As the Thirteen Court Guard Squad Captains assembled for yet another unexpected Meeting, courtesy of the Head Captain and his capricious tendencies, attributable to his advancing age and resulting senility, it transpired that they had run out of topics to discuss. The Head Captain, having expounded everything from the issue about the stray Menos Grande found in one of the Districts to the latest activities of the Soul Reaper Women’s Association, was now reduced to beating around the bush, parrying questions and snapping crude insults at random captains as an excuse to keep discussions going.
“Captain Kuchiki,” he snapped this time, and the Captain of the Sixth Squad raised his eyebrows, wondering what it was that he could have done wrong. “The color of your scarf offends me!”
Byakuya’s initial bewilderment was replaced by a sense of sympathetic understanding. He had, after all, borne witness to his own grandfather sprouting such idiosyncrasies only days before his death. The Head Captain was, no doubt, nearing his end. With such a happy thought nestled snugly in his mind, he contented himself with shutting his eyes and ignoring the insult.
“Did you not hear me, Captain Kuchiki?” said the Head Captain, his whiskers bristling in indignation. “I asked you a question.”
And Byakuya ignored him once again, now getting an essence of how severe the Head Captain’s problem was.
Captain Kyoraku, a student of Yamamoto’s, felt it his duty to stand up for his old teacher.
“Hey, Byakuya,” he said smilingly, as if politely pointing out that there was a fly in his soup. “Answer the guy’s question already.”
“Shunsui!” the Head Captain burst out. “How dare you refer to me as ‘the guy’!”
Kyoraku tilted his hat in an apologetic gesture, but said nothing, becoming convinced that the Head Captain’s days were indeed numbered.
The Head Captain, giving up on Kyoraku, proceeded to criticize Mayuri’s appearance.
“How many times have I told you, Captain Kurotsuchi, not to wear that appalling makeup on your face?”
Never, actually.
“Pardon me, sir,” said Mayuri, “but I refuse to allow my face to be called appalling. It has taken me endless hours of research and experiments on my own body to permanently give my body this look.”
But the Head Captain had turned to Zaraki by then.
“Captain of Squad Eleven,” he said. “The sound of the bells in your hair annoys me like nothing else. Remove them at once. And get yourself a new uniform made before I cut the present one to pieces.”
Zaraki gritted his teeth, his hand hovering inches over the hilt of his sword, a million swearwords on the tip of his tongue, all as sharp as his blade. He had, however no need to use them:
“Captain Soifon,” the Head Captain said next, “I understand that the Stealth Force is in very bad shape. You will be punished severely for it.”
On the contrary, the Stealth Force was on the top of its form.
A cough proceeded from Ukitake at this juncture.
“Jushiro!” shouted Yamamoto as if Ukitake had insulted his mother. “If you cannot get your lungs fixed, do not bring them to the Captains’ Meetings!”
The funeral procession could almost be heard outside. It soon transpired, however, that it was Ichigo’s group.
“What’s that noise?” said the Head Captain.
“Your funeral procession…” said Hitsugaya dreamily, only half-aware of the words coming out of his mouth.
It was by a twist of fate at this point that Ichigo chose to make his entry.
“Hey, everyone, how’s it—?”
But he was cut off by a binding curse.
“Filth!” shouted Yamamoto. “You dare make a mockery of me! Funeral procession?! I have never been this insulted in my entire life!”
It was decided thereupon that the meeting be adjourned. The captains began filing out of the room accordingly.
“Where—Where are you going?” demanded the Head Captain, who had given no such order. “Come back!”
But the crowd did not heed his words.
The Head Captain stared after his suddenly insubordinate captains with incredulity in his old eyes, his mouth hanging open, a stray breeze blowing his unkempt whiskers into it.
“Is this really happening?” he asked himself aloud.
He jumped when a sound startled him from behind. It was Soifon.
“You shouldn’t be talking,” she said ominously. “It’s not good for your health. Only a few more days, and then…”
“And then what?”
“And then,” she said with an air of finality, turning her back on the Head Captain and soon catching up with her peers.
