[Bleach] Pretending to be One-Liners; Kenpachi/Byakuya
In celebration of the recent canonisation of Kenpachi/Byakuya, this weekend was a weekend purely for that crack pairing. XD These vary greatly in length, so I’ve actually separated them all properly this time with ruler tags... most of them are not connected at all, but I’ve tried to group the ones that were. XD;
for peroxidepest17; hair-pulling
"It has to stop!"
Zaraki looked up as Yumichika slammed both hands down on the edge of his desk, halfway through a prissy sparkly tantrum of some kind or other, and sat back with one raised eyebrow and a blank expression, waiting.
"It's not right, taichou - you have to think about the consequences when you take actions like this, you have to think about what it might mean--"
"Oi," Zaraki said, expression becoming one of bemused distaste as Yumichika got more and more frantic; Ikkaku made frantic don't-ask motions too late from behind the fifth seat. "The hell are you talking about?"
"Kuchiki-taichou!" Yumichika exploded. A silence fell in the wake of the name, and Zaraki continued to stare. Ikkaku covered his face with one hand in the background.
"Don't give me that shit," Zaraki said finally. "Don't think I didn't notice you proddin' me into fuckin' cleaning when you heard, I ain't--" But Yumichika's hands were spasming in the air on either side of his face, as though he was desperately resisting the urge to grab hold of his own hair and pull.
"No, no, no, taichou, you don't understand," he wailed, and gestured at Ikkaku wildly. "His hair, his hair, you have to stop pulling his hair or he'll end up like this idiot!"
Ikkaku grit his teeth, sighed, and walked away. Maybe when taichou stopped laughing he'd realise the danger Kuchiki-taichou was in.
for peroxidepest17; killing time
Byakuya closed his eyes and looked generally put-upon. "It means to spend time doing nothing in particular," he emphasised carefully, and Zaraki looked considerably less enthusiastic.
for peroxidepest17; wrong side of the tracks
Byakuya raised his eyebrows at the gathered dissenters of the Kuchiki clan, a carefully constructed expression of polite surprise on his face. "Surely you can have no objections this time," he said coolly. "He has been instrumental in saving Seireitei, several times now. He is equal in military rank." His hand, resting on Yachiru's shoulder, squeezed at just the right moment to prevent her making an appalling face at the gathered nobles. "Surely you can have no objections," he repeated firmly, and since he could not see Zaraki's face, had no idea whether his family drew back at his insistence, or at some gleam of murder in the other man's eye.
for peroxidepest17; spoiled
In the end, he did offer to kill them all and be done with it, and was intrigued when Kuchiki-hime smiled in a slow, sly way that he must have learned from Yumichika, although Byakuya managed to do it without the sparkles. "Now, now," he said silkily. "Don't start by spoiling me. You'll have nowhere to go."
for peroxidepest17; pre-emptive strike
He had a headache. He'd been listening to people non-stop since he arrived at division headquarters - first Yumichika, then Yachiru, then Yumichika again... Finally everyone was gone and he was about to go out and find something to beat the living hell out of (or booze) when there was a perfunctory knock and the door slid aside.
Kuchiki-hime evidently hadn't been expecting him to be standing so close to the door; his eyes focused first on Zaraki’s chest, then travelled upward as his brow furrowed. His mouth opened, and Zaraki decided right then and there that whatever it was, he didn't want to hear it today.
"No," he said before the noble could utter a word, one big hand landing on Kuchiki's head and pressing him backward as Zaraki himself stepped outside the door; the princess, clearly not ready for this at all, wound up grabbing at the front of Zaraki’s jacket so he wouldn’t just be tipped right over on his ass. The eleventh division captain closed the door before he let go of the noble’s prissy-lookin’ hairpiece, and when he saw the usual ice storm mounting, along with a pretty little flush that said he was embarrassed as well as annoyed, fisted his hand at the back of Kuchiki’s head again, tilting it back far enough that the noble was looking full into his face.
“No,” he repeated in a growl. Kuchiki didn’t move for a long moment, though his gaze sharpened dangerously. Then, apparently coming to the conclusion that it was, indeed, after hours, the anger faded from his face. Zaraki let him go. Kuchiki sniffed, hands automatically coming up to resettle the kenseikan.
“Tomorrow, then,” he said simply, and Zaraki wondered if it was the headache making him imagine the persistent pink tinge to the noble’s face.
for peroxidepest17; mother’s day
The first thing Kenpachi had to say on the matter was, “What the hell is this?”
(Actually, that was the second thing. The actual first thing he had to say on the matter was, “Oof, get offa me, brat,” when Yachiru bounded onto his bed at the ass-crack of dawn and started jumping on his stomach to wake him up properly.)
