Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Hot Dogging ❯ "Mr. Quincy you... prefer men, don't you?" ( Chapter 2 )

Hot Dogging

 

Author: Cal-Reflector

 

Author's Notes: My heartfelt thanks to those who took the time to review my first chapter; their support has made this experience much more gratifying and provided me motivation to further this pleasant madness.

 

Disclaimer: I do not owned Bleach or the characters contained therein.

 

Chapter 2: “Mr. Quincy, you… prefer men, don't you?”

 

It was the beginning of a beautiful day in Soul Society, and as the sun began its slow ascent towards its zenith, its warm rays shone upon the flora, the fauna, and the hung-over shinigamis who winced through puffy eyelids and foggy minds at the unwelcome arrival of another Monday. Here and there, signs of the weekend's festivities could be found littered throughout the vicinity of the inner court; a sandal here, a zanbaktou there, death gods sprawled awkwardly on the roof and in the trees… and it was the fourth division's job to collect these various articles and return them to their rightful owners. At the moment, Hanatarou, the ever meek and well meaning medic who was everyone's favorite chump, was hauling his third body of the morning off to the correct divisional head quarters. His mind wandered back to that magical evening at the party where he had, in between digging vomit out of people's throats and giving CPR to some exceedingly ugly fellows, caught sight of Miss Kuchiki Rukia, whom he held a secret crush for, a whole three times! At one point, an empty bottle which she tossed over her shoulder had even struck him on the head; it had been heaven for our dear Hanatarou, for whom that was the closest he ever came to making physical contact with his beloved. A large shout from a room he was passing by startled him out from his rose-colored daydream. From behind the screen door, which he recognized as the entrance to chief commander Yamamoto's office, a somewhat heated discussion could be heard. He turned to address a fellow member of the fourth division who came walking down the hallway, “Excuse me, do you know what the commotion is about in the commander's office?”

 

“Ah that. Old man Yama is mediating a meeting between captain Mayuri and the humans. Seems like one of them has some objection about the prize he won from the raffle the other night.”

 

This was indeed the case, and inside the impressive room which was Yamamoto's office were Ichigo, Chad, Orihime, and Ishida, seated around a table across from Mayuri. Nemu was standing behind her captain, and the bearded old geezer was presiding at the head position with his adjutant beside him. The atmosphere was in fact quite cordial and relaxed, with the exception of Ishida, who looked frustrated in the manner of a man who has been deprived of his habit of nicotine… or lacework. Presently, he was on his feet confronting the captain of the twelfth division. “This is absolutely ridiculous!”

 

Mayuri's expression was one of innocent bewilderment (the disturbing sight of which caused all to shudder inwardly) as he replied, “I do not understand? What makes this arrangement so unacceptable?”

 

“You can't just out-of-the-blue decide to marry someone to another person!”

 

“On the contrary, I believe it is quite customary for parents to fix marriages for their children. It happens all the time in your world, no?”

 

“Yeah, but… we're too young!”

 

“Age is of no concern, and arrangements are known to have been made even before the children were born.”

 

Knowing this to be true, Ishida began to waver. “That's… err… that's not the point! I…”

 

“Hey Ishida, would you calm down?” The Quincy turned to his orange-haired companion stretched out beside him in a reclining position, looking as if he had not a care in the world. “What are you so upset about? It's not as if you got chained around the ankles and was forced to enter a twenty-round bout to the death against a psychopath.”

 

“Speaking of which… Kurosaki-kun, how come that scary looking man with the little pink-haired girl on his shoulder is not chasing you anymore?” inquired Orihime.

 

A sly grin appeared on Ichigo's face. “I had the crazy shop owner send me a replacement.”

 

A dozen blocks away, two figures could be seen bounding from rooftop to rooftop, one behind the other in swift pursuit. A bone-chilling laugh which would have shriveled the stoutest hearts of those who heard it came forth from the pursuer.

 

“GAHAHAHAHA!! It's useless, Kurosaki! Even if you changed your clothes and undid your ball and chains, you cannot escape from me!” Kenpachi shouted as he leapt over a six-story building, his wild hair flying back in the wind and sword drawn and shimmering in the sunlight.

 

“Stop chasing me you maniac! How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not Ichigo!” Cried Kon, whose words convinced no one, since he was Ichigio, being in his body and all. It was an utterly bizarre spectacle for the shinigamis returning to work, and not believing what their eyes and ears were telling them, many resolved then and there to swear off the bottle the night before a workday. Thug-A and Thug-B observed the hunt solemnly as tears pooled in their eyes.

 

“Kurosaki-dono has finally snapped from the captain's pressure.” said Thug-A, his voice hoarse with emotion.

 

“We of the eleventh division will not forget your noble sacrifice.” said Thug-B.

 

The two saluted the silhouettes vanishing into the distance, from where “Ichigo's” voice rang out with a drawn out end, “I'll get you for this, Ichigooooo…!”

