Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Zanpaku-to? ❯ Sleepless in Seireitei ( Chapter 50 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Tite Kubo owns Bleach.  I just borrowed the characters.  I do own Atonomatsuri (the bird) and Piecrust (the jerk).  I make no money from this work.  None.  
Letting the food and drink occupy his attention, he didn't bother to answer Kurotsuchi's few words which were less than complimentary.  So far he'd won three out of three of the challenges.  It was good, but the first had been more a win by default and did not reflect on any particular talent or success he'd had.  

All the same, to get three challenges out of the way in one day would be to his taste.  

Idly his mind began to wonder who had thought up the competitions so far.  He hadn't expected any of them, but the archery had been the best.  It called on his skill and strength and he didn't need the birds help, much.  A grimace crossed his face as he recalled that the bird had led him into making mistakes.  Even if he said anything about it, she'd turn the subject back to him and his flaws.  In that way she was like any woman.  Ready to explore the mistakes of others but unprepared to acknowledge her own.  

In spite of it, he felt a measure of relief to know that she was as imperfect as he was.  Until now her self assurance coupled with certain knowledge had always made him inclined to accept her words as true.  Now he knew she was capable of mistakes, not that she would ever admit to it.  

"Captain Zaraki, would you come with me, please?  You are permitted to have a short rest before the next challenge." Hanataro's hesitant voice broke through his thoughts and he found he was staring at the face of the man.

"Yeah?  Great.  I could do with a stretch and I don't mean a bow," he tried to joke, but even to his own ears it fell flat.  

The 4th Division officer tried to smile but didn't manage it.  "This way."

He led the way into a room that was a little way removed from the place they'd eaten.  He hadn't noticed what he'd eaten but was pretty sure it wasn't natto as he couldn't recall cutting the strings of the fermented bean.  Running his tongue over his teeth he thought he detected the fading flavours of meat, rice and vegetables, but it didn't matter.  His stomach was full, his throat wasn't dry.  

Hanataro indicated the facilities and Zaraki used them while he mused over the next difficulty he might have to face.  As long as he didn't have to sew or wrap a present, he wasn't too worried.  Or arrange flowers, or decorate a room.  

The longer he considered the matter the more things he unearthed new activities that would not be to his taste at all.  If he was asked to do that damn paper folding, he'd be in trouble.  His fingers didn't like to do delicate work, except for fastening the bells to his hair and that took a long time.  No one would suggest they do origami, would they?  He'd prefer to try flower arranging.  At least he knew you stuck flowers in a vase and tried to make it look like an alien sculpture then some people might be fooled into believing it was art.  Sure, no one ever said it looked like a mess or something that only an alien, or Hollow would like, but that's what it looked like to him.  Bits of driftwood and one flower.  Spiky, ugly and possibly dangerous.  How did you know if the plant was poisonous?  Not that he'd ever be tempted to eat a flower, unless it seemed like a good idea at the time,  but even then it was doubtful.  Flowers didn't taste good or the few he'd tried to eat when he was poor and hungry hadn't tasted appetising at all.

If some fool determined they had to do flower arranging, he'd like to use Kurotsuchi's head as the vase and shove the flowers in his nose, mouth and ears. Who gave a damn if it was aesthetically pleasing?  It would make him happy and would be a good way of silencing the man while giving him a useful purpose.  The problem was, he was pretty sure he wouldn't be allowed to do it.

He was ushered to another room which contained Yachiru, Madarame and Ayasegawa, 4 chairs, a  table and some drinks.  "The Captain Commander has given both of you leave to provide instruction to your subordinates while you are absent," Hanataro explained before he left.

There was a moments silence as he looked quizzically at the three people facing him.  Had they checked for bugs.  A small nod indicated that Madarame knew what he was thinking and another nod indicated the room was not safe for normal conversation.

"How's Piecrust?" he asked, hoping for a reply that would indicate the level of communication they could use.

"For some reason, he's nearly recovered.  I think Captain Unohana must be using some advanced healing technique.  The Old Man asked to see him earlier.  You might want to sit down for a while, Captain," Madarame said.