Once they had traveled a significant distance from the Head Captain’s chamber, the remaining captains held an informal Captain’s Meeting in order to discuss the fate of the Soul Society and bring Ichigo and the others up to speed.
Byakuya did the honors.
“Ichigo Kurosaki,” he said. “Do you know what’s going on?”
Ichigo replied that he didn’t and added that he’d love to know.
“I’d love to know,” he said. He loved adventure.
“Very well,” said Byakuya. “But I warn you. What I’m about to tell you is not pleasant. So brace yourself. Head Captain Yamamoto is standing on Death’s doorstep.”
“No, you idiot,” said Soifon. “That was the bathroom: he has diarrhea.”
Byakuya repeated his earlier asseveration with asperity.
“It is only a matter of time before he shall… pass away.”
An idle wind made his scarf billow to accentuate the passing away part of it.
Orihime gasped. Ichigo gulped. Chad grunted. Uryu straightened his glasses on the bridge of his nose.
“So,” said Ichigo. “You mean to say… he’s gonna die?”
At this point, Rukia joined the group.
“Rukia,” said Ichigo. “Where’ve you been?”
“With my squad,” she said.
“Looks like you’ve been busy.”
“I have.”
They proceeded to talk inanely on topics ranging from the weather, which couldn’t have been better, to the state of things in Ichigo’s family.
“Did you know the Head Captain’s gonna die?” Ichigo said casually.
“No,” said Rukia, and then they resumed talking about the weather and the state of things in Ichigo’s family.
The informal Captain’s Meeting, on the other hand, had already commenced.
“It can’t be helped,” said Kyoraku. “If he’s gotta go, then he’s gotta go.”
Hitsugaya pfft-ed his disagreement with this point.
“If he’s gotta go then he should have gone already,” he said peevishly.
“Evidently he’s tenacious,” said Byakuya.
“Now, now,” said Unohana. “That’s no way to talk about the Head Captain.”
“Face it, he’s a crap-barrel,” said Zaraki.
“I would have phrased that differently,” said Unohana with dignity.
“Like how?”
“‘A container of festering feces’ would have been the politer way to put it.”
Zaraki grumbled something about how he always hated technical terms, and as a result got drawn into an acrimonious war of words with Mayuri.
Discussions lingered briefly on the state of things in the Rukongai, and ended with Ukitake shaking his head sadly.
Ichigo and his group reentered the Meeting, and introduced the topic of red-bean paste being used as a universal topping—Orihime’s favorite.
“There’s nothing you can’t eat with it!” she declared.
And then someone shouted, “Look! There’s the Head Captain!”
And indeed, there he was: the wizened old man taking steps with great difficulty in an ambitious yet appreciable attempt at reaching the people who had abandoned him. He took small steps, and grunted and huffed, but the crowd it seemed as though he were battling his way through a sea in a tempest.
“You!” he said in booming voice, referring to no one in particular. And then his eyes slowly shut, and peace reigned over his entire being. The shaking in anger, heaving and panting—all stopped, and it was as if the tempest had died down and the sea became calm again.
“I can’t believe it,” said Kyoraku, wiping a tear from a corner of his eye and sniveling. “May you rest in peace, Old Man Yama!” he said dramatically.
“May you rest in peace,” everyone else echoed.
And then Hitsugaya made a startling observation.
“He’s walking back to his chamber!”
“Oh,” said Kyoraku, recomposing himself hastily. “My bad.”
And then Uryu made a similarly startling observation when Lieutenant Sasakibe suddenly appeared behind the Head Captain and handed him something in a bottle that he took graciously.
“What’s he giving him?”
Kyoraku sniffed the air.
“Sake,” he said. “Of ninety-nine percent concentration.”
“That would explain,” said Soifon darkly, “the diarrhea.”
“So you mean…” said Orihime, close to crying, “that he’s not going to… die?”
Ukitake shook his head sadly.
“No, dear,” he said.
Orihime burst into tears.
All of a sudden the weather seemed to have taken a turn for the worse, and the nine captains and Ichigo’s group were now standing in the rain, their dreams shattered.
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