Chapter Four: If Looks Could Kill, Might As Well

"God, he looks like such an asshole."

Retsu would've normally frowned at having to hear such crude vocabulary from a captain that wasn't Zaraki, but she decided to let it pass this once because she couldn't agree on a more apt word than what Soi Fon had had used to describe Kurotsuchi's getup. Maybe asking him to change out of his sweatpants had been a bad idea – sure if Shunsui were here, he'd be on the floor gripping his sides, mad with laughter. But he wasn't here. It was just her, Soi Fon and Byakuya and neither of them found any amusement in having to associate themselves with Kurotsuchi the way he was dressed right now.

Of course, Soi Fon's statement would have seemed redundant in any other circumstance, given that Mayuri was indeed a supreme asshole and was privy to garb himself like a sideshow attraction. This time though he somehow managed to look like an even bigger asshole, an accomplishment that was worthy of merit since he wasn't even wearing that goofy makeup and hat of his. If he did, then he'd actually look a little more presentable. Unohana glanced back without meaning to and whipped back around as a shudder went up her spine. She couldn't even look at him for longer than a few seconds for fear she'd shrink half her size by cringing too hard.

Kurotsuchi's long-sleeved buttoned shirt was an eye-gouging purple, and judging from the way it slightly shimmered in the light, she'd guessed that it was satin. To compliment that, he'd gone with leopard-print pants and oxford shoes with metal-plated wingtips, and reflective orange-tinted aviators that obscured his eyes. Retsu had no way of telling whether he was dressed that way to embarrass them or if this was actually his taste in fashion, but judging from the way he slumped moodily or hissed at the occasional child that would point at him before being whisked away by a petrified parent, she guessed it was the latter.

"Times like this I can't help but hope that they'd criminalize bad fashion," Byakuya muttered in a low voice. "I don't want to be seen around him."

"Who does?" Soi Fon snapped although she still kept her volume down and then gave Retsu an accusatory glare which the older woman pretended to not have noticed. The Second Division Captain had every right to point fingers at her since she was the one that had coerced Mayuri along their trip. The three had made plans to hit the mall a little while after Kurosaki had been chased out of their home by Kenpachi. The Eleventh Captain had miraculously slept through the Hollow attack, only to wake up and wander into the kitchen for some late-morning breakfast when he'd spotted the human boy struggling to swallow the first spoonful of Retsu's medicinal soup. The two were out the door instantly and she hadn't heard from either since. It was likely that Kenpachi had gotten lost after Ichigo must have given him the slip which was why Soi Fon had suggested looking for him lest he got into any more trouble.

It was when they began listing all the various places Kenpachi might have wandered into that Byakuya mentioned the mall, and while the suggestion was discarded it prompted Kuchiki to wonder what the shops in the world of the living were like. The conversation had derailed into excited plans to go on a shopping spree, and after a cursory glance of the vacation pamphlet Unohana had brought with her, they'd singled out the largest mall in their immediate area and were set to leave.

Unohana however had decided to drag at least one other person along to lug all their stuff around, her primary choice being Shunsui but against all judgment she had instead settled on Kurotsuchi. Her decision wasn't met too warmly by the others and her assurances that she'd keep him in line without really divulging how didn't help their mood either way. Still, they'd shrugged and watched quietly as she went to talk with the nutjob.

Retsu knew that they'd butt heads in these two weeks eventually, with her doling out swift and satisfying justice to exact the many wrongs she knew Kurotsuchi would commit, just not so soon. But when she saw how he remorselessly humiliated his own lieutenant for expressing her concern for him, an indignant flame had been ignited in her. Unohana had offered what little comfort she could in the moment but she knew it wasn't enough to heal Nemu's emotional wounds or quell her desire to make Kurotsuchi repent. So when talk of a shopping spree came up, she knew this would be the first of many opportunities to start whittling down the Twelfth Captain.

He'd declined without hesitation (typical) but Unohana was saved the trouble of using underhanded tactics to get her way when Shunsui leaned over to him and related how he and Jushiro were going to take Toshiro to the zoo (it obviously had been the white-haired shinigami's idea who was intent on spending quality time with the Tenth Captain). Sajin had also opted to join them, and if Kurotsuchi wanted he could come along too.

"How about I just stay here?" the blue-haired captain refused to bite.

"That's fine," Retsu said. "We need someone at home to receive Captain Zaraki in case he comes back while we're gone."

