Disclaimer: Bleach isn't mine.
Accidental Releases
Yamamoto strolled through the First Division's hallways. The sun was shining, the temperature was fantastic, and he hadn't had the urge to doze off in fifteen minutes – a new record! It was a great day. Maybe he could do a round through the Seireitei, see how his subordinates were doing. Yes, a glimpse of their Soutaichou should brighten their day.
He saw his Fukutaichou rounding a corner, and he greeted him with a nod of his head. What was his name again . . . ?
The Fukutaichou bowed back respectfully, his right hand landing on the pommel of his blade. "Soutaichou. How is your day?"
"It's been good," he rasped.
"Yes. It's such a nice day. I feel like having a bite." His Zanpakutou warped into a rapier. The Fukutaichou (Shou – Chou – Chouji?) glanced at it, seemingly unperturbed. "Have a nice afternoon, Soutaichou." With that, he walked away, still holding onto his rapier.
Yamamoto frowned. What the . . .? He shook his head and decided to let it slide.
He finished his walk through the First Division and entered Soifon's territory. Speaking of Soifon, he saw her pummeling a certain fat Fukutaichou in a sparring match. She caught his eye and bowed, ignoring the groaning noble.
Yamamoto remembered he had a mission for her. Might as well. "Soifon-taichou, I have a mission for you."
She straightened. "Yes, Soutaichou?"
"There seemed to be a disturbance near the city of Nagoya. A hoard of Menos led by an Adjucha were terrorizing the citizens three days ago. I want you to find them and cleanse them with a team of your Onmitsukidou."
Soifon nodded. "Yes, sir. I shall sting all enemies to death." Her Zanpakutou glowed white, shortening into her famous two-hit certain death stinger. She kicked Oumaeda none too gently. "Get up."
Oumaeda moaned. "Don't crush me . . ." His Zanpakutou transformed into a spiked ball attached to a chain.
The Soutaichou's brow furrowed. Soifon looked at him and bowed. "We'll be going now." She dragged – no, handled Oumaeda away.
Yamamoto sighed. It's probably nothing. He continued through the Second Division and onto the Third Division. The Shinigami stopped what they were doing and bowed, they eyes lowered. Such respectful men . . .
Izuru Kira hastily stood up from his bench and bowed. Ah, yes, he requested a budget raise . . . something about the Eleventh Division . . .
"Kira-fukutaichou," he acknowledged.
"Soutaichou," he murmured back.
"Stand up, boy. I need to talk to you."
"Very well. I will stand up straight, very much like the way you raise your head."
Yamamoto scowled. Kira saw this and inquired, "Is there something wrong, sir?"
The old man kept his eyes on Kira's Shikai. ". . . No. Carry on, Kira." He walked away as fast as he can. What is happening?
He was relieved when he finally arrived at the Fourth Division. Unohana wouldn't be as careless as to release her Shikai without purpose. . . He turned a corner and bumped into Isane Kotetsu. "Kotetsu. How are things going?"
She hunched over, obviously trying to make herself shorter than him. "It is going well, sir. The Eleventh Division has been quiet yesterday, so the healers didn't have to run from them as much. We had a lot of things done." Her Zanpakutou changed into its unreleased form, with two blades protruding from its hilt.
Yamamoto felt the first trickles of paranoia creeping up on him. It's probably a coincidence . . . Just a coincidence . . .
He bid Isane Kotetsu goodbye and practically shunpo'ed into the Fifth Division. He didn't want to be there if Unohana actually released her Shikai. But there will be no releases here, he thought. Hinamori is still quite sick; Unohana had forbidden her from intense training.
Said Shinigami was lying down on a grassy field, staring at the clouds with a peaceful expression. She sensed Yamamoto's fiery reiatsu. She stood up quickly and said, "Good afternoon, Soutaichou."
"Hinamori. How is your recovery?"
"Oh, it's going well. It's all thanks to Unohana-taichou."
Yamamoto bobbed his head sagely. "Yes, she is a talented healer. Now, Aizen – "
"He's a good person!" she blurted. Her eyes widened. "Oh, ah, I'm sorry! I shouldn't snap at you like that!"
Oh, for the love of . . . Yamamoto didn't even bother with courtesies. He didn't want to be there if Hinamori shot a fireball at him (which he could easily deflect with his fist, for your information). He stomped into the Sixth Division, determined to finish his round – to hell with the Shikai. He knew Byakuya Kuchiki wouldn't needlessly release his Zanpakutou. The tiny blades were just too dangerous.
He caught sight of the Captain training with Renji Abarai. A group of seated officers watched them in earnest. Kuchiki broke through Abarai's guard and landed a long cut on Abarai's right arm.
"Oww!" Abarai yelled.
Kuchiki frowned slightly.
"Someone call Unohana-taichou," he continued dramatically. "I can feel the pain howl through my arm." The sword in his hand transformed into the segmented blade of his Shikai.
"Stand up," Kuchiki ordered. "And you," he pointed at the crowd of onlookers, "scatter."
Yamamoto cursed under his breath and made for the Seventh Division, ignoring the lethal pink blades and frightened Shinigami behind him.
He saw Komamura talking to his Lieutenant, Iba, and decided to pass. He was not taking any chances this time. A peek of the Soutaichou should be enough to lift their spirits.
"Yamamoto-soutaichou!" Komamura called out. Yamamoto uttered some choice words under his breath.
"Yes, Komamura?"
Komamura paused. He looked at Iba, who looked back at him. "We were wondering whose roar is louder."