A slew of ideas raced through Zaraki's mind and he sat and shifted until he was comfortable.  Pouring a cup of tea he scowled, when he realised it wasn't sake, but drank it anyway.  Was the Old Man going to interfere and tell the jerk about his parentage?  Even if he did, what would Piecrust do about it?  Challenge him and then fall on his own blade by accident?  Start to talk to him, become scared and then swallow his tongue?  These ideas appealed to him.  Two problems solved at once, but it wouldn't happen.

"Ken-chan, do you have anything you want me to do?" Yachiru grinned at him and he tried to guess her meaning.

Until these challenges were over, there was no point in trying to do much.  On reflection, there was one thing he wanted done.  "Keep a guard on Piecrust so you won't try and kill him again."  He drank another cup of tea.

Yachiru pouted slightly.  "I won't.  The two times I've tried haven't been any fun."

Hearing this made Zaraki feel like sighing.  Having been in contact with other people made him recognise that not everyone believed that either killing or fighting were fun.  They liked other things, and looked down on his simple pleasures.  Women in particular, aside from one or two didn't seem to like fighting and made him realise that he'd raised Yachiru to share his preferences..  Nothing had been said.  Who'd be dumb enough to make any comments to him about Yachiru?  Or to her?  Why interfere in a situation where the people were happy and doing no harm to anyone?  

All the same, he guessed what some people were thinking.

Yachiru was female and maybe she shouldn't find amusement in fighting.  Not that attacking Piecrust could even be considered as fighting or mildly entertaining.  He knew she liked watching him fight, and rarely participated, but recently she had been displaying more interest.  Retsu might not approve, but maybe Soi would.  

The Second Division Captain seemed like a woman who would not turn down an opportunity to stretch her muscles by attacking an enemy.  All these women belonged to the Seireitei and their duty was to destroy Hollows. Fighting was one of the things they were taught at the Academy.  What did it matter?  Yachiru had fun, more fun than the boy Captain who was always frowning and scolding his second in command.  She happily fitted into Eleventh Division and he liked having her around.  She was more damn fun than the blasted vulture and made him laugh.

"Ken-chan, are you even listening to me or are you talking to 'Suri?" Yachiru's hand was on his arm and her eyes observed him inquisitively.

He shuddered, not from her touch, but at her assumption.  Talking to the bird was the last thing he wanted to do while other people were around.  There would be time when these challenges were over and they would talk.  No, he would talk and the bird could freaking listen without clacking her beak and uttering stupid sayings.  Maybe he'd make her appear and use something to wrap around her head securing her bill so her only choice was to listen.  

"I'm not talking to the bird," was the quickest reply and needed no embellishment.  

"Captain Zaraki, we have to tell you about the next challenge," Madarame sounded like he didn't wish to be the person imparting this information.

It struck Zaraki as odd. Until now each of the challenges had been announced to everyone.  This conversation indicated a different type of competition and there would be some detail tipping the balance.  "So, tell," he said.

Madarame's face became even more serious.  "Each Captain has the right to refuse  to do this one.  If one of you declines, the other is declared the winner."

Immediately, Zaraki opened his mouth to accept the challenge but Yachiru yanked on his hand.  "Don't interrupt.  Baldy has a lot more to say."

"Why aren't you telling me this?" was the logical question.

Yachiru smiled at him, her eyes alight with mischief.  "Baldy does it so much better.  See; he looks sincere."

Madarame's forehead wrinkled as he stared at his senior officer.  "I am sincere," he snarled and then as if recognising whom he was addressing his forehead beaded with sweat and he gulped noticeably.  "I am sincere, Assistant Captain.  This is important information."  The apology in his tone could not be ignored.

A moment of tension engulfed the room.  All eyes were on Yachiru to see her reaction.  For a tiny space a storm of anger appeared in her eyes but then a rather malicious smile formed on her mouth and she leapt onto the third seats shoulder, running her palm over his bald pate.  She then licked her hand and ran it over his head again and the man jerked with revulsion when he realised what she'd done.

