Locks of Conspiracy

"Smiley-chan!" Yachiru shrieked.

Ichimaru Gin stopped in his tracks and turned a bright smile towards the charging girl.

"Yachiru-kun, wat'cha doin'?"

Before running headlong into his lanky figure, the small girl halted. She gawked at him through huge eyes. She smiled.

"What are you doing?"

His impossibly wide grin grew wider. "I'm lookin' for someone to play a trick on."

Yachiru bounced up and down on the balls of her feet with her hand in the air. "Oh pick me! Pick me, Smiley-chan!"

Ichimaru smirked. "You want me t' play a trick on you?"

"I know someone!"

He bent towards her, cutting the height between them in half. "Do you now? Who could that be, I wonder?" he asked, putting a hand on the girl's head.

She beckoned with her slender finger. Ichimaru bent closer until he was almost kneeling before the small lieutenant. Yachiru cupped her hand to her mouth.

"We could cut Bya-chan's hair while he is sleeping!" she whispered, failing to keep the excitement from squeaking.

Ichimaru opened his eyes and looked sideways at the young girl. Cut Byakuya-sama's perfect hair? It was the definition of sin in all of Seireitei. Whoever would think of disturbing his long locks or the plates that held them in place?

Ichimaru's grin returned. It was often a well-kept secret why the Captain of the Sixth Squad wore those white plates in his hair. Some suspected they held some special power – others believed it was his fashion statement. But Gin knew that those accessories covered an even greater secret.

They were hair extensions: Hair extensions that covered the embarrassment of a bet gone astray – a mullet to be precise.

Ichimaru choked back a laugh as his thoughts returned to the bet that he had lost against his former captain, Aizen. As the loser, Ichimaru was forced to sneak into the noble's sleeping quarters and cut his silken hair into a mullet.

The next day, the white plates had appeared. No one asked Kuchiki why he wore them. No one dared. It was accepted, but always mocked behind closed doors.

"What do you think?" Yachiru whispered, cracking into his thoughts.

He leaned away and folded his arms. "We need something more original. Let's fill Ukitake's cough syrup with Shunsui's sake."