Contrary to what Chad had expected and what Head Captain Yamamoto had advertised, the Seiretei wasn’t much of a tourist attraction. It was seriously deprived of a certain quality called ‘uniqueness’ that a tourist normally expects of a place he chooses to tour. Uniqueness was hard to come by in the Seiretei, with every boring street being the same as the last, and every building resembling a hundred others.
“I don’t think the Head Captain has seen this place in centuries.” Chad thought aloud. “In his time it must have been something worth touring.”
He looked around, and as far as his eyesight went, he could see no people. Although that could also be attributed to the fact that he found himself at a dead end, surrounded by high walls on three sides.
Chad decided to take on the role of the optimist and rejoiced within himself at having finally come across something that wasn’t ubiquitous.
“These high walls have a certain charm to them that you don’t find everywhere. Is this what they call ‘individuality’?” he said aloud to himself.
“No, that word typically applies to people, I’m afraid.”
Chad whirled around. He hadn’t been expecting Captain Kyoraku to sneak up behind him like that.
“It’s been a while since we last met each other, hasn’t it? Sado, if I’m not mistaken.” Kyoraku said with an air of omniscience.
“Yes.” Chad said. “I was just about to go looking for you.”
“I know. That’s why I came here.” Kyoraku said with an intelligent glint in his eyes.
Chad gasped. “Sir! Are you that skilled in controlling spirit particles? That you can actually find out what others are thinking from miles away?” His respect for the Casanova-captain increased.
“No. I just happened to run into Rukia Kuchiki, who told me you were touring the Seiretei and looking for me.” Kyoraku laughed.
“Oh, I see.” Chad said, clearing his throat to try and shake off the embarrassment his outburst of mistaken admiration had caused him. His respect for the Casanova-captain went back to its original state.
“Anyway, let’s go to my place. This isn’t exactly the pleasantest place to chat.” Kyoraku said.
“What is this place?”
“This is where criminals were stoned to death before they realized that they were running out of rock.” Kyoraku explained. “It has a bad vibe. I remember accidentally killing my grandmother here.”
Chad gasped. “How unfortunate.”
“Actually, it wasn’t exactly an accident.” Kyoraku smiled softly: not a melancholy smile, but an amused one.
“W-what?”
“She asked for it.”
“But what could have happened that was so bad as to cause you to kill your own grandmother?” Chad asked weakly. Grandmothers were the female incarnations of grandfathers, and since Chad had been so close to his own grandfather, he knew how important grand-people were in one’s life.
“She asked for it.” Kyoraku repeated. “She said,”—putting on a high-pitched voice,—“Shunsui! Throw that big rock at me and stone me to death!”
“And... you killed her?”
“Without batting an eyelid.” Kyoraku laughed. “Later on I discovered that Grandma only behaved like that to blackmail Father into taking her to the Old District. She never really expected me to throw the rock at her.”
“How tragic.” Chad said.
“Not at all!” Kyoraku said; “My grandmother was a devil. You wouldn’t want to get on her bad side when she’d had her evening saké.”
Chad didn’t want to continue conversing about Kyoraku’s dead grandmother. He had more important things to talk about.
“Sir,” he began.
“Here we are at my place!” Kyoraku said exuberantly. “I just love home. Don’t you? There’re so many nice things: saké; roses; Nanao...!”
Instantly a large wicker basket came flying from the balcony and hit Kyoraku square in the face, causing him to fall backwards and on his bottom.
“That would be Nanao.” Kyoraku said, laughing sheepishly as he got up and dusted himself. “Nanao, dear, we have a guest!”
Kyoraku dodged a second basket.
“Don’t call me ‘dear’, you old geezer!” Nanao yelled from the balcony, a third basket in hand.
“Don’t mind her.” Kyoraku told Chad; “She’s just a little disturbed at the idea that you’ll be spending more time with me than she.”
The third basket hit Kyoraku, followed by a fourth, and a fifth, and so on until Kyoraku became invisible underneath a mountain of baskets. Chad wondered where Nanao got so many.
“Okay, I’m sorry, Nanao!” Kyoraku said once he had successfully extricated himself from the suffocating weight of the innumerable baskets. After ascertaining that Nanao had no more baskets left to throw, he ventured to say, “Do you remember Young Sado? The one you almost killed once?”