“It’s Presents-for-Ken-chan Day!” Yachiru thrilled, neither getting off him, nor satisfactorily explaining her presence. He squinted at her for a minute in confusion, and then caught sight of Kuchiki-hime standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, not exactly leaning against the doorframe but not standing as straight as he usually did, either; not exactly smirking, but not exactly not.
“The hell is this?” Kenpachi repeated, directing it at the princess this time, and Yachiru puffed her cheeks out and got all up in his face, little hands holding up a package so brightly wrapped he was kind of weirded out that he’d missed it the first time. Coulda been the way she was jumping up and down, he supposed; the way Yachiru moved, all her colours tended to blend together anyway.
“It’s Presents-for-Ken-chan Day,” she repeated, a little slower, and held out the little package as though he still might not understand the words. “Happy Ken-chan Day!”
“Uh.” Kenpachi sat up, took the tiny package in one hand, and stared at it for a second. Then he looked at the princess, hoping for some kind of actual explanation, instead of whatever the kid had gotten it into her head the day was about. Byakuya stepped inside the room at last, still not-smirking, though there was definitely somethin’ about his face that made Kenpachi sure the bastard was laughing at him.
“A human custom Rukia was telling us about,” he said, sounding off-hand. “Mother’s Day, I believe.”
“Right,” Yachiru agreed brightly. “Ken-chan Day! Open it, open it, open it, open it, it’s from me’n Byakushi, open it, open it, open it, open i-”
“All right,” Kenpachi growled, and opened it, figuring he’d shut the kid up first and then go talk to the princess about just who was the mother here. It was a packet of expensive-lookin’ candy - just the kind he’d be likely to throw straight at Yachiru - and a slip of paper. He threw the candy at Yachiru, and then set about the second order of business while she was suitably distracted. “Now, what the hell is this? I ain’t her goddamn mother!”
Byakuya’s expression didn’t change. It might have cooled slightly, or it might have become just a hint more amused; he wasn’t sure and he didn’t want to pay that much attention to it just now, to be honest. “You have raised her from infancy, have you not?” he asked. Kenpachi growled.
“That don’t mean I-”
“Well,” Byakuya said, examining his nails with rather pointed disinterest. “If you are so determined, then I suppose I will have to withdraw my gift.” He stepped close enough to reach for the scrap of paper, and Kenpachi caught his wrist as it passed, grabbing the tiny card with the other. He had learned from encounters with Yumichika that if someone started lookin’ at their nails while they were talkin’ to you, you’d better damn well pay attention.
So he read the card.
Blinked.
Read the card again.
Grinned.
Looked up at Kuchiki-hime, who was not smiling or looking the least bit sentimental, or indeed responding to Kenpachi’s sudden enthusiasm at all. Despite his slim wrist still being caught in the eleventh division captain’s vice-like grip, he flattened his palm expectantly, raising his eyebrows.
“Unless you have decided you do not mind this ‘Mother’s Day’,” he said, and Kenpachi’s grin only grew wider.
“Reckon I can put up with it,” he said, pocketing the ‘one free fight’ card with the Kuchiki mon on it. After the pony for Yachiru's birthday, he was swiftly coming to the conclusion that rich chicks were worth every bit of trouble they gave him, even if they were technically not chicks.
for peroxidepest17; father’s day
“So,” and here Byakuya had to pause for a moment, brow creased, as he tried to work out exactly how to put this. “You decided that... terrorizing my entire family and chasing all my servants from the house was appropriate?”
“Yup,” Yachiru chirped.
“Sure,” Kenpachi said. From his grin, he thought this was just the thing to send Byakuya into a rage blind enough to prompt a battle on a similar scale to the one that the noble had been chided for encouraging, a month ago.
Clearly, Byakuya thought, Zaraki had no idea how his family worked at all.
“How thoughtful of you,” Byakuya said, and held out a hand to Yachiru. “Did you think of it all by yourself, Yachiru?”
He could almost hear Kenpachi’s face falling as Yachiru squirmed and finally confessed, “Frilly-brows helped.” Byakuya smiled very faintly, and brushed a hand over her head.
“Then I will have to thank him, also,” he mused, and turned around when Zaraki’s reiatsu started to crackle through the air. “You as well, of course,” he added, as though the other captain’s ire was due to jealousy and not having the proverbial wool pulled over his eyes by a far-too-clever-for-his-division fifth seat. Yachiru beamed.
“I’ll go tell him ya liked it!” she cheered. “Have a fun day, Byakushi! Frilly said I only had to give it to you!” She was gone in an instant; the fact that there were no doormen to open the towering front gate for her was not an issue in the least.
