoulders. .
"A-all right." The ticket guy tried to politely dislodge Shunsui. "Then . . .who is the captain?"
They all looked a little awkward at the question, but finally, Byakuya stepped forward. "I am," he declared. "For I . . have a tennis racket."
And indeed he did, because aristocrats are naturally good at anything that allows them to show off. By process of elimination, I suppose Shunsui and Utitake should also have had tennis rackets, but they are laid back so they hadn't bothered, whereas Byakuya's was all gleaming and lacquered and had a little haiku and the Kikuchi crest painted on it just so that everyone would notice how well prepared he was.
"So anyway. LET US IN," Zaraki growled, deciding all this hinting around was getting old.
"H-hai!" the ticket guy squealed and let them in.
Thus, using the same impress-perplex-intimidate strategy on several more tennis-related people, the Captains found themselves quickly scheduled for a teaching round of tennis with members of the team that had appeared most frequently in the report: Seishun Gakuen. Seigaku. The boys in blue and white. Woot woot woot!
And so on.
(Court A)
Natural rookie Hitsuguya regarded the short, smirking, boy looking at him from under a hat in an unbelievably arrogant manner.
Natural rookie Echizen Ryoma regarded the short, smirking boy radiating an annoyingly superior attitude right back. He was more disturbed by the lack of tennis equipment than the white hair or icy eyes.
"Aren't you a little young to be playing?" Hitsuyaga asked dubiously, thinking about what a waste of his time this whole 'mission' was.
"Is that number ten on your shirt your ranking or your age?" the boy shot back coolly.
"Little brats should know when to keep quiet," Hitsuyaga frowned. Something about this boy irritated him. Intensely.
The boy smirked wider. "Mada mada da ne," he sneered.
This was, on any sane planet, obviously just cause to attack.
(Court B)
Data man Inui Sadaharu's glasses glinted as he measured the man who had just stepped onto the court. Admittedly said man was strangely gorgeous, but several other significant things were immediately clear to a well-trained observant mind like Inui's.
"Based on your stance and the lack of any actual tennis equipment, there is a 98.2 chance that you are not here to play tennis," he stated precisely.
Data man, er . . .shinigami, er . . . slime guy thing . . . Kurotachi Mayuri nodded in grudging approval of the declaration.
"As a scientist, I respect your accuracy. But how do you gather your data?"
"Careful observation and occasional stalking."
"I prefer dissection and inhumane tests," Kurotachi said frankly.
Inui considered this. "Ii data," he mused.
(Court C)
Eyes closed, Fuji Syuusuke smiled pleasantly at the white-haired man standing on the other side of the tennis net.
Eyes closed, Ichimura Gin man smiled back. Small charges of static began to crackle in the air between the two.
Eyes squeezing shut just a shade more firmly, Fuji's smile became just a touch more grim. So did Gin's. It was a terrifying combat of creepy, no-eye smiling.
Around them, insects crumbled into icy dust at the surge of chill in the air, and small animals and first-year tennis club members slunk away in fear. An ominous wind began to stir and clouds covered the sky as the two continued to aggressively smile pleasantly at each other with near murderous intensity.
"I will break him," thought Fuji (smiling).
"He looks like he's thinking something kinky," thought Gin (smiling).
Finally, (still smiling) Gin suggested approvingly, "Now I don't suppose you'd be interested in ruling the world with some friends o' mine, would ya?"
"Would it cut into club activities?" Fuji considered (smiling).
"Most probably."
"I see. In that case, I'm afraid I'll have to decline." Fuji smiled . . . and opened his eyes.
Prudently, Gin went straight to bankai. Fuji went straight to 5th counter.
Even Gin would have been hard-pressed to explain what happened after that.
(the bleachers)
Horio was having the time of his life. Finally, after dozens of matches forcing his infinite tennis knowledge upon others, he had found the perfect person for his commentary!
"What is happening now?" Tousen asked, straining to catch the sound from the courts (was tennis supposed to sound quite so similar to rampant destruction?).