She could almost hear something ticking inside Kurotsuchi's skull as he mulled over her words in silence before he got up and declared he was all set to go to the mall. She had stopped him before he could hurry out the door and told him they weren't going to have him while he was still in his pyjamas.

"These aren't pyjamas," he protested.

"They sure look like they are. Go and get changed, we're calling a cab in the meanwhile."

Cut back to the present, and Unohana was starting to believe that a serious lapse in her sanity had prompted her to make the suggestion at all. Maybe she had also been suffering from acute mental fatigue before this vacation and never realized it until now. Soi Fon got nothing from her no matter how long she continued to bore holes into the older woman, and at the awkward silence Byakuya risked a peek at the Twelfth Captain. He'd been trailing behind by a little distance and was too preoccupied with sulking to pay attention to the occasional glances that came his way.

"Well at least he's driving away the groupies," the Sixth Captain commented. That much was true. There was no shortage of highschool girls who'd start chattering loudly when they'd see the dashing stranger pass by. Byakuya noted that the girls here had little regard for self-respect; they'd start stalking him, squealing excitably when he'd tuck a lose strand of hair behind his ears, or strike a cool, relaxed pose as he'd stare at whatever caught his eye, contemplating if it was worth a purchase. The saleswomen in these very shops were having a field day as well, trying to force him to stay longer so they could ogle at him rather than get him to buy more stuff.

It was infuriating, but the moment Byakuya would turn to Kurotsuchi to dump the bags on him, the swarm of admirers would slowly start to dwindle, their collective disgust and fear of the blue-haired shinigami overpowering their obsession with the nobleman. Disgust he understood, but it wasn't until the Sixth Captain overheard a group of girls murmur "yakuza" that he realized why else Mayuri was so effectively warding them off without perhaps intending to. Nonetheless, the teenagers were persistent enough to keep trailing the group from afar. Though at least at this distance they couldn't surround Kuchiki or drive him crazy with their high-pitched screaming and drooling all over his shoes.

"No, don't do that!" Soi Fon vehemently objected. "Don't commend him! You're not allowed to do that!"

"I'll say it as it is," he replied, refusing to take back his statement.

"Alright, calm down," Unohana stepped in to break up the fight. "We came here to enjoy ourselves so let's just keep doing that, shall we?"

She then turned to look over her shoulder at the obliviously pissed off shinigami following them.

"And please pile up as much stuff as you can on him. Maybe that might hide enough of his atrocious attire to save us from gagging every time we look at it."

"Hey there, big fella," a male voice cried out and Kenpachi stopped in his tracks. He'd only ever heard prostitutes call to him like that when he would roam the seedier parts of the Rukongai, either actually looking for a quick romp or helplessly lost. And he was lost this time as well, but given the little kids playing in the streets while their parents or older siblings frequented the myriad fruit sellers or convenience stores littered about, he wasn't going to bet that he'd wandered into a pleasure district.

Then again, there was no mistaking the lusty call from the sandal-wearing store owner currently lying on his side on the porch of a shady looking shop, beckoning the shinigami with a folded paper fan. Curious, Kenpachi deigned a look and the grinning shop-keeper, confident with the success of having the larger man's attention, lifted his hakama to reveal a pale, hairy leg. Zaraki decided he would heed his call, only so that he could punch the fucker's teeth in, but his violent urge dissipated when he'd gotten close enough to recognize the daring proprietor. "How're you enjoying your vacation so far?"

"How did'ja know that we're on vacation here?"

"I have my sources," Urahara replied coyly. "That answers your question, now how about mine?"

Zaraki didn't exactly have an answer to that. He had his qualms about being away from Yachiru and for so long, of course not out of concern for the irreparable damage she could do to his men and barracks without him keeping a leash on her. When he'd gotten the order to start preparing, he'd naturally made the assumption that his lieutenant would be coming along; learning that it was a captains-only trip didn't settle well with him and he'd nearly wrecked the old fart's office until he finally gave in and made an exception for her. His efforts however turned out to have been wasted when Yachiru straight up refused to go to the living world, citing the fact that the candy there wasn't as tasty as the ones in Seireitei and that she wanted to play at the "funhouse" over at the Twelfth. Arguing with her was pointless, so he'd resolved to not go but Yachiru had objected to that as well, prattling on about how she wanted him to bring back a ton of chocolates.

Her contradicting viewpoints on sweets from the living world were lost on the already drained Kenpachi, and he didn't fight her over it. Not that he had any chance of winning an argument against her in the first place, so he'd packed up and left without her. And now that he was out on the streets, traversing sidewalk after sidewalk, alley after alley, he could acutely feel her absence. Of course he knew her sense of direction was as bad as his, but there was at least some comfort to be derived from her presence and her ever-confident voice urging him on, never to give up.