Byakuya tidied his desk, selected a book, and wandered back outside to sit down and read it. Kenpachi drifted out a little later, still apparently too stunned to speak.
“Since you have robbed me of my servants for the day,” Byakuya drawled absently, “make yourself useful and find some wine, won’t you?”
He was rather surprised that the book survived the day intact, to be honest.
for feather_qwill; false (100 words exactly)
“Wrong.” Yumichika frowned. “Honestly, taichou, it’s like you’re not even trying.”
Zaraki scowled right back, a good deal more intimidatingly. He didn’t see what the big deal was; the damn princess didn’t know his favourite fuckin’ food, after all.
“Fuckin’... natto?” he tried, figuring it’d be something he didn’t like at all, since Kuchiki-hime’s tastes were so damn ‘refined’. Yumichika resisted the impulse to beat his head against the desk only by reminding himself that his beautiful face could not be sacrificed to this as easily as taichou’s face could.
“Wrong,” he said. “Try again.”
Zaraki grit his teeth. “Recruits?”
for feather_qwill; flower (50 syllables)
“Sakura.”
“That’s what he cuts you with, taichou, not his favourite flower.”
“’s comin’ to be my favourite flower,” the captain complained.
“...well. That might actually get you both further than his.”
for smokexscribbles; subtlety
Byakuya was just beginning to wonder whether Zaraki was truly, truly stupid when the other captain's brow crinkled and he asked, "The hell's wrong with your eye, hime?" (At that point, he gave up all hope.)
for smokexscribbles; waffles
The morning after the Arrancar were beaten back was a very strange morning all around; Kuchiki-taichou and Zaraki-taichou sat side by side at the head of the table, assorted shinigami and humans gathered around the room as they all waited patiently for Urahara Shoten-provided waffles. (Byakuya, having experienced Kisuke's idea of food once or twice before, was trying not to look as full of trepidation as he was.)
for eclectify; mummy and daddy time
“Um.”
It was probably the first time he had ever said the word, but he found, as Yachiru clambered gleefully over the top of him to get to ‘Ken-chan’, that he was simply too mortified to say anything else. He lay there silently, going slowly pink around his pillow, as she complained loudly that if Byakushi was gonna sleep over he shoulda told her and they coulda all had marshmallows or konpeito or somethin’ and was he gonna sleep over again cuz they could do that tonight if he wanted, and he dimly registered Zaraki grunting that he had no idea and it was too damn early in the morning to deal with her yammerin’ so could she get her ass out of there, hadn’t the damn fruit taught her anythin’ about manners?
Yachiru made a wounded sound. “But Frilly-brows said I should come make sure ya got enough sleep! Didja get enough sleep, Byakushi?” she asked conscientiously. “Ken-chan shoulda got you another bed down. That’s manners,” she added to Zaraki in a lofty tone clearly borrowed from Ayasegawa.
“Um,” said Byakuya again, and, inanely, “It’s very thoughtful of Ayasegawa-san to inquire.”
Yachiru giggled and shrugged. “Nah,” she said brightly. “He only asked cuz he was takin’ bets!”
for eclectify; twenty questions
Yachiru bounced in. She had bounced in at least a dozen times already this morning, and each time he had not actually noticed her approach until her bright, cheerful face was beaming at him from the other side of his paperwork. As he had done at least a dozen times already, Byakuya sighed softly and set down his brush.
"Yes, Yachiru?" He had given up persuading her to knock; she was in and out so regularly these days that the near-constant noise had begun to give him headaches.
"Byakushi," she said, very serious. "How come Ken-chan likes you so much when you don’t got any boobs? Shiny-baldy says they’re important.”
There was a long pause in which Byakuya was glad he was not holding his brush, because he would have dropped it straight onto the form in front of him and made a terrible mess. Finally, his only response was a rather weak, “You... you would have to ask him, Yachiru.”
This was not well-received. She stomped a small foot. “But Ken-chan just sent me all the way over here to ask Byakushi,” she complained loudly. “And Frilly-brows says pretty people know best, and you’re prettier’n Ken-chan, so it only makes sense to ask you!”
Byakuya blinked. “He sent you to ask-” That couldn’t be right. And then something occurred to him, and his brow furrowed slightly. “Have you been asking him a lot of questions today, Yachiru?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Lots. And then he stopped knowin’ the answers, so he said I should go ask my mama, ‘cept I don’t have a mama, so I figured Byakushi was the next best thing!”
Byakuya struggled for a moment between irritation and an overwhelming fondness for the child. His hand edged forward, as though for a moment he was prepared to let it rest on her head, but he caught himself just in time. And then he ridiculed himself sternly and went ahead with the motion, barely ruffling her hair. Yachiru beamed at him.
