A certain fukutaichou finally comes to understand that his taichou values him, even though that taichou rides him hard for his shortcomings. As a result of his newfound confidence, he feels free to tell a friend what's on his mind.
Inspired by something that flopped out of a character's mouth in another story.
A colt, by the way, is an immature male horse. Any resemblance to a certain red-headed tattoo-inscribed shinigami is purely intentional.
Tite Kubo's, not mine, not for profit.
Breaking to bridle begins with the selection of a colt suitable for the work to which he will be put. The colt must be conformed to ably perform this work, and of suitable temperament for same. Between two of similar conformation, temperament should be the deciding factor.
Renji Abarai waited in the outer office of the Sixth Division. He tried to convince himself that he was not nervous, and failed.
He did not know why he was here. Well, he knew why he was here, it was all a part of his Master Plan to get that cold sonova - to get Kuchiki-taichou to acknowledge his existence. Which was rapidly becoming something he felt he could live without. The attention, anyway. You couldn't really live without your existence ...
Had he just thought that? Renji yanked himself out of his head, and back into Sixth Division's HQ. He shuffled his kosode straighter on his shoulders, yanked at his shitagi, shifted his hakama on his narrow hips. Still felt odd inside his clothes.
He belonged to the Eleventh Division, where what you did mattered more than what you were. If you could fight, you belonged to the Eleventh, and Renji loved to fight.
Whereas who you were, and where you sprang from, mattered in the Sixth. Many of the noble families placed shinigami sons and daughters in the Sixth.
Renji was a Rukongai gutter rat. Kuchiki-taichou knew that, of course; Renji was convinced that he was just setting himself up to be coldly ignored once again. He wasn't sure why he wasn't getting up and walking out of here right this minute ...
... this minute ...
... this minute ...
Of course, Rukia too was a Rukongai gutter rat, Rukia now the adopted sister of Sixth Division's taichou, and Renji's lifelong friend - the sister, not the taichou. Rukia, though, was leaving her gutter-rat origins behind, where Renji stuck to them proudly. Still, even Renji could tell that it was hard for her to stay in contact with him these days.
Not that they didn't try. But somehow ...
The Sixth Division taichou opened his office door. Too late to walk out now. Another candidate for the position of fukutaichou nodded to Renji on the way by.
Byakuya Kuchiki looked down his patrician nose at Renji. "Abarai? Come in, please." The noble seated himself behind his desk, made a gesture to the floor beside it, and Renji sat. The tatami was warm from the last candidate's body.
Renji Abarai knew that he was not the sharpest tool in the shed, and that this Captain had a reputation for brilliance, that lethal bankai of his, and a manner of speaking to those beneath him socially in his own eyes (everyone in Seireitei) that could freeze the sea solid.
Zaraki-taichou had recommended him for this position without hesitation when Renji asked. Still, yesterday, when the Hell butterfly landed and told him that he would be at Kuchiki-taichou's office at ten in the morning, it had been a shock.
So had Zaraki's reaction. "Time ya moved on, Abarai. Ya got more to ya than just bein' a seated officer in th' Eleventh, although you an' I both know that that's a great thing. This's yer opportunity."
Now, Renji stole a covert look at Byakuya Kuchiki. The man had Renji's personnel file in his long slender hands and was poring over it ... cold blue eyes seeing every tiny shortcoming, every little flaw, every dent in the armor Renji used to cover his gutter-rat origins ... and slicing right through that armor like it was tofu.
He was a very good-looking man, but Renji understood why Rukia found him intimidating. Guy was as cold as ice.
The noble raised his eyes from the file, put it down neatly on one side of a bare desk, and drew a pad of paper and ink, instone, brush, and waterpot to himself, not meeting Renji's eyes until he spoke.
"So, Abari," he said, without preamble, those eyes, gray or blue or sometimes violet, seeing right through Renji, "you have been assisting Kusajichi-fukutaichou with her duties in the Eleventh. Tell me what that consists of."
Renji gulped under that cool gaze, and said, "Taichou, mostly it consists of doing the monthly accounts. Sometimes I make sure that other monthly reports are in on time, like the hospital-use tallies, and the property-destruction accounts. Occasionally I have to get Kusajichi-fukutaichou down from the roofs, or out of the koi ponds, after she has had sugar."
"I see," Kuchiki said, with an odd look at him, and Renji flushed, remembering too late that those koi ponds sometimes were on Kuchiki land.
