Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Minutes to Midnight ❯ Communal Bathing ( Chapter 19 )

Title: Communal Bathing

Characters: Ichigo, Halibel, Gin, Nel, Stark, Urahara, Aizen, Szayel

Rating: T

Warning: Language, partial and complete nudity

Words: 2337

Description: Bath time bonding was not what Ichigo signed up for.

 

 

Steam curled up from the hot water, bringing with it a faint fragrance that surrounded the entire bath. Ichigo didn't mind it so much. It was at least better than the rocky, mineral scent he'd learned to associate with the underground training area beneath Urahara's shop. There was a bitter, lingering taste with that water, even if it did heal everything.

 

With a contented sigh, Ichigo sunk lower into the water, letting the heat sink into his weary muscles. The bath did much to soothe the aches and bruises his body had suffered that day from training. He could already feel the tingling of healing at work, and it was comforting.

 

He supposed the idea of communal bathing wasn't all that bad, all things considered. Stark had been sitting across from him since Ichigo had shown up about fifteen minutes ago. Looking, of all things, dead asleep. He hadn't so much as stirred since Ichigo's arrival. The Vizard was more shocked by the fact he hadn't drowned yet, perfectly perched on the ledge with arms stretched to the side and head fallen backwards in sleep.

 

It wasn't the first time he had shared the bath with Stark, the first Espada one of the few who he could stand. And thanks to that, Ichigo knew where his number was: tattooed on the back of his left shoulder blade.

 

On the other side of Ichigo and a few feet away, Nel was happily splashing about as if it were her own personal swimming pool. Again, this was something that didn't bother Ichigo. It was like bathing with his little sisters all over again. As she giggled and hopped around, causing the water to ripple, he kept an eye on her. Just in case she suddenly didn't know how to swim or decided to glomp him.

 

When Ichigo had arrived earlier, dust caked to his clothes and several light sword slashes on his body, Yammy had been leaving, much to his relief. The man was huge, and he took up a lot of space. And he was an idiot, who never failed to try and draw Ichigo into some foolish discussion. Yammy literally gave Ichigo a headache every time, and he made it a point to avoid the tenth Espada.

 

Tension slowly fading from his muscles, Ichigo closed his eyes and tried to soak for a few minutes longer, despite the fact his fingers were getting pruny. It was rare that he allowed himself the luxury, paranoid about bathing with too many people present.

 

The door to the changing rooms creaked open, and the presence of a well-contained and simmering-beneath-the-surface reiatsu filtered into Ichigo's senses. The bare steps on the stone were hardly audible. He cracked open one eye to get a glimpse of the new arrival, and damn near swallowed his tongue in shock.

 

Skin. There was too much nudity going on. He felt his face heat, far hotter than the water caused. And he sunk down further, nearly to his nose.

 

Bouncing. There was too much bouncing, even as Halibel lowered herself into the water right next to Stark.

 

Did she bother with towels? Of course not. Ichigo had seen the outfit she chose for herself. It barely covered the essentials. Why would she bother with modesty when bathing?

 

Ichigo groaned inwardly, closing his eyes and refusing to look. His ears turned a bright crimson.

 

It was a childhood trauma. At the tender age of seven, his brilliant father had taken it upon himself to teach his children human anatomy. But rather than use his medical textbooks, damn Goat-Face had gleefully dumped magazines of porn into his son's lap. Actual porn. Not just semi-nude, Victoria's Secret catalog pictures.

 

Ichigo had never been the same since.

 

There was splashing nearby. “What's wrong wit yer face, Itsygo?” Nel questioned, and he felt one of her fingers press against his cheek.

 

The blush spread from his face to his chest and the back of his neck. He could feel it creeping across his skin. Nel's giggling was getting ridiculous. Ichigo hoped that Halibel spontaneously generated clothes. A quick glance revealed that not only had she not, but she was beginning to smirk just a little.

 

Che. Bitch.

 

Next to her, the first Espada finally stirred, one hand rising with a lackadaisical wave. “You shouldn't tease the boy that way, Bel,” he drawled lazily, fingers trailing through the water. “You'll make him pop a blood vessel. And then, Gin would get upset. Might even cry.”