“I think Zaraki-taichou stopped listening,” he said, “or he would have realised that was a question he should know the answer to. Go ask...” A split-second hestitation. “...go ask your father.”
“’kay~!” Yachiru sang, and in a second she was gone from his office, leaving a silence that was becoming more and more uncomfortable the more time he spent with her, and a warmth in his heart that was becoming less so.
for factorielle; prior engagements
“A formal dinner?” Byakuya’s brow creased, and then he waved the man away. “Out of the question. Please have it cancelled.”
“But sir,” the peon dared protest, “the entire clan is-”
“-not going to have to deal with Kusajishi-fukutaichou,” Byakuya finished darkly. “Please have it cancelled.” His sanity, he reasoned, was more important to the clan than his attending one formal dinner, especially one that happened to fall on a night he had promised to read to Yachiru. And since the house seemed to complain no matter what he did, he would much prefer to spend the evening with less polite, but infinitely less irritating company.
Bedtime stories aside, he had been promised curry so hot that it would leave him, and he quoted, ‘cryin’ his pretty princess eyes out’. He had to admit he was looking forward to the prospect. In particular, he was looking forward to proving to Zaraki that, no matter his appearance, his stomach and his tastebuds were anything but delicate. He was quite sure that in the unlikely event that he shed tears, they would be over the appalling quality of the meal rather than its spiciness.
Still, he thought as the servant scurried away, cowed by the gleam in the Kuchiki heir’s eye, it would prove interesting. With luck, he would be allowed to return the favour and, although he would never dream of giving such a meal to Yachiru, he would be able to show Zaraki the true meaning of heat.
for chibify; exhaustion
Kenpachi could hardly believe it when Byakuya returned with Yachiru nestled against his shoulder, clearly dead to the world. He remembers asking whether Byakuya'd hit her in the head or something, and he remembers a withering look, but the exact phrase that Ice Queen Kuchiki used to berate him escapes his memory. He could blame this on a blow to his own head, but he suspects that it has more to do with the firm plane of Byakuya's chest against his own as the noble comes close enough to pass Yachiru into his care, and the strangely gentle way that Byakuya slips out her hair clips and strokes the hair back from her face. Also, he would never admit to anyone that Kuchiki-hime was in any way fast enough or strong enough to hit hard enough to cause memory loss.
for chibify; hairbrush
Crashes and shouts from the entrance hall had Byakuya quick-stepping down the corridors with Senbonzakura already half drawn, but when he arrived there and saw Kenpachi, Yachiru, five servants gibbering at the sheer volume of Zaraki's reiatsu, and a hairbrush, he hesitated for a long, long moment before he decided the sword was probably not necessary.
"What is this?" His tone was frosty, despite giving Zaraki the benefit of the doubt. The eleventh division captain held up the brush and muttered something about not bein' a fuckin' hairdresser; Yachiru was slightly more helpful in explaining that Frilly-brows was in the human world and Ken-chan's hands were way too big to give her braids.
for feather_qwill; winter
(300 words; specs of madness here)
It had snowed, and Yachiru was taking full advantage of that fact, crashing around in the snow with Madarame while Yumichika lobbed the occasional, artful snowball into the fray. Byakuya seated himself primly beside Zaraki on the porch and watched the battle with half an eye; sipped heated sake, and offered Zaraki expensive child-sized woollen clothing.
for feather_qwill; desk
(2 x 50 word paragraphs, 3 lines [25 words] of dialogue)
“This desk is completely inadequate.”
It was a quick slither backward, legs coming up and around, fist caught at Zaraki’s collar. The words emerging with impeccable precision, but that was the only precise thing here; all else was haste and delirious confusion. Zaraki’s hand raking from ass to thigh. Papers slid, and fell. Breathing hitched.
“Cramped. Messy. I don’t know how you work in these conditions, Zaraki, I really don’t.”
Pressing down, pressing forward, a breath taken so quickly that it could have been confused with a whimper. Squirming, gulping thickly, still pulling closer when he should have been, the sensible thing would have been, pushing away. Crushed so tightly, deliciously downward that when ink spilled, spread, he didn’t notice.
“Go back to yours, then.”
for squeakelala; children
This is brought up by a determined mother, a far distant member of his clan who has always, if he remembers rightly, been determined to wed her daughter to the head of the clan. And for a second, Byakuya looks at the woman, looks at the room full of people holding their collective breath, and wonders if he dares to say, "In almost every imaginable way, Yachiru is a child of this clan."