Did Nanao Remember! Sado was among the few people whom Nanao was forced to spare after she had decided to kill them. When Kyoraku had denied Nanao permission to administer the killing blow to Chad, she had vowed to take revenge: revenge for the humiliation of being forced to exhibit clemency—a word she hated associating with.
Just you wait, Sado, Nanao thought evilly; When you get a taste of how hospitable I really am, I swear you’ll wish I’d killed you back when I had the chance.
Nanao produced from her pocket a small bottle containing a liquid that would seem innocuous to the untrained eye, but which was in reality a very dangerous chemical that she had made with assistance from Nemu Kurotsuchi. It was... the Sleep Syrup.
“The Captain is sure to ask for tea for his guest, since ‘Young Sado’ had already established last time that alcohol consumption is illegal for—what was the word?—yeah, a minor.” Nanao mused; “And even if the Captain doesn’t ask, I’ll offer to serve Young Sado tea myself. I shall pour large quantities of this syrup into it. And then my revenge will be complete!” Nanao quickly went to the kitchen to execute her ingenious, foolproof plan.
Meanwhile, in the course of their conversation, Kyoraku and Chad were jumping from one topic to another as though they’d accidentally landed in a pit of hot coals.
“Isn’t the weather good, Young Sado?”
“No.”
“Is that watch expensive?”
“Not a whole lot.”
“What do you plan on doing?”
“Don’t know.”
“Are you hungry? I’ll ask Nanao to get us some—”
It was Princess Charming herself. “There’ll be no need for that, Captain.” She lay a cup and saucer down on a small table and poured tea (with the Sleep Syrup) into it through a kettle.
“Perfect timing, Nanao!” Kyoraku said in excitement.
Nanao herself could barely control her excitement. She was expectantly waiting for Chad to drink the tea.
Kyoraku went on: “Jushiro bet that I couldn’t lay off saké for a day. I was close to conceding defeat, but then you, my Guardian Angel, came up with the perfect solution!”
Kyoraku picked up the cup and before Nanao could protest, drained it. Barely a moment later, his body stiffened and he fell backward, the porcelain cup shattering on the floor.
Chad watched in disbelief.
“What did you do to him?” he asked.
Nanao regarded Kyoraku’s unconscious form for a few moments. She debated within herself: even though the victim wasn’t Sado, her revenge was complete. She nodded in satisfaction.
Then she turned to Chad. “If anyone asks, it was saké.”
Chad nodded wordlessly.
* * * * *
“Rukia!” Byakuya called from his bedroom. “Where’s my spare headpiece?”
Rukia hurried into her brother’s bedroom to avoid being told off by him for being tardy.
“I wouldn’t know, Brother. I rarely come here.” she said.
Byakuya ran his hand through his hair in frustration and almost disturbed the meticulously positioned (original) headpiece.
“How can you expect me to go somewhere without my spare headpiece?”
“What makes you think you need a spare headpiece?” Rukia asked; “Are you expecting trouble?”
Byakuya sighed. “Trouble always finds its way to me in the form of envy.”
Rukia felt a pang of sympathy for her brother. She of all people knew the limitations of nobility—having endured overhearing people talking malignantly behind her back when she first joined the 13 Court Guard Squads. She supposed it was a similar case with Byakuya.
“And with Captain Kurotsuchi and his kleptomaniacal propensities, one can never be too sure.” Byakuya went on. “Ever since Captain Zaraki publicly accused Captain Kurotsuchi of stealing his bells and the latter came clean on his part, I’ve been extra cautious with my possessions. Even during the Captains’ Meetings, sometimes I feel as though Captain Kurotsuchi has his eyes on my headpiece.”
“That’s terrible.” Rukia said with immense conviction. “Brother, that headpiece is a symbol of our family’s nobility. You have to protect it from falling into the wrong hands at any cost.”
Byakuya smiled. That’s my girl, he said within himself. Aloud he said, “Don’t worry, Rukia. I’ll be very careful.”
“Do you need help packing your things?” Rukia asked.
“Feel free.” Byakuya said, stepping back from the large trunk that lay open on his bed.
