Disclaimer - I don't own Bleach etc etc.

You know, I fraking love Kenpachi , but I never see enough of him in real world situations, you know? I am going to write a story here, set in the real world, characters from Bleach inclusive – no OC's (unless useless background characters) and I'm going to bloody well enjoy it! If you're anything like me, and like a good real world story, with all your favorite characters in it, staying IN character – you're going to enjoy this. Yes, there will be action, laughter, romance and maybe even smut. But I will aim to keep it as accurate to the character as I possibly can.

Enjoy, dear reader.

Ari

One step further.

Sweat glimmered on his brow as he struggled with the situation he was in. The sun beat down mercilessly, the shade from the clouds high above mockingly avoided him.

Just one step! That's all it took! Then... then...

Then he'd be inside. And inside was precisely where he did NOT want to be when he was running over an hour late to work. The alarm hadn't gone off. Hadn't. Gone. Off. If it had, he would be at work right now, ready to start his shift like almost every other day. Almost, of course, being 4 out of 5 days of the week on average.

Ikkaku Madarame was not lazy. No sir! Indeed, he loved his job. The excitement of the stakeout. The thrill of the chase. The glory of the take down. The thrill of the chase. The fulfilment of receiving the bounty. And of course... the thrill of the chase.

That was really what attracted most people to this job – hunting. Chasing. Catching. Being a bounty hunter was not the most glamorous, or even well paid job in the world. But it was exciting and it kept booze in the fridge – and if some people thought that wasn't enough, then some people could go soak their feathery head in a bucket.

Ok. One hour and ten minutes late. No more procrastinating.

Taking a deep breath, and a large gulp – Ikkaku gripped the door handle as though it were his lifeline, and took the plunge into the dimly lit barracks of his life, and eventual death - '11th Hour Bounty Hunters'. Seeing the cold, yellow stare from the back of the beige walled office – he knew... it was going to be a hell of a day.

"Madarame! Where the fuck have you been?" The harsh question was barked at him from the direction of the cold stare. Oh thank all things holy... he might actually live to see tomorrow! Usually, his lateness was met with a sparring session, in which he was sure he would die, every time.

"Sorry, Sir," The captain was always more lenient when they called him 'sir' or 'captain' instead of 'boss', "Blackout in my area. Alarm didn't go off." He knew the excuse was thin. The sheen of sweat on his hairless dome of a head would surely give him away.

Shockingly, the only answer he received was a grunt of acceptance, as the captain turned his gaze back to his softly glowing computer, a snarl on his lips. Goddammit did that man hate technology! There were several separate offices that the captain could use to do his paperwork – but he refused to have a computer anywhere near the area he spent his afternoon nap, and so, with (perfectly dimwitted) common sense, The captain chose to work in the back room. This of course meant, that barely anyone ever stepped foot through the rear entrance of the building. Only Madarame, Yumichika, Yachiru and Kenpachi used the back room – the rest of the men utilized the main hall area in the front of the building.

Giving himself a mental high five – he wasn't genuinely afraid of the Captain, he was far more concerned about his daughter/secretary – and what kind of job was that for an 11 year old anyway? – Ikkaku headed to his desk, avoiding the glare of the dispatch officer and flamboyant roommate, Yumichika Ayasegawa. He dropped off a small plastic shipping bag filled with 'bribes' for the lieutenant - a selection of sweets and cakes, while his eyes zeroed in on the cheap coffee machine near the connecting door to the main hall.

Coffee. He needed coffee. The world could wait...

Kenpachi stood abruptly, snagging his black button down shirt from the back of his chair and filling the small room with his presence. Raising his voice to a battlefield yell, he called "Madarame! Makiyosuke! Get your gear. We got a class two repeat offender spotted in downtown Crewetteberg, five miles outside the city limits, and 5 days off his parole. It's time to suit up."

...Apparently the world was an impatient bitch.

Kenpachi Zaraki. Some called him the Demon Hunter. Both because of what he was, and of the kinds of scum he hunted. He was fierce, aggressive, fearless and powerful. He had strong intuition, that came in very handy in their profession, and a terrible sense of direction... which made their job more difficult than it needed to be.

Everything, from his physical appearance, reputation, right down to the way he spoke to his subordinates, drove fear into the hearts of men. God knows what it did to everyone else. And yet, though he was feared by all (even the police he handed his scum bag payloads off to) his men loved him. No, not loved. Worshipped him . In him they saw an invincible titan, an unbeatable tyrant, for whom they would willingly lay down their lives. He cared only for battle, and they shared in his glory. Kenpachi ruled over 130 men. He called them his army, and he was their Captain.