(As it turns out, the girl herself interrupts the conference of his relatives by slipping in the window, and answers his relatives for him; he is very glad of her, and of the way she speaks, because there is truly no polite way that will get his point across.)
for peroxidepest17; hair-pulling
"It has to stop!"
Zaraki looked up as Yumichika slammed both hands down on the edge of his desk, halfway through a prissy sparkly tantrum of some kind or other, and sat back with one raised eyebrow and a blank expression, waiting.
"It's not right, taichou - you have to think about the consequences when you take actions like this, you have to think about what it might mean--"
"Oi," Zaraki said, expression becoming one of bemused distaste as Yumichika got more and more frantic; Ikkaku made frantic don't-ask motions too late from behind the fifth seat. "The hell are you talking about?"
"Kuchiki-taichou!" Yumichika exploded. A silence fell in the wake of the name, and Zaraki continued to stare. Ikkaku covered his face with one hand in the background.
"Don't give me that shit," Zaraki said finally. "Don't think I didn't notice you proddin' me into fuckin' cleaning when you heard, I ain't--" But Yumichika's hands were spasming in the air on either side of his face, as though he was desperately resisting the urge to grab hold of his own hair and pull.
"No, no, no, taichou, you don't understand," he wailed, and gestured at Ikkaku wildly. "His hair, his hair, you have to stop pulling his hair or he'll end up like this idiot!"
Ikkaku grit his teeth, sighed, and walked away. Maybe when taichou stopped laughing he'd realise the danger Kuchiki-taichou was in.
for peroxidepest17; killing time
Byakuya closed his eyes and looked generally put-upon. "It means to spend time doing nothing in particular," he emphasised carefully, and Zaraki looked considerably less enthusiastic.
for peroxidepest17; wrong side of the tracks
Byakuya raised his eyebrows at the gathered dissenters of the Kuchiki clan, a carefully constructed expression of polite surprise on his face. "Surely you can have no objections this time," he said coolly. "He has been instrumental in saving Seireitei, several times now. He is equal in military rank." His hand, resting on Yachiru's shoulder, squeezed at just the right moment to prevent her making an appalling face at the gathered nobles. "Surely you can have no objections," he repeated firmly, and since he could not see Zaraki's face, had no idea whether his family drew back at his insistence, or at some gleam of murder in the other man's eye.
for peroxidepest17; spoiled
In the end, he did offer to kill them all and be done with it, and was intrigued when Kuchiki-hime smiled in a slow, sly way that he must have learned from Yumichika, although Byakuya managed to do it without the sparkles. "Now, now," he said silkily. "Don't start by spoiling me. You'll have nowhere to go."
for peroxidepest17; pre-emptive strike
He had a headache. He'd been listening to people non-stop since he arrived at division headquarters - first Yumichika, then Yachiru, then Yumichika again... Finally everyone was gone and he was about to go out and find something to beat the living hell out of (or booze) when there was a perfunctory knock and the door slid aside.
Kuchiki-hime evidently hadn't been expecting him to be standing so close to the door; his eyes focused first on Zaraki’s chest, then travelled upward as his brow furrowed. His mouth opened, and Zaraki decided right then and there that whatever it was, he didn't want to hear it today.
"No," he said before the noble could utter a word, one big hand landing on Kuchiki's head and pressing him backward as Zaraki himself stepped outside the door; the princess, clearly not ready for this at all, wound up grabbing at the front of Zaraki’s jacket so he wouldn’t just be tipped right over on his ass. The eleventh division captain closed the door before he let go of the noble’s prissy-lookin’ hairpiece, and when he saw the usual ice storm mounting, along with a pretty little flush that said he was embarrassed as well as annoyed, fisted his hand at the back of Kuchiki’s head again, tilting it back far enough that the noble was looking full into his face.
“No,” he repeated in a growl. Kuchiki didn’t move for a long moment, though his gaze sharpened dangerously. Then, apparently coming to the conclusion that it was, indeed, after hours, the anger faded from his face. Zaraki let him go. Kuchiki sniffed, hands automatically coming up to resettle the kenseikan.
“Tomorrow, then,” he said simply, and Zaraki wondered if it was the headache making him imagine the persistent pink tinge to the noble’s face.
for peroxidepest17; mother’s day
The first thing Kenpachi had to say on the matter was, “What the hell is this?”
(Actually, that was the second thing. The actual first thing he had to say on the matter was, “Oof, get offa me, brat,” when Yachiru bounded onto his bed at the ass-crack of dawn and started jumping on his stomach to wake him up properly.)