The noble made a few economical brush strokes on the pad. He looked up at Renji as if he were assessing a new koi for those ponds. After a few centuries of cool blue regard had passed, Kuchiki-taichou asked the lower form of life before him, "And how do you get along with Zaraki-taichou?" He couldn't quite keep the distaste out of his voice when he said the name.
"Very well, taichou. We often go drinking together after hours."
The eyes pierced him, but they had to look up to do so. The gutter rat, cornered, got on its hind legs and showed its teeth. "Zaraki-taichou has also shown me sword-handling techniques I had never seen before which are particularly effective when used by tall men. Third seat Madarame often spars with me as well, and has shown me others." The rat, satisfied, sat down and groomed its whiskers.
"I see," said Kuchiki, and made another note. Silence stretched out for several eons before he said, "Have you many friends outside your present Division?"
"Yes, sir." He didn't feel he needed to elaborate, but those cool blue eyes rested on him, compelling speech. "I am close to Lieutenants Hisagi, Kira, Matsumoto, and Iba. Within my division I am friends with Madarame and Ayasegawa."
The brush danced across the paper. "You have not mentioned my sister," the noble said, not looking at Renji.
Who flushed. "No, sir. While she is my oldest friend, I didn't think it would be ... appropriate."
The noble simply looked at him across the desk, and Renji had to fight the urge to fidget, a battle he had so far won. But finally, just as the twitch had summoned up enough nerve to knock at the nerve endings, "I see," Kuchiki said. "Have you achieved bankai?"
"Not yet, sir. I got to shikai late last year."
"I see." More brush strokes. Then Kuchiki looked up at Renji and said, without the trace of a smile on his face or in his eyes, "Thank you, Abarai. That will be all. I'll be making my decision later this week."
Renji said, "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He rose, and never remembered walking from Kuchiki-taichou's office to Eleventh Division HQ.
Where Yachiru-fukutaichou said, "Where ya been, pinkytail?" and hopped up on his back, getting candy in his hair on her way by.
Zaraki-taichou said, "How'd it go, Abarai?"
"I think I blew it," Renji said. "That guy didn't smile once during the whole interview."
"I don't think ya should draw a conclusion from that, Renji," Zaraki-taichou said. "Kuchiki never smiles at anybody."
"Don't know how happy I'd be workin' all day every day with somebody who never smiles," Renji said.
Zaraki-taichou snorted. "I don't smile all that often, neither does Ikkaku, an' you did all right here."
At Sixth Division, Byakuya Kuchiki finished his notes, which read, "Candidate is familiar with the duties of the position and has handled many of them. Candidate's interpersonal skills good; showed tact; showed spunk; deals well with many of the more difficult personalities within Soul Society. Good network within the Gotei 13. Speaks well of present taichou. Candidate's record of combat exceptional, physical strength and conditioning remarkable according to ratings. No bankai yet, shikai rather recent."
He paused, and added one more line to the summary: "Candidate likeable."
The colt should be gotten accustomed to having his head, body and feet groomed. This is easy to teach but may require patience and perseverance in the early days. Some colts resist such interactions. Reward, in these situations, yields better results than punishment.
Renji opened his eyes, and the rush of sunlight into his brain hurt. Every single person in the Seireitei seemed to have bought him a drink last night, to celebrate the announcement of his promotion to fukutaichou of Bykauya Kuchiki-taichou's Sixth Division. Ikkaku Madarame, almost singlehandedly, had gotten him drunk, and the rest of it had been saké under the bridge, at some point in the evening. He yawned, which also hurt, and turned over to look at the clock.
He had four minutes to get to work! Four minutes to report to Kuchiki-taichou for his first day of work at the Sixth Division! Renji levitated out of bed, did the least-thorough wash job in the history of Sereitei, knotted his hair out of his eyes, and threw his clothes on; most of them landed in the right places on his body, or close enough to same to be seen in public. He was still tugging them into position as he flash-stepped through heavy rain toward the Sixth Division offices.
Byakuya Kuchiki looked coolly at him as he landed disheveled, muddy, and out-of-breath behind his chair, four minutes late to work on his first day.
"Abarai-fukutaichou," Kuchiki said coldly, "you are late."
"Yes, taichou," Renji said miserably. "My apologies."