"Assistant Captain," he protested.  "That's gross."

The chuckle that erupted from Yachiru's throat indicated she had obtained the reaction she was seeking.  "Sincere Baldy.  Who would have expected it?"

While he enjoyed the joking around, he wanted to hear the rest of it.  "And the other stuff?"

"It will take all night, Captain.  You won't be allowed to sleep."

No sleep.  He shrugged, unimpressed.  What did it matter if he lost one night of sleep.  Before he'd met Yachiru many nights had been spent sleeplessly staring at the sky, wondering when the next attack might happen.  

"The first person to be seen to sleep or fail at one of the tasks set them, will lose."

There were tasks?  Not having sleep and then being given tasks.  There were some seriously warped people in the Seireitei.

"What sort of tasks and which creep thought this up?"  His lips were not relaxed and it showed in his voice.

Madarame exchanged concerned glasses with Ayasegawa and Yachiru.  The fifth seat smiled carefully and explained, "Simple, repetitive tasks."

It didn't escape Zaraki's notice that the second question remained unanswered.  After this debacle was over, the question might never be answered, not that it mattered and he'd be more interested in getting  involved in a long difficult fight against a decent opponent.  If it ended in his death, too bad.  Better than dying bored in bed.

"Simple?"

He tried to think of simple tasks that could be repeated over and over again.  Polishing zanpakuto's was simple and if Atonomatsuri had her way it would be repeated often.  Having some experience in these competitions, he doubted it would be something as normal and easy as that.  

"Simple, um, domestic tasks," Ayasegawa's voice had lowered considerably.

The giggles that erupted from Yachiru provided further explanation of why she'd asked her subordinates to provide this information.  Her face wouldn't have stayed straight and her laughter might have made it difficult to understand what she was saying.  Also she liked watching his face when he was given news that wasn't what he wished to hear.  He'd hear all the details about which expressions she noticed later, but it didn't matter.  Her retelling of events were always funny and usually made him laugh and give into further demands for sweets.

Then he concentrated on the gist of the words.  Domestic tasks.  Domestic.  Whether they were simple or not wasn't the point.  "Example?"  The question sounded forced, but it had to be asked.

'Ironing, peeling vegetables, cleaning silver, washing, chopping wood...." Madarame's voice trailed off as Zaraki's expression became more incredulous.

He didn't believe this! This wasn't a challenge!  It was an attempt to humiliate him!  At the same time he was certain that Kurotsuchi would refuse to do anything domestic.  

Of course.  That was why the offer to refuse the challenge had been made.  He wasn't going to accept it and he'd do the bloody challenge.  Humiliation was only something he could feel, but it didn't need to show.  The he wondered how much money the Old Man was going to make from this.  It would appeal to many Shinigami to watch him do tasks better suited to females, or servants.  Then again he'd never seen Yachiru do any of those things.  He smiled at the thought of his second in command ironing anything.  There would be more holes than fabric left.  

That led to thinking about performing the task himself.  Instead of letting his face relax into the frown that threatened, he smiled even wider.  

"It doesn't matter.  I'll do it.  Losing sleep: who hasn't done that.  It'd be more fun if I could fight instead of doing piddly little tasks."  He let his voice deepen as he spoke.  Agreeing to participate in the whole thing was taking him outside his comfort zone, but that didn't worry him as much as it once would.  Atonomatsuri had already started to process of making him act in a different way to new challenges and information.  

Almost, for a very short time, he felt a tiny amount of gratitude to the bird.  Then the gratitude vanished when he acknowledged that she had put in motion many of the events he was now trying to sort through.

Mentally and physically he shrugged.  Couldn't change the present anymore than he could predict the future.  

"Are you sure Captain Zaraki?  Once you have agreed you have to remain awake until one of you loses."  Madarame was earnest, but then he smiled widely.  "Yeah, what am I saying?  Of course you'll do it and win."

Zaraki laughed.  It was good to see his third seat realise how serious he was behaving and that it didn't suit his character at all.  