It was the same drill every year: Rukia had to ask Byakuya if he needed help despite the fact that it was obvious that he was hopeless and in desperate need of it, and was ready to accept any assistance. Cursed formalities.
Rukia walked up to the familiar trunk and remembering the tale she had told her friends earlier that day, she turned it over to see if it had Yamamoto’s bloodstains anywhere on it, despite knowing that the contingency of finding any was remote.
“There aren’t any.” Byakuya said.
“Excuse me?”
“Bloodstains. Isn’t that what you’re looking for? The Head Captain didn’t bleed that day.”
“Oh,” Rukia said lamely and a little disappointedly, before proceeding to fold Byakuya’s numerous black kimonos and place them neatly at the bottom of the trunk.
“What else do you need?” she asked after she had finished packing all fifteen kimonos, half a dozen spare haoris, the spare headpiece, and some other important stuff in the trunk.
Byakuya thought awhile. “I don’t know, actually.”
“Fishing rods?” Rukia suggested.
“Ah, of course. Get two from the storage room, will you, Rukia? One for me to use, and one if the first breaks.”
Rukia sighed. Her brother was so annoyingly precautious. But at any rate, he wouldn’t last a minute without her.
* * * * *
“Rangiku, why aren’t you working on your reports?” Hitsugaya yelled when her bubbly lieutenant burst into his office, scaring the shit out of him.
“Because I’m freeee!” Rangiku sang, going so far as to trap her unfortunate captain in a bear hug... or rather, boob hug.
“Darn it! I forgot.” Hitsugaya cursed, rubbing his temples. “Isn’t there honestly any work to do?” he asked his lieutenant through hopeful eyes.
“Fortunately, no!” Rangiku said; “Meaning, we’re free all day to drink saké!” She triumphantly pulled out a bottle from underneath Hitsugaya’s desk.
“W-w-what the—?” Hitsugaya was outraged. “Rangiku!” he yelled; “How many times do I have to tell you not to defile this place with alcoholic drinks!”
“Relax, Captain; it’s just one bottle.” Rangiku said coolly.
“Oh really?” Hitsugaya said sarcastically, reaching underneath his desk and pulling out another, and then another, and then another, until the desktop was practically invisible underneath those goddamn bottles. He wrinkled his nose at the offending odor of the liquor and cast Rangiku a glare that demanded an explanation.
“I meant it was only one bottle that I was going to drink today.” Rangiku said, laughing sheepishly in a miserable attempt to placate her infuriated captain.
“Very funny, Rangiku. Now throw all these bottles away before someone thinks they belong to me.”
Just then, Ichigo opened the door of the office and entered unabashedly without invitation.
“Hey, Toshiro, I was ju—” he began, but stopped abruptly upon seeing the battalion of saké bottles standing defiantly on the Captain’s desktop. “Hey, Toshiro, you never told me you drink!”
Rangiku’s face turned red as she fought back giggles.
Hitsugaya cast an icy glare at her lieutenant before turning his gaze to Ichigo. “I’m not even going to bother giving you an explanation.”
“This is enough explanation for me.” Ichigo said, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets. He couldn’t bring himself to believe that a boy of Toshiro’s age (apparent age) and size could be such a hardcore drinker.
“Just so you know,” Ichigo went on, “my dad’s a doctor, and believe me, I know enough about alcoholic drinks and their effects on young people to not be able to say at a glance that you’re not eligible to be drinking. For one thing, it’s bad for the liver. You know: liver? It’s a big organ in the abdomen that secretes—”
“Cut the crap, Ichigo!” Hitsugaya said in exasperation.
“Easy there. You don’t have to be so uptight about it. But I can understand how hard it must be for you. In any case, you should see a counselor.” Ichigo said solicitously.
“For the last time, these bottles aren’t mine!” Hitsugaya said.
“You mean there was a first time? I must have missed it.” Ichigo said with genuine confusion etched over his features.
“Rangiku, tell him.” Hitsugaya said, violently slamming his back against backrest of his chair in frustration.
“You see, Ichigo,” Rangiku said, “Captain thought that drinking saké would make him an adult.”