 

Back inside the room, Orihime turned her head. “I think I heard someone calling out your name, Kurosaki-kun.”

 

“It's just your imagination, Inoue.” said the self-pleased orange-head.

 

The distraction had not helped Ishida, who was in a pinch: absurdly, he found his position for opposing the arrangement deteriorating. Grasping at any plausible excuses he could muster, he struggled on.

 

“I have school, I can't stay in Soul Society.”

 

“She will return with you to the human world, naturally.”

 

“What!? Is that even possible?”

 

“Well, you're not a death god, and here you are.” Ishida could not argue with that. “Besides, Nemu's physical constitution is practically identical to that of a living body's. With a few minor adjustments on that side, she should function perfectly as a regular human being.”

 

“But who could make such… `adjustments?'”

 

“I have contacted my predecessor, Urahara Kisuke. He said he would be more than pleased to help in any way he can.”

 

“That dirty old man, he just wants a chance to get his hands on…” The intensity of the hostility he felt towards the shopkeeper at that moment surprised Ishida. “I… I live in my own apartment with a part-time job. I don't think I can…”

 

Mayuri smiled magnanimously. “Money is of no concern. Soul Society will allot you a stipend that should more than afford your needs.”

 

Orihime's curiosity was pricked. “But… umm… our world's currency…how do you…?”

 

Yamamoto saw fit to make his presence known in the conversation at this point, and interjected. “Sometimes when members of your world die unexpectedly, we grant them a short extension so they can communicate their will to their kin. We charge the more affluent individuals a fee and set it aside for Shinigamis who need to stay in the human world for extended periods.”

 

“So that's how Rukia pays Urahara for the stuff she buys…” mused Ichigo.

 

Ishida fell back into his seat, a defeated look on his face. Mayuri raised an eyebrow (figuratively, of course, since he actually lacks that facial feature) and regarded the crestfallen young man strangely. “I am perplexed… just why is that you are so adamantly opposed to becoming engaged to my daughter?”

 

“Yeah Ishida, I've been wondering too.” The dejected Quincy turned to look helplessly at Ichigo. “Sure, it sounds like a crazy idea at first, but if you think about it carefully it's not half-bad. I mean, you even get paid. Plus, you being a social recluse and all, I don't think you'll ever get a chance like this to go out with a girl that pretty.” Beside him, Orihime nodded her head vigorously in agreement, and even Chad turned towards his bespectacled companion, wordlessly seconding Ichigo's opinion. Ishida's self-esteem was stung by his companions' belittling of his social life, and he fidgeted under their scrutiny.

 

“Is it because you do not find Nemu acceptable as a partner?” asked Mayuri.

 

“NO!” Ishida blurted out as his head snapped up. His eyes met briefly with hers, who had been standing behind her master quietly the entire time, and he blushed slightly, averting his gaze from those dark-brown orbs that seemed to draw him into their depths. “I mean… my reluctance is definitely not because of Kurotsuchi-san…”

 

“Hmm… if not that, then… Ah, I've got it!” All eyes turned towards the mad scientist, who appeared to have an epiphany. He leaned forward, and speaking in a quiet and confidential tone said, “Mr. Quincy, you… prefer men, don't you?”

 

Ishida fell face forward into the table with a loud crash. Miraculously, his face and glasses were unscathed when he bounced up a second later. “WHAAAAAAAT!?”

 

“Well, we have established that inconvenience and finance is not what deters you, nor, as you have said, does the problem lie with Nemu, so...” Mayuri glanced briefly at his daughter before turning around. “And, forgive me for saying this, but… you seem sort of like the type.”

 

Ishida was incensed; having his manhood questioned was a severe insult second to only being accused of having bad taste in fashion. He threw up his arms and exclaimed, “That's the most outrageous thing I have ever heard! You tell him, Kurosaki!” Absent from the seat beside him, however, was the orange-haired teenager whom the Quincy looked to for support. Ishida turned to see said teenager backing away slowly, making for the exit with a silent look of horror on his face. The Quincy was confused and disturbed, “What's the matter with you?”

 

Ichigo's eyes were filled with terror as he inched closer to the door. Swallowing hard, he said, “I've always had my suspicions... I told myself that maybe you really just enjoyed sewing and knitting for the heck of it, but now…”

 

“Oh come on, this is just crazy! Tell him, Chad!” Absent too was the silent giant to his right, who was now standing a safe distance away with his back turned towards the embattled young man. “Chad? Not you too!?” A hint of a sweat-drop emerged on the tanned man's forehead, but he remained silent. Fortunately, Orihime had not abandoned him yet, and Ishida reached for his last chance of affirmation from his friends. “Inoue-san, you believe me don't you?! That I'm not…?”