 

“I do not tease,” Halibel responded as she languidly stretched and relaxed into the steamy water.

 

Not that Ichigo noticed. His eyes were closed, after all. So he didn't see the bounce of her bosom that put even Matsumoto to shame. Nor did he see her turn her head or catch sight of the tattooed digit at the nape of her neck.

 

On the edge of Ichigo's conscious, he heard the door to the changing room open again. Two sets of feet this time. And girlish giggles. He didn't even have to look to know who they were. One was Stark's fraccion. Another belonged to Halibel.

 

There was a splash. A ripple.

 

“Evening, Ichigo-san!” they chirped at him in tandem, one more exuberant than the other.

 

He mumbled something that might have been a greeting. There was the sneaky suspicion that they held as much modesty as Halibel. He didn't dare look.

 

Nel's finger poked into his cheek again. “Itsyyyygoooo,” she whined in his ear. “You can't go ta sleep in heeeeere.”

 

“I'm not,” he gritted out through clenched teeth, very nearly getting a swallow of hot, mineral water.

 

The door swung open again, and Ichigo was really beginning to curse his luck, which in retrospect, seemed to suck rather badly.

 

Honestly, take one look at the past year or so of his life. Where in there did it show he had good fortune?

 

“Crowded tonight.” Szayel's voice filtered through the madness, the perfect mix of Byakuya-pride and Kurotsuchi-psychopathy. It never ceased to send a shiver up Ichigo's spine.

 

He knew the moment those orange eyes landed on him, seconds after the water rippled and splashed. Ichigo was simply waiting for the inevitable--

 

“My, Ichigo-kun, any luck on contacting your Quincy friend?”

 

And there it was.

 

“No,” Ichigo stated in a surly tone as he fixed the eighth Espada with a glare.

 

Except that he couldn't really look at Szayel either because with the pink hair and the hip-swagger he had, the man really resembled a woman at times. It threw off Ichigo's senses.

 

Szayel pouted, looking much younger without his uniform on. “A pity,” he responded, very nearly sounding as if he were sulking.

 

He really, really wanted to leave at that moment. They were laughing and joking around him, which wouldn't have been so bad in any other situation. But the female fraccion kept slowly and none-too-subtly edging his way with their bouncing bosoms. Not to mention Halibel taking every opportunity to rise from the water and give him more views than he ever wanted to see.

 

Suddenly, a wet towel dropped on top of his head, covering his face and obscuring his vision. Taken by surprise and accidentally mistaking it for someone glomping him with absurdly large breasts, Ichigo yelped and flailed, hand grasping for the soft object on his head. He pulled it off and whirled around to find Gin standing on the ledge and over him. All long, slim limbs and large, cocky grin.

 

“There ya are, Ichigo!” Gin chirped, his gaze seemingly saved for Ichigo alone and none of the other bared flesh in the room. “Did ya forget abou' practice?”

 

Realizing that Gin could probably see the terribly bright flush over his entire body, Ichigo couldn't help but blush deeper. “I just finished sparring,” he grumbled, trying to find his equilibrium.

 

One slim finger reached out, pressing against his forehead. “Ya can never 'ave enough practice,” Gin countered as Ichigo's eyes nearly crossed trying to follow the movement of the finger.

 

“Like a damsel in distress,” a low voice commented behind Ichigo, lazy and filled with amusement. “And Gin-sama is the knight in shining armor. How adorable.”

 

Ichigo swung around to give Stark a full-on glare that was rendered ineffective by the sight of Halibel casually stretching and giving a little bounce with her chest. His contradiction on the tip of his tongue, Ichigo promptly tripped over his words and whirled back around. He climbed out of the baths in record time, ignoring his dripping over the floor as he stormed past Gin.

 

“Let's get out of here,” the teen mumbled. He threw the towel back over his head and pretended he couldn't hear Stark snickering behind him.

 

“Itsygooooo!” Nel wailed.

 

He heard her scampering out after him seconds before a weight attached to his back. She literally climbed until she was dangling from his shoulder.

 

“You can't leave me behind!”

 

Gin said something parting to the Arrancar that Ichigo didn't catch thanks to Nel's wibbling in his ear. Not that Ichigo was particularly interested. He just wanted to escape, and Gin had provided that avenue.