The noble inclined his head, but continued his survey of his new fukutaichou. Renji thought he saw the question in the man's eyes: Have I made an error in selection? "I must also address with you, fukutaichou, that your dress is untidy and your person unkempt. Those low standards of grooming are not tolerated in the Sixth Division, although I understand that they are the norm within the Eleventh. Hereafter, I expect you to be on time, and to conform to the expectations of Sixth Division in all matters, not merely those of appearance. Is that understood?"
"Yes, taichou." Renji's face was as red as his hair.
"Very well. You will find papers which require your attention in your in-box."
Renji methodically dealt with routine matters while he wished he were dead. Alive. Whatever.
He marked and set aside a few papers which he needed to discuss with taichou, when he, Renji, could stand to have another steaming heap of humiliation loaded onto his head.
He felt like - well, he felt like he did when he'd been out drinking for most of the night. Which he had. With Ikkaku. Than which he should have known better, by now.
He submerged himself in the paperwork. He was beginning to believe that lunch might not be such a bad idea after all, when a box was placed on his desk.
He looked up in surprise to see Byakuya Kuchiki standing in front of him, a similar bento still in his own hands. The clock behind him said two-thirty p.m.
"It's an hour past my own usual lunch break, fukutaichou, and I believed you might be hungry. In the future, please take breaks as you need them." He tapped the box on Renji's desk. "I hope you do not mind my selection of bento. Welcome to the Sixth, Abarai-fukutaichou."
The young horse's first introduction to a bit and bridle should come from having a keyed bit placed in his mouth for a short period of time. Allow the colt to play with the bit at leisure. At this stage, the bit is simply an object of mouth-play making longer periods of time with the bit in place acceptable. The colt should continue with his daily work while wearing it.
Byakuya Kuchiki occasionally came into his office earlier in the morning than any other Captain. He liked the quiet coolness. Particularly the quiet. He was beginning to like Abarai, but gods the man was noisy.
This morning, there was a light drift of fog about as he made his silent way from the Kuchiki estates to his office, and opened the door to the headquarters of the Sixth Division. He was halfway down the hall to his office when the very air about him was rent hideously into shreds by what must have been a chainsaw, a trash compactor, and a donkey, singing three different operas simultaneously.
He hadn't heard of any Hollow or Arrancar being able to make a noise like that, but it would be damned stupid to get killed by a new type ...
Byakuya did not draw his zanupakuto, but performed koiguchi-no-kirikata, which freed Senbonzakura of her sheath and left him ready to strike a lethal blow in less than a second.
He cautiously opened the door to the office he shared with Renji Abarai, from which came the horrendous din.
Renji himself was sprawled out on his desk, snoring, the monthly accounts spread out under his hands. The account sheet onto which Renji's head had fallen held a puddle of drool.
One corner of Byakuya Kuchiki's mouth twitched, and he let Senbonzakura drop back into her saya. "Fukutaichou," he said quietly.
Renji woke with a start and a snort. "Taichou!" he said.
"How long have you been here, Abarai-fukutaichou?" Byakuya came to stand beside the redhead's desk.
"Er - " Renji rubbed his eyes. "I didn't go home last night, Taichou."
"I see. What is the issue?"
Renji blearily surveyed the work spread out on his desk. "The accounts are out of balance by nine yen, Taichou, and I can't find the error."
"Hmm. Your devotion to duty is commendable, Renji. Go home and get some sleep. I'll see you this afternoon."
When Renji came back, he found the error neatly marked on the top sheet in his in-basket.
The accounts themselves had not been balanced, however. That, after all, was Renji's job.
At this point in his schooling, the young horse is ready to become accustomed to the surcingle. At first, as with the keyed bit, it may be worn in the stall for short periods. The colt may also be led on walks in the surcingle, mouthing bit, and side reins. Using long reins, direction and impulsion controls may now be introduced from the ground, and control at a distance established.
"Fukutaicho, where are the monthly expense reports?"
"I am sorry, Taichou, I just got back from a training session with Ikkaku Madarame. We lost track of time. I'll have them on your desk in a moment."
"Fukutaichou, I needed them an hour ago for the taichous' meeting. You knew that the taichous' meeting was scheduled this morning, you knew that I needed those reports for it because I need them every month, and you have been fukutaichou for the Sixth Division for almost a year now. Running long on a training session is not an excuse, Fukutaichou."
"Yes, Taichou."