Goddamn he missed the little brat.

"I'm kinda lost," he murmured, embarrassed.

"Aren't we all?" the other man commented cryptically. "Though if you need specifics, you're smack dab in the middle of Karakura."

Kenpachi scratched his head and the shopkeeper took it as a cue to explain further.

"You're a little ways from where you're staying at. Got your soul pager on you?"

The behemoth nodded and produced the machine from his pants pocket. It looked comically small in his hands. Urahara recovered it from his palm and silently tapped a few times on the screen before a mechanical voice from the pager announced the distance from Kenpachi's current location to his destination.

"Just do what it tells you and you'll be back home safe and sound in no time," he grinned, handing the device back. "By the way, what are you doing roaming the streets all alone anyway?"

That was a good question. What was he doing out here? He'd been chasing after that cowardly bastard Ichigo who refused to take up on his demands for a fight and had thrown him off by weaving into the many alleys here. That had been thirty minutes ago, the trail having long gone cold, and the desire to go back home already usurping his inclination to pummel the shit out of the Substitute. But now that he remembered why he'd been walking around confused for so long in the first place, his bloodlust was instantly renewed.

"Ya seen that fuckwad Ichigo 'round these parts?" he demanded from the now yawning shopkeeper.

"If you mean right now, then nope," the blonde man winked. "Haven't seen him in ages."

"Well…" Zaraki grumbled ponderingly. "If ya catch that weasel anytime he's here, ya holler."

"You can count on me," Urahara assured as he opened his fan to obscure his grin. The taller of the two turned and began to stalk away into the distance, the faint voice of the AI relaying instructions to him, growing silent as he vanished behind a bend. A rumble came from the interior of the shop and the former shinigami turned to see a couple of empty cardboard boxes topple over as a haggard Ichigo emerged from behind them, his nose leaking mucus and a towel tied around his neck like a cape.

"Is he gone?" he asked, eyes darting to the parted doorway where Urahara peeked back from.

"Didn't I say he would be?" the older man laughed triumphantly. "Now, about my payment…"

"What payment?" Ichigo narrowed his eyes at him.

"My compensation for taking time out of my busy schedule to come to your aid when you so desperately needed it," he explained, a slimy smirk plastered on his face.

"You never mentioned any payment."

"Well I'm mentioning it now."

"You bastard!" Ichigo cursed as he pounced at Urahara, grabbing a handful of his collar and lifting him to his feet, preparing to launch him into the nearest wall but immediately relinquished his hold when the dirty old man began crying out for Kenpachi. He was well aware that the brute was long out of ear shot but just hearing his name gave him an intense bout of anxiety that he wasn't willing to bear in his current state. Urahara dropped to the floor on his ass, his hat toppling off his head. "Alright fine, how much."

"Oh no, I wasn't talking about money, Ichi-kun" the old man teased and Kurosaki swore he was going to burst a vessel. "I've got something that I want you to do…"

His feet hurt.

It had been over three hours and they still weren't done. He didn't understand the merits of looking at whatever, hoping that something would catch their fancy and make them want to spend their money on it, only to wonder what to do with it now that they owned it. Nothing they bought was something they needed – they'd just look at something and then be promptly consumed by an impulsive want. And the pace at which they meticulously scoured every damn shop they came across, having second, third and up to thirteenth thoughts over which pair of shoes to go with (only to wind up taking all of them) or whether or not this scarf was hundred percent silk like it said on the tag (of course it wasn't, but Kuchiki still felt obligated to grill the salesperson over it for minutes on end), left Mayuri with little doubts that he'd be lugging around their goods another couple of hours.

He was completely done. The zilch amount of sleep he'd gotten last night was contributing to his snappy mood but had also tired him to the point where he could either grunt dismissively or give a snide remark where he wanted to belittle someone or something. He was devoid of any energy to argue with the others and throw a tantrum just so he could make a scene. Exhaustion had beaten him into grudging compliance, and at that point all Mayuri could think about was finding a chair or sofa first thing as soon as they'd enter a shop, any shop, and just nestle into one.

He was lucky that this recent one had several sofas for all the equally morose men whose partners were trying out every shade on display in the nail polish section, or rubbing concealer after concealer on a patch of their skin to see if it was their color. He deposited the bags at his feet and stretched out his throbbing legs as he leaned back and closed his eyes. He could hear their murmurs but wasn't paying attention to their conversation until one of the women spoke his name and he opened one lazy eye.