"There is it! DRIVE B!" Horio squealed gleefully, beaming in the direction of Court A and pleased with a job well done, because we all know that Ryoma can't do a tennis move unless it is announced by someone.
"And what of my comrade playing against him?"
That was a little harder to explain, but Horio would never fail the first person to ever truly need his commentary.
"It appears he just . . . instantly crystallized the tennis ball and is now propelling it back with some kind of ice demon wind attack," he hazarded. "However, my two years of tennis experience allow me to point out that that is definitely not a regulation racket he is using and so any points scored will NOT count!"
"You are very knowledgeable," Tousen complimented him. "You must be a superior player and of great value to your team."
That moment was the highlight of Horio's entire life.
(Court E)
Shunsui and Eiji were already firm friends, both talking considerably more than a mile a minute and generally bouncing up and down in glee as they exchanged ideas, jokes, email, favorite foods, life histories, toothpaste brands, phone numbers, and cute stories about their teammates.
"Ah, sorry for this," Oishi offered politely as he and Utitake stood at the edge of the court and watched the giddy pair.
"Not at all," Utitake said sincerely. "I'm sure a 'doubles' game will be very interesting."
"Oishi, nya, Shun-chan says he'll teach me something called shunpo that'll make me even faster!" Eiji called happily, beaming.
"I can't wait to see the look on the other team's faces, na, Jyuu-chan!" Shunsui called happily, beaming.
"Oishi, nya!"
"Jyuu-chan, naa!"
Oishi glanced at Utitake. "I always wondered if Eiji would settle down when he got older . . . ."
Jyuushiro patted him companionably on the arm. "After the first 500 years or so, things calm down a bit."
"Five hundred?" Oishi echoed, confused.
"Oh, um, I meant to say fifty," Utitake covered feebly.
Oishi frowned a little because obviously neither of the older men was that old . . . but then he caught sight of Eiji and began to smile a little. Fifty years wouldn't be so bad.
"Now about this doubles game," Utitake asked. " . . . Will it be acceptable for us to use two rackets each?"
(Court F)
"Is the little girl really going to play?" Momoshiro whispered as he and Kawamura watched Yachiru heft a racket that was almost as big as she was. On the other hand, the borrowed racket looked decidedly toylike in Zaraki's grasp. The vice captain's tennis outfit, by the way, was pink. Yumichika probably picked it out. In fact, Yumichika probably moonlights in the aforementioned suspiciously humorous wardrobe division. That would explain a lot.
"I hope she doesn't," Takashi whispered back meekly, watching the two across the courts with apprehension. "Someone could get hurt."
Takashi was, of course, very very correct.
Meanwhile, Zaraki was already bored. The 11th squad captain snorted as the two boys tentatively took their places on the court. Obviously he had been a fool to get his hopes up when they had said they were "power players". Frowning, Zaraki examined his racket and gave a few experimental swipes through the air. Other than a small gale that whipped the hair and clothes of everyone on the court, nothing happened.
"Just like I thought, what a sissy game," he muttered disappointedly, swinging his racket again and causing a small sonic boom with the speed and power of the movement.
Meanwhile Yachiru was now bouncing with excitement, and Momoshiro couldn't help but notice that the little pink-haired girl was effortlessly jumping higher than his best Dunk Smash approach.
"Let's just get through this and get out of here," he said grimly. Taka nodded and gingerly picked up his racket.
Zaraki's eyes lit up as a sudden flare of battle reiatsu engulfed the taller boy when he gripped his racket. Flames shot up around the boy, who screamed in some strange language: "GREAT-O! BURNING!"
Given the reaction, it would later be decided that the 11th squad captain had a certain justification in deciding that Great-o must be the name of the boy's weapon, ergo the boy was summoning it to attack him with some sort of fire strike.
Beginning to grin, Zaraki responded appropriately, tossing the racket and drawing his battered zanpakutou to lunge over the net. Blade and one-handed hadoukyuu strike clashed in a mighty contest of strength . . . for about two seconds, at which point Momo desperately tackled Takashi and dragged him, still screaming battle cries, off the court.
