Byakuya's Nightmare
Nemu Kurotsuchi was perplexed to say the least. Her father had not been entirely forthcoming on the important situation that Unohana-taicho had brought to their attention, his intelligence consisting of "Do what I tell you!" and "Don't get in my way!" She understood his need to retain control of and superiority within the Twelfth—particularly in the presence of another captain—and it wasn't as if verbal abuse was on oddity in her world so that was hardly confusing. Even the idea that the water of the seireitei had been tampered with—most likely by ex-taicho Aizen or some even more evil force yet unknown and waiting to tear open the sky to destroy the Gotei Thirteen—didn't confound poor Nemu as much as the sight currently occupying her vision.
Unohana-taicho had relayed orders from her father to seek assistance from the Eleventh division, a safety precaution in the event that the shinigami required protection from themselves during the time needed to create an antidote for the supposed poison. Of course the dutiful daughter complied—it would be folly to resist any of Mayuri Kurotsuchi's directives—even though Nemu knew her father to consider the Eleventh illiterate amoeba-brained directionless slobs with poor hygiene and poorer taste in authority figures with little hope for advancement beyond having an enemy dishonourably gut their bowels from their bodies.
She had to wonder though—and here was the perplexing part—about Ikkaku-san's state of mind as he lay upon his bed, torso bare above the covers and…something large…moving underneath while he ate handfuls of cherry red candies from a large brown box scribed with Kusajishi-fukutaicho's name and various threats. The entire division had been oddly still when she approached. No loud clang of swords or bellowed instructions to indicate the usual hours of training Zaraki-taicho demanded from his officers, no one on duty in the main offices; there was grunting and frequent cursing coming from different sides in closed quarters, but it was not business as usual in the Eleventh. Even the Third seat didn't acknowledge her invasion of his privacy (the door had been open) until after a deep shudder had wracked his densely muscled, smooth frame, a stained sticky right hand gripping the sheets behind him while his left fell to the blankets to latch on to the something suddenly moving rhythmically up and down.
Nemu's head tilted very slightly at the sight, noting the raise and drop in her own and Ikkaku's internal and external body temperatures, evaluating her father's more irritated nature towards the Fourth's captain, all while giving the bald man time to collect himself from his activities. Nemu had important news to deliver after all and it would be better if Ikkaku-san was coherent.
The way his gaze slowly enveloped her was unexpected, how his eyes roamed appreciatively over her bare legs, up knees and thighs to her cinched waist—But she looked like this all the time. Obviously Ikkaku-san was experiencing a major malfunction and would probably be of little use to her father.
"Eh!" he tapped whatever was still under the blankets, his half-smile curling up one corner of his generous mouth. "We got us a visitor." Nemu stayed standing on the threshold, surprised to see Ayasegawa-san rise from underneath, face gently flushed and lips swollen. The engineered daughter merely blinked and opened her mouth to deliver Unohana-taicho's request when the feathered man sat up, dislodging the coverings to reveal…Oh. Entirely naked bodies…and smiled at Ikkaku.
"Lovely, isn't she? Flawless complexion."
"Yeh. Likes to watch too."
"Really?" Yumichika appraised the rest of Nemu's form more gently than Ikkaku had but with no less heat, the superhumanly strong vice captain finding her shoulders curving at the unexpected and completely unwarranted attention. The only time anyone stared at her this intently was when her father prepared to administer his harsh brand of discipline. Was that why they looked at her now? Was her father correct then? Were the Eleventh all brutes beneath their strength? And then as if he had read her mind the dark haired man held one long-fingered hand out. "No, no Nemu-kun, don't hide from us. Don't hide your beauty." He leaned forward slightly, whispering conspiratorially as if Ikkaku wasn't present, wasn't sucking slowly on one large red candy. "We like to watch as well you know. We're greedy for the visual stimulation."
She blinked once more, aware of the bewildering tightening in her throat.
"There in something wrong with the water."
Ikkaku clamped one hand over the heavy box's edge, lifting it up with a slant in her direction.
"Want one?"
Yumichika leaned back with an easy grin.
"Maybe two?"