 

Therefore, he would only grudgingly admit to himself and no one else that Gin had saved him.

 

- - -

 

~Omake~

 

The lord and master of Hueco Mundo considered himself a rather patient man. He had been cultivating this plan for several decades after all and had waited for the time to be ripe before showing all of Seireitei just what fools they were.

 

He also considered himself a man who enjoyed his luxuries. Who as lord and master of Hueco Mundo deserved certain indulgences. He was the one in charge, the master mind, the most powerful. A private room, larger than all the others, a high throne, prime seating, etc. It was all his due.

 

As was the private bath accessible only through his private quarters. It was large, too big for one man alone, but he preferred it that way. It was lavish, always the perfect temperature with all the necessities within arm's reach. It was quiet. But the best part?

 

It was devoid of all his subordinates. Even the ones he liked.

 

Today, however, there was to be no such peace.

 

“Kisuke,” Sousuke began with growing impatience. “This is my private bath.”

 

The water rippled, splashing against his bare chest. “I know,” Kisuke responded brightly, wading Aizen's direction. “I came to wash your back.”

 

He suppressed a sigh, noticing that the shopkeeper still wore that ridiculous hat. Dressed in nothing but a cloth tied at the waist, little was left to the imagination. He held one of those horrifying, colorful froofy poofs in one hand and a bar of soap in the other. The smile on his face was both mischievous and predatory.

 

Aizen wondered if he should fear for his chastity had he still possessed the damn thing.

 

He glared, though it had little effect, gazing through the rising steam. He cursed himself for taking out his contacts a bit too early, now he was left peering like a blind man in an attempt to see.

 

“Did it ever occur to you that I'm quite capable of doing so myself?” Sousuke questioned as the man continued to approach.

 

The grin never faltered, shadowed eyes taking on an impish glint. “It's more fun if you have help,” came the answer he should have expected. “Besides, oh lord and master, you're the one who insisted on communal bathing.”

 

“For my subordinates, not myself.”

 

“Semantics. Now turn.”

 

Sometimes, it was like arguing with a brick wall. Kisuke heard only what he felt like hearing and anything outside of that was just discarded and subsequently ignored. Aizen had already learned his lessons in futility long ago. It was pointless to deny Kisuke anything. But that didn't mean he would not get his revenge.

 

The lord and master of Hueco Mundo was a patient man, after all.

 

Aizen turned, seconds later feeling the soapy puffy item slap against his back, spitting suds and warm water everywhere. Despite the fact that Aizen had bathed prior to the man entering the water.

 

Sousuke folded his arms on the ledge, setting a chin on them. “I'm never going to be rid of you,” he bemoaned aloud, a fact that he had already lamented time and time again.

 

“Whyever would you want to?” Kisuke returned. “I'm intelligent and handsome and can hold my own against you. I'd fit right in with the rest of your pretty Espada.” He paused and reconsidered. “Most of your pretty Espada. I'm not sure what you were intending with Aaronierro.”

 

The soapy froof traveled over his shoulders. And Aizen had to admit, if only inwardly, that it was rather soothing.

 

“Which reminds me. I'm going to need to replace him eventually.”

 

“Procrastinating?” Kisuke clucked his tongue in disapproval. “What would your subordinates think of you? Turn.”

 

He did so reluctantly and was met with a white foamed object being thrust into his face.

 

“My turn,” Kisuke added cheerily.

 

Aizen knew that if he didn't, the shopkeeper would pout. And while amusing for a time, it somehow managed to seep beneath the surface. Then, he would feel guilty.

 

He took the damn pouf.

 

“I'd better be getting my money's worth out of you,” Aizen responded in a tone which was not grumpy, gesturing with one finger for Kisuke to turn around.

 

Reaching up to swipe the hat from his head, pressing it to his chest, gray-green eyes glinted at him. “My dear Sou-kun, you always get what you paid for at the Urahara Shouten.”

 

Somehow, the thought wasn't comforting, especially when connected to that wicked grin.

 

“Never going to be rid of you,” he repeated under his breath and started to soap up Kisuke's back.

 

The shopkeeper simply chuckled.

 

Yes, revenge was going to be swift. He vowed it.

- - - - -