“It’s Presents-for-Ken-chan Day!” Yachiru thrilled, neither getting off him, nor satisfactorily explaining her presence. He squinted at her for a minute in confusion, and then caught sight of Kuchiki-hime standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, not exactly leaning against the doorframe but not standing as straight as he usually did, either; not exactly smirking, but not exactly not.
“The hell is this?” Kenpachi repeated, directing it at the princess this time, and Yachiru puffed her cheeks out and got all up in his face, little hands holding up a package so brightly wrapped he was kind of weirded out that he’d missed it the first time. Coulda been the way she was jumping up and down, he supposed; the way Yachiru moved, all her colours tended to blend together anyway.
“It’s Presents-for-Ken-chan Day,” she repeated, a little slower, and held out the little package as though he still might not understand the words. “Happy Ken-chan Day!”
“Uh.” Kenpachi sat up, took the tiny package in one hand, and stared at it for a second. Then he looked at the princess, hoping for some kind of actual explanation, instead of whatever the kid had gotten it into her head the day was about. Byakuya stepped inside the room at last, still not-smirking, though there was definitely somethin’ about his face that made Kenpachi sure the bastard was laughing at him.
“A human custom Rukia was telling us about,” he said, sounding off-hand. “Mother’s Day, I believe.”
“Right,” Yachiru agreed brightly. “Ken-chan Day! Open it, open it, open it, open it, it’s from me’n Byakushi, open it, open it, open it, open i-”
“All right,” Kenpachi growled, and opened it, figuring he’d shut the kid up first and then go talk to the princess about just who was the mother here. It was a packet of expensive-lookin’ candy - just the kind he’d be likely to throw straight at Yachiru - and a slip of paper. He threw the candy at Yachiru, and then set about the second order of business while she was suitably distracted. “Now, what the hell is this? I ain’t her goddamn mother!”
Byakuya’s expression didn’t change. It might have cooled slightly, or it might have become just a hint more amused; he wasn’t sure and he didn’t want to pay that much attention to it just now, to be honest. “You have raised her from infancy, have you not?” he asked. Kenpachi growled.
“That don’t mean I-”
“Well,” Byakuya said, examining his nails with rather pointed disinterest. “If you are so determined, then I suppose I will have to withdraw my gift.” He stepped close enough to reach for the scrap of paper, and Kenpachi caught his wrist as it passed, grabbing the tiny card with the other. He had learned from encounters with Yumichika that if someone started lookin’ at their nails while they were talkin’ to you, you’d better damn well pay attention.
So he read the card.
Blinked.
Read the card again.
Grinned.
Looked up at Kuchiki-hime, who was not smiling or looking the least bit sentimental, or indeed responding to Kenpachi’s sudden enthusiasm at all. Despite his slim wrist still being caught in the eleventh division captain’s vice-like grip, he flattened his palm expectantly, raising his eyebrows.
“Unless you have decided you do not mind this ‘Mother’s Day’,” he said, and Kenpachi’s grin only grew wider.
“Reckon I can put up with it,” he said, pocketing the ‘one free fight’ card with the Kuchiki mon on it. After the pony for Yachiru's birthday, he was swiftly coming to the conclusion that rich chicks were worth every bit of trouble they gave him, even if they were technically not chicks.
for peroxidepest17; father’s day
“So,” and here Byakuya had to pause for a moment, brow creased, as he tried to work out exactly how to put this. “You decided that... terrorizing my entire family and chasing all my servants from the house was appropriate?”
“Yup,” Yachiru chirped.
“Sure,” Kenpachi said. From his grin, he thought this was just the thing to send Byakuya into a rage blind enough to prompt a battle on a similar scale to the one that the noble had been chided for encouraging, a month ago.
Clearly, Byakuya thought, Zaraki had no idea how his family worked at all.
“How thoughtful of you,” Byakuya said, and held out a hand to Yachiru. “Did you think of it all by yourself, Yachiru?”
He could almost hear Kenpachi’s face falling as Yachiru squirmed and finally confessed, “Frilly-brows helped.” Byakuya smiled very faintly, and brushed a hand over her head.
“Then I will have to thank him, also,” he mused, and turned around when Zaraki’s reiatsu started to crackle through the air. “You as well, of course,” he added, as though the other captain’s ire was due to jealousy and not having the proverbial wool pulled over his eyes by a far-too-clever-for-his-division fifth seat. Yachiru beamed.
“I’ll go tell him ya liked it!” she cheered. “Have a fun day, Byakushi! Frilly said I only had to give it to you!” She was gone in an instant; the fact that there were no doormen to open the towering front gate for her was not an issue in the least.
Byakuya tidied his desk, selected a book, and wandered back outside to sit down and read it. Kenpachi drifted out a little later, still apparently too stunned to speak.