"I was told I had to be serious," Madarame admitted sheepishly.  He gave a rueful smile and scratched his ear thoughtfully.  "Dizzy Ise insisted."

Yachiru nodded and chuckled.  "She did.  The expression on Baldy's face was so funny Ken-chan.  He gulped and I wondered if he was going to be rude, but he wasn't."

Ayasegawa gave her a stern look. "What would be the point?"

Pre-empting the bickering that was certain to follow, Zaraki said quickly, "I'll do the bloody thing.  Let's get started."

"You'll be standing the whole time, unless the task requires you to sit," was another condition  added as a near afterthought by Madarame.

Standing, sleep deprivation and domestic tasks.  Could this get any better?  An image of being forced to slow dance with Kurotsuchi flashed through his mind.  Immediately he shut his eyes, trying to block that image and any that might follow it.  He didn't know why, but he was damned certain that the bird had sent him that image to remind him that if he thought things were bad, they could always get worse.  She'd say something like that too.

"Yeah.  Doesn't matter."  

Yachiru bounced to the door in order to answer the insistent tapping that had been occurring for the last few minutes.  "Go away.  We're talking," she said as she opened the door.

"It's time.  Does Captain Zaraki wish to participate," asked the deep and unidentified voice of the person, he assumed had been tapping at the door.

"Of course Ken-chan is going to do it," Yachiru tilted her face and glared up at the person who'd asked the question.  

"In 5 minutes he will walk out, unaccompanied and submit to the next challenge."  The door shut and Zaraki heard the muffled sounds of a footfalls moving down the corridor.  

"I'll wash my face," he said as he stood and stretched.  "Might help me stay awake."

Making sure the water was as cold as he could get it, he splashed his face repeatedly.  Standing while trying to stay awake.  If the challenge had called for sitting or lying down, it would be more difficult, but standing meant remaining upright.  Perhaps he could lean against a wall, and watching the people in the crowd and listening to the noise they made.

He glared at his face in the mirror and then barred his teeth in a ferocious smile.  Many of his opponents became uncertain and less confident when they say his smile.  Not that it would scare small children, but it freaked out any fool desperate enough to think they could beat him in a fight.  Why not smile?  Fighting was fun, if you knew how to do it properly.

Smile in place he left and walked back into the place he had spent a majority of the day.  He was pleased to see the sun was no longer directly overhead.  The watching Shinigami shifted and murmured to each other and he noticed all the seating was occupied.  Not only that, but people were standing and he could see others trying to gain entry.  There were a number of enterprising people moving through the crowd.  Zaraki expected they were selling food and drink, but some of the items he could see looked like neither.  In fact one person looked vaguely familiar and the strangely shaped objects looked suspiciously like....

Dolls.

It couldn't be right.  No one would be selling that unless the Old Man had given permission, which he might if he was getting a cut of the profits.  Once this was over he'd ask the hard questions and demand answers.  Sure, the Seireitei had taken considerable damage and money was required for the rebuilding, but it seemed that the man was entering into a variety of enterprises to make money.  

Ise nodded at him and then with noticeably less enthusiasm to Kurotsuchi.  She announced, "Both Captains have agreed to participate in the challenge.  Those Shinigami who have purchased tickets for this event were informed at the time of purchase that they ticket is only good for four hours and once that four hours is finished, another ticket may be bought, but it will be necessary to leave the venue."

Tickets?  Tickets were being sold?  The news almost made him laugh, and in some strange way caused mixed feelings within him.  He admired the schem; it was one he'd probably never have considered, but at the same time the cost seemed to cheapen the challenge.  He was here to prove that Kurotsuchi was the scum that he knew him to be, but the honour seemed blurred by using it as both entertainment and a reason to collect money.

"No refunds for any time if the challenge finishes before you may use your ticket." There were audible grumbles at that part of the announcement.

Ise waited, her face impassive until all were silent.  "The challenge is sleep deprivation.  Both Captains will be standing and intermittently given some simple but repetitive tasks."