Yamamoto's eye twitched when the sealed Zanpakutou altered into its Shikai. "I am busy." He pivoted and stalked away, ignoring their very loud roars.
Hopefully, Nanao Ise will be able to keep her Taichou behaved (ha).
Shunsui Kyouraku was – predictably – hung-over. Good. He shouldn't be able to do anything in that condition. Besides, it should impossible to word his release phrase into everyday conversation.
Nanao Ise spotted him first. "Soutaichou." She whacked Kyouraku with her fan. "Wake up."
Kyouraku let out a snore. "Yes, Nanao-chan . . ." He opened one eye. "Hey, Yama-jii. What brings you to the lovely Eighth Division?"
Yamamoto felt a headache creeping up.
"Before I forget, would you like to listen to a poem? I wrote it myself last night!"
"You were drunk," Ise muttered.
Kyouraku cleared his throat. "Oh, Nanao-chan, how I want you more / Flower wind rage and flower god roar / Heavenly wind rage and heavenly demon sneer / For they are very jealous of your well-shaped ear!" His Zanpakutou warped from its sheathes, turning into two Chinese scimitars.
Ise slapped Kyouraku with her fan.
Yamamoto sighed. So that's how . . .
"Apologize to the Soutaichou now," Ise said sternly.
"Why?" he whined.
The Soutaichou closed his eyes. He didn't want this. He quickly made for the Ninth Division. He made no effort to find Hisagi. Unfortunately, the gods decided to screw with him even more, and promptly rewarded him with the sight of Hisagi drinking himself into a stupor – not quite there yet.
"Yo, Soutaichou," he slurred.
"Such disrespect," the old man muttered.
"I've been drinking since this morning," he babbled, "and now it's time to reap the benefits. Matsumoto, here I come!" He fell on his face, the twin scythes resting on his unresponsive hands.
That's it. Yamamoto was officially pissed. But he will finish his damn round, or so help him he will set fire to the entire Seireitei.
He trudged through the Tenth Division, dreading this encounter. No doubt the two young leaders of the Tenth will be neck-deep in whatever is happening. Youngsters are always getting in trouble.
"Hi, Soutaichou!" Matsumoto chirped happily from her seat under a tree. Her Taichou was beside her, steadily filling out paperwork. "What can we do for you?"
"Nothing," he barked. "Go back to work."
Apparently, Matsumoto was gutsy today. "Aww, but we made a bet today! Don't you want to hear Taichou growl?"
Hitsugaya rolled his eyes. "Don't drag me into this, Matsumoto. All I want to do after this is to sit upon the frozen heavens and go to sleep." With that, he gathered the stack of paperwork and slammed the door to his office.
Yamamoto closed his eyes and ignored the ashes in the air and the ice decorating the floor. He simply continued onward to the Eleventh Division. Thank god Zaraki doesn't have a Shikai.
Upon arrival, he was bowled over by the ever-cheerful Fukutaichou of the Eleventh. "Hiii, Gramps!"
"Get off him, Yachiru," Zaraki barked. Kusajishi complied. At least he knew how to control the little demon-girl.
"You should probably extend her candy hours," Madarame commented. He swung his spear around, trying to catch the pink blur running around them. "That should stop her whining for a couple of hours.
"She shouldn't eat so much candy," Ayasegawa put in. "Her beauty will not bloom properly if she keeps stuffing herself with sweets."
Yamamoto squashed the temptation to release his Shikai on them. Instead, he strode past, purposefully leaking a bit of his reiatsu to heat the air. He stifled a smile when he heard Ayasegawa complaining that "this hot air is not good for my skin!"
He shunpo'ed through the Twelfth Division, not wanting to be within a kilometre of Kurotsuchi's Shikai. Unfortunately, the gods were still bored and decided that Kurotsuchi wanted to take a little break from his research.
"Ah, Soutaichou," Kurotsuchi grinned. "Just the person I was looking for."
Yamamoto sighed. "What do you want?"
"I want permission to rip apart Kusajishi."
Yamamoto released some of his reiatsu to keep the poison at bay. This was really tiring. "Denied. Do I want to know why?"
"That little demon spilled orange juice all over my computers," the scientist seethed. "Why, if it weren't for – "
Yamamoto stepped around the ranting Kurotsuchi. He didn't have time for this. One more to go!
Finally, finally (thank the gods), he reached Ukitake's office. He had even more reason to thank the gods because his two Third-Seats were nowhere in the vicinity.
"Ukitake," Yamamoto rumbled.
"Soutaichou," Ukitake exclaimed. He stood up from his seat. "What can I do for you?"
"I want to know what's happening with my officers."
Ukitake blinked, then grinned. "Ah, that. It was Shunsui-kun's idea. He figured you needed to relax and laugh a bit. Somehow, he got most of the high-ranking officers to participate."
Yamamoto sighed. The most powerful people in the entire Soul Society were idiots. Was there a fault in the Academy's way of teaching? Or maybe the amount of reiatsu actually damaged the electrical pulses in the brain . . . He needed to get Kurotsuchi onto that theory.
"Don't worry, Soutaichou," Ukitake said cheerfully. "They're not hurting anyone."
"I should hope so," he said under his breath. He spun away and shunpo'ed to his office before Ukitake could release his Shikai. He resolved to never step outside his office ever again.
Fail, I know. I wrote this on a whim a long time ago, and I only just revisited it today.
But I had fun trying to figure out ways to incorporate release phrases into everyday conversation. My favourite was Shunsui's~ It was also the hardest.