“Since you have robbed me of my servants for the day,” Byakuya drawled absently, “make yourself useful and find some wine, won’t you?”
He was rather surprised that the book survived the day intact, to be honest.
for feather_qwill; false (100 words exactly)
“Wrong.” Yumichika frowned. “Honestly, taichou, it’s like you’re not even trying.”
Zaraki scowled right back, a good deal more intimidatingly. He didn’t see what the big deal was; the damn princess didn’t know his favourite fuckin’ food, after all.
“Fuckin’... natto?” he tried, figuring it’d be something he didn’t like at all, since Kuchiki-hime’s tastes were so damn ‘refined’. Yumichika resisted the impulse to beat his head against the desk only by reminding himself that his beautiful face could not be sacrificed to this as easily as taichou’s face could.
“Wrong,” he said. “Try again.”
Zaraki grit his teeth. “Recruits?”
for feather_qwill; flower (50 syllables)
“Sakura.”
“That’s what he cuts you with, taichou, not his favourite flower.”
“’s comin’ to be my favourite flower,” the captain complained.
“...well. That might actually get you both further than his.”
for smokexscribbles; subtlety
Byakuya was just beginning to wonder whether Zaraki was truly, truly stupid when the other captain's brow crinkled and he asked, "The hell's wrong with your eye, hime?" (At that point, he gave up all hope.)
for smokexscribbles; waffles
The morning after the Arrancar were beaten back was a very strange morning all around; Kuchiki-taichou and Zaraki-taichou sat side by side at the head of the table, assorted shinigami and humans gathered around the room as they all waited patiently for Urahara Shoten-provided waffles. (Byakuya, having experienced Kisuke's idea of food once or twice before, was trying not to look as full of trepidation as he was.)
for eclectify; mummy and daddy time
“Um.”
It was probably the first time he had ever said the word, but he found, as Yachiru clambered gleefully over the top of him to get to ‘Ken-chan’, that he was simply too mortified to say anything else. He lay there silently, going slowly pink around his pillow, as she complained loudly that if Byakushi was gonna sleep over he shoulda told her and they coulda all had marshmallows or konpeito or somethin’ and was he gonna sleep over again cuz they could do that tonight if he wanted, and he dimly registered Zaraki grunting that he had no idea and it was too damn early in the morning to deal with her yammerin’ so could she get her ass out of there, hadn’t the damn fruit taught her anythin’ about manners?
Yachiru made a wounded sound. “But Frilly-brows said I should come make sure ya got enough sleep! Didja get enough sleep, Byakushi?” she asked conscientiously. “Ken-chan shoulda got you another bed down. That’s manners,” she added to Zaraki in a lofty tone clearly borrowed from Ayasegawa.
“Um,” said Byakuya again, and, inanely, “It’s very thoughtful of Ayasegawa-san to inquire.”
Yachiru giggled and shrugged. “Nah,” she said brightly. “He only asked cuz he was takin’ bets!”
for eclectify; twenty questions
Yachiru bounced in. She had bounced in at least a dozen times already this morning, and each time he had not actually noticed her approach until her bright, cheerful face was beaming at him from the other side of his paperwork. As he had done at least a dozen times already, Byakuya sighed softly and set down his brush.
"Yes, Yachiru?" He had given up persuading her to knock; she was in and out so regularly these days that the near-constant noise had begun to give him headaches.
"Byakushi," she said, very serious. "How come Ken-chan likes you so much when you don’t got any boobs? Shiny-baldy says they’re important.”
There was a long pause in which Byakuya was glad he was not holding his brush, because he would have dropped it straight onto the form in front of him and made a terrible mess. Finally, his only response was a rather weak, “You... you would have to ask him, Yachiru.”
This was not well-received. She stomped a small foot. “But Ken-chan just sent me all the way over here to ask Byakushi,” she complained loudly. “And Frilly-brows says pretty people know best, and you’re prettier’n Ken-chan, so it only makes sense to ask you!”
Byakuya blinked. “He sent you to ask-” That couldn’t be right. And then something occurred to him, and his brow furrowed slightly. “Have you been asking him a lot of questions today, Yachiru?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Lots. And then he stopped knowin’ the answers, so he said I should go ask my mama, ‘cept I don’t have a mama, so I figured Byakushi was the next best thing!”
Byakuya struggled for a moment between irritation and an overwhelming fondness for the child. His hand edged forward, as though for a moment he was prepared to let it rest on her head, but he caught himself just in time. And then he ridiculed himself sternly and went ahead with the motion, barely ruffling her hair. Yachiru beamed at him.
