A/N: I've decided to revise this story because of how poorly its aged. Not to mention how most of the "jokes" in here aren't funny to begin with or simply don't land. Some may think revising a W.I.P is a dumb thing to do when I can be adding new chapters after such a long hiatus. Then again, part of the reason why I didn't want to pick this up again for so long was because of the bad writing and humour. People who've read the original will note that I've significantly altered the story. This is to avoid the plot holes and inconsistencies that were eventually going to pop up in the first version, as well as to supplement a better story.
While I respect Kubo's vision, I personally felt that Bleach should have ended with the Fake Karakura Town arc, with Ichigo and friends going back to their normal lives as do Seireitei's shinigami while occassionaly crossing paths. I've assumed this to be the "canon" for this fic, meaning that the Lost Substitute Shinigami Arc and the Thousand-Year Blood War arc do not exist in this fic's timeline (although I will be borrowing some sparse story elements revealed in these chapters to more accurately portray characters here). Moreover, save what Kubo added via his sketches, omake chapters and other illustrations, all anime filler/omake scenes have also been excluded from this fic's timeline in order to make it as canon-friendly as possible.
So without further ado, I present to you Poison: The Director's Cut.
Chapter One: No Such Thing as Good or Bad News
Slow.
If Retsu Unohana could think of the one word to perfectly describe her life right now, it was 'slow'.
No one could have ever imagined how boring peace could be. At least back when Aizen was still around and messing with the balance of the worlds, the shinigami were kept occupied every other week. There had been days when things would get so out of hand that even as they would push themselves beyond their physical, mental and emotional limits that they'd find themselves at the threshold of simply giving under the weight. Sheer will had seen them through and in the short moments that followed triumph, they could finally breathe easy. They had peace, and they never would have asked for anything otherwise.
Or so they thought. As the years went on, it started to become painfully obvious that their victory over Aizen had swept them up in some delusion, and they'd assumed things only got better from there. In a way they did. And in others they got much, much worse. She often thought that maybe she was exaggerating the extent of the ennui that had entrapped Seireitei. After all, Retsu felt no small amount of guilt when she'd catch herself counting the number of patients walk into her division. She wouldn't wish ill on anyone not deserving of her ire, and yet spotting the occasional tumbleweed rolling across the impeccably clean tiles of the infirmary made her mood dip.
Seeing how poorly her colleagues were faring after the winter wars, she knew that it was no exaggeration. Last month's flea outbreak was courtesy of Captain Komamura who had simply stopped bathing, prompting strict orders from Genryusai that the Seventh Division's head stick to a thorough grooming schedule or else get a poodle cut. Captain Kyoraku made it to most meetings completely plastered, and it seemed that he would often drag Captain Ukitake into his late night drinking binges considering that even the sickly man would sometimes enter the hall drunk and confused. It became absolutely intolerable the day Shunsui wobbled in with an equally drunk girl under his arm, a boob in one hand and a very obvious protrusion in his hakama. He was slapped with an immediate 4-month suspension for indecency, especially in office. He didn't remember a thing.
In Captain Zaraki's case, the man was intent on testing the last of the Captain-Commander's already scant patience by not showing up to meetings. The usual suspects from the Eleventh were spending their days in the pleasure districts and setting up a reputation as unholy terrors. The Second and the Tenth were up to their elbows in paperwork from all the property damage, overspending on drinks and hookers, and medical bills from assaulted civilians who had "looked at them funny". And the fact that Zaraki always took Lieutenant Kusajishi along raised serious concerns as to his parenting skills. The Fourth did try to intervene. Several times. But the King would only know who was messing with the roster, because the team assigned to retrieve Yachiru under a child protection notice solely comprised of Third Seat Iemura. So to say, the attempts never really proved successful and the poor man was on antipsychotics now.
The paperwork that poured in at the Second and Tenth didn't exactly help their respective leaders' situations. Captain Soi Fon had become a klutz, tripping over uneven floorboards or running into the door jamb without first pulling the door open enough for her to pass through. As someone whose career was built on paying attention to details and exercising unwavering vigilance, the vapid look in her eyes was disconcerting to say the least. Captain Hitsugaya was also struck with a strange disassociation with his surroundings, especially concerning his own barracks. One occasion had Unohana making a brief visit to his office, but once entering the premises found it littered with empty sake bottles, weeks-old fast food cartons and eighteen different species of mushrooms growing on the upholstery. Hitsugaya himself had to wade through the sea of garbage to get to his desk and wound up grabbing a rat by the tail instead of a pen. He didn't realize it even as he dipped the screeching creature's appendage in ink to sign his papers.