As he strode through the large open hall, the men paused their activities and nodded their heads or bowed, as their personalities dictated. The Captain ignored them, heading to the waiting vehicle outside. Without pausing, he curled into the backseat, grimacing at the way he had to curl his large frame into the vehicle. Ikkaku lounged in the passenger seat, griping silently about the lack of coffee in his stomach. Kenpachi sat quietly, reading the file in his large, scarred hands as they exited the city.

Makiyosuke, as the designated driver on this hunt (Kenpachi only had a motorbike and boating license) turned down the stereo as they entered Crewetteberg, and listened to the final debrief points that the boss gave to his number two.

"Ok, you got that Ikkaku? Name: Maki Ichinose. Sentence included: armed robbery, dugs – possession and dealing, and finally... hohoho... check this – manslaughter in the first degree! Looks like we got ourselves a fighter." Kenpachi's maniacal grin widened and he turned to look out the window, his dark glasses hiding the eager gleam in his eyes.

Ikkaku grinned wryly, "That's why you decided to come along, isn't it, sir? You were itching for some action and thought this one might actually get to play a bit rough?"

Kenpachi's infamous smile was all the answer he needed. No wonder the Cap' decided to come along, rather than send the usual five man team – he was looking to get his hands dirty instead of doing all that damned paperwork. Unfortunately, every time he left that to his 'secretary', it mysteriously became mixed in with various Facebook photos, paint doodles and photoshop scraps. That pink haired little pain was, however, incredibly gifted in self defense – and no one – NO ONE – could show her disrespect... unless they thought they could out run Kenpachi's long reach. Recently, she'd been pranking the new recruits, and filming the results for her Tik Tok channel, whatever that was.

That was one thing Ikkaku never quite understood about Yachiru Kusajishi. If she was Kenpachi's adopted daughter – left overs from a bounty hunt gone bad over 10 years ago – why did he let her keep her Criminal Parents' name, instead of giving her his own? Not that the history of the Zaraki name was very appropriate for a young girl – but still. She looked like the polar opposite of her 'Dad', all cute interests and adorable big eyes. He sighed and shook his head – time to stop day dreaming and get in the zone. Kenpachi gave him the rest of the debrief as they pulled up less than a block from the target house.

"This is going to be a playbook snatch and grab. I've had Ayasegawa check the plans on this building – 2 exits, front and back, plus one basement. I can see a single pickup truck in the driveway – but let's not take any chances. Check the truck first, in case he knows we're coming and is waiting till we go inside. While you do that, I'll take the back. I hate playing tag, so I want you to herd him, and anyone he's with, to me like fucking sheep. You got that?"

"Yes, sir – like fucking sheep." He wondered what would happen if this Ichinose fellow tried to jump out one of the windows... well, that's what Makiyosuke was for – stopping party poopers and plugging the leaks.

They exited the car, and strode purposefully down the sidewalk, splitting apart as they approached the property. Their appearance seemed normal… which was strange – seeing as they were doing a raid. Instead of body armor, Kevlar plates and side arms, the two wore their black cotton button up shirts over white wife-beaters, loose black trousers, sneakers, and they each carried a long wooden instrument. Kenpachi's looked like a battered old sword, notched and scarred. Ikkaku's was more of a spear staff, without the sharp head. Each man had a leather loop hanging off the side of their belt, where the weapons would be stored until needed.

That was the signature of the 11th Hour – hunters had the option of wearing body armor and all of them were trained to use wooden instruments. Not only did it decrease the number of fatalities so they could receive their bounty, rather than a body bag, but it kept their senses sharp – honed for hand to hand combat – and gave the members a strong sense of self respect and ethics. Any maniac could shoot a gun, but not all maniacs could fight or defend with handheld weapons.

Following his instructions, Ikkaku quickly checked the truck in the front drive. It was a pathetic bit of machinery – peeling paint, rusty handles and brackets, chipped windscreen – a lot like the faded blue house they were about to bust into. Finding the truck empty, Ikkaku proceeded quickly to the front door, unshaded on the bare, barely grassed front lawn. He cast a quick glance around, noticing Makiyosuke trailing behind at a safe distance. Raising a fist, he rapped sharply on the door and called out loudly.