It was Unohana, holding two pastel colored bottles in either hand, Soi Fon at her side tapping her foot expectantly.

"What do you think is better?" she asked. "'Herbal' or 'Moisturizing'?"

Yup, he was done.

His head tipped back as he let out a disgruntled groan. He stared up at the blaring white lights on the ceiling, hoping that if he'd stared hard enough he'd go blind. His sight in this gigai was already poor and the fact his eyes had yet to adjust themselves to bright environments for prolonged periods meant that he had a little ways to go before he lost what remained of his vision. He'd already pocketed the medicated sunglasses in that hope, but the gigai was proving fairly resilient to his deliberate attempts at deteriorating his vision so that he at least wouldn't have to visually experience this living nightmare.

One of the bottles as well as the pale hand that grasped it drifted into his line of vision, and Mayuri sighed in defeat. He tipped his chin back down to glare at the Fourth Captain before pinching the cap between his thumb and finger, relieving her of the item. He scrutinized the fine print and scoffed before handing the bottle back to her.

"Sure, if you want acne problems a month after."

"Really?" she quirked a quizzical brow, staring at the item intently before putting it back.

The smaller of the two whipped around and pulled out another pair of cylindrical tubes, shoving them at Kurotsuchi. "What about these?"

He was silent as he read the even tinier print on the packaging, and then shook his head.

"Same problem but it can also give you eczema as a bonus. Wait…" he almost grinned at the thought as he tapped his chin, and then got up from his seat, walking over to the rack they'd been making their selections from. He began pulling out bottle after bottle, eventually returning them to their spot after having deemed them inadequate. The female captains were silent as they exchanged uncertain glances and then went back to staring wide-eyed at Kurotsuchi rummaging through beauty products like he'd sift through a bookshelf in search of an elusive text. At some point he'd stilled completely, an afterthought having sprouted in his mind, and turned to the astounded women. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"Something for oily skin?" the younger one requested, eyes glimmering with hope.

His gaze returned to the display rack and produced a white bottle with pastel leaves printed on the label. Soi Fon reached out like a child receiving candy, her mouth ajar in unspoken happiness at the possibility of the cleanser actually working and resolving her skin troubles. She pressed the cool plastic to her cheek and her eyes fluttered closed in a euphoric trance. The other two stared at her for a while before silently deciding among themselves that they'd be better off ignoring her for now.

"What about you?" he asked and raised a displeased brow when she shrugged.

"I just need something for a couple of gift baskets I'm putting together."

His agitated frown only deepened at the non-explanation but returned to the rack regardless, pulling out one of the bottles he had already assessed at some point and dropped it in her hands.

"This will take care of most problems satisfactorily," he explained matter-of-factly. "What?"

"Nothing," Retsu said with difficulty as she stifled a laugh.

"Guys…" Soi Fong called and they looked over at the shorter woman whose worried eyes were transfixed at something at the other end of the shop. Unohana's gaze followed and landed upon a throng of teenage girls that had blockaded the men's cologne section, a sea of arms reaching out for Byakuya who was dangling off the top shelf. His mouth was agape, probably because he was screaming for dear life but his voice had been drowned out by the screeching of the rabid crowd below. "They finally got him."

"We just turned away for a couple of minutes…" Unohana was shocked.

"Give me a stick, I'll get him down," Kurotsuchi offered, glowering at the nobleman who's pants leg was now in the vice grip of several manicured fingers, the expensive fabric splitting at the seams. If the piece of cloth didn't come off, then his pants would and the already voracious crowd would turn into a frenzy wilder than a pack of starving piranhas. Retsu frowned at him, annoyed.

"You stay here with the bags," it wasn't a request. Soi Fon had already produced what looked like a pez dispenser with a top that resembled a grinning black cat. She observed it intently before flashing Retsu a discouraging expression.

"There's not enough for a crowd this big," the Second Captain related. "I might be forced to do things manually."

"Manually?"

"Meaning I'd literally have to knock them unconscious."

Unohana ignored Kurotsuchi's laugh as she gave Soi Fon a pleading look.

"Trust me," the younger shinigami reassured. "No permanent injuries. They'll just lose consciousness for a couple of hours but it's nothing dangerous. Though you're going to have to hang back because I'm going to use the kikanshinki first, I don't want you accidentally getting caught in the blast."

Kuchiki's scream rang out and the three glanced back to see that his legs had disappeared into the maw of the collective beast pulsating in anticipation of a feast.