Captain Kuchiki had (initially) seemed to be doing well for himself. The man had a multitude of refined and dignified hobbies, including but not limited to calligraphy, gardening, interior decoration and poetry. It wasn't noticeable at first, but then the signs started to show: a "Wakame Ambassador" that crept into his sonnets, or the hedges that had been trimmed into a cloud-like shape with little hats placed on top of them. And then there were those worryingly frequent instances when Byakuya, stoic and unmoving in most social situations, would suddenly snap his eyes to some invisible entity at his side and whisper something like he was actually talking to someone.
That just left Captain Kurotsuchi, but Retsu might as well not even bother with how he was getting along. He was the only one who seemed to revel in this post-war mood – with no battles to be fought, no equipment in need of supply to other divisions, and no obstacles preventing him from frequenting Hueco Mundo for his perverse experiments, he was as content as he could be. And that in itself just made it all the more obvious how wrong everything was.
There was very little doubt in her mind that the best solution to this problem was a change of scenery; a moment to forget a dull existence and be somewhere new, do something new. In short, a vacation was in order. Unohana's heart and mind lay in saving lives, and although fatal bodily injuries were now a rarity in peace-time Seireitei, her duty lay in rescuing her comrades' sanity before everything broke down into a blubbering heap. The idea stuck, and she immediately sent a request for a private meeting with the Commander, going over in her head the various psychological benefits of a holiday that she planned on relating to the old man in a bid to convince him as quickly as possible. Then again, she could just flash a dangerous smile; that would get things done easier.
She was taken aback a little when the old man instantly joined in as soon as the word "vacation" rolled off her tongue.
"It's good you came to me about this," he told her, propping his elbows on the desk and massaging his temples. "I've never seen morale drop so low, although now I'm a little less worried after finding out it's because of mental fatigue."
"What did you think it was before?"
"Cocaine."
The old man promised the announcement would come as soon as a holiday plan was worked out, and as a couple of messy weeks rolled by, Retsu felt it in her bones that today was the day Yamamoto will break the good news. As she filed in with the rest of her colleagues (with Zaraki surprisingly making it this time, although smelling like alcohol and piss and displaying the telltale signs of a massive hangover), the Commander found his usual spot at the podium, although Lieutenant Sasakibe was right with him instead of at the far corner of the hall. Unohana had immediately spotted the clipboard the junior shinigami had pressed against his chest, and feeling that it had something to do with Genryusai's promise she felt a calm warmth bloom in her chest.
"Over these short years I have come to note peculiarities in your conduct," Yamamoto's voice reverberated across the hall, powerful and commanding – a voice that would have awed anyone else hearing it come from the aged man. "Peculiarities that are especially concerning, given that my captains, upholders of the strict codes and ethics of the Gotei 13, seem to be slackening in such regard."
"Old man, we've always been slackening," Shunsui Kyoraku interjected. And he wasn't wrong though. Given the their lax adherence to dress code, or even the fact that hurling insults or carrying casual conversations in the midst of a meeting was so commonplace, Yamamoto might as well have been senile to claim that there was any hint of that discipline he touted.
"Really?" the Commander feigned awe. "I didn't know bringing in prostitutes to the Captain's Hall was protocol."
A couple of snickers floated across the room as Shunsui gave an incredulous look. "Okay, for real now. Am I being tricked here?" he demanded. "I get the feeling this is some elaborate prank where you guys are trying to make me doubt my sanity by convincing me I did a thing I don't have any recollection of."
"I, for one, completely doubt your sanity. And that of the rest of you," Genryusai's olden eyes quickly darted to Retsu, a silent gesture that he didn't mean her when he mentioned the "rest". The ever-observant Fourth Captain caught the look and gave a brief smile in response – content, he diverted his attention back to his audience. He sighed before he continued: "I value the Gotei 13 as an elite, capable, powerful and dutiful force. A force that has repulsed all threats to Seireitei, no matter how seemingly indestructible. However, lately I have been fostering concerns that maybe this outfit is not exactly chalking up the reputation we have carved for ourselves over thousands of years…"
Zaraki had already dozed off at some point, large snores punctuating the speech before the old man decided to trail off and launch his sandal at him in frustration. The footwear collided neatly against the jaw of the behemoth who tipped over gently before crashing to the ground, still comatose.