"Maki Ichinose! This is the 11th Hour! You are in violation of your parole! Come out, unarmed, with your hands in plain sight!" Ikkaku grinned, knowing the bastard was probably hoofing it to the rear entrance – where Kenpachi waited for him. He knocked again, and repeated the message – this time adding, "Or else we'll come in there and get you." He heard a scrambling, scraping noise from behind the door. What the hell?...

A shot gun fired out through the wood of the door at head height. Ikkaku, instincts trained for years to prepare for this kind of thing, dodged to the side quickly. A flare of pain on his right ear. Shit… the little bastard grazed him! Preparing himself, Ikkaku took a running leap at the door and shoulder barged it inwards, using his not inconsiderable strength to smash through the rotted wood and straight into something soft and screaming and female. Great… another parole jumper who hired an armed hooker. Ikkaku took a second glance at the now unarmed and unconscious woman, and sneered. An ugly hooker.

A flash of movement along the hallway to the back of the house. "Ichinose! Give it up!" Ikkaku ran in pursuit, knowing he was only the herder of the idiot sheep. The fleeing bounty was panicking, he ran to the back door, opened it and sprinted outside…

SMACK!

… well, at least he tried to. He stumbled back in a daze, wondering what he had collided with. Raising his eyes, he saw black… black… and a wooden 'sword' resting on an extremely broad shoulder, next to the carved, scarred face of –

"K..Kenpachi Zaraki!" Maki gurgled the name in fear, and scrambled back, ungracefully falling on his butt. Kenpachi sneered at the mans fear, utterly unamused that this was the prey he had decided to come after. What the hell? With a reasonable rap sheet, 12 years in prison and what looked like an army haircut… he had expected more.

Ichinose suddenly dropped the demeanor of 'Frightened victim', his breath evening out and eyes narrowing. He pulled out the .48 berretta he had been hiding in the back of his faded blue jeans, and scrabbled to his feet. Ikkaku, still herding, stopped in his tracks, eyes wide. This was NOT how it was supposed to go down. Pointing the barrel directly at the bridge of Kenpachi's nose, Ichinose straightened his stance, and rolled his head on his shoulders. Without looking away from his target, he spoke to Ikkaku 10 feet behind him. "Not one move, or I'll blow whatever brains he has through the back of his thick skull." Ikkaku remained silent and still – and Maki grinned malevolently. He had done it – his plan had worked! He was finally - finally - able to get his revenge on this demon!

"Finally…" he said softly to Kenpachi, "Finally I have you right where you belong, at barrel end of my gun. Revenge is so much sweeter, isn't it Zaraki? When a well thought out plan comes together? I've been waiting, rotting in prison for you. 12 year. All for this moment."

"Sorry Kid, can't say you're my type." Kenpachi growled. This kid thought he had the drop on him – well, he'd play along for now – might make the take down last longer.

Ichinose gave a derisive sneer, the curve of his lip barely affecting his calm face, "Cocky bastard, aren't you? Well you won't be once you're dead. Kiganjo always said strength is the tool of justice. But you used yours to put an innocent man on death row!"

Zaraki frowned, his brows furrowing. "Kiganjo..."

Ichinose's eyes blazed with fury, "The man you helped to kill! A man who protected his district-"

"You mean profited from his district?" Ikkaku interrupted with a sneer.

Ichinose turned his head and glared at Ikkaku, eyes wide and maddened with anger. Kenpachi didn't take the opportunity - he was too busy trying to remember...

"Kiganjo... Ki - Oh yeah! Kiganjo the Lady Killer. I remember now. The dude who was rapin' the wokin' girls downtown, then when they complained to their pimps, used the excuse of 'self defense'?"

"Yeah, that's the one," Ikkaku drawled, "Then he took their cut of the profits from the girls pockets."

Ichinose snarled at the two of them, spittle flying, "That's a LIE! Kiganjo was cleaning up the streets, getting rid of pimps and drug dealers! He was a warrior! A protector!-"

"A pervert." Kenpachi grunted, lip curling at the memory.

Ichinose was almost shaking with fury, but he took a deep breath, calming himself. His eyes gleamed, and he sighed with pleasure, "Goodbye Zaraki – I hope this is as painful as possible for you." Ichinose lowered the gun to aim at Zaraki's throat, knowing his hollow point bullets would shred the mans esophagus and send shards into his spinal column causing death, or at least paralysis. He also knew that Ikkaku would take his life the moment the he pulled the trigger.

Taking one last look into Kenpachi's black glasses, Maki sighed that he wouldn't be able to see the look of horror coalesce on the mans face – but still, his death would be worth it.

He squeezed the trigger...