"Ken-chan, should we follow them?" Yachiru asked hopefully as they watched Momo throw Takashi over his shoulder and run like the wind.
Kenpachi shrugged. "Yah, sure, why not. Maybe he'll do that burning thing again."
"Yay!" Yarchiru clapped.
(Court G)
Byakuya and Tezuka stood on the court and silently regarded each other. After a moment, responding to the clash of wills, the 6th squad's captain's hair began to blow artfully as a wind of reitatsu grew up around him. Tezuka took on a golden glow as he also readied himself.
"I see," Byakuya said finally, "you, too, can manipulate the chi of a certain area, allowing you to control that space absolutely. You are creating a zone that brings any attack toward you in a way that will easily allow you to return it."
Tezuka said nothing. They regarded each other some more.
"Hmph," Byakuya said finally. "You are still one thousand years too early to fight me."
The stone-faced boy didn't even blink. "Don't let your guard down," he warned sternly.
Once again wind blew through Byakuya's hair, and the scarf he was still wearing fluttered. Tezuka's eyes sheened almost imperceptibly behind his glasses. His hair didn't need to be dramatically mussed by the wind, because it always looks like that.
". . . ." said Byakuya.
". . . ." replied Tezuka.
"Hn," Byakuya responded.
"Aa," said Tezuka.
This could have gone on for a while, but luckily they were interrupted.
"Kikuchi-taichou!" Hanatarou hurried up nervously. "Hitsuyaga-taichou is fighting with one of the ryo--I mean, one of the players . . . ."
Byakuya lifted an eyebrow slightly. "Fighting? What manner of weapon is the player fighting with?"
The timid healer gulped. "It kind of looks like . . . a tennis racket . . . sir."
From Court A, there came the distinct if overlapping shouts of "Cool Drive . . ." and "Ban kai . . . !"
"Nonsense," Byakuya stated. "Mere tennis rackets cannot bankai."
Tezuka just looked at him narrowly, like he was about to order Byakuya to do laps for tacking on that "mere", but a tremor from the vicinity of Court C grabbed all of their attention.
Wind rippled across the courts from a sudden muted explosion, like a rumble of unease in the fabric of the universe.
"It feels like two incredibly powerful, incredibly twisted wills colliding," Byakuya mused.
Tezuka sighed. "One of them is probably Fuji."
(elsewhere)
Since the others were monopolizing the main team, Aizen had wandered into the other courts. There Hyoutei was gathered in a laconic, 'we're rich and superior' young GQ pose kind of way, mostly watching Atobe lounge indolently while drinking some sort of expensive drink that looked like it should be alcoholic but really wasn't.
"Ah, I see you know how to relax before a match, biding your time in the guise of nonchalance until it is the moment to strike," Aizen said mildly, using his insightfulness to immediately understand the situation.
The captain of Hyoutei regarded the captain of the 5th squad. "Ah, I see you are evil," he replied, using his insightfulness to also immediately understand the situation. He shrugged. "I'm slightly that way myself."
"I see," Aizen smiled gently and made a mental note to seek this boy out at a later date. Either that or destroy him quickly. "What is that behind you?" he asked.
"Kabaji," Atobe said dismissively.
Aizen nodded. "It looks useful."
"I would recommend one. I also have him-" he waved negligently to Oshitari, "to disparage people in a sexy Kansai accent."
"I have one of those as well," Aizen agreed. "And the others?"
Atobe glanced at the assembled members of the Hyoutei Regulars and shrugged. "Boy band hair."
"I see." Aizen made another mental note to get some equally interesting hair colors in his soon-to-exist unstoppable team of minions.
They eyed each other for a long moment, letting their powerful piercing minds search out weaknesses.
"Would you like some fruit punch?" Atobe asked finally.
Aizen smiled. "I'd be delighted."
Hanatarou had been trying to find the other captains to ask them what to do about the fact that Hitsuyaga-taichou and Ichimaru-taichou seemed to be engaged in some sort of sword/tennis battles of death. He must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, though, because he seemed to be on the other side of the grounds and there was no on around that he recognized.