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His morning was a simple one. Awakening from another dreamless sleep to begin his meditation and reflection before taking his time to dress, careful of the odd wrinkle or irregular fold; setting his chamber to rights, bed sheets, sleepwear and the like, prior to greeting Hisana's image and moving to the great hall to break fast with his sister and his Second: Byakuya was in constant control of how his time was spent, hours even set aside for the expected unexpected Captain's meetings. Yes, just like the stick stuck up his ass, Byakuya's life was currently set on an unbendingly straight path and nothing would make him deviate from that.
He sat at his rightful seat as head of the noble Kuchiki Clan by the low polished table set for three, sipping white tea while Rukia entered and took her seat, accepting a bowl of sticky rice and rolling her eyes as Renji jogged in late, hurriedly tying his obi sash and immediately looking for any of last night's leftover taiyaki. There was little conversation beyond reminding Renji of tomorrow's Fukutaicho's meeting—like he had been for the last three weeks—and listening to the sporadic sarcastic banter between the red headed Second and his tiny sister. Merely murmured of course. Screaming over breakfast was an exercise in brutality and only fit for those visitors from the Real World.
Like that Boy. That stupid orange haired Boy whom had allowed Rukia Kuchiki to sleep in the closet of his bedroom. Oh the shame!
There was more tea and fruit and Byakuya was already distributing paperwork to Renji in his head when something suddenly stuck him as wrong. Unsettling. As if the perfect indifference that was Byakuya Kuchiki had been disturbed through factors beyond the Captain's control. And there was nothing beyond Byakuya's control. He placed the tea cup and then his palms down on the table.
"Leave me."
Dishes clattered as Rukia and Renji fell immediately silent, eyebrows hidden in their respective hairlines or bandanas at the rapid spike in their Captain's reiatsu…over seemingly absolutely shit all.
"Taicho…?"
Renji's left eye was twitching—something that had been occurring more and more frequently lately and meant the fool had surely committed an act that Byakuya would slaughter him for at a later date—but the Captain kept his gaze passive, voice cool.
"Did I stutter Abrarai-san? Rukia. Renji. Leave me!"
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Matsumoto was exhausted. And hung over. And hungry. And utterly put out because she had had to fend off unwanted advances from three lower shinigami in the time it took to break out of her apartment and slug along in the direction of the Tenth. Only three! She may not be at her best right now but even at her worst men were falling over themselves to be in her presence—Where was every body?! It was enough to give a woman a complex. The golden fukutaicho dragged a whining Haineko as she pouted and groaned her way through Soul Society.
"Taicho is gonna killlllll mmmeeeeee!" Rangiku moaned, eyes half-closed to filter out the bright afternoon sun, spine bent sulkily with her ample assets threatening to simply drop free of her revealing ensemble. Her sash wasn't tied straight—which she wasn't entirely aware of but would have given her something else to believe Toshiro would complain about should she have known—and her forehead was furrowed unattractively, belying the exertion she had put into unweaving her layered crap kido spells and her childish frustration at having no one in the vicinity with which to grumble. Living away from the Tenth Division offices usually offered a surplus of people to meet and shoot the breeze with but for some reason the streets were practically empty—
"Isane-san?"
Rangiku raised an eyebrow, a confused expression crawling down her tired face as she noticed the Fourth's fukutaicho try and sneak into a dim alleyway, the silver-haired lieutenant attempting to plaster herself to the side of the building in an effort not to be seen. Matsumoto was oblivious to this and raised her hand in greeting. "Isane-san!!"
There was a frightened 'Meep!' and the younger woman disappeared from sight.
"Waaahhhhh! Everybody hates me!" Rangiku stomped her foot and turned back to her trudging.
Another slow twenty minute march later, only prolonging the inevitable, the buxom woman finally reached the gates of the Tenth, immediately recognizing the scent of winter in the air.
"Tai…cho…?"
Several windows of Tenth Division were frosted over, a distinctively colder temperature permeating the area around her offices. A sickly green grimace and a hasty retreat later—because while she could have handled a severe scolding she daren't face her Taicho in his current state of temper (she was only several hours late though; why would he be so mad?!)—Matsumoto found herself wandering dejectedly, pout larger than life and afraid to go home for fear of the same power that discoloured her walls affecting her perfect complexion or bountiful hair. Someone was definitely out to kill her; probably that no-account rat bastard that shall not be named…or his traitor friends. She shook her head brusquely, regretting it immediately as her skull began to thrum. Oh kami, paranoia was going to wreck her just as much as the bottle.