"Ehh, let's send him a memo for later," Ukitake suggested, and the visibly riled Yamamoto had to take a second to calm himself before continuing.
"Let us take this as no better example of the sorry state of affairs you're all in," at his cue, Sasakibe silently stepped down the podium and handed the clipboard to the Thirteenth Captain. The sickly man stared at the piece of paper clipped on to it. Two columns had been hastily drawn up, with the words 'In Favor' in one and 'Against' in the other, while the rest was blank. "As per the brilliant suggestion of Captain Unohana, I have decided that an official vacation would be in the best interests for all of you."
The silent Sasakibe immediately produced a pen from his shihakusho and handed it over to Ukitake.
"Provide your signatures where you agree or disagree with the proposal. If so you do agree to it, preparations will be made shortly," the Commander instructed as the petition exchanged hands.
"And will you be joining us?" Ukitake asked his superior.
"If seating is an issue, I've left plenty of room for him," Kurotsuchi remarked snidely. He had signed under 'Against' without a second thought.
Yamamoto chose to ignore the quip and turned toward the white-haired shinigami.
"There must be at least some semblance of authority in the absence of my captains," he answered as he took hold of the petition his lieutenant handed him back and gave it a cursory glance before looking back up at his subordinates. Catching the discreet twinkle in the normally cloudy eyes of the old man, Retsu sighed in relief knowing what the decision was going to be.
"The Tenth and Twelfth have opted against, while we have yet to receive the Eleventh's signature. That is to be put off until Zaraki is awake and preferably sober – oh, thank you, Lieutenant," he fumbled a little as he put on the sandal Sasakibe had recovered. "Where was – ah, yes. The remaining have cast their approval. Congratulations on your company vacation, captains. I will issue details next week. Until then, with the exception of Komamura, Kurotsuchi, Zaraki and Ukitake, you are all dismissed."
The unnamed shinigami filtered out of the hall, Kyoraku chattering excitably with a visibly uninterested Kuchiki. Although the prospects of being in a place that wasn't the barracks or exercise fields had nearly everyone up in a good mood, Retsu reserved her doubts as to why the Commander had held back Kurotsuchi. She wouldn't put it past the Twelfth Captain to concoct some idiot idea to get Yamamoto to cut back on holiday expenses and funnel the money to his myriad projects. Or maybe he would tout himself an expert on travelling, and convince the old man that nothing could get any better than a trip to the petting zoo or something. A deep pit welled inside her as she thought of more and more scenarios where Mayuri's pettiness would cost them their vacation.
Or if so he tried, she'd personally dig his grave for him. Shaking the thoughts out of her head she began counting, evening her breaths until she was in a calmer state of mind by the time she reached 'ten'. She knew she was giving Kurotsuchi far more credit than he deserved – Genryusai was no fool, and despite his tendency to cut corners on budgets, she had enough faith that the Commander would shoot down Mayuri's suggestions. But even as she reasoned with herself, she couldn't ignore the creeping sensation that something just wasn't right. She slowed until she came to a stop, watching the other shinigami walk on until they began descending the massive steps to the headquarters, disappearing from view. She turned around to look at the imposing set of carved doors behind her and couldn't help but wonder what was going on in there.
Inside the First Division Headquarters, the remaining shinigami had circled around the snoring Zaraki.
"Any chance he can wake up right now?" Yamamoto asked.
"Doubt it," Mayuri shrugged, lightly kicking Kenpachi on his cheek, his head lolling to the side and tongue spilling out onto the floorboards. "But I can assure you he won't drown in his own saliva."
The old man harrumphed, slightly exasperated. "Komamura, please carry him back to his barracks. Oh, and…" he saw Sajin pause midway into bending down to pick up his massive colleague. "You will have to get in touch with Kurotsuchi with regards to your gigai. Human or animal, it's up to you so long as it's not both."
The beastly creature nodded in approval before hoisting Zaraki up on one shoulder and walking out the premises. That only left Mayuri and Ukitake who were both in good moods, for various reasons of course. The sickly shinigami was in higher spirits because of the recent announcement – the last time he took an extended break was years ago, and it was nothing more than a trip to the beach in the world of the living. He didn't get to make much good memories of that little trip though, since he had fainted under the blaring heat of the sun. Not to mention the panic he had unwittingly caused by making his a-little-too-enthusiastic-for-comfort lieutenants believe he had died. He didn't know about it until he woke up, but the sheer chaos that had erupted during that short amount of time was historic.