"Fukutaichou, I should not have to tell you this."
"Yes, Taichou."
The next time Renji went to train with Ikkaku Madarame, he pulled a small white object out of his sleeve, and poked at the buttons on its front.
"The hell's that?" the hairless shinigami said.
"It's a timer," Renji said, setting it on the seats often occupied by spectators in the Eleventh's training ground. "I don't want to be late to work."
It is now time to introduce the saddle, and the brief presence of the rider.
Renji Abarai did not wish to acknowledge how much sparring with a taichou scared him witless.
True, he had only sparred with two of the thirteen: Kenpachi Zaraki, an education in himself because you didn't hope to win, only to survive the match; and Byakuya Kuchiki, elegant, cool, precise, and equally lethal, with none of the bonhomie that characterized Kenpachi.
Kuchiki faced him now, impassive and graceful as he always was. Nothing that slender and poised should be so aggressively masculine.
Renji was in trouble, knew it, and took little comfort in the knowledge.
A voice in his head growled, And will you let me get you out of this trouble you find yourself in?
Renji, dazed, said, "Pardon, taichou?"
"I did not speak," Kuchiki said, and came in on the attack.
The freakin' sword came alive in Renji's hand. It howled wordlessly in his head. The look of mild surprise on his taichou's face would stay with Renji forever as his sword grew in his hands, emitting a saw-like blade, a howling red-maned monkey's face at the end of it, fangs reaching to his taichou ... Renji had just barely presence of mind sufficient to swing the sword out, causing it to miss its target; the jagged edge of one of the sawblades sliced the outside edge of Kuchiki's arm, and the ruined haori turned red at its severed edges. The saw blade and the monkey's face slammed back into Renji's hand, becoming seated once again inside his blade.
He rammed the traitor thing home in its saya and ran to his taichou. "Taichou, I am sorry, it was not my intention to wound you. Do you need to go to the Fourth Division?"
"I'll send them a Hell butterfly, and they'll send someone here." Improbably, his commanding officer smiled at Renji, hand clasped to his upper arm. "Congratulations, Fukutaichou. Bankai is imminent."
If the colt favors one side or the other, which most do to some degree, more work may be undertaken to the least-favored side.
"Renji!" howled Shuuhei Hisagi, Izuru Kira, Rangiku Matsumoto, and half the other Soul Reapers in the dive in Rukongai.
It was payday. Unfortunately for Renji, it was also the first of the month. "Hey," he said, tiredly, and sat down between Rangiku and Rukia. "I can't stay long." He ordered a bento and a single bowl of sake.
"Why not, Renji?" said Rukia. "Do you have an early training?"
"No," Renji said. "I've got more accounts to balance. Taichou says I've been doing well enough on the expense accounts, the part of my job I hate most, that now he's given me payroll too."
The colt is now ready to be ridden, if he has reached physical maturity. Err on the side of caution in beginning mounted work, and do not overburden the colt too soon.
"Well," Kenpachi Zaraki said to a friend, "it was me and my big fat mistake, I'd apologize to 'im." The huge taichou of the Eleventh Division peeled off onto errands of his own.
Byakuya Kuchiki firmed his impassive mouth, and went into Fourth Division.
He had been sent word that his fukutaichou would not be at his desk for at least a few weeks, and that three of the eight-man squad Renji commanded had been injured as well.
He found Renji Abarai's hospital room, and almost didn't recognize him. For one thing, the unbound hair cascaded down the side of the bed in a rich, red waterfall. For another, Renji was out of uniform, and most of his tattoos were visible.
The hot brown eyes were closed.
"Renji?" Kuchiki-taichou glided to a halt at the edge of the bed.
"Taichou..." Renji whispered; he opened and then closed his eyes.
For a third, the redhead was a mess. He had three parallel bloody slices running diagonally across his chest and up over his right shoulder, quite deep and closed with surgical stitches, and similar long wounds distributed variously about chest and belly and legs, all souvenirs of the claws of a Hollow. His nose had been broken (again) by a Hollow's fist, and although the claws had not marred his handsome visage, the blow had given him two black eyes and split his lip as well.
There were tubes and lines and drips in and out of the redhead's body everywhere. Both of his strong wrists were tied down to boards, and his hands sprouted needles into their backs. One of his legs had been broken, and was cast and elevated, under traction.
Renji licked those dry split lips, and Kuchiki saw one of the broad hands flex around the board it was tied to. "Taichou," he whispered again. "My squad ..."