“What the—?!” Hitsugaya said, getting up so abruptly that his chair fell over with a thud and the desk shook, causing several of the bottles to sway dangerously.
“Ayeeeee!” Rangiku exclaimed, jumping to the rescue of her precious bottles. “You should be more careful, Captain.” she said crossly to Hitsugaya; “These bottles cost me a whole month’s paycheck.”
“Shut up, Rangiku!” Hitsugaya said, a hand flying to the hilt of his Zanpakutō.
“Hey, Toshiro—” Ichigo began, trying to assume the role of the mediator, but was cut off by Hitsugaya:
“Stay out of this, Ichigo Kurosaki! And how many times do I have to tell you to call me ‘Captain Hitsugaya’? When will you learn?”
“When you grow taller.” Rangiku blurted, quickly covering her mouth with both hands when she realized what she’d just said. She didn’t mean to be that rude: although somewhere at the back of her head, she had been meaning to say that to her captain at some point. She had impetuously seized the opportunity that the present situation presented her.
“Argh! Rangiku, you know that I’m fated to be short!” Hitsugaya yelled.
Silence pervaded the room. Ichigo and Rangiku were looking sympathetically at an almost hysterical Hitsugaya.
“I... I think I’ll be going to bed now.” Hitsugaya said in a low tone, his shoulders slumped in acceptance of the ultimate truth—that his growth department simply didn’t work.
He walked out of the office, looking as though the weight of the world was crushing down on his feeble shoulders.
Ichigo and Rangiku exchanged worried glances. Neither spoke.
Rangiku bit her lip.
Ichigo ran his tongue over his dry lips to moisten them.
“Do you think he was serious?” Ichigo asked finally.
“He looked like it. I’ve never seen the Captain so depressed before.”
Rangiku shuffled uncomfortably. “Do you think I should apologize?”
Ichigo shrugged. “It was the truth.”
“And truth is bitter.” Rangiku reflected.
Ichigo looked out of the window. “I think we should apologize.” he said after a couple of minutes.
“Do you?”
Ichigo was silent for a while. “I’m not sure.”
Rangiku glanced at the table. “Do you drink saké?” she asked hopefully.
Ichigo wrinkled his nose and cast a disgusted glance at the ugly bottles. “No way!” he said.
“Then let’s go apologize.”
“I don’t think the Head Captain has seen this place in centuries.” Chad thought aloud. “In his time it must have been something worth touring.”
He looked around, and as far as his eyesight went, he could see no people. Although that could also be attributed to the fact that he found himself at a dead end, surrounded by high walls on three sides.
Chad decided to take on the role of the optimist and rejoiced within himself at having finally come across something that wasn’t ubiquitous.
“These high walls have a certain charm to them that you don’t find everywhere. Is this what they call ‘individuality’?” he said aloud to himself.
“No, that word typically applies to people, I’m afraid.”
Chad whirled around. He hadn’t been expecting Captain Kyoraku to sneak up behind him like that.
“It’s been a while since we last met each other, hasn’t it? Sado, if I’m not mistaken.” Kyoraku said with an air of omniscience.
“Yes.” Chad said. “I was just about to go looking for you.”
“I know. That’s why I came here.” Kyoraku said with an intelligent glint in his eyes.
Chad gasped. “Sir! Are you that skilled in controlling spirit particles? That you can actually find out what others are thinking from miles away?” His respect for the Casanova-captain increased.
“No. I just happened to run into Rukia Kuchiki, who told me you were touring the Seiretei and looking for me.” Kyoraku laughed.
“Oh, I see.” Chad said, clearing his throat to try and shake off the embarrassment his outburst of mistaken admiration had caused him. His respect for the Casanova-captain went back to its original state.
“Anyway, let’s go to my place. This isn’t exactly the pleasantest place to chat.” Kyoraku said.
“What is this place?”
“This is where criminals were stoned to death before they realized that they were running out of rock.” Kyoraku explained. “It has a bad vibe. I remember accidentally killing my grandmother here.”
Chad gasped. “How unfortunate.”
“Actually, it wasn’t exactly an accident.” Kyoraku smiled softly: not a melancholy smile, but an amused one.
“W-what?”
“She asked for it.”