Trembling in dismay, he slumped onto a seat in the bleaches and tried not to panic.
"Excuse me," someone said gravely but kindly, and Hanatarou looked up to see a tall boy smiling down at him, "is there something wrong?"
Normally, Hanatarou would never have dreamed of bothering someone else with his problems. But somehow looking at this boy's earnest, supportive, teenage Buddha-like face, he felt compelled to trust him. In a rush, Hanatarou poured out all his woes to the patient ears of the Fudomine captain, and even though Tachibana didn't understand most of it, he knew that Hanatarou would be okay if he just believed in himself.
"Really?" Hanatarou asked damply, blinking his moist eyes.
"Of course!" Tachibana said encouragingly, radiating firm support as he smiled down at Hanatarou. "If you rebuild yourself from the beginning, you CAN achieve any goal!"
Hanatarou sniffed, eyes beaming. "Do you really think so?"
"I know so," Tachibana declared impressively. "Now, step forward if you think you can beat me!"
Hanatarou shrank back as far away from Tachibana as he could. "T-there's n-no way!" he squeaked. "B-but I do want to get stronger . . ."
Tachibana shrugged and decided that was good enough. "Come on, team," he cried to his teammates who were hanging around with supportive expressions, "let's all help Hanatarou here believe in his dream!"
Hanatarou wondered if he had died and gone to heaven.
(and in some other random place )
Abarai Renji had decided to go somewhere where he wouldn't be tempted to stare at his captain in tennis shorts, and had ended up at the edges of the arena. There, he watched in fascination as a scowling boy with a bandana covering his hair made a boomerang out of his tennis shot.
Renji thought of his own snake-like bankai and decided this might definitely have potential.
"Hey," he called to the boy. "How did you learn that kind of control?"
The boy shrugged. "Well, Inui-senpai had me exercise in the river a lot, tossing a big wet towel to help my strength and accuracy."
Renji thought about that for a moment.
"And this Inui . . . watched you? Flexing? In the river?"
The expression on Kaidou's face showed he obviously saw nothing strange about that. "Well, yeah," he said.
Renji decided not to pursue that line of questioning any further.
(nearby)
Once Court A (and much of the surrounding area) had been destroyed, most of Echizen's absurdly enormous reiatsu had disappeared (the rest being permanently fueled by his ego alone).
Now the two young prodigies sat beneath a tree, sipping Ponta and comparing the woes of being short, young and talented.
"They call me Shiro-chan," Hitsuyaga admitted desolutely, taking a long pull at his drink. It was sweet but surprisingly satisfying. He wondered idly if Ponta had a watermelon flavor.
Ryoma shifted awkwardly. "They call me Ochibi," he admitted, not looking at his fellow rookie.
"All the jokes about my height."
"Yeah."
"And I had to get a special uniform made because none of the regular ones would fit."
"Yeah."
"And I'm always eye level with cleavage, which is really distracting."
"Why do you think I wear this hat all the time?" Ryoma said sympathetically. Or at least as sympathetically as Ryoma gets.
"Maybe I should try that," Hitsuyaga said thoughtfully, cracking open another can.
They sat quietly for a minute.
"You know, I've never bonded like this before with anyone," Hitsuyaga remarked after another long pull at his drink.
Ryoma shrugged. "Me either."
"I don't think I like it."
Ryoma tugged down his hat. "Me either."
"Yeah."
Contemplatively, they continued to sip their Ponta.
Tezuka and Byakuya slowly approached the cloud of smoke and debris that had once been Court C. As they drew near an ominous figure appeared within the billowing eddies of dust, turning into a slightly scuffed Fuji who walked unconcernedly out to meet them.
"Fuji," Tezuka began sternly.
"Don't worry, he's fine," Fuji said gently, smiling. "Now, I think I'll go wash up."
Byakuya barely stopped himself from staring as the tennis tensai gracefully departed.
"What is he?" the 6th squad captain demanded.
Tezuka shook his head. "We don't like to ask."
Inside the settled cloud of destruction, Ichimura Gin stood, dazed, looking caught between shock and infatuation. That had been . . . . .That had been . . . . .
