Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: Allusions to killing, aka the usual.
A/N: In regard to Yachiru's age in these ficlets… They're all set before Kenpachi and Yachiru become shinigami. Since she seems to be about six or seven in the series, figure she's five or less when reading.
Perception
Sometimes Yachiru changed the way he looked at things.
"No! No, please! Please don't kill me!"
Kenpachi watched as the sole remaining bandit fled in a panic through the forest, his awkward flailing hindering his own progress through the dense underbrush. It was an ugly thing, that pathetic retreat, but Kenpachi wasn't surprised: beauty was a concept alien to his life.
"Whatcha wanna do, Ken-chan? D'ya think he's too weak to bother killin'?" Yachiru asked from beside him. She stood as tall as his knees now and he wondered if time always passed more quickly when measured against small things.
"Do what you want," he said and began wiping his zanpakuto clean.
"Hmmm." She tapped a finger on her chin and raised an eyebrow, considering. "He's pretty wussy, isn't he, Ken-chan?"
He grunted his assent.
"But he did kill a whole lot of people, so he couldn't be too weak." Yachiru danced the tip of her blade in tiny circles while she thought, flicking a few droplets of blood onto the new grass underfoot. "And he tried to hurt Ken-chan."
"Che. Like he could," he grumbled, and sheathed his zanpakuto.
"He still tried!" she declared fiercely and Kenpachi saw she had that look in her eye.
"Whatever you're gonna do, make it quick," he demanded and she wrinkled her nose at him.
"I'm always quick!" Yachiru reminded him and then she was gone, darting through the trees with more speed and agility than any person had a right to possess. He watched her audacious flight, careening at breakneck speeds through the trees, pink hair a banner of vitality, until she was lost in the abundant undergrowth of the forest.
He thought that maybe there was room for beauty in life after all.
-end-
A/N: I think I'm going to aim for ten ficlets, so one more to go. Whee.
