Captain Sexyhair

Kuchiki Byakuya glanced down again at the file open in front of him: a report from the Science and Research Division. It had arrived on his desk early that morning. Among other things, it was a summons, calling him to be the third witness at the entrance exam of a "special case". A special case indeed. It was not customary for seated shinigami (those ranked with a numbered "seat" in the Gotei 13) to be required at a mere entrance exam, never mind a Captain and Vice-Captain. So he'd known beforehand that this soul would be different.

After the whole fiasco with Aizen, and the embarrassment of relying on a Substitute Shinigami to save the day, the Captain-Commander had ordered stricter measures to deal with those powerful enough to one day become a threat. This was the first time, however, to his knowledge, that those stricter measures had actually been enforced.

The report ranked her reiatsu at level XXXXX - of course, quantity didn't guarantee quality. Still, it was stupidly high. He himself was ranked only level XXXX. The level of the other captains weren't common knowledge, but he suspected most were about four X's, the same as him. A high level of reiatsu was somewhat of a requirement in the position. However, there were exceptions. He'd estimate Soifon at around level XXX, although her skill and training made the discrepancy barely noticeable. Kurotsuchi Mayuri was even lower, but that creep had probably found ways to augment his power artificially when needed. To his knowledge, only Zaraki Kenpachi and Unohana Retsu had more than four X's. And the Captain-Commander, of course, but he didn't even want to guess how many X's he had. Ichigo had been five or six X's, for sure.

Considering all this... the woman was either a serious threat to Soul Society... or a valuable asset. Someone with that level of power could be just what they needed. The battle with Aizen had left their ranks sorely depleted, and Hollows were taking advantage of their slow recovery by invading from Hueco Mundo at an increased rate. It was no wonder she'd been rushed through to this special exam, and they'd even forgiven her for being an hour late.

As he'd entered the room, therefore, Byakuya had already been moderately curious about this woman. Using his long years of practice as head of one of the four great noble houses, he'd scrutinised her from head-to-toe in seconds without ever looking directly at her.

She was tall - loose-limbed and slim, standing in a relaxed pose with one hip sticking out - clearly underestimating the seriousness of the situation. Though she was undoubtedly what most would consider attractive, her appearance was scruffy - her elbow-length strawberry-blonde hair chaotically curly, like she'd just rolled out of bed. Her uniform was even tucked in wrong. Her large blue eyes were wide, innocent, soft. Trusting.

So, she hasn't been told, he realized.

She hadn't been told that if she failed this exam and didn't become a shinigami, she'd be facing the next millennium consigned to a detention facility for the insanely overpowered. She would hardly have that vacant, cheerful look in her big eyes if she knew how high the stakes were.

"It's nice to meet you, Captain Kuchiki," she said eagerly, "I'm Raen." She seemed to be trying to catch his eye.

How impertinent. She didn't seem intimidated by him at all.

He ignored her, hiding his amusement beneath his own blank mask as her face fell in disappointment. Even when using peripheral vision, he could tell that her open face betrayed her every emotion.

Then, when it seemed like she might fail at the very first hurdle, he instructed Renji to fight the woman; an attempt to get her to take it seriously.

The ploy worked better than expected.

She had proven herself in this first test; although Renji hadn't attacked her seriously, it was still surprising that she'd managed to evade every attack (moving with undeniable grace, he had to admit). And then she'd caught his fist, nullifying the blow with seemingly no effort at all. He could feel her reiatsu releasing, just enough to do some serious damage to his Vice-Captain, who had the foresight to avoid her counter-attack. Not to mention the sizable trench she'd left in the wooden floor.

He looked at her smug grin and was surprised to see actual savage joy there - just for a moment as she attacked, before her placidly cheerful expression reasserted itself. Even though she'd stated a reluctance to fight, it seemed reality was a little different.

There's more to her than meets the eye.

A short while ago, he would have written her off based on his first impression. But ever since he'd met a certain orange-haired idiot, he'd learnt that some things, though unlikely, were not impossible. If that boy could achieve Bankai after three days of training with a cat, after all, anything was possible.

I noticed Captain Sexyhair looking at me, and I suddenly felt a little warm.

The other examiners were also staring, so I sent them a sheepish smile. I hoped they wouldn't ask me to pay for the damage to the floor.

The old man was nudged by the chubby woman, and he closed his mouth hurriedly.

"Right, yes." he marked something down on my report with a constipated expression, and then returned his gaze to me. "Let's move on."

Renji had resumed his position behind his Captain, but I didn't miss it when he gave me subtle thumbs-up.

Cheered by this, I bounced over to the next mannequin, examining it from all angles. But it was just a plain straw doll. "What's next, huh? What's next? Bring it on!"

A vein started twitching in the old man's forehead. "Zanjutsu," he bit out. "Now, be silent, and come here."

I bounced over to the examiner's table, relishing the opportunity to ogle my new crush from a closer position. He'd taken to sitting with his eyes closed, his arms folded.

Are you that self-conscious in my awesome presence, Captain Sexyhair? I exclaimed internally, There's no need to be shy-

"Pay attention!" barked the old man. The chubby woman brought a long, flat black box out from under the table.

I stared at it inquisitively.

"This," he explained, "Is a zanpakutou without a master. It has never been touched before. When you touch it, it will resonate with your soul if you are worthy, and become attuned to you." he sniffed. "If you keep it after today, however, remains to be seen."

I wondered if now was a good time to tell them about the sword I already owned.

Nah, I decided. I want to see what happens.

"Can I open the box?"

The woman nodded. "Please do."

I grabbed the box and backed away from the table for a short distance, then dropped into a cross-legged position with the box across my knees. If the examiners were surprised by my unorthodox behaviour, they didn't say anything.

I licked my lips, and slowly opened the lid. Inside, was a plain katana in a black sheath. I looked sceptically at it. The shape didn't seem particularly easy to wield - not like my sword (which dug into my shoulderblades as if jealous of the attention I was giving to its ugly cousin). This zanpakutou looked the same as the ones I'd seen most shinigami carry. But Unohana had told me the form differed from individual to individual. Soifon's, I suddenly remembered, had been very short - almost half the length of this one.

I hesitated only a moment - and then grasped the hilt with my left hand.

With a loud hissing sound, fog filled the room as I felt my sleeping reiatsu react, swirling around me like a cyclone. A portion of it was flowing into the sword - which was suddenly a sword no longer.

It was a badass-looking dagger. Not just any dagger, I suddenly knew from out of nowhere, a "sai". (AN: google images "sai dagger" fyi).

And yet, it was still just a dagger, no matter how badass. Unexpectedly, I had another split-second choice to make, as the white mist that had enveloped me for a second time in as many days would clear soon.

So, when the smoke cleared, I was left holding my sword up for the examiners to see in all its basket-hilted glory, while my little badass dagger was carefully (it was rather sharp) hidden under my shirt, invisible in the ill-fitting clothes. My lack of boobs allowed plenty of room for hidden weapons.

Author's note:

Why does she keep trying to hide weapons?

It's possible that on some level she's sensing the danger she's in... I'm trying to write her character as one who's smarter than she gives herself credit for. She gives off a vibe of just going with the flow, but is that really who she is...?

Next chapter's title: Temper