“I think Zaraki-taichou stopped listening,” he said, “or he would have realised that was a question he should know the answer to. Go ask...” A split-second hestitation. “...go ask your father.”
“’kay~!” Yachiru sang, and in a second she was gone from his office, leaving a silence that was becoming more and more uncomfortable the more time he spent with her, and a warmth in his heart that was becoming less so.
for factorielle; prior engagements
“A formal dinner?” Byakuya’s brow creased, and then he waved the man away. “Out of the question. Please have it cancelled.”
“But sir,” the peon dared protest, “the entire clan is-”
“-not going to have to deal with Kusajishi-fukutaichou,” Byakuya finished darkly. “Please have it cancelled.” His sanity, he reasoned, was more important to the clan than his attending one formal dinner, especially one that happened to fall on a night he had promised to read to Yachiru. And since the house seemed to complain no matter what he did, he would much prefer to spend the evening with less polite, but infinitely less irritating company.
Bedtime stories aside, he had been promised curry so hot that it would leave him, and he quoted, ‘cryin’ his pretty princess eyes out’. He had to admit he was looking forward to the prospect. In particular, he was looking forward to proving to Zaraki that, no matter his appearance, his stomach and his tastebuds were anything but delicate. He was quite sure that in the unlikely event that he shed tears, they would be over the appalling quality of the meal rather than its spiciness.
Still, he thought as the servant scurried away, cowed by the gleam in the Kuchiki heir’s eye, it would prove interesting. With luck, he would be allowed to return the favour and, although he would never dream of giving such a meal to Yachiru, he would be able to show Zaraki the true meaning of heat.
for chibify; exhaustion
Kenpachi could hardly believe it when Byakuya returned with Yachiru nestled against his shoulder, clearly dead to the world. He remembers asking whether Byakuya'd hit her in the head or something, and he remembers a withering look, but the exact phrase that Ice Queen Kuchiki used to berate him escapes his memory. He could blame this on a blow to his own head, but he suspects that it has more to do with the firm plane of Byakuya's chest against his own as the noble comes close enough to pass Yachiru into his care, and the strangely gentle way that Byakuya slips out her hair clips and strokes the hair back from her face. Also, he would never admit to anyone that Kuchiki-hime was in any way fast enough or strong enough to hit hard enough to cause memory loss.
for chibify; hairbrush
Crashes and shouts from the entrance hall had Byakuya quick-stepping down the corridors with Senbonzakura already half drawn, but when he arrived there and saw Kenpachi, Yachiru, five servants gibbering at the sheer volume of Zaraki's reiatsu, and a hairbrush, he hesitated for a long, long moment before he decided the sword was probably not necessary.
"What is this?" His tone was frosty, despite giving Zaraki the benefit of the doubt. The eleventh division captain held up the brush and muttered something about not bein' a fuckin' hairdresser; Yachiru was slightly more helpful in explaining that Frilly-brows was in the human world and Ken-chan's hands were way too big to give her braids.
for feather_qwill; winter
(300 words; specs of madness here)
It had snowed, and Yachiru was taking full advantage of that fact, crashing around in the snow with Madarame while Yumichika lobbed the occasional, artful snowball into the fray. Byakuya seated himself primly beside Zaraki on the porch and watched the battle with half an eye; sipped heated sake, and offered Zaraki expensive child-sized woollen clothing.
for feather_qwill; desk
(2 x 50 word paragraphs, 3 lines [25 words] of dialogue)
“This desk is completely inadequate.”
It was a quick slither backward, legs coming up and around, fist caught at Zaraki’s collar. The words emerging with impeccable precision, but that was the only precise thing here; all else was haste and delirious confusion. Zaraki’s hand raking from ass to thigh. Papers slid, and fell. Breathing hitched.
“Cramped. Messy. I don’t know how you work in these conditions, Zaraki, I really don’t.”
Pressing down, pressing forward, a breath taken so quickly that it could have been confused with a whimper. Squirming, gulping thickly, still pulling closer when he should have been, the sensible thing would have been, pushing away. Crushed so tightly, deliciously downward that when ink spilled, spread, he didn’t notice.
“Go back to yours, then.”
for squeakelala; children
This is brought up by a determined mother, a far distant member of his clan who has always, if he remembers rightly, been determined to wed her daughter to the head of the clan. And for a second, Byakuya looks at the woman, looks at the room full of people holding their collective breath, and wonders if he dares to say, "In almost every imaginable way, Yachiru is a child of this clan."
(As it turns out, the girl herself interrupts the conference of his relatives by slipping in the window, and answers his relatives for him; he is very glad of her, and of the way she speaks, because there is truly no polite way that will get his point across.)