"Four injured, one seriously. The other five are all returning to duty tomorrow or the next day."
"Who ... seriously?"
"You, Fukutaichou."
"Renji!" Rukia shrieked from the doorway.
Her adopted brother heard the pain in her voice, and half-turned to face her. "Sister," he said. "Come in. Renji will be fine."
"Good ... to know," croaked the patient.
Rukia hesitated, eyeing her adopted brother, then rushed to the bedside, and laid her hand on Renji's forearm. "Baka," she said, in a voice she never used to Byakuya.
Renji, eyes closed, smiled.
Renji was silent so long that both Kuchikis began to wonder if he had fallen asleep, but then he stirred, and asked, "They get ... the Hollows?"
Byakuya said calmly, "Yes. It took the Eleventh Squad about an hour to hunt them all down; they suffered no casualties, and Zaraki-taichou asked me to thank you for some fun."
Renji smiled again.
The clan leader looked out of Renji's window. "I had good tactical information, Renji, but I did not act correctly on it in sending so small a squad for you to command."
Renji, eyes still closed, smiled again, very slightly, and fell asleep with Rukia carefully holding one of his impaled, strapped-down hands, and frowning at her elder brother.
Later that night, Rukia, dutiful younger sister that she was, had Words with nii-sama about failing to act correctly on good tactical information.
Riding the young horse must be the purview of a rider who is himself well-schooled, with a seat sufficiently firm as to give him good hands, while learning continues.
Renji and Zabimaru were having a fine time together, and Hollows were falling to the ape like rain, when Renji saw Byakuya Kuchiki drop.
What? That shouldn't have happened. Renji was swiftly at the side of his taichou, and realized that Hollows were now the least of their problems: he and Kuchiki were facing an Arrancar.
Renji leapt into the air to defend Kuchiki.
Zabimaru went happily to his work of purification. Renji forebore to reply to the taunts the Arrancar aimed at him, concentrating on speed and force instead, because he saw two more of the things approaching. He took a couple of hard hits to exploit an opening; the Arrancar died. Zabimaru's zeal and his own skill rewarded him with a chance to pick up his superior officer (absolute dead weight), scream, "Get the hell home! That's an order!" to the rest of the squad, and find a place to hide within the sekki-seki stone quarries below, where the pair had been training. He was even able to retrieve the basket containing their bentos before zipping into a cave, hollowed out by water or miners or kami knew what, and Renji didn't remotely care.
If you are a fukutaichou-class shinigami who has achieved bankai, and a taichou-class shinigami who of course also has bankai, and you wish to train together while your squad does the same, you find somewhere well outside the Seireitei to do so. You do this because your salaries are more limited than the damage you can cause, and will be liable for.
At least that was true for Renji. What Byakuya Kuchiki could afford in the way of compensation was perhaps best left to the imagination.
At any rate, once you find your spot, you send your squad some distance away. You know that most of them will be watching, not training, but knowledge comes in many forms ...
Sparring had been Byakuya's and Renji's plan that morning, and the quarries seemed like the best, for which read "least damage-prone," place to carry it out. They would disturb no one, and they were close enough to the Senkaimon to feel they weren't totally out of touch with the Seireitei.
Now, though, they were so screwed ... in the sekki-seki stone, no one would be able to trace their reiatsu: but if that kept them safe from the Arrancar, it also meant that rescuers could not find them.
Still, they first had to survive the Arrancar, and after that they could worry about being found. Renji got as far back into the quarry as he could go carrying taichou, laid the still-unconscious Byakuya on his back at the side of a cave with a spring at the rear of it, and used kidou to pile sekki-seki rubble in front of the opening, not quite blocking out all the light.
Of course, that meant he didn't quite block the reiatsu the two of them were radiating, either.
Their prison was about ten meters on a side, and twice that high. Either the miners had not been careful when they pulled material from this site, or it was naturally erose: sharp irregular ridges lined the walls, and only where Byakuya sprawled was the floor flat.
On the other hand, they had water. Renji drank cautiously from the spring. Slight taste of sulfur, but potable. He washed his own wounds. It stung slightly, but he had nothing worse than a couple of long scratches and some developing bruises behind them.
He filled a cup, went to Byakuya. No copious bleeding. No obvious head wounds. What had happened?
