There was a loud clattering of the sliding door, followed by a violent thud, a loud crash, a swear and a giggle.
Zaraki Kenpachi shuffled his way into the shop, leaving the remains of what used to be the (entirely too small, in his opinion) doorway in his wake.
'Yes sir,' the wiry man at the counter squeaked timidly, toying nervously with a tape measure. 'How may I help you?'
Kenpachi grunted. 'I need new uniform,' he gestured vaguely at his own dressing. It was then that the diminutive tailor took in the torn sleeves, frayed ends and ripped fabric of the large man's uniform. The bald man, pink-haired girl and the man - woman? - behind his new customer nodded with glee.
'Well, yes sir, of course, but the Captain's haori will have to be custom-made. How about uniform size? We stock from sizes 30 to 46...' he gazed up and down Kenpachi's large frame and quickly whipped out a box of pins and his trusty tape measure. 'That will be custom-made, then. Now if you would please stand over there, sir?'
Grunting, he complied, ducking under what seemed to be a labyrinth of roof beams before finally snapping one on his well-gelled hair.
Alarmed, the tailor quickly stammered, 'Don't worry about that, sir, we'll fix it. Please step this way.' Before he could proceed much deeper into the shop, he nearly shrieked at the sound of a sword being drawn.
Half expecting someone to be holding a blade to his throat for severe insubordination (it had happened before), the short man turned, trembling like a leaf.
What met his eyes, however, was hardly anything he could have expected. The one with the feathers was currently examining himself in the reflection of his polished blade, humming a little tune to himself while he preened the stray hairs away. Heck, not even the female officers did that.
Standing on a footstool, he dropped the tape measure from the Captain's shoulders to the ground, recording the measurement on a notepad. He'd learnt quickly that striking conversation with these Soul Reaper customers was never a good idea. There was the time he'd asked the Captain why he wore that basket over his head, and the other time he'd suggested that the white-haired kid stand on the stool, not to mention the time he'd asked the other one why his skin was so white - clearly it had to be artificial? None of those situations ended well.
No, Soul Reaper customers were not meant to be talked to, that much he had found out. On the other hand, one member of this group seemed rather excited to begin some form of verbal exchange while he worked. Usually it put him at ease, but this time round it only served to fray his nerves even more.
'Hey Suit-dude!' He grimaced, but supposed it was a nickname he could live with.
'Yes, miss, how may I help you?' he spread the tape measure from both ends of his customer's broad shoulders, nearly toppling off the stool.
'You got candy?'
'I beg your pardon?'
'Candy,' the pink-haired girl enunciated, suddenly appearing between the legs of his stool.
'I apologise, miss,' he began hesitantly, 'but this is a clothes shop...' Now he let the tape measure trail down the customer's arm, quickly jotting down some figures before being thrown to the floor as the girl stood up from under his stool. There was a shriek, a snicker and a giggle.
'Now, now, Lieutenant Kusajishi,' the bald man finally spoke up. 'Leave the poor man alone,' he flapped a hand in her direction, which she seemed to interpret as the cue to attack him instead. The little terror literally flew upwards and latched her mighty jaws onto his shiny head.
Feeling slightly relieved that he would not be bothered for a while, he picked up a large white cloth and draped it around his customer. 'Please hold still, sir,' he mumbled as he opened a box of pins. Efficiently, the tailor began tacking the cloth into a vague shape that resembled a set of clothes, noticing worriedly that the customer flinched every time he pinched the fabric.
'...Sir? I am not going to prick you,' he attempted at being reassuring, only to have the bald man let loose a guffaw that would have put many animals to shame. The feathered man was amazingly, still preoccupied with his own reflection.
Before long, the tailor realised to his dismay that the Soul Reaper was shaking more and more violently with every pin he inserted into the cloth. 'Is it the draft, sir? I could go draw a curtain over the doorway?'
Stiffly, Kenpachi brought himself to respond. 'C-could you pin this thing somewhere else...not on me?'
'Why, yes, sir, of course, sir,' and hastily he eased the cloth off the man's shoulders and placed it on a table instead. Once he was done pinning and sketching the rough outline of the uniform in chalk, he held it up and asked politely if the man would like to check the sizing before he proceeded, to which he declined vehemently.
'If you wish so, sir. The uniform will be ready in a week's time, five sets for your collection and one Captain's haori. We will require a fifty per cent deposit from you and will provide a receipt which you should produce upon collection next week. Is there anything else the sirs and miss would like to request?'
Shifting uncomfortably on the spot, Kenpachi asked, 'could you just keep one set for reference so that I never have to go through that again?'
'Of course, sir, we will look forward to any future patronage.'
Grunting, the large man left the money on the counter, grabbing the receipt at the same time and shuffled out of the enlarged doorway, muttering something that sounded vaguely like 'Never again. Pins and the like.' The statement was met with much laughter and jibes.
He sighed. Why couldn't the more ordinary people, sized between size 30 and 46 turn up instead of these nerve-wrecking figures of authority?
The end! Hope you enjoyed it! Please review; I may continue it into a series if you guys want.