It was a small struggle to keep the smile on his face at that reminder, but then he recognised how unimportant it was.  If anyone thought less of him because he did something he'd never done before, or if they found it amusing, how could it affect him?  Anyone who underestimated him usually ended up learning a valuable lesson, or dead, or both.  

"The challenge commences now."

Zaraki stood there.  That was all he was required to do.  It didn't matter if he moved, because no one told him that it wasn't permitted, but it seemed like the rules might specify standing still for a certain percentage of the time.  Were the tasks meant to keep them awake, or not?  Or had someone worked out that repeating the same thing over and over again would make it more difficult to stay awake?  Or was it designed to drag the whole thing out and get more money.  

He wanted to shut his eyes, but decided against it.  The idea was to stay awake, not begin falling asleep as soon as the challenge commenced, but what should he look at or do?  Staring at the crowd didn't interest him as it might encourage people to stare back, not that they needed much encouragement.   Once again he wondered who had thought up this crazy challenge and what it was meant to prove.  Standing around didn't suit him.  He didn't mind lying around and napping or walking or fighting, but standing still seemed wrong.  Inactivity unless it involved sleeping was foreign to him, but he'd been forced into doing nothing a number of times since he first uttered Atonomatsuri's name.

"Do you want to talk, Kenny boy?" the bird said as soon as he thought of her.

His shoulders lifted in a sigh, but then he considered that she might actually be trying to be helpful.  While the idea seemed odd, he was still harbouring a large amount of resentment that her persistence had almost caused him to lose the guessing challenge.  Soifon had not owned the swords.  What did he expect?  Vultures had some amazing insight into human nature?  Instead of meekly agreeing he should have argued with her, not taking the easy way out.  Or had he done as he was sick of hearing her voice and damned adages?

Now he was pretty well trapped.  If he didn't talk to her he might end up sleeping and lose the challenge before it had really commenced. The main problem was he did feel tired.  There were all sorts of explanations as to why he might be tired that floated through his mind but knowing the reasons didn't change the fact.  He was tired, he had to stay awake and standing around waiting for something to happen wasn't of any assistance.

"Yeah, let's talk.  Do you want to talk about your mistakes?"

The bird coughed slightly.  "I wouldn't call them mistakes as much as errors of judgement.  No one is perfect."

Quibbling over meanings and then adding adages.  Typical Atonomatsuri talk.  "They were bloody large mistakes and you give the impression you think you're perfect."  Why be gentle with her feelings?  She didn't consider that he had any.

Another cough.  Was she pretending she had a cold?  "I'm not perfect, Kenny, but I am more cognisant of facts than you are."

Yet another big word that he didn't understand.  Was she saying that she was more aware of facts, or what?  If she was saying that it was going to take a long time to convince her she was wrong.  Then again, what else did he need to do aside from stand there until he had to do something he knew he might find marginally more interesting?

"Facts?  Then why did you get so many wrong?" There was little point in being anything but blunt with her.  

The silence might indicate she was angry or searching for an answer.  He didn't say anything, waiting for her to try to turn the situation around as she normally did, placing him in the wrong.  Shifting on his feet he glanced around at the audience.  Were they finding this as boring as he was?  What entertainment could be gained from watching two people stand still?  A number of people were buying pieces of paper from the vendors and then scribbling on them briefly before returning them.  Recalling the guessing challenge, he wondered if they were guessing how long this challenge would last and who would sleep first.  

When this was over he might demand a cut of the profits.  It would help pay for the redecoration of his office, especially the screen that Ayasegawa insisted he buy.  And if he had to ante up to pay for either of his subordinates to holiday in the Human world, that wouldn't come cheap.  It relieved him from the tedium of paperwork, which made it worthwhile, but as he was being used in order to raise money, there should be some financial reward.  The prize for this challenge might prove interesting as well as it was unlikely to be the dolls again.  Knowing the crowd and seeing the intense observation that some of those buying the pieces of paper gave him and Kurotsuchi indicated it might be something he'd want as well.

Turning his attention to a mumbled whisper at the back of his mind he almost caught part of a word.  "Re."  What did that syllable mean?