"Taichou," he said, quietly. "Taichou, wake up."
Byakuya's eyes fluttered open. "Renji? Where are we? What happened?"
"We started out with Hollows, but there was an Arrancar out there. It hit you. I didn't see it happen, I only saw you fall."
Byakuya sat up by inches. Renji handed him the cup. Byakuya sampled it, and wrinkled up his patrician nose.
"Sulfur," Byakuya said, and drained it.
"Yes. We're in the sekki-seki quarry. –How badly are you injured?"
Self-examination followed. "I seem to be whole. It must simply have struck me and knocked me out. Where's the squad?"
"Sent 'em back. The Arrancar's got buddies out there ..."
"I see." Byakuya got to his feet.
For the next few minutes, the two men explored their prison. There was no convenient hole large enough for them to crawl out through, although two fissures in the rock promised fresh air. The rest of it was that erose landscape, either carved by the miners or worn down over the centuries. Even on the roof of their cavern, sharp ridges knifed into space.
The water was not sterile of life, which would have meant it was undrinkable, but only a few tiny fish darted through it over a bare sandy bottom, on their way elsewhere, perhaps to grow big enough to eat.
Byakuya sat down with his back to the stone, elegant and graceful. "They'll be back for us shortly," he said. "We need only survive until then."
On cue, a wheedling voice said, "Soul Reapers."
Taichou and fukutaichou looked at one another.
The voice came again, like an exhalation of ill-will. This time, both men realized it came from one of the conduits for air.
Renji made as if to speak. Byakuya made a sharp "no" gesture with one hand.
The voice said, "If you can hear me, Soul Reaper, know that I smell you. I can scent your reiatsu. It smells goooood, Soul Reaper. It will taste even better. And I can find you, Soul Reaper, even through the sekki-seki ... I'll just follow these small cracks I find in the stone. One of them will lead me to you." The voice paused. "I'll see you soon, Soul Reaper."
A distant scritching followed. Sick, Renji realized that it was the noise of claws digging at the sekki-seki.
Prosaically, Byakuya handed him a bento box. "Eat," he whispered. "We'll be here a while."
They had opened their bentos, eaten the contents. Now they waited, Renji with Zabimaru across his knees, absently polishing his blade. Byakuya, across the cavern from him, sat in lotus, Senbonzakura across his own lap. Probably, he was meditating.
Cool bastard, Renji thought. But then that's Kuchiki, all over.
I wish that Rukia and I were together.
Kuchiki's blue-gray eyes focused on him, and Renji thought for a horrible moment that those words had been spoken aloud. But the clan leader merely resumed his internal focus, and left Renji to his own thoughts. The scritching continued as it had without stopping since it began, getting louder as the claws neared their prison.
All the time we've been friends, the redhead's mind ran, and I never told her how beautiful she is, or how much I admire her. I always thought I'd have time later. But it looks like I might be too late now even if I get out of here, with that baka Ichigo in the picture. Of course, he's a human. And if she decides to go with him, he's not a bad guy –
The digging noise stopped. "Soul Reapers," said the voice from the wall. "Soul Reapers, I'm closer now. I can smell you. There are two of you. You smell good, Soul Reapers. Tasty." The digging resumed.
Renji had a thought. He located the two sources of fresh air, moving softly about the rock room. He bent over to sniff at them both –
One carried into their prison the distinctive stink of Hollow or Arrancar.
Renji removed the food wrappings from the two bento boxes, wet the non-waterproofed side of the paper in the stream, and applied the wet side to that air duct. He used the boxes themselves to dig and transport wet sand from the bed of the spring to seal the wrappings to the wall, ending up with a pile of sand about two feet high, first adhered to the wall with water, and then fused to the sekki-seki stone with kidou.
The incantation, quiet as it was, had changed Byakuya's focus from internal to external. He gave the seal a calm blue glance, and then looked at Renji, whispered, "That's a very good idea, fukutaichou. Good strategy."
"Thank you, taichou. –Were you meditating?"
"I was using the time to deepen my connection to Senbonzakura. If you wish to undertake the same work with Zabimaru, I will keep watch for you as you have done for me."
Renji sat, and went inside his own head, looking for Zabimaru. But sounds from the other air duct shattered his concentration, whipped both men's heads around. Kenpachi Zaraki's voice, raised in a joyful shout, came through the second airway.