That had been awesome.
Kurotachi had never had as much fun outside of an operating room as he was having talking data with Inui and several of his friends/rivals from other teams. Their logic was quite fascinating: he had never thought about investigating his colleagues before. Why had he never considered the possibility that one of them might someday become his enemy?
Still, however amusing, it didn't seem like a high priority. He would wait until he had some free time, maybe in another decade or so . . . . .
And then, at some point when Yachiru got tired of chasing Momo and Taka (in the best stamina training of their entire lives), everyone returned home.
(thereafter)
Yamamoto eyed the assorted ranks of Seireitai's finest. Shunsui was still dressed in white tennis shorts, a white tennis shirt, wristbands, sneakers, a white cap . . . and his pink kimono. Renji had replaced his usual hairtie with a bandana that said "Seigaku- Certain Victory". Utitake had, apparently upon pressure from various females who had not been able to go on the mission, agreed to keep the ponytail for a day or two, and for some reason, Yachiru kept waving a racket over her head and crying "Burning! Burning! Great-o!"
Hitsuyaga was absent, having had to be put directly to bed after he crashed from a five cans of Ponta sugar high. Kurotachi had also excused himself early and hurried away to his Division, muttering about "data" and "juice". Word had it that Hanatarou of the 4th Division had had to be physically dragged away from Team Fudomine and was now sequestered somewhere sobbing in broken hero worship.
Ichimura was present but his slightly glazed expression and the fact that he kept asking Aizen if he would look better with blue contacts meant he was hardly contributing. Byakuya alone remained unaffected by their encounter with the group of young prodigies (because he was absolutely certain that "Sebonzakura" sounded so much cooler than "the Tezuka Zone").
"So in conclusion, we do not feel they will be either a threat to the balance of powers or in danger of drawing outside attacks. They are simply very, very good at tennis," Utitake finished a trifle wearily. Despite Oishi's assistance, an entire day of sheparding both Kyouraku Shunsui AND Kikumaru Eiji as they tried out new combinations of shunpo acrobatic play (with break for lunch) had rather worn him out.
(Later, by the way, Eiji was twice disqualified from a game for "disappearing", forcing him to once again slow down until you could at least see the after-images).
Yamamoto nodded. "Very well. Good work gentlemen. And Shunsui? The tennis shorts . . . ." He trailed off meaningfully.
Shunsui looked disappointed. "Can I at least have a catch phrase?" he asked hopefully. "All the kids had really cool ones and I'm two thousand years older than they are."
Utitake nodded consolingly, making his ponytail bounce. "We'll think about one," he promised.
Hitsugaya woke up and blinking blearily, made out the form of his vice-captain bending over him as she felt his forehead.
"Ah, you're awake!" she smiled.
Hitsugaya considered things amid the pounding headache the insidious sugar drink had produced. "Matsumoto," he said finally, "do you think a hat would go with our uniforms?"
She blinked at him in surprise. "You mean like . . . Kyouraku-taichou's?"
"Uh, no." Hitsugaya sighed and rolled over. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."
Some weeks later, Shunsui received a secret shipment of 500 tennis balls and several dozen rackets, half of which he gave to Yachiru so that she could implement her new training regime wherein she hit flaming speed balls at the 11th squad members and then ordered the survivors to run a million laps around Seireitei while drinking various liquids donated by Division 12.
Also, Byakuya had twice caught Renji, stripped down and standing waist deep in the river flapping around a 500 foot wet rag and screaming "Boomerang Snake Baboon Throw!". He had almost asked why his vice-captain was behaving in such a manner, but then wisely decided to simply enjoy the view.
All things considered, Urahara was quite glad he had arranged this little vacation for his old friends. However, he was still bored.
Hopefully, something new and interesting would happen soon. сда
That night, Aizen IM'd Atobe: "Will take ovr wrld soon. Letz do lunch."
Atobe sighed and deleted the message. "As if I have time for every Hyoutei wannabe. Isn't that right, Kabaji?"
"Usu."