“But what could have happened that was so bad as to cause you to kill your own grandmother?” Chad asked weakly. Grandmothers were the female incarnations of grandfathers, and since Chad had been so close to his own grandfather, he knew how important grand-people were in one’s life.
“She asked for it.” Kyoraku repeated. “She said,”—putting on a high-pitched voice,—“Shunsui! Throw that big rock at me and stone me to death!”
“And... you killed her?”
“Without batting an eyelid.” Kyoraku laughed. “Later on I discovered that Grandma only behaved like that to blackmail Father into taking her to the Old District. She never really expected me to throw the rock at her.”
“How tragic.” Chad said.
“Not at all!” Kyoraku said; “My grandmother was a devil. You wouldn’t want to get on her bad side when she’d had her evening saké.”
Chad didn’t want to continue conversing about Kyoraku’s dead grandmother. He had more important things to talk about.
“Sir,” he began.
“Here we are at my place!” Kyoraku said exuberantly. “I just love home. Don’t you? There’re so many nice things: saké; roses; Nanao...!”
Instantly a large wicker basket came flying from the balcony and hit Kyoraku square in the face, causing him to fall backwards and on his bottom.
“That would be Nanao.” Kyoraku said, laughing sheepishly as he got up and dusted himself. “Nanao, dear, we have a guest!”
Kyoraku dodged a second basket.
“Don’t call me ‘dear’, you old geezer!” Nanao yelled from the balcony, a third basket in hand.
“Don’t mind her.” Kyoraku told Chad; “She’s just a little disturbed at the idea that you’ll be spending more time with me than she.”
The third basket hit Kyoraku, followed by a fourth, and a fifth, and so on until Kyoraku became invisible underneath a mountain of baskets. Chad wondered where Nanao got so many.
“Okay, I’m sorry, Nanao!” Kyoraku said once he had successfully extricated himself from the suffocating weight of the innumerable baskets. After ascertaining that Nanao had no more baskets left to throw, he ventured to say, “Do you remember Young Sado? The one you almost killed once?”
Did Nanao Remember! Sado was among the few people whom Nanao was forced to spare after she had decided to kill them. When Kyoraku had denied Nanao permission to administer the killing blow to Chad, she had vowed to take revenge: revenge for the humiliation of being forced to exhibit clemency—a word she hated associating with.
Just you wait, Sado, Nanao thought evilly; When you get a taste of how hospitable I really am, I swear you’ll wish I’d killed you back when I had the chance.
Nanao produced from her pocket a small bottle containing a liquid that would seem innocuous to the untrained eye, but which was in reality a very dangerous chemical that she had made with assistance from Nemu Kurotsuchi. It was... the Sleep Syrup.
“The Captain is sure to ask for tea for his guest, since ‘Young Sado’ had already established last time that alcohol consumption is illegal for—what was the word?—yeah, a minor.” Nanao mused; “And even if the Captain doesn’t ask, I’ll offer to serve Young Sado tea myself. I shall pour large quantities of this syrup into it. And then my revenge will be complete!” Nanao quickly went to the kitchen to execute her ingenious, foolproof plan.
Meanwhile, in the course of their conversation, Kyoraku and Chad were jumping from one topic to another as though they’d accidentally landed in a pit of hot coals.
“Isn’t the weather good, Young Sado?”
“No.”
“Is that watch expensive?”
“Not a whole lot.”
“What do you plan on doing?”
“Don’t know.”
“Are you hungry? I’ll ask Nanao to get us some—”
It was Princess Charming herself. “There’ll be no need for that, Captain.” She lay a cup and saucer down on a small table and poured tea (with the Sleep Syrup) into it through a kettle.
“Perfect timing, Nanao!” Kyoraku said in excitement.
Nanao herself could barely control her excitement. She was expectantly waiting for Chad to drink the tea.
Kyoraku went on: “Jushiro bet that I couldn’t lay off saké for a day. I was close to conceding defeat, but then you, my Guardian Angel, came up with the perfect solution!”
Kyoraku picked up the cup and before Nanao could protest, drained it. Barely a moment later, his body stiffened and he fell backward, the porcelain cup shattering on the floor.
Chad watched in disbelief.