"Huh?  What'd you say, vulture?"

"Nothing," was the hasty reply.  

"Yeah, you did say something.  I know you did."  He made his tone flat and loaded with authority.  The chance that it might work on the bird was slim, but she might be feeling some slight responsibility for almost making him lose the challenge.  Then again, since he'd first started talking to him it seemed that everything that went wrong she automatically blamed on him.   

"Nothing!" Atonomatsuri's voice rose sharply and the word shrilled through his brain.  

"Re," he mused letting her know he'd heard part of the word.  "What words end with 're.  Hurry.  Possibly something ending with 'y'."

A hard 'tchah' sound was her reply.  

As he thought about it a little longer, a small but pleased smile appeared on his face.  It was likely she wouldn't repeat what she'd said, but the only word that fit the situation and would embarrass her to this extent was: 'Sorry'.

Atonomatsuri might have apologised to him.

Believing he might have the upper hand for a change he pushed it.  "Did you say 'Sorry'?"

The false laugh wasn't terribly convincing.  "Why would I ever say sorry to you Kenny?  You tortured me for years for no reason except you were too stupid to try to talk to me."

The sigh that lifted his chest made him pause and then realise she was once more trying to distract him from something close to the truth by reminding him of her supposed bruised feelings.  "The past.  Why are you still talking about it?"

He'd let her draw him into it a little and then work it around to her apology.

"The past is always with us, Kenny.   The past is the future of the present," the last words were delivered with deep sincerity.

For a moment he was certain his eyes had whirled around in his head as he tried to work out the meaning of that wonderful mix of words.  The past was the past, the present was the present and the future was the future.  How could the past become the future?  It made no sense.  Where had the bird got that particular adage from?

"It's a Japanese proverb, Kenny.  Are you sure you didn't grow up hearing that over and.... Of course you don't remember.  You don't remember being a Hollow."

The bird was clever, but he was beginning to see the way she worked.  When she didn't want to talk or admit to something she'd remind him of a wrong or a fact that he had trouble accepting.  She must be pretty desperate to hide the apology.  He wasn't going to permit the Hollow taunt to distract him this time.

"You made a few mistakes, Atonomatsuri.  We both know it.  Can't open your beak to apologise for almost screwing everything up?"

"How often have you said sorry to me, Zaraki?"

The question hung in the air, almost visible.  The use of his name wasn't lost on him, nor the truth in her question.

It was his turn to be quiet as he pondered a reply.

Words flitted through his mind, explanations, justifications, insults.  None of them seemed to work for this situation.  Seeking a way to respond without admitting to any guilt or mistake wasn't easy.
 
A voice seemed to be calling his name.  Roused from his unpleasant thoughts, he looked down at Ise who seemed to be trying to get his attention.

"Captain Zaraki, were you sleeping?"

"I was thinking.  What's the problem?"

"It is time to commence the first task.  If you hadn't answered me when you did, you would have been judged to be sleeping," Ise looked at him sternly.

"Were my eyes closed?"  He may as well make a point.

"Well, no, but you didn't seem to be aware that I was talking to you." Ise had the grace to look slightly embarrassed at the admission.  It might appear that she wasn't accustomed to being ignored when she spoke.  

Instead of going down the explanation path he quickly asked, "What's the task?"  He noticed Kurotsuchi looked interested in the answer.

Instead of replying, Ise indicated that they should follow her which they did.  In front of them were two tables with a container standing on it and a large bucket next to it, apparently containing water.  On looking into the container, Zaraki noticed it seemed to hold rice.  Lifting his eyes from the rice he glanced questioningly at Ise.

"You have to wash the rice thoroughly, removing as much starch as possible," Ise explained.  "You can only use the water in the bucket provided and once that has run out, it will not be replaced."

This was one task he hadn't considered.  Washing rice was repetitive if it was done properly.  Swirling the water through the rice might work, but he had some idea that it might help if he stirred it, or something.  Whenever he'd cooked rice he'd washed it only briefly, not caring about how much starch remained.  It was food, fuel for the body and his fighting would work it off and he'd reasoned that Yachiru needed as much food as she could get while she was growing up.  