"Shit. Okay, this is going to take a while… I guess you can go on ahead without us, Byakuya and I will meet you at the food court. Sound good?"

Unohana had opened her mouth to answer but Byakuya's desperate cries cut her off. The crowd had finally managed to pry him off the shelf and was most likely cannibalizing him, leaving Soi Fon with no time to listen to what her older colleague was going to say. She raced off in the direction of the swarm, a few small puffs of grey smoke wafting into the air following the sounds of muffled explosions. Retsu lingered at the pathetic display and shrugged, turning to face the grinning Kurotsuchi.

"Come on, let's go."

"Hey… hey Eiji," Tatsumaru waved to his friend. The man straightened as he lifted his nose from a two-page spread of a gravure model and glared at his "coworker". He was offended at having his attention drawn from the magazine and was ready to kick Tatsumaru in the shins. But the shorter yakuza wasn't even looking at him, instead grinning in the direction of the counter – whatever it was, Tatsumaru had the idea that it was something more worthy of attention than the tan lines on this month's breakout model. His curiosity piqued, Eiji leaned over the magazine rack; his jaw nearly dropped at the sight of the vulgar creature at the counter.

The man was dressed in the most painful purple he had ever seen on someone who wasn't soliciting sex outside the pleasure districts, and coupled with that bright blue dye on an undercut this guy was definitely trying to make shoppers go blind. But it was the getup in particular made it apparent that this was some new recruit bottom-feeder who was way over his head thinking he could get away dressing this flashy in public. He saw the grunt pull out a note from a really fat stack wedged inside his wallet and slap it down on the face of the counter, the weirded out cashier warily accepting the money and handing him what seemed to be a box of nicotine patches.

It was offensive to see a junior yakuza carrying around that much money and showing off to boot. It had been mildly hilarious to Eiji when he first laid eyes on him but the moment he saw the fat wallet, he felt his blood boil. There was no way a lowly grunt would dare to hang out with his balls in the open like that, especially in Sawajima territory. It was likely that this idiot was from a rival family who didn't know how things worked and was in desperate need of being put into his place. Eiji slammed the magazine shut, his jaw clenched as he shot Tatsumaru a determined look.

"Fuck this guy… what's he doing prancing about like some hotshot on our turf?" Eiji fumed.

"I ain't ever seen him before," the usually not-so-bright Tatsumaru blinked, his amusement also disintegrating the more he thought about it. "And I ain't thinkin' he's one of us, Eiji!"

"Yeah, I had the same hunch. Our juniors aren't stupid enough to pull a stunt like that in broad daylight," came the reply. He glared daggers into the blissfully unaware "yakuza" who rolled up his sleeve and stuck five or so patches on his arm before covering it up again, but felt his anger suddenly dissipate when the serene figure of a braided lady came into view. She had a couple of plushie charms in her hands which she was gazing at intently, silently mulling over which one she should pick. Eiji felt his cheeks heating up the longer he stared at the woman who seemed to have walked out of a painting, a creature far more alluring and much more tangible than the tanned girls in the magazine he had been so engrossed in a while ago. He followed her graceful movement, wondering if he had ever seen her around these parts or if she was a visitor, and saw her lashes lift toward the piece of work who was still hanging about the counter.

Fuck no.

Eiji's blood began boiling with renewed fervor as he saw the woman approach the purple roach. It was maddening enough to see that shitstain throw his money about like he owned the place, but now he was putting moves on his girl! It was too much for his pride as a yakuza and as a man to take, and he grasped Tatsumaru's arm, shaking him out of the trance that woman had also put him in.

"Come on," Eiji pushed fervently. "Let's teach this asshole a lesson."

At the orders of his friend, Tatsumaru made a seamless transition from clueless buffoon to a killer with a lust for blood. Fishing out a Swiss army knife from his coat pocket, he took the lead as the two began to make their way for the grunt.

"Captain Kurotsuchi, what would you think your lieutenant would prefer? Cat, rabbit or frog?"

The pair froze in their tracks. Did they just hear her call him a captain?

"A slug," the blue-haired man replied dismissively, having picked up a nature magazine at some point and burying his nose in it. His dialect was refined, not something that was commonly heard in these parts, and it sounded incredibly intimidating to the yakuza. With his face in full view, they could now take note of his incredibly foreign features – he didn't exactly look Japanese, although that intimidating name she called him by certainly was. Tatsumaru exchanged a confused glance with his friend and all Eiji could do was gesture that they hold back for now and observe things before they wind up doing something stupid. The smaller of the two looked unsure but pocketed the knife anyway.