“What did you do to him?” he asked.
Nanao regarded Kyoraku’s unconscious form for a few moments. She debated within herself: even though the victim wasn’t Sado, her revenge was complete. She nodded in satisfaction.
Then she turned to Chad. “If anyone asks, it was saké.”
Chad nodded wordlessly.
* * * * *
“Rukia!” Byakuya called from his bedroom. “Where’s my spare headpiece?”
Rukia hurried into her brother’s bedroom to avoid being told off by him for being tardy.
“I wouldn’t know, Brother. I rarely come here.” she said.
Byakuya ran his hand through his hair in frustration and almost disturbed the meticulously positioned (original) headpiece.
“How can you expect me to go somewhere without my spare headpiece?”
“What makes you think you need a spare headpiece?” Rukia asked; “Are you expecting trouble?”
Byakuya sighed. “Trouble always finds its way to me in the form of envy.”
Rukia felt a pang of sympathy for her brother. She of all people knew the limitations of nobility—having endured overhearing people talking malignantly behind her back when she first joined the 13 Court Guard Squads. She supposed it was a similar case with Byakuya.
“And with Captain Kurotsuchi and his kleptomaniacal propensities, one can never be too sure.” Byakuya went on. “Ever since Captain Zaraki publicly accused Captain Kurotsuchi of stealing his bells and the latter came clean on his part, I’ve been extra cautious with my possessions. Even during the Captains’ Meetings, sometimes I feel as though Captain Kurotsuchi has his eyes on my headpiece.”
“That’s terrible.” Rukia said with immense conviction. “Brother, that headpiece is a symbol of our family’s nobility. You have to protect it from falling into the wrong hands at any cost.”
Byakuya smiled. That’s my girl, he said within himself. Aloud he said, “Don’t worry, Rukia. I’ll be very careful.”
“Do you need help packing your things?” Rukia asked.
“Feel free.” Byakuya said, stepping back from the large trunk that lay open on his bed.
It was the same drill every year: Rukia had to ask Byakuya if he needed help despite the fact that it was obvious that he was hopeless and in desperate need of it, and was ready to accept any assistance. Cursed formalities.
Rukia walked up to the familiar trunk and remembering the tale she had told her friends earlier that day, she turned it over to see if it had Yamamoto’s bloodstains anywhere on it, despite knowing that the contingency of finding any was remote.
“There aren’t any.” Byakuya said.
“Excuse me?”
“Bloodstains. Isn’t that what you’re looking for? The Head Captain didn’t bleed that day.”
“Oh,” Rukia said lamely and a little disappointedly, before proceeding to fold Byakuya’s numerous black kimonos and place them neatly at the bottom of the trunk.
“What else do you need?” she asked after she had finished packing all fifteen kimonos, half a dozen spare haoris, the spare headpiece, and some other important stuff in the trunk.
Byakuya thought awhile. “I don’t know, actually.”
“Fishing rods?” Rukia suggested.
“Ah, of course. Get two from the storage room, will you, Rukia? One for me to use, and one if the first breaks.”
Rukia sighed. Her brother was so annoyingly precautious. But at any rate, he wouldn’t last a minute without her.
* * * * *
“Rangiku, why aren’t you working on your reports?” Hitsugaya yelled when her bubbly lieutenant burst into his office, scaring the shit out of him.
“Because I’m freeee!” Rangiku sang, going so far as to trap her unfortunate captain in a bear hug... or rather, boob hug.
“Darn it! I forgot.” Hitsugaya cursed, rubbing his temples. “Isn’t there honestly any work to do?” he asked his lieutenant through hopeful eyes.
“Fortunately, no!” Rangiku said; “Meaning, we’re free all day to drink saké!” She triumphantly pulled out a bottle from underneath Hitsugaya’s desk.
“W-w-what the—?” Hitsugaya was outraged. “Rangiku!” he yelled; “How many times do I have to tell you not to defile this place with alcoholic drinks!”
“Relax, Captain; it’s just one bottle.” Rangiku said coolly.
“Oh really?” Hitsugaya said sarcastically, reaching underneath his desk and pulling out another, and then another, and then another, until the desktop was practically invisible underneath those goddamn bottles. He wrinkled his nose at the offending odor of the liquor and cast Rangiku a glare that demanded an explanation.