"Start now please.  The task will be ended when either of you has finished washing the rice to the satisfaction of the judges."

It was then Zaraki realised he didn't know the judges were this time.  He glanced at the table and saw three people seated there. One was the Old Man, Kuchiki sat next to him with the usual indifferent look plastered all over his face and the third was the 10th Division assistant captain who seemed to be looking at her friends in the audience rather than the contestants she was meant to be judging.

Pouring water into the rice he let it run through his fingers.  The cool touch of the liquid made him start and wish he could splash it on his face.  Instead he decided that each time he changed the water, it was necessary to experience its refreshing qualities, even if it was only on his hands.

"As it's the first wash, Kenny, why don't you use your hands to help wash the rice.  The woman said nothing about that, did she?" He started slightly as the sound of the bird's voice.  After her last comment it had been his assumption that she might stop talking to him until he offered an apology.   What plan was her diseased mind pondering at this point?

She was right though.  Handling the rice in the first wash might release more of the starch than simply swirling the rice through the water and subsequent washes would remove any trace of his hands.  Enthusiastically he ran his hands through the rice and water, not caring if he splashed his clothes.

"Assistant Captain Ise, I complain about how my, ahem, competitor is handling the rice.  We're not supposed to touch it," Kurotsuchi spoke loudly, with a fair amount of venom contained in his voice.

Moving his gaze to look at the judges and the woman, he noticed them all consult the sheafs of paper placed before them.  A few words were exchanged between the Old Man and Kuchiki, while Assistant Captain Matsumoto ran one hand through her hair as she turned the pages.  Ise approached them and after a short discussion they all bowed to each other.  

"There is no clear prohibition in the rules.  The judges have agreed that only the first two washes may involve hands.  We are obtaining wooden spoons to assist in agitating the rice for future washes." Ise was quite serious, yet a slight difference in tone indicated her probable amusement.  

The smile he'd worn as he began this challenge returned.  It was funny.  Two man standing around while people watched, then the same men washing rice with the audience still watching.  As entertainment it lacked something.  Action?  

The water had restored him and looking at the water he noticed it was now extremely cloudy from the starch he's separated from the rice.  Carefully he drained the water, then added some more clear water, but half as much as he had last time.  Surreptitiously, and after he'd made certain that both Ise, the judges and Kurotsuchi weren't looking in his direction, he rubbed his wet hands across his face.  If anyone noticed they didn't make a fuss.

The task dragged on.  Washing the rice, draining the cloudy water, and refilling.  It was tedious, but not quite as boring as simply standing there waiting for some form of diversion.  While he used the spoon to stir the rice he stared at his opponent.  The man didn't look tired, but the makeup concealed many of the signs.  His eyes were as usual wide and staring, at what he didn't know, or care.  

"All the water has been used," the man said suddenly.

Waiting for the rigmarole of checking and finalising the tasks, Zaraki stretched and rotated his shoulders, hearing them creak and feeling the muscles stretch from the prolonged inactivity and repetitive motions.

The threat of sleep loomed.  He'd be bored by the standing and then momentarily made alert due to learning the task, but as the task was uninteresting, the effect made him even more vulnerable to sleep.  If he were walking, it would provide more stimulation, but the first task was pretty sedentary.  A yawn formed in the back of his throat.  Wishing to appear immune to tiredness he suppressed any outward sign and tried to swallow the yawn.

The rest of this challenge wasn't going to be easy.

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Author 's Note:
Sleep Deprivation has been used as a form of torture.  The method used in this story is an invention of my own because it seemed more devious and funny.  There can be no assurance that it would work, but the possible plot hole is acknowledged.  As this is a work of fiction and there is no budget for in house research (in fact no budget) and my family refused to participate in any tests, my imagination was permitted to run wild, which is often a bad thing.

Chapter 50.  Scary. Don't mention it, please.  As for the delay?  Life.  

Thanks to all the kind reviewers.  I'd thank you individually, but I want to post this.

Please review.

MS