"Rabbit it is," the braided woman declared and returned the other charms to their shelf before turning back to Kurotsuchi. "And I have something for you too. Care to take a guess?"

"A guarantee that you're going to ask the Captain-Commander to send me back?" the man asked, looking away from the book although his expression conveyed that he wasn't expecting an answer that he'd like. The lady smiled and shook her head, at which he rolled his eyes and returned to the magazine, unaware of the two yakuza who stood a little distance away from him, sweating buckets. The thugs gulped and began to slowly back away until they were safely hidden behind the magazine racks once more.

"Eiji, who the fuck are these people?" Tatsumaru whispered in fright, every now and then risking a quick glance at the pair of strangers at the counter. His friend was silent as he shook in his boots, a quivering hand pulling out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbing at the sweat that cascaded down his brow.

"I don't know, man…" he replied after taking another gulp. "But whoever they are, they're serious business. We better let the boss know about this."

Tatsumaru nodded obediently, and then taking one last peek to make sure that the dangerous pair hadn't been alerted to their presence, ducked low. Praying to the heavens, the two then slunk out of the store, breaking into a mad run as soon as they were certain they were out of sight, the "captains" having never known about their presence.

"Take another guess," Retsu urged but Mayuri had lost any interest he had in the conversation as soon as she confirmed that she wasn't going to contact the Commander about letting him off the vacation. The two were blatant about their collusion in devising and executing his torture, and what meager hope he had placed in Unohana's tenderness had been quickly dashed when she had refused to entertain his request, several times. So much for that, he could either bear with it or induce a high that would keep his mind distracted enough to be unable to register the next two weeks. He decided to try the latter, though how he was going to do that he couldn't figure out so long as he was still in this suffocating mall.

Soi Fon and Byakuya got their break after they had to book it because of the mob, a fact which had only come to light when Unohana's pager began beeping. The midget from the Second had called to let her know that the crowed had nearly overwhelmed them, and while still in a gigai that significantly limited her powers the best she could do was nab Kuchiki and make a run for it. He could barely make out her voice over the screams that blared from the tiny speakers of the Fourth Captain's pager, but the situation had been disheartening enough for the older woman to declare an end to their shopping trip.

And thank fuck, he was getting tired lobbing all these bags around.

"Cyanide," he "guessed", not even bothering to look at her shaking her head a second time.

"Even better," she teased and then held out something that Kurotsuchi kept ignoring until she practically shoved it into his face. His head jerked back at the sudden intrusion and his eyes beheld another plushie charm: a dog.

"Why?" it was more of a dry statement than a question but the woman seemed compelled to explain anyway.

"I love dogs," she said and Mayuri shot her a confused glare. She was smirking in a way that made him uneasy for a reason that he couldn't deduce other than his flight responses mistaking the grin as a predator baring its sharp teeth threateningly at its prey. He remained silent for an uncomfortably long time, growing all the more baffled and agitated with each second until he finally realized that he really wanted to know what she had meant by that. She must have read his thoughts for she let out an innocent chuckle (in sound alone, for her expressions betrayed her depraved inclinations) and continued. "I think dogs make amazing pets. They're loyal, obedient, and with a little effort even the most stubborn mutt can learn to take commands in as little as two weeks."

Mayuri's eyes were wide in sheer indignant awe.

"And when I saw this little doggy," she lowered her gaze to the soft charm, its black beady eyes shaped as if it was begging for affection, before once again meeting the golden irises of the Twelfth Captain. "I couldn't help but think of you."

The smile she wore could trick the universe into summoning a rainbow right within the confines of the well-lit shop, and Mayuri was perhaps the only soul in all of reality who fully recognized how sinister it actually was. Shocked into momentary silence, his eyes followed her path to the cashier and then settled on the assortment of cutesy animal keychains she dumped on the countertop. His gaze locked with the black, lifeless stare of the rotund little dog, a foul, pink tongue of felt cloth sticking out under the triangular patch meant to represent its nose. A despicable thing. Ugly and offensive to his intellect and aesthetic.

She had the gall...

Fine then.

Two could play at this game.

A hideous, daring smirk bloomed on his face as he smacked his palm square down upon the doggy charm, squishing it against the marble top and making the cashier jump. Retsu's haughty look visibly faltered as she slowly turned an apprehensive glare to the the toy that he now spun by the chainring on one slender finger. Displeased, she gave him a silent, grim scowl.

Oh, it is on.