“I meant it was only one bottle that I was going to drink today.” Rangiku said, laughing sheepishly in a miserable attempt to placate her infuriated captain.
“Very funny, Rangiku. Now throw all these bottles away before someone thinks they belong to me.”
Just then, Ichigo opened the door of the office and entered unabashedly without invitation.
“Hey, Toshiro, I was ju—” he began, but stopped abruptly upon seeing the battalion of saké bottles standing defiantly on the Captain’s desktop. “Hey, Toshiro, you never told me you drink!”
Rangiku’s face turned red as she fought back giggles.
Hitsugaya cast an icy glare at her lieutenant before turning his gaze to Ichigo. “I’m not even going to bother giving you an explanation.”
“This is enough explanation for me.” Ichigo said, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets. He couldn’t bring himself to believe that a boy of Toshiro’s age (apparent age) and size could be such a hardcore drinker.
“Just so you know,” Ichigo went on, “my dad’s a doctor, and believe me, I know enough about alcoholic drinks and their effects on young people to not be able to say at a glance that you’re not eligible to be drinking. For one thing, it’s bad for the liver. You know: liver? It’s a big organ in the abdomen that secretes—”
“Cut the crap, Ichigo!” Hitsugaya said in exasperation.
“Easy there. You don’t have to be so uptight about it. But I can understand how hard it must be for you. In any case, you should see a counselor.” Ichigo said solicitously.
“For the last time, these bottles aren’t mine!” Hitsugaya said.
“You mean there was a first time? I must have missed it.” Ichigo said with genuine confusion etched over his features.
“Rangiku, tell him.” Hitsugaya said, violently slamming his back against backrest of his chair in frustration.
“You see, Ichigo,” Rangiku said, “Captain thought that drinking saké would make him an adult.”
“What the—?!” Hitsugaya said, getting up so abruptly that his chair fell over with a thud and the desk shook, causing several of the bottles to sway dangerously.
“Ayeeeee!” Rangiku exclaimed, jumping to the rescue of her precious bottles. “You should be more careful, Captain.” she said crossly to Hitsugaya; “These bottles cost me a whole month’s paycheck.”
“Shut up, Rangiku!” Hitsugaya said, a hand flying to the hilt of his Zanpakutō.
“Hey, Toshiro—” Ichigo began, trying to assume the role of the mediator, but was cut off by Hitsugaya:
“Stay out of this, Ichigo Kurosaki! And how many times do I have to tell you to call me ‘Captain Hitsugaya’? When will you learn?”
“When you grow taller.” Rangiku blurted, quickly covering her mouth with both hands when she realized what she’d just said. She didn’t mean to be that rude: although somewhere at the back of her head, she had been meaning to say that to her captain at some point. She had impetuously seized the opportunity that the present situation presented her.
“Argh! Rangiku, you know that I’m fated to be short!” Hitsugaya yelled.
Silence pervaded the room. Ichigo and Rangiku were looking sympathetically at an almost hysterical Hitsugaya.
“I... I think I’ll be going to bed now.” Hitsugaya said in a low tone, his shoulders slumped in acceptance of the ultimate truth—that his growth department simply didn’t work.
He walked out of the office, looking as though the weight of the world was crushing down on his feeble shoulders.
Ichigo and Rangiku exchanged worried glances. Neither spoke.
Rangiku bit her lip.
Ichigo ran his tongue over his dry lips to moisten them.
“Do you think he was serious?” Ichigo asked finally.
“He looked like it. I’ve never seen the Captain so depressed before.”
Rangiku shuffled uncomfortably. “Do you think I should apologize?”
Ichigo shrugged. “It was the truth.”
“And truth is bitter.” Rangiku reflected.
Ichigo looked out of the window. “I think we should apologize.” he said after a couple of minutes.
“Do you?”
Ichigo was silent for a while. “I’m not sure.”
Rangiku glanced at the table. “Do you drink saké?” she asked hopefully.
Ichigo wrinkled his nose and cast a disgusted glance at the ugly bottles. “No way!” he said.
“Then let’s go apologize.”
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