Sentaro and Kiyone had already sent the missive that their dear captain had departed, and the other division members hastily made preparations for a funeral by cooking all the koi in his ponds. Ukitake didn't know what it was that kept him from completely losing his mind when he'd found out, but it was a bad enough shock to spring another bout of illness. As he lay coughing and wheezing at the Ugendo, mourning the loss of the fish that weren't exactly all his, the squad members had the grim realization that there was just too much food for the entire division to consume.
Yes, it was that much fish.
And they couldn't let it all go to waste, which was why Sentaro had the brilliant idea to invite the Eleventh Division - men and women with legendary appetites owing to all the physical work they were involved in. And boy was that a day that Ukitake rued, with the destruction of his gardens, his fish ponds being turned into beer pools, and the graffiti that took weeks to cover up. Zaraki though had been kind enough to send an apology letter, citing the fact that he didn't exactly think straight when drunk. And Jushiro had accepted it (though he did wish it would have been a little more than just "sorree iwas dronk but thnks 4 nyc barbyQ"), but he had made up the mind to never let Kenpachi or any member of the Eleventh Division in his private gardens again.
Mayuri on the other hand, although not the least bit interested in joining his fellow captains on a vacation, was the most content he had been in years. He had privacy, adequate funding and all the time in the world to expend on his experiments. He didn't actually mind attending these drab meetings in the presence of drunken, flea-ridden, vapid ingrates, and since he had already opted out of the trip, he knew that he would be spared having to see their faces for a week or two once they were gone. That just meant a couple of days lost to constructing the vacation-goers' gigai, but it was a brief pain he could afford to bear. Besides, while they were all gone he could try and come up with a way to booby trap their barracks or coerce some of their stupider subordinates to volunteer as test subjects.
He would have to personally thank Unohana afterwards.
"Ukitake, about your condition…" the Commander began but trailed off, knowing well that the shinigami in question would object to being held back due to his bouts of illness. Jushiro seemed like he had expected the question, and mustered the most energetic smile his feeble self would allow.
"It doesn't make a difference if I get sick while on holiday or at my quarters. Besides," he threw the shiniest, most pitiful puppy-dog eyes at the old man. "There's nothing that Unohana-san can't handle."
There was no one that look could not win over (except of course Seireitei's celebrity psychopaths), and the typically unmoving Yamamoto faltered. He mumbled something incoherent before heaving a defeated sigh. "That just leaves Zaraki, then. But since we already have a majority, his decision hardly matters at this point. Still, for formality's sake, I-"
"Wait, what?" Mayuri cut him off, alarmed. Did he hear things right? He had understood that every decision that required the vote of the Gotei 13 captains, it had to be unanimous – in cases where participants were required, they could choose to volunteer or spare themselves unneeded responsibilities. It had been this way since as long as Mayuri could recall which was why he and the brat from the Tenth had bothered to sign under 'Against'. Then what was all this talk about a majority? The confusion and incredulity made it difficult for Kurotsuchi to form any more words, and he stuttered a little before stopping himself to take in a quick, deep breath. Maybe he really didn't hear it right, even though he was aware that his augmented hearing wouldn't betray him like that. But right now he had to give things the benefit of the doubt before he preemptively lost his mind.
"Let me see if I didn't mishear you just now," he began, desperately trying to remain calm in spite of the nervous way he was rubbing his hands. "A majority?"
Yamamoto nodded.
"Meaning that…" he waved his hands in a circular motion as a gesture for the old man to complete his sentence.
"Their collective vote outweighs that of yours and Hitsugaya, and even Zaraki if he chooses to opt against."
"So…" Mayuri began, his voice faltering. "So then…"
"All of you are going," Yamamoto could not help but smirk. "Not excluding you, Kurotsuchi."
"What?!" a feminine voice cried out from somewhere behind them, reverberating off the walls of the spacious meeting hall. Three sets of eyes turned in the direction of the heavy doorway that was now partially open, letting in a stream of daylight that was only broken by the still frame of Unohana who had her hand pressed against her mouth.
Oh wow.
This was way worse than she could have possibly imagined.