"That's it! Get 'em! Get the sonsabitches! There! Didn't take long! Just like Sixth ta get themselves all jammed up over somethin' that wasn't much fun! Now where the hell are they?"
The voice faded. Not more than two minutes later, the rubble Renji had so laboriously piled over the entrance to their cave politely moved itself aside, courtesy of Yumichika Ayasegawa.
The three figures who were shadowed in the light pouring over their shoulders into Renji's and Byakuya's late prison were recognizably Kenpachi Zaraki, Yumichika, and Ikkaku Madarame.
"You two ready ta go home?" Zaraki said, looking from one to the other of the Sixth Division officers. "Ya spoiled a pretty good lunch, I'll have ya know."
Upon completion of this work, the colt is now ready to be trained for his destined work. A horse trained in this fashion has had neither his courage nor his spirit broken, and his self-confidence has likely been improved. Do not forget to give him recreational periods of free play and time in pasture, with the company of his own kind, particularly those he favors over others.
Wondering what the hell he was doing here, Renji Abarai rapped at the window.
And again.
And, a few more minutes later, again.
Ichigo Kurosaki, looking as if he had sent his hair out on safari and it had just gotten home, slid the window to his bedroom open. "Renji?" he asked, and yawned cavernously. "What's going on?"
"Nothing to be alarmed about. You can go back to sleep if you want. I just need to talk to Rukia." Renji's feet thumped the floor, and a still-healing thigh nipped at him. It was always inconvenient to be in a gigai, but they had their uses ...
He went to the closet, rapped on the door with his free hand, the other holding a scroll. Ichigo climbed back into bed, put his hands behind his head, and prepared to watch the show.
Rukia, when she stuck her head out, looked no more awake than Ichigo had. "Renji?"
"Yeah. Come on, shortcakes. I'm takin' you out to dinner." He bounced the rolled-up scroll, which contained his first commendation, off the top of her head.
"Shortcakes?" Rukia's eyebrows collided with each other at the bridge of her nose.
"Shortcakes," Renji said firmly. "Are you coming, or do I carry you? I only ask 'cause you might wanna change out of ... those." He gestured toward the pale-yellow rubber ducky flannel pajamas. "But, it's your choice."
Rukia narrowed her eyes at him. Renji was not in shikahoushou, but rather a gray leather baseball jacket, green open-necked shirt, blue jeans, and black running shoes, and looked better than any Rukongai gutter rat had a right too.
But then Renji didn't think of himself as a Rukongai gutter rat any longer. He thought of himself as the fukutaichou of Sixth Division.
"All right," Rukia said. "It'll take me ten minutes." She disappeared.
Renji sat in the desk chair, and looked at Ichigo.
Ichigo looked at Renji, and it was he who finally broke a silence that had been punctuated only by muffled thumpings from within his closet. "Do I get to come too?"
"Not this time, baka. This time it's me and my oldest friend."
Ichigo grinned at him. "About time, baka."
The closet doors opened, and Rukia hopped down into the room wearing a flared gray dress that ended above her knees, paired with a blue jacket and black flats. "I'm ready," she said.
"Good." Renji stood up, and up, and up - Rukia forgot from time to time that he topped her by almost a foot and a half - and gathered her into his arms.
Ichigo watched Rukia get kissed with the thorough interest of the connoisseur. Nice technique, good follow-through, excellent extension, lovely top notes.
Two spots of red colored Rukia's cheeks, and bemusement dazed her eyes, when Renji let go of her to step back.
Nice work, fukutaichou, Ichigo thought.
If the colt is to stand at stud, this is the time to teach him manners in this area as well.
"Ow!"
"Sorry, darlin'." Renji repositioned things a bit, bent his head to Rukia's ear, and began nibbling southward. "Better?"
Both clothing and gigai had been discarded in a corner of Renji's quarters; after they ate they had not returned to Ichigo's room.
Gigai have their uses. But they also have their disadvantages. Sex, for instance, is a lot more fun if you are touching soul-to-soul rather than merely body-to-body ... although Renji and Rukia had explored the experience from both directions, at this point.
For Rukia, Renji's quarters might as well have been on the moon. The way this felt ... "Ohhhh, Renji," she moaned, looking into his eyes.
Renji smiled. He was no virgin, and she had been. That problem resolved, he continued with what he was doing and was understood to say, "I like it when you say my name."
Which was just as well, since she eventually screamed it at the top of her lungs.