Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach

Chronicles of the Sereitei Philharmonic

By annyenil

"Nanao-chan, Nanao-chan, Nanao-chan, Nanao-chan!" Kyoraku Shunsui hummed to himself quite cheerfully as he strolled back to his Division Office in the most leisurely manner. Musical instruments were a great accessory, and all the women loved it. He thought wickedly to himself how the female shinigami were going to bask him in their crowning cynosure, cooing over his strong muscles and besieging him for autographs and embraces as he regally held up his violin, or trumpet, or even the conductor's baton. It would be nothing but delightful. And Nanao, Nanao will for sure be head over heels, falling for him without any hesitation as he heroically save her from that difficile instrument she was going to face.

There was nothing more esoteric than Shunsui's wanton, colourful imagination, just as there was no trickster more artful than Shihouin Yoruichi. The Shihouin messengers were already standing tall and respectful when Shunsui frolicked into his Division, with Nanao nervously trailing behind, her hands lifting her spectacles every other step. They were led to their Office, where two large instruments covered by the most luscious and smooth red velvet with golden frills at the edge. Shunsui was wild with joy from the images of beautiful, bountiful women who couldn't wait to ingratiate with him.

With a flourish, four Shihouin messengers lifted the covers of the instruments. Nanao's eyes widened in pleasant surprise at her instrument, while Shunsui' jaw dropped in nothing but terror.He couldn't possibly be caught playing……that?

It was with similar sentiments to Shunsui that Tetsuzaemon Iba lifted his instrument into his rough, battle-scarred, callous palms. He glanced at his taichou, who was holding the same instrument with his palm. Yeah…..this could be a problem. His taichou was understandable as human as a canine could get, but the whole fully opposable thumb thing still wasn't very characteristic of the canine paw. Very soon, that tiny strand of silver that was the flute was embedded deep within Sajin Komamura's thick layers of shiny fur.

Iba quickly looked down at his own hands and refused to glance at Komamura anymore than he could help it, except through corners of his eyes. He had his own problem. There was no way he could be caught playing the flute, the flute in public. He was a man, a true man of the most capable kind. His Elevnth Division friends would laugh their heads off at him if they had known he was performing with such a lady-like instrument in public. No, no, no. No way. Worst of all, he would be seen by Rangiku-san. Goodness. It wasn't like that Shuuhei Hisagi wasn't a competition big enough. He had the coolest hair, coolest uniform, and his tattoo was pure female magnet. How come he didn't get the flute instead?

Miserably, he glanced down at that flute. Flash God Yoruichi's orders were not meant to be disobeyed. With a face more bitter and spiteful than anything else, he sighed and began his practice, trying hard to ignore his taichou's fumbling and rapidly falling fur. He sneezed.

"No. No way." Shunsui was firm and unwavering. "No way I am playing this." He pointed to his instrument, that magnificent golden curl, so feminine and seductive, yet so innocent and angelic sounding. He reached over a plucked a string. "Hear, you hear that? That is the song of a Goddess. I am not a Goddess." He frowned at this ridiculously elaborate harp with the detailed and well-carved visages of a pair of Greek lovers at the head. "I don't care if this is Dido and Aenas, or Orpheus and Euridice. It was extortionately beautiful. And ladylike.

"Why can't I have that?" Shunsui pouted, pointing at a smirking Nanao who was already happily whacking away at her little harpsichord, with delicate Baroque patterns on its covers and sides, so petite, like a little magical box of music. "No, I am not switching with you, Taichou." Nanao grinned mischievously at her distraught taichou. "But, I can't play this……Nanao-chan……" Shunsui began has hapless whining, but Nanao merely turned away from him and concentrated deliberately on the harpsichord. "Nanao-chan……Nanao-chan……"Shunsui sang and tugged her sleeve and massaged her shoulders and basically bothered her in any possible manner, but Nanao was more obstinate than Shunsui's Einstein on the Beach chants.

"Nanao-chan……" Shunsui slouched and returned to his harp.

"Are you really cruel enough to let me look like a woman in public?"

"From what I recall, Taichou. You loved women. Isn't it just wonderful to look like one?"

"Nanao-chan!"

Nanao smirked and left Shunsui to his perpetual ranting.

Iba had already resigned to his fate for over an hour and was beginning to find pride in being able to handle something this small and delicate. "Like a lady's soft, gentile fingers." He thought to himself, imagining that the cold metal was Rangiku-san's luring, demure finger tips, and the mouthpiece upon his lips were Rangiku's full, sexy, heart-pounding lips. His taichou was still fumbling around and there were strange rustling noises. His taichou was particularly sensitive to his size and appearance, so even attempting to assist the large canine was a question difficult to broach. Iba glanced quickly at his taichou but the evanescent noise was gone.

Then suddenly, there were loud gasping sounds and uncomfortable gulping noises that were so cacophonic, it surpised even Iba, who was used to his master's little doggie habits.

Komamura was in shock. Absolutely, thundering, symphonic shock. He hadn't expected something to happen subito. Hee remembered following every step on the manual. First, hold the flute in your two hands. And so he did, balancing the tiny instrument as well as he could between two flurry paws. Next, put your lips on the mouth piece and blow. Komamura couldn't see the flute from under his long, sprouting nose, but he could distinctly sense the cold metal. Then he blew. And sneezed from his own flur. There was this chaotic exchange of air and somehow, the flute had disappeared.

Uh-oh. This was one tragic overture. He was in trouble. Coughing shiftily, he called weakly out to Iba, who was curiously raising an eyebrow at him.

"Iba. The flute is gone."

"I am sorry, Taichou, I do not quite understand. What do you mean, the flute is gone."

"I mean, the flute is gone."

"Taichou……?"

"Iba, I think I swallowed the flute by accident."

Iba dropped his flute.

It quietly rolled to the edge of the door.

Shunsui, too, had resigned to his fate. Although he was still finding trouble with his instrument. He followed the very succinct manual, which tersely instructed him to place the harp as the picture had shown and to pluck the strings accordingly. So Shunsui obediently chucked the instrument between his legs and reached out to pluck the strings. Every note struck a chord in his heart that only aroused more unwillingness. He reached for the strings in the higher register.

He couldn't reach the further strings, so he brought the harp closer to him.

"Ouch!"

Shunsui glanced down at between his legs.

"This won't do at all," Shunsui shook his head, "This simply won't do at all."