 

Orihime twiddled her thumbs sheepishly, and Ishida's hopes fell when she replied. “Well… you know… Ishida-kun is always wearing such pretty clothes and making scarves and purses and teddy bears… but they're really cute teddy bears! I really like them a lot, honest! And the bunnies, and the puppies too! Especially the one with the pink frilly ballet outfit! That one was so adorable! But… umm… I mean…”

 

“…That's okay, Inoue-san, you can stop now.” The Quincy was deflated, his spirit broken by the breach of confidence of his comrades. With head hung low and shoulders slumped, he spoke to no one in particular. “I accept the proposal.”

 

“Fantastic!” said Mayuri. “I knew that you would come around!”

 

“Congratulations man! You've got yourself a real beauty there, you lucky dog you!” Ichigo, his apprehensions now dispelled, slapped Ishida's back heartily. Chad patted him on the shoulder.

 

Orihime was besides herself with excitement. “This is so wonderful, Ishida-kun! I can't wait to see how cute your children will be!”

 

Tow hours later, in a dark and damp cavern located deep within the maze-like network of underground tunnels, a large group of shinigamis had secretly assembled. Present were nearly half the members of the thirteen divisions' ranks, including even a few of the vice-captains; all were male. Madarame Ikkaku, the shiny-topped MC for the party two night's ago, was once again at the front of pack, his head reflecting the light of the shimmering torches that flanked him. “Brothers! My comrades of the Love Nemu Brigade! The greatest catastrophe since the establishment of our order is upon us!” Ikkaku brought the attention of his audience to an obscure man besides him. “This brother here, whose name I can't quite recall, is chief commander Yamamoto's lieutenant, and he has reported that that in three days time, our princess is to follow the humans back to their world, where she will… she will… start living with and eventually wed the foul four-eyed one!” This pronouncement was responded to by animal roars of fury and calls for Ishida's blood that shook the cave as the storm resounded through its confines; such was the force of their zeal for Nemu, whom they deservedly dubbed the Blossom of Soul Society.

 

“At this point, there is only one course of action that can save our princess: We must eliminate the four-eyed one before the appointed time.” Another flood of indignation burst forth from the assembled. “Who shall go and smite this needle-wielding girly-man!?” The group of men grew quiet suddenly, as they began to look and whisper among themselves.

 

“I heard he's pretty strong.”

 

“Isn't he the last of those Quincies?”

 

“He's the one who put a hole in captain Mayuri and lived to talk about it, right?”

 

“I heard he had a hand in driving back that Menos Grande that appeared a while back.”

 

In this manner the men's courage slowly seeped away, to Ikkaku's great distress. “Come on! What are we, men or mice?!”

 

One voice retorted, “If you're so confident, why don't you go and challenge the girly-man?”

 

Another added, “Besides, think about what crazy-Mayuri will do to us if he finds out about this.”

 

“Yeah, somebody I knew in the twelfth division said several guys were following Mayuri's orders, obeying his orders, mind you, and you know what happened to them? Kaboom! The crazy coot blew them to wherever shinigamis go after we die a second time; wasn't enough left of the poor bastards to fill my shoe box. And we're supposed to go and kill his new son-in-law?” As the Love Nemu Brigade's resolve slowly eroded, Hitsugaya, who had concealed his presence amongst the distracted multitude, melted away, satisfied that a second civil war within Soul Society had been averted... for now.

 

But where was Renji, that most fortunate man who discovered that giving was indeed more rewarding than receiving on the night of the raffle, while all of these events were taking place? At that moment, he was observing the giant underground geo-front where Ichigo had trained to learn the name of and release his soul cutter. The young captain marveled at the spacious expanse. “All of my years here and I never knew of such a place…”

 

“That's because an old friend and I excavated this space long ago, probably before you were even inducted to the ranks.” said Yoruichi, who stood several paces ahead of him as she surveyed the familiar surroundings.

 

“And? What did you bring me all the way here for?”

 

Yoruichi spun around, a catlike smile on her face. “Oh… can't you guess?” When she saw the redhead tense, she laughed and began to make her way towards the young man who appeared rooted to the ground as she continued in her bewitching tone. “Silly boy… Why it's for our private training sessions of course, and it wouldn't be private now if we couldn't enjoy it in privacy, correct?”

 

Renji swallowed hard, the lump in his throat remained, his baggy captain's garb suddenly felt stifling. He clenched his fists tightly and sought to steel his nerves, waging a fierce battle in his male-oriented mind. “Get a grip, Renji, you're not some hormone driven sixteen-year old! This is not your first time looking at a woman…… A woman with perfectly toned legs and flawless curves and… mmm… chocolate… Crap! I'm doing it again! I….”

 

But for all his inner-strength and iron discipline, Renji's efforts to keep his mind out of the gutter proved futile, for as soon Yoruichi slid her arms around his shoulders and started whispering soft murmurings into his ear, self-restraint flew straight out the window. “I hope you're well rested…”

 

--To be Continued--