"Hello hello?" she called out weakly, unsettled by lack of activity so late in the day but still wrapped up enough in her own earlier trials to not jump to fighting readiness at the peculiar quiet. Well there were the usual grunts around the Eleventh and laughter in the Eighth but not nearly as much as expected. Not even here, Ran mused while somehow passing the Kuchiki estate—my, she'd walked far today. It was known that Byakuya-taicho and Renji-san would often train on the lower grounds of the noble's estate during lulls in office hours and all that was present now was…a huge mass of pulsing reiatsu?
Matsumoto forced herself to greater awareness, holding Haineko in a more responsible grip as she surveyed the Kuchiki grounds, endeavouring to discern the current danger—if any. It was without a doubt Byakuya-taicho's energy forcing itself outwards but at what precisely Matsumoto didn't know. There were no battle shouts, no Hollow residue or Menos activity to speak of—
"Kuchiki-taicho! Kuchiki-taicho, it's Matsumoto-fukutaicho!" The Captain's reiatsu seemed to flutter as she called out his name, allowing Ran to enter through the estate gates and then seeming to let her pass the grounds entirely. She narrowed her eyes at the oddity but kept going, a sly smile winding its way over her lips. If this had something to do with Rukia-chan (and thus Renji-san by association) then Rangiku wanted to be present to see the backlash.
There were no servants to greet her at the doors, no valets to point the way, so she simply followed Byakuya's energy signature into the dining hall. Where he was sitting calmly. Alone. Without any visible danger. Ran almost dropped her Zanpakuto. "Tai…cho? Are…are you alright Kuchiki-san?"
"Perfectly fine Matsumoto-san. Would you care for some fruit?"
Blinking in slight confusion, Ran raised a hand to scratch at her temple, to comb through her long golden locks, and then shrugged indelicately. Food was food.
"I could eat. Oooo mangoes!"
She sat down with a giggle and began to eat with gusto—Byakuya-san had a much nicer lunch spread than Toshiro ever had, even if the fruit was warm. There were berries and coconut slices and cold rice. She licked her lips, enjoying the sweet juice that rolled over her tongue.
"Are you taking a holiday Kuchiki-san?" Ran laughed, the idea that she of all people would catch Byakuya shirking work hilarious, but then another pout blossomed. "Everyone is hiding today. Isane-kun ran away from me and Shiro-chan is mad at meand I don't know why all—"
"Matsumoto-san," Byakuya's firm tones cut Ran off mid-rant. "What form of energy is circling in Soul Society today?"
"Energy?" she spoke around a ripe strawberry, full lips ghosting over the red fruit before biting clean through. Ran put down the rest and stood again, a niggling feeling raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Come to think of it, when had Byakuya-san ever invited her to sit and eat at his table? "Ne, yours is the only excessive energy I've felt all day." She'd leave out the part of locking herself inside her apartment and actually missing most of the day itself. She rounded the corner of the table to stand near the still sitting captain.
"I am the first you have seen. Today?"
Had he been drinking too much sake as well? What a crazy question!
"Besides Isane-kun yes, but like I said—Whoa!"
Things happened quickly in those few seconds. Byakuya had shoved aside his tea and snatched a firm hand on Rangiku's waist, pulling her down to sit on the table in front of him; his free hand tossed away her stole and roughly pulled open her shirt, the luscious globes of her pink-tipped breasts simply slipping free. Big blue eyes filled her entire face. "Kuch-Kuchi—Byakuya-san!"
"My sincerest apologies Matsumoto-san," the noble captain spoke in an eerily calm manner, the only sign of stress being a surprising glow of perspiration upon his forehead as he stared directly at her bare chest. "I hope to make this up to you at a later date."
"No-Ah! Ah!" Rangiku sighed, leaning back as the Sixth captain dragged one elegant hand across her throat and over her collarbone, ending with a soft flick over one pebbling nipple